Some things are predictable, like the sun rising. Traffic in Atlanta. A teenager rolling their eyes when asked to do something. Knowing the incoming spam call is for an expiring car warranty I never had in the first place.
Some things are not. Like the weather. Even with the most advanced technology and years of tracking data models, we can't get it exactly right.
That can be problematic when it comes to packing for a trip. Especially in Georgia, where the seasons can change overnight.
I recently endured this when embarking on a hiking excursion with my son who was home from college, hoping to get some bonding time before he was back to the wilds of campus life. My wife suggested the Len Foote Hike Inn. It's nestled five miles deep within the Chattahoochee National Forest, and as the name suggests, the only way there is to hike in. Meaning you only take what you can carry.
It had been 65 degrees since Christmas but the forecast said a cold front was coming through, maybe with a pre-dawn flurry or two. How do you pack for that with limited capacity? Little did we know that challenge would involve all four seasons in a 24-hour span.
Spring
When embarking from atop Amicalola Falls, it felt like April showers. The only thing missing was relentless green pollen everywhere and filing W2 forms. We donned water resistant hoodies in damp, 65-degree weather for our three-hour tour traversing a segment of the Appalachian Trail approach.
Summer
Three miles in, the sun popped out, just in time for the trail's grade to really steepen. As sweat started flowing the short-sleeve shirts came out. And with my shants, I had the option of further cooling. We unwrapped Christmas a week ago, but it felt like June.
Fall
Reaching our destination, the sky turned orange, fallen leaves rustled around. The wind kicked up, the humidity toned down. There was even a football game on. Somewhere... Zero TVs, no Wi-Fi and spotty cell coverage couldn't verify any scores, however (lucky for us). While the calendar had already turned from the best season, its crisp return hung in the air.
Autumn is also a time of feasting. And the Hike Inn served up a cornucopia of comfort food: thick-cut pork chops, the leafiest of green salads, wild rice, and the most amazing blueberry cobbler. I don't even like blueberry cobbler, but might've committed a heinous crime for the chance to try it again.
Winter
We had seen the forecast. There was supposed to be a "dusting" of snow early the next morning. Exhausted from the hike, we slept through the passing storm. What it left in its wake was the fourth season of our journey.
Old Man Winter made quite the intro. It was 30 degrees (12 with the wind chill) with several inches of snow on the ground. We were about to traverse 5 miles back through it. Fortunately, our packs had been stuffed with layers of clothing, just in case our cold concerns were justified. And were they ever.
The first mile-and-a-half was an obstacle course around all the snow and ice covered trees leaning into the trail. After the first hour of traversing it, the winterland lost some wonder, but once the woods opened up, we got a full appreciation of the beautiful snow covered landscape, even despite at one point, me having to backtrack 5 minutes to find the soaked fleece I had taken off and accidentally dropped on the trail.
Finally, we started seeing people again as we neared the trailhead. Then found our snow covered car. After thawing it (and ourselves), we made the drive back down to the base of the falls and the park entrance, where it was like we had crossed into another temperate zone.
Not a single flurry was on the ground.
After marching three-and-a-half hours through a snow-covered, frozen tundra, I never would've predicted that.
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