On my getaway last month I briefly hiked the Appalachian Trail. I passed it quickly on the way up to an advertised 360-degree view, which was more like 345, since to reach the ultimate pinnacle required a little more rock scrambling than I wanted to do. But on the way back to the car, the AT was there and I was game.

But first, I had to decide: would I head to Maine … or Georgia? A silly way to put it, of course, since I wouldn’t be walking to either one, wouldn’t even be on the trail itself for more than a few minutes.

Making the choice made me think, though. Despite all we hear about it being the journey not the destination that matters, endpoints make a difference. They shift the way we think about a trip. They color the journey.

In the end, the sun was slanting more fetchingly to the south, so that’s what I chose. This is what I saw. Not Georgia … but not bad.