This is our first night's campsite. We were next to an idyllic brook, and also it was raining. The neon colors of my dad's tent stand for "I am an Ozark Trails. I was bought at Wal-Mart, and I'm about to totally screw with Pastor Ken." Dad's shelter stayed true to its word, as it let more rain in on him and his gear than it kept out. Some might say that his trip took a turn for the worst when everything he had got soaked, but I would say that happened when he bought his tent at Wal-Mart.

And this was the inevitable result-- wet, humbled, and slightly bearded, waiting for the family to pick us up at this McDonalds in Cleveland, Georgia*. Here ended the hopes and dreams of our 106 miles together, but we squeezed everything we could out of the 16 miles we did get, and I'll never forget them.

*I personally had an emotional and rich historical connection with this backwater town of the Southern Blue Ridge mountains, and this triumphal entry was quite moving to me, to say the least.