An Extremely Sweaty Love Letter to Georgia – The Trek

Dear Georgia, 

Now, I haven’t written many love letters in my life.

But the ones I have written? Pretty positive reviews overall.

So I figured I’d try writing one to the state of Georgia.

Oddly enough, I had only been in Georgia about two months before all of this — back in March. But it was a completely different part of the state, under completely different circumstances, living what felt like a completely different life.

There was a beach.
It was cold.
And honestly, I thought I was the happiest girl in the world.

I truly believed life couldn’t get any better.

I had no idea that only two months later I’d be hiking the Appalachian Trail doing something I had dreamed about for nearly a decade.

Back then, I was doing cartwheels on the beach and landing… not so gracefully.

Now, I’m slipping down muddy banks trying to collect water without falling directly into a creek.

Back then, I was staying in Airbnbs that probably needed a little work.

Now, I’m sleeping in three-walled shelters and a tent that somehow always ends up on an incline.

Back then, I was searching for seashells.

Now, I’m just trying not to eat dirt after tripping over the twentieth root of the day.

And instead of driving twelve hours south back to my Key West home…

I’m walking north.

Still walking north.

As dramatic as it sounds, I genuinely feel like I was a different person two months ago than the one currently hiking through these mountains.

And let me tell you — this journey has not been all rainbows and daisies.

It’s been sweat.
Dirt.
Blisters.
Exhaustion.

It’s been trying not to lose my mind after eating ramen for the third night in a row.

It’s been looking up at a mountain and wondering why the trail suddenly decided vertical was acceptable.

It’s been wanting to quit sometimes.

Georgia was hard.

But somehow, Georgia was also easy.

Because despite all the climbs and soreness and moments where I questioned every decision I’ve ever made, Georgia also gave me:

• incredible people,






• breathtaking views,






• unforgettable memories,






• and proof that I’m capable of far more than I thought.

I genuinely didn’t expect to fall in love with this state the way I did.

And I think that’s the thing about love:
it isn’t transactional.

Love isn’t only loving something when it’s easy.

There were moments I wanted to scream. Moments I was frustrated. Moments where Georgia absolutely humbled me.

And somehow I still loved it anyway.

I would tell Georgia “I love you” a hundred times over because every brutal climb and miserable rainy day made me stronger.

Nine days doesn’t sound like much in the grand scheme of things.

But out here?

Nine days feels like a lifetime.

And even though Georgia was only the beginning of this journey, it already changed me in ways I don’t think I fully understand yet.

Goodbyes are hard.

But goodbyes are also what open the next door.

And who’s to say I’ll never come back?

For me, Georgia became something I never knew I needed.

And somehow… this is still only the beginning.

Xoxo,

Ari, Piper, and (Trail name to be revealed soon…)

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