Appalachian Trail

New Hampshire to Pennsylvania and Pause

Maybe the White Mountains scared me, or it might have been the $80.00 per night rates at the AMC Lodges in New Hampshire that dampened my spirit, but whatever the reason(s), I changed plans in North Woodstock, NH and returned south. Frankly it was not an unexpected diversion; I had been mulling over my schedule for days, because I could see there was no way I was going to make it to Katahdin before July 8th, the date I was due in Philadelphia to rendezvous with Jacob and Milana, Annice's grandkids.

But, something else came up that pulled me back there sooner, and so it was that on June 7th, I found myself on a Concord Trailways Bus, bound for Boston, and on to the Delaware Water Gap, and my car.

Since I was in Boston, I took the opportunity to drop in on my old friend Jude Monroe, her partner Mark Shub and Mark's father, Dr. Al Shub, who lives with them in South Dartmouth, MA. I transferred to the New Bedford bus and Jude picked me up and drove me to their grand country estate. It is a beautiful, but unpretentious property; very, very comfortable and complete with a standard-issue yellow Labrador retriever. Her name is Matilda and considering the way her parents slobber over her, I could tell they do not consider her standard-issue, but very special indeed. "Tillie' is a typical Lab; all heart.

I had a very good time there. It was a relaxing evening with good friends and good food, and the next day I caught another bus to New York where I transferred to the Delaware Water Gap, but I arrived there too late to retrieve my car from storage. The church-based hostel was closed for renovations and I pitched my tarp behind the local outfitter's store and next to a pond packed with melodious bullfrogs. They serenaded me to sleep. I drove to Philadelphia the next morning.

I felt fine when I left the trail, but over the next few days, my left hip, leg and foot developed strange symptoms. I had pain in the hip, numbness in the foot and weakness in the quadriceps muscle. Nevertheless, once I tended to my business, I headed back to the A.T. However, considering the short interval before I was due back in Philadelphia, instead of resuming my hike in New Hampshire, I returned to the Delaware Water Gap and hiked south, thinking I could knock off Pennsylvania before the grandkids arrived in early July. I lasted two days. After hiking only sixteen miles, the pain was tolerable, but my leg was weak; it was practically useless. The leg collapsed on the hills; the quadriceps muscle simply had nothing to give. I walked off the trail in Wind Gap, PA.

That launched another “Trail Angel” story. I was walking into Wind Gap, not even hitching, when a car pulled over and the driver shouted, “Where are you going?”

“To Philadelphia,” I said. “Is there a bus station in Wind Gap?”

“No, but get in, I have an idea,” he said.

Bill Hutnik drove to the post office and told me to wait in the car. A few minutes later, he came out with a cordless phone stuck to his ear, and said, “Will it help if I can get you to Lansdale?”

“Sure,” I said.

To make a long story short, Bill was talking to his son, who was in his car, about to leave Wind Gap for Lansdale, PA. He asked his son to take me with him. The son agreed, and Bill returned the cordless phone to the Post Office, jumped back in the car and drove me across town to rendezvous with my ride.

Bill’s son dropped me at the Wawa convenience store in Lansdale, and I downed two ice cream bars before Annice arrived and drove me to her house. Windgap to Philadelphia; three shuttles in less than two hours and I was in the shower. Could I make it up?

The next day I limped into the hospital emergency room. They x-rayed my back and leg, but the film revealed only minor arthritis in my hip. The doctor offered some educated guesses about my predicament, including a stressed ligament, but nothing that explained the combination of symptoms enveloping my hip, leg and foot. He prescribed rest and Ibuprofen. I will give it a few days before I consult another doctor.

Meanwhile my unexpected return to Philadelphia allowed me to hook-up with another old friend from California, John Puccini and his wife Patti, whom I had never met. John and Patti were visiting Philadelphia on their way to New Jersey and coincidentally called Annice looking for me. We joined them for dinner at Ralph’s, a famous Italian restaurant with much local color—and great food. It was an unexpected renewal of a very old and important friendship and we enjoyed a wonderful evening together.

Have I learned anything from walking hundreds of miles, day after day, week after week, month after month, mostly alone, with hardly a soul with whom to communicate?

Fortunately, I do not require constant companionship, but when one is alone 24 hours a day, you have to fill that void with something. I talk to myself constantly; I have revisited large parts of my life; I have thought about the mistakes I've made; I’ve reminisced about the people who are important to me, and why, and I have speculated about what I will do with the balance of my time on that thing I am walking on, the planet earth.

