Last night was ridiculous. I lay there thinking about how I forgot to mention busting my hand on the doorknob while carrying boxes, leaving a bruise between my knuckles. Then I wondered how I could leave out all the pink and yellow wildflowers on the roadside and the few pops of red standing against so much green. I reenacted a bit of this self-talk to Caleb later today.

I had set the a/c to bedroom balmy, but in my struggle to fall asleep, always a process while somewhere new, I turned the air to southeast frosty. This helped us both snuggle in for the night until I was up at 3a to return the temperature to a degree I could wake up to. No matter, we’re both up an hour before the alarm. We are greeted by a parking lot kitty as we begin to load the car.

We are surrounded by gas stations and walk to one and can smell the canned fuel sitting inside. We drive to another, and the pump takes advantage of Caleb by giving him more gas than the car can hold. We smell it on his shoes after he’s cleaned the car and ground before our departure – what a way to start the day. Luckily, we catch glimpses of the sunrise through the tall and dense treeline as we continue north.

Our first stop is Ocmulgee Mounds National Historic Park. We’re parked at the gate 15 minutes before it opens and thanked by a ranger for stopping by in our travels on her way to work. We’ve got an hour before the visitor center opens, so we set off to interrupt an Eastern box turtle enjoying his breakfast as he paused and returned our stares.

We will see a few whitetail deer, another larger turtle, a couple of Great White egrets, and some chipmunks while we walk between the Mounds. We’re able to go in the Earthlodge, and I’m grateful to see history through the glass as I listen to more modern advancements chug along through the park. I saw the cliff signs and still acted surprised when I saw the train tracks.

We take in the views from Great Temple Mound and walk along Walnut Creek hoping to see a gator or a beaver as the water goes from running and fragrant to stagnant and smelly. Soon, we will be choosing which water sources to filter from on the PCT, and I definitely want them to be the ones with fewer mosquito eggs in them. Inside the visitor center, we are welcomed in by an accent.

I guess Austrian, as the volunteer, sounded like a higher-pitched version of Arnold Schwarzenegger. I know, I need to travel more in Europe or make more friends from these countries. Turns out he’s from the Netherlands. The museum explored, stamps put in our parks’ passport book, and obligatory stickers purchased we were ready to leave Macon after learning more about the millions of artifacts found at the site.

There are over one hundred thousand stored in a climate-controlled basement and another 2.5 million at FSU in Tallahassee. The cataloging is so time-consuming that only half the collection has been done since teams started in the 1930s. The little bags, containing ceramics and stones, are stored in boxes that are inventoried annually, which seems like an undertaking in itself.

Hours later, we reach the Chattahoochee River NRA West Palisades Unit. The road is narrow, but we feel like we have this park to ourselves as well, and there’s a big shaded spot to keep the car and trailer out of the way. We walk towards the Devil’s Racecourse where water and rocks meet for activities. The way down the path is cool – super green, with some dead wood, active squirrels, and one hungry deer.

The river is wide and a bit wild in parts. The stone wall on the opposite bank is not what I’d want to rush into. We happen upon two women sunbathing on a sliver of beach-like riverfront. I put my finger in the water after reading the “Don’t die here” sign and admire the ducks and geese willing to work sideways in the cold current. The return hike, up the trail, was not as cooling.

We started to sweat. Atlanta (there are 19 places with this name in the US) in Georgia has the highest elevation, 1050 feet, of any major city east of the Mississippi River. This hike is not found in Florida, and our legs and lungs appreciate the opportunity to do a bit of work. I understand the importance of our ancestors not staying in one place too long as it makes your body complacent (unless over 14,000 ft. or near the Earth’s poles).

Traffic out of Cumberland added an hour to our drive, and then a light rain came before we reached the Tennessee border (our first of two crossings for the day). Getting to Blue Blazes Hiking Trail of Moccasin Bend National Archeological District involved a hairpin turn uphill and a turnaround on a small gravelly pot-holed lot with two cars.

I’m glad I planned many hiking stops, and we had been warned to watch out for the weather, which, of course, I would just slow down, but not ready in my city-slicker shoes for the muddy path. We turned around once after taking a wrong offshoot and then again once I stared at my feet more than the surroundings. The return was worth it as the sun shone better at this angle. On the other side of the lot is probably the rest of the loop trail, and we made it to a small bridge before turning back.

We can hear the gun training range nearby, and Caleb points out the mental health institute at the end of the road. These woods would make an interesting filming location. Back on the highway, I continued to see “sleeping” armadillos bloated or exploded on the shoulder. I thought there might be more animal variety, but I suppose it’s the same for high-population deer areas.

The map says that we will arrive at our destination in the past, meaning we will cross into the Central Time Zone. I’ve only guesstimated our stops for the night, and Caleb will get us 25 miles further than that before finding a room with a bench by the window, a perfect place to read. It starts to rain again, but just as I’ve checked in, the rain is checking out for now.