Foothills Trail Day - 4 Final Day

Same routine as the days before: wake up, coffee, Pop-Tart breakfast, and on trail by 8:30. The only difference was that I spent part of the morning trying to figure out why my tent kept caving in. Still no answers. The tent remains undefeated.

Once I got moving, the trail turned beautiful again. The forest was lush, green, and full of life. I ran into Nick and Mike again around 10:30, which was a fun little trail reunion. As I got closer to Sassafras, I topped off my water and made the climb. The summit was better than expected, and a few folks from Indiana were weirdly stoked that I was there, which made the moment even better.

Then came my classic mistake: I misread the map. I thought I only had 5 miles left. Turns out, I had 10. Normally, not a huge deal. But 4 to 5 of those miles were through a burn section, and the heat was brutal. It felt like the ground was cooking me from below.

The final miles felt longer than what the signs and maps suggested, maybe even an extra mile or two. But the last mile was gorgeous, and rolling into Table Rock State Park felt incredible.

Jenn, the trail angel who had picked me up from the airport days earlier and dropped me off at Oconee State Park, was waiting for me at the finish. She took me back to her place, where she rents out a room above her garage, which I highly recommend. I showered, rejoined society, and then we headed over to Karen’s house. Karen is one of Jenn’s neighbors and friends, and also helps as a trail angel. She made an amazing dinner, and the hospitality from both of them was next level. They both have beautiful homes and made the end of the trip feel really special.

The next day, Jenn took me to a nearby town where I rented a car. From there, I headed to North Carolina to visit family and spend some quality time out on the coast.

Looking back, the Foothills Trail was in great shape. Lots of flowers, plenty of green forest, and a trail that made it easy to let your mind wander. What stood out most to me were the birds. They were chirping the entire way, and they sounded so different from what I’m used to back in Oregon. A small detail, but one of the things I’ll remember most.