My mind skips around like a hard drive on steroids. My thoughts range from the stimulating to the boring, sometimes unbearably boring, especially when I repeat conversations with myself, but I am surprised by the passing of time; the clock seems to be on fast forward, and the hours and the miles evaporate as if on autopilot.

My attention is primarily focused on where next to place my foot—the Appalachian Trail is not made for walking; rocks, tree roots, mud and water are the common surfaces and they are all slippery—but it is impossible to ignore the surroundings. I prize the beauty around me; the trees, the water, the birds and the animals. They all contribute to an image I have come to appreciate, that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, but that if you took away any of its components, that would diminish the rest. My years on the water gave me a heightened sense of awareness for many of the natural and unnatural threats to the environment, and my time on the trail reminds me of that delicate balance.

However, I cannot claim that the environment has been one of my hot buttons. It is not a simple issue to come to grips with; opaque is the word that comes to mind. The zealots exaggerate their claims; Rush Limbaugh and The Sierra Club are equally sincere and persuasive but they both turn me off. Perhaps I can’t get past the messenger.

My new awareness first came in New Jersey. I had only walked a few days then, but I was in the most beautiful forested land you can imagine. Walking on a ridge 1,200 ft above sea level, I marveled at the unexpected beauty of the mountains and the countless natural lakes that dotted the landscape below, including the beautiful Delaware River. Decades ago, concerned citizens had the foresight to stop the damning of this important waterway and today it is the longest free flowing river on the East Coast. But conversely, as I looked out on hundreds of thousands of acres of undeveloped forestland, I thought, if New Jersey, the most densely populated state in the Union, is this natural and wide open, what is all the fuss about? Of course, my views from the ridge were only surface deep.

The birds entertain me. It is no accident that I named my weblog, Morningbird. Living on a boat, and before that in a country house with open windows (read no air conditioning), made me a fan of their merry early morning symphonies. Even the shrieking sea gulls produce a harmony that calms the soul. Coincidentally, in Vermont and New Hampshire, I hiked with Tom Banks, a veteran U.S. Park Ranger, who can identify birds by their sounds. That opened another window for me, and I looked forward to learning who was singing that tune. Woodpeckers are the noisiest birds and we heard many different kinds. I learned from Tom that woodpeckers have a protective layer of water around their brains to soften the impact of butting their heads against the tree. I could use that.

At night, books are my companions; I read on average, one book a week. I would read more, but in order to keep my pack weight down, I limit my inventory to one paperback at a time. I replenish my library when I stop for food.

I enjoy the absence of noise, the constant buzz in the background that over a lifetime, I unwittingly came to accept as normal, and not long ago I wondered when the hike was over, if I would return to TV-land and a world saturated with electronic media. I decided, no, I would not, but on my first night off the trail in New Hampshire, I found myself watching the NBA playoffs—not an encouraging transition. Nevertheless, reading remains my favorite pastime, and I am determined to wean myself from the tube.

I walked solo for weeks, and seldom saw other hikers, even on the weekends. At the end of the day, I looked forward to camping alone, and later when the weather turned warm, and I began to encounter other backpackers, I initially resented those hikers who ventured into the solitude of my shelter. That was shortsighted and selfish, because without exception, I enjoyed their company, and being a backpacking rookie, I invariably learned something from my shelter mates.

I have not met one disagreeable person on the Appalachian Trail and I’m told that is true of the backpacking community in general. It is true of the sailing world too; on the water, inconsiderate oafs become good Samaritans. Go figure.

The early going was hard; I was out of shape and woefully unprepared to hike up and down mountains day after day with 35-40 lbs. on my back. I dreamed that my body would quickly fall into shape, but that was not to be. I suffered for about 300 hundred miles and it was only after I detoured onto the Long Trail in Vermont, and hiked the Green Mountains, that I began to feel stronger. The Greens pushed me over the hump; after that, I stopped looking at the elevation charts; there was nothing to dread.

If you read my earlier postings, you might remember the fantastic breakfast we had at the Garlic Clove restaurant in Glencliff, NH. It was a memorable morning; not only because of the food, but also for an accidental meeting I had with another diner. The man was seated at the bar having coffee and conversation with two friends, all of them locals. When I looked over at them, I noticed a book lying next to his elbow. I do not know why the book grabbed my attention, and I don't know why I walked over and asked the man about it, but I did. He patiently explained the subject and the author's thesis and I wrote the information on a napkin. A few days later, I located a bookstore in Lincoln, NH and bought "The Last Hours of Ancient Sunlight" by Thom Hartmann, published by Three Rivers Press.

