Deciding not to go to Panama City Beach, or Miami, or anything else that all the cool kids did last year, me and my friends loaded up my car with fishing poles, guitars, a tent, and about 15 jugs of bottom shelf wine and headed to the north Ga mountians. It was about a three hour drive, about an hour of it was composed of me driving at about ten miles and hour, alternating between first and second gear up what was the steepest dirt/mud road i've ever seen.
Once we got there, we set up the tent, gathered firewood, caught a bunch of fished, and just kicked it for three days in the middle of the woods. It was probably the best spring break that could have been achieved for less than one hundred bucks.
The campsite we were at was virtually untouched by man, except for a booth with a clipboard and a wall of mailbox like things. Campers are supposed to sign up and say where they camped and for how long, and put money in the box corresponding to the location of the campsite they were at, but me and my friends being the people we are wrote a note that read something like this:
"Dear wilderness, thank you for letting us stay here, we picked up all of our trash, put out our fires and left it as it was when we got here. Sorry for the bits of broken glass that we couldn't pick up, and for the loud drunken singing in the middle of the night. Also, we're sorry for breaking your "no alcohol on premises" rule, but we were responsible. Unfortunately, we have no money, but someday we promise to return and spend time with you.
Signed,
Allen G.
Jack K.
Charlie B.
Scott F.
The girls that tagged along.
P.S. The underwear flag was there when we got here. We promise."
It was a great experience.
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