Like so many other words, travel has adopted a different meaning in 2020. When the year began, I had so many big plans for the places I’d go and the hikes I’d take throughout the year. My husband and I were going to New Zealand for our honeymoon. My friends and I were going to Yosemite to hike to the top of Half Dome. I felt certain that I’d be able to squeeze in another fourteener in Colorado somewhere in between. It all felt so realistic, until it just didn’t any more. The losses and disappointments that I’ve faced due to COVID-19 are so small and insignificant compared to what many others have experienced and will continue to endure. I repeat that sentence to myself daily, over and over. It drives my decision making process now, in this “new normal”. I’ve re-evaluated how I define travel. I’m seeking normalcy and closeness to the ones I love over the desire to escape my routine and flee to somewhere unfamiliar and exotic. I’m embracing this as an opportunity to focus on my roots instead of my branches, for the first time in years, and it feels really refreshing.
In late June, my friend moved into a new home with her new fiancé in Atlanta, and I eagerly volunteered to help them move. As much as I love Nashville, I was desperate for a change of scenery, but more importantly, I missed my friend. In-person time with loved ones can’t be taken for granted these days, and a few hours of free labor seemed like a small price to pay in exchange for an overdue weekend with my bestie.
I’d planned to hike on Sunday on my way out of Atlanta. My friend wasn’t able to join, because she needed to be present in her new home to unpack and patiently wait on the cable guy to show up at an unspecified time during an eight hour window. We’ve all been there. I’d originally pointed my hiking boots in the direction of Blood Mountain, a difficult trail in the northeast corner of Georgia. However, after a Saturday night filled with celebratory margaritas after the move, I wasn’t feeling quite as ambitious when I woke up on Sunday morning. We’ve all been there, too. Instead, I changed course and headed towards Arabia Mountain State Park, located about an hour southeast of Atlanta.
I hiked a mild four-mile loop that included a combination of the Arabia Mountain, Klondike, and Forest trails. Despite its imposing name, Arabia Mountain isn’t much of a mountain at all. With a summit of 955 feet, this mountain resembles a concrete hill with sporadic cactus patches. The scenery along this loop is unusual, to say the least. The smooth texture and swirling color of the immense and unusual rock area around this trail create a dizzying effect, especially in the sweltering heat of Georgia in late June.
I traveled counterclockwise, and I reluctantly admit that I had trouble following the loop that AllTrails recommended. Initially, I tried to hike the loop clockwise, but I could not find the turn-off at 0.25 miles that leads up to the summit of Arabia Mountain. At the time. I turned around and decided to hike in the other direction, hoping that the route would be more straightforward from the other direction. It was, but due to many overlapping trails in the park, I still relied heavily on AllTrails to ensure I stayed on my intended course. The loop includes some paved sections and a short boardwalk that runs parallel to a two-lane road on one side and Arabia Mountain on the other, covering a swampy drainage area that was unfortunately strewn with discarded trash. However, most of the trail covered dusty and rocky terrain, including a couple of massive and smooth rock outcroppings that resembled an undulating pattern of color on an unwavering surface.
The area’s kaleidoscope-like terrain isn’t the only feature that makes this trail feel more like a stroll down a carnival boulevard than a hike in central Georgia. The remains of forgotten buildings and bridges, graffitied and rotting beneath a relentless summer sun, give the landscape an eerie, post-apocalyptic vibe. Many of these structures are easily accessible from the trail, tempting curious hikers to explore the overgrown walls and speculate about the history that’s been diminished by the elements over time.
Although cairns steer hikers in the general direction of Arabia Mountain’s summit, there’s no trail on the approach to the top. There’s no shade either. Admittedly, the views from the summit felt underwhelming. In my humble opinion, the mysterious sights along the rest of the trail offered more intrigue and whimsy. But if you’re visiting Arabia Mountain State Park, hiking to the summit feels like an obligatory part of the experience.
After descending from the summit and returning to the merciful shade of the Georgia pines along the trail, I approached an iron gate that separated the trail from an intersecting two-lane road. I then realized why I’d missed the turn off in my initial attempt to hike the trail clockwise. The section of trail I’d just traversed ends at the gate, and hikers must cross the road on foot (looking both ways before doing so, obviously), in order to access the trail again on the other side. It’s much easier to spot from this perspective, and because of this, I recommend hiking the loop counterclockwise.
Ultimately, this hike surprised me. I didn’t expect the uniqueness of the landscape, but I also didn’t expect the litter that’s often characteristic of sections of trail that run alongside highways. I’d still like to hike to the summit of Blood Mountain, just not in the wake of margaritas. However, this provided a surprising and alluring alternative that I’d have overlooked otherwise. This is the beauty of my journey to hike a new trail every month. Preparation and research are only as good as the circumstances that allow them to be realistic parameters. When plans fail, give the unexpected a chance to be worthwhile and memorable.