It is a mind-bending book and it will require more than one read for me to grasp the full impact of Mr. Hartmann's message. Simply put, it is that we are "fouling our nest." According to Mr. Hartmann, the depletion of energy is not a dilemma exclusive to our society, but a human failing existing for thousands of years and the leading cause of the demise of every major civilization; oil is simply the threatened “resource of the moment.” He contends that the problem is a by-product of culture, and because of that, band-aid solutions, e.g., recycling, birth control, and saving the rain forest, will not arrest the problem. It requires a cultural flush; a new set of values. We must accept that we are part of nature and not simply users, or masters. He caused me to rethink some of my beliefs and assumptions.

I’m glad I am walking this path. The fresh air has cleared my mind. When my leg recovers, I will lumber on down the trail.

New Hampshire

5.29. Hiked to the first shelter out of Hanover last night and shared it with two local hikers, Barbara Ricker from North Conway, NH and Tom Martin from the Boston area. They are both long-term backpackers and very knowledgeable about trail conditions and customs in the area.

The next morning, I left the shelter ahead of Tom, because he wanted to stay and chat with the other two. I had an important phone call to make and I could see that the trail crossed two roads within the next 5-7 miles and I assumed there would be a store with a pay phone nearby one of the trail crossings . I was so sure of it that I didn't even tell Tom I was going to stop; I thought, worse-case we will meet at the shelter for the night.

Bad assumption. There was a general store within a mile of the first crossing, but no pay-phone. I walked back to the trail and hiked two miles to the next road, but it was the same road; it simply wound around and met-up again with the A.T. Frustrated, I flagged a passing car and asked if there was a pay-phone in either direction.

"No," the driver said; there is not a pay-phone between here and Hanover, but get in, I will take you there."

I jumped in the car and a few minutes later, found myself back in Hanover at the Public Library (the driver's suggestion, because he said they had both a pay-phone and Internet access).

I made my phone call, checked email again and walked back to Main street to hitch back to the trail. By that time, I assumed Tom had passed me and I had taken so much time to hitch in and out of town, I assumed I might not catch him before dark, which meant I would stop at the next shelter, and not make it to our planned destination, which was the shelter after that.

I hitched back to the trail, and as I was getting out of the truck, a car was pulling away from the parking lot. I looked at the people in the car; they stared back at me, and screeched to a stop. It was Tom and Barbara, my shelter mates from last night! They had hiked back to their car and were driving away. Incredible timing. I told them about my dilemma, which was that I would probably not catch Tom and they volunteered to drive me ahead to the next trail crossing where I could walk back and meet him. I accepted and I yellow-blazed a few miles and I was waiting on Tom when he walked in. Barbara and Tom Martin later drove back to the same crossing, hiked in to the shelter and joined us for the night. A confusing day turned out perfect for me.

5.31. I don't remember if I mentioned this, but a couple of days ago, when I stopped in Hanover to pick up mail, we met a nice man on the Post Office steps. He recognized our hiking gear and stopped to ask about our trail experiences. We chatted for a few minutes and David Coker then invited is to stop at his house in a couple of days. David lives nearby the trail and volunteered to meet us, and take us to his house where we could wash our bodies and our clothes. Another Trail Angel! We agreed to meet him in the parking lot at 11:00 A.M., two days hence.

We were sauntering down the trail at 10:50 that morning when we looked up and saw David approaching on foot. He had walked out to meet us. He drove his back to his house (a very nice ranch property with stables, barns, horses, the whole deal) and we met his wife, Helene who escorted us inside where there was a wonderful lunch set-up for us. Too much! We showered; we washed clothes, we ate, and best of all, we visited with David and Helene all afternoon. It was the best, most relaxing time I have spent in two months. Very nice people and very gracious hosts.

Later that afternoon, they drove us back to the trail, stopping on the way for ice-cream, which topped off a beautiful day.

But the day was not over. We hiked to the next stop, the "Hiker's Welcome Hostel," and spent the night. More food. It was Memorial Day and the owners were BBQ'ing chicken and vegetables. They loaned us a car and we drove to a convenience store, bought more chicken, and added it to the fire. A day of good surprises.

