To one of our own

Very recently a terrible thing happened in the north Georgia mountains and those who categorize ourselves as the “outdoorsy” variety, lost one of our own.

On New Year’s Day, 24 year old Meredith Emerson left a note to her roommate that she and her dog, Ella, were going on a hike on the Freeman Trail from Vogel State Park to the summit of Blood Mountain. When she did not return that day nor the next, a search for the missing hiker was set in motion. She had been seen by other hikers on the trail with an older man and chatting in the park with him while their dogs played together. That was the last time anyone ever saw Meredith Emerson alive.

Her body was recovered days later in a wildlife management area. She had died from a blow to the head and was then decapitated. The man she was seen talking with is now in jail, charged with her murder after police were able to track him down trying to use Meredith’s credit cards.

This case held my interest and I followed all the developments. I was worried for this young lady who seemed to share my interests. And I was angry that one of the most beautiful places in all of Georgia was being associated with such an ugly story. (The name Blood Mountain, I agree, is not the ideal name for such a lovely spot. However, it was named for a battle that ensued between two of our native tribes, the Cherokee and the Creek and I resent misusing the mountain’s name to make catchy headlines for the murder.)

Moreover, I am outraged at what happened to Meredith as she was simply doing what she loved. I am outraged that her life was cut short by some sicko that should have been apprehended years ago. (He is now being tied with at least three other unsolved murders similar in nature.) And I am extremely outraged when I hear comments suggesting that this was Meredith’s fault. The comments of “She shouldn’t have been hiking alone.” and “She should have known better.” really make my blood boil. The truth is, Meredith Emerson did exactly what she should have done when hiking. She left a note telling her whereabouts. It is because of her good common sense that she is not an unsolved murder case and that a murderer is now off the streets.

Naturally everyone who knows me and knows my love of hiking has made the expected, “Doesn’t that make you nervous?”, “That’s why you should never go alone.”, and other comments stemming from the goodness of their hearts. I don’t resent their comments as they show concern for me, but every time I hear one of those comments I become angry at the situation. Why shouldn’t I feel that I am safe to do what I love? It’s not like I am tempting fate doing things such as hitchhiking across America or walking a wire across the Grand Canyon! Why doesn’t anyone warn me not to go shopping alone? Why must I give up something that I enjoy because of the chance that something terrible may befall me while on a trail when there is a (greater) chance that the same thing could happen to me while leaving Target? With every decision in life, there is a risk. My decision to hike, camp, and enjoy the woods is mine. I acknowledge the risks involved and have comparatively weighed that they are much smaller than the joy that these activities bring into my life. If (God forbid) I should ever meet my death on a trail, please know that I died doing what I love.

Here’s to Meredith Emerson, who died doing what she loved.