The next morning, a resident hiker, trail name Lion King, drove us to the "Garlic Clove" for breakfast. It was the most impressive breakfast I have ever, ever eaten. You would have to see it to believe it. The quality and the quantity of food was unmatched by anything I have experienced.

Lion King is a friend of the hostel owner and he is staying there while he finishes a filmed documentary of his A.T. thru-hike. He previewed parts of the film for us and it is quite good. He said it had been optioned to a producer, but no commitment to publish yet.

Fast forward. The next few days ran together in my memory as we trudged over the early White Mountains. We crossed Mount Moosilauke in 34 degree weather with icicles hanging off the runty above tree-line trees. The descent from Moosilauke was the worst for me. In the 62 days leading up to Moosilauke, I fell twice. I fell three times descending Moosilauke, twice falling on my trekking poles and bending them like pretzels.

That was just a warm-up for the next day and the twin peaks of Kinsman Mountain. Another steep descent in three separate hail storms, interspersed with rain. When I finally walked off the trail that night, I was a happy camper to be in Lincoln, NH and to know that I would sleep in a dry bed that night.

Tom did not have a trail name and I had been suggesting various names for him, but nothing clicked until we got to Moosilauke (4,900 ft) and we were walking in the clouds. I remembered that he has climbed all of the 46 peaks above 4,000 ft in New Hampshire--or was it Massachusetts--or was it the White Mountains? Whatever, it is an admirable feat, and I named him Cloudwalker. He likes it. I do too. I suppose that would make me Cloudcrawler .

Tom and I agreed to split the next morning. He has a tight schedule and I was slowing him down. I really enjoyed my time with him and I'm sure we will stay in touch. After he left, I found the Cascade Lodge, an inexpensive B&B ($19 a night) popular with hikers in North Woodstock, NH where I remain writing this on Saturday, June 5th, an historic day, I hope, for Smarty Jones. My fingers are crossed.

I'm sending this from the Cascade Coffee House, a neat coffee bistro across the street from my B&B. Internet service is free. Check it out: http://www.cascadecoffeehouse.com

I'm outta here in the morning.

Bye, Bye Vermont, Hello New Hampshire

5.28 Tom Banks and I have hiked together all week, and it has been nice to have company on the trail and in the shelter. He is a nice guy and, of course, being a Park Ranger, a very knowledgeable one. And he is a good pacer; I like to walk behind him.

Today we hiked into Hanover, NH and stopped to replenish groceries, pickup mail and wash clothes. We got the mail and groceries, but the laundromat was inconveniently located on a road out of of town and we skipped that. The rains came and went all day, sometimes raining very hard and we decided to hike to the first shelter north of Hanover and spend the night.

It is a steep climb to the Velvet Rocks Shelter, but a short one. That helps, because we are both loaded with a six-day supply of food. The extra weight of the food is punishing. I eat the heavy stuff first. For example my breakfast this morning was peanut butter using a slim jim (pepperoni stick) for my spoon.

The next entry is probably several days away.

Back on the A.T.

5.25. My hitch from Rt. 108 back to the A.T. was an experience to remember. I stepped on Rt. 108 and 10 minutes later a man in a pick-up stopped. I got in and was greeted by "Mack", his large and friendly Golden Retriever. This man went out of his way to take me all the way into Stowe, where Rt. 108 intersects with Rt. 100.

I copped a quick Ben & Jerrys from the mini mart and hit the street with my thumb out, because I had a long commute back to the A.T. and a long hike to the first shelter. I was worried about making the trek before dark.

A few minutes later, I was picked up by a French-Canadian couple in a VW Vanagon. They took me several miles and let me out in the country where they turned off for a day hike.

Then I was picked up by a young woman who said she thru-hiked the A.T. in 2001. We had a lot to talk about and the ride ended too soon, but she too, took me farther than she intended to go.

After that, it was a professional photographer who regaled me with stories of his trips to Alaska and Russia, and his Russian girl friend (acquired in the U.S., not imported, he said).

Next a very young woman in a 4X4 pickup with a stick-shift; my kind of woman.

Then a very nice woman, who took me into a small town with only a gas station, Post Office and library. She was delivering something to a local resident and she dropped me at the library. She said if I was still there when she came back that she would take me on the the A.T., another 10-12 miles.

But I was not there when she returned, for I was picked up within minutes by an employee of the Killington Resort. He grew up in Vermont, moved away for thirty years and recently returned. "Never to leave again," he said.

My Killington friend dropped me in the parking lot where the A.T. intersects with Kent Pond on Rt 100, and I hiked the 7 miles to the shelter before dark. It was an incredibly successful hitching day for me. An amazingly quick transition from the Long Trail back to the A.T.

About half-way to the shelter I met Tom Banks, another north-bound hiker. Tom is a U.S. Park Service Ranger who is taking a break to hike the A.T. from Massachusetts to Maine. We hiked that day and the next day together, but today (as I write this) he went on ahead of me. He has a tight schedule, because he must get back to work, and that forced him to hike twenty miles today. "No thanks," I said.

Tom is a genuine, 100% liberal. We had some spirited discussions about political and social issues. I like him. Hope we meet again.

I'm in the Woodstock, VT library. Hitching back to the A.T. when I leave here.

Peregrine Falcons and other Obstructions

5.24. I left the Stowe Hostel at noon and walked in the rain and fog for about four miles before I got a ride back to the Long Trail. My ride was a house painter from Bennington (no work in the rain) and he drove me all the way to the intersection with the trail, another 5-6 miles.

By that time it was raining hard and I ducked under an overhang to a Park Ranger hut on the edge of a parking lot. It was early in the day and I decided to wait and see if the rain let up before I went on. A few minutes later, a green (everything in Vermont is green) pickup rolled up and two uniformed official types got out and walked over to the hut. They were there to stock the hut with supplies for the upcoming Memorial Day weekend, and I followed then inside.

We chatted for awhile and then they asked me where I was headed with "that backpack."

I said, "North to Canada on the Long Trail."

They traded glances and frowns and then one of them informed me that the Long Trail was closed to hikers above 2,500 ft until Memorial Day. "A $50 fine per violation," the other one chimed in.

And then they told me about the Peregrine Falcons. It seems that Vermont is re-introducing Pegregrine Falcons to the Green Mountains, and it is a $500 fine if you hike into one of their nesting areas. Don't ask me how one knows when they have committed such an act.

I said, "I'm confused, because I have already hiked over several 2,500+ ft peaks. And I encountered a Federal Park Ranger at one point, and she did not say anything about the restrictions."

Nevertheless I had no desire to violate their regulation; I love birds, I love the $500 in my pocket, and I did not want to create a bad name for visiting hikers. I told them I would cut short my Long Trail hike and return to the A.T. (At that point, I was about 60 miles from Canada.)

They left, but the rain remained, as did the heavy fog. I stood under the hut overhang for several minutes, but there was almost no traffic on the road, and hitching back to anywhere seemed remote. I decided to go ahead a hike to the next shelter, only a couple of miles North and return to the road the next morning and hitch back to the A.T.

I hiked up Sterling Mountain, but before I got to the shelter, I crossed a ski-run and spotted a large lodge at the head of the ski-lift. I walked over. It was unlocked and there was a big "Welcome" sign next to the door. I went in. It was wonderful. A big empty room with a sofa and table and a big picture window looking out over one of the downhill runs. I was in heaven. Outside the rain was crashing against the windows and off the roof, the lightning was lighting up the sky, and the fog was swirling around in crazy patterns. Reminded me of sitting in Tiburon and looking across the bay at San Francisco. I slept like a baby.

The next morning I walked down the ski-run to the resort and out to Rt 108 which would take me back East and South to the intersection with the A.T. I'm mildly disappointed that I didn't make it to Canada, but I'm very glad I made the Long Trail detour. I saw more interesting little towns, met more nice people, and I think "The Green's" in Vermont helped prepare me for "The Whites" in New Hampshire. I may have shed my training wheels in Vermont.

Stowe,VT

I came off the trail yesterday to buy some groceries, and to wash clothes, and I was going to hike back to the next shelter after that, but the rains came and the forecast is for 3-4 days of steady wet stuff. I chickened out; no desire to get everything wet after I just washed it, and I searched the Internet for hostels near the trail. Found one in Stowe for $15 a night! I stepped out on the road and the first car picked me up and brought me to Stowe. The driver moved here from Towson, MD, a town I know well from my Lab Rescue days, and he is a boater too, so we had some things to talk about. "Besides," he said, "this gets me out of my Honey Do chores."

So, I'm in Stowe at the nicest library I have ever seen; feels like a high-class funeral home. Very plush, exquisitely furnished, and hush-hush quiet.

I'll stay here another night and see what the weather does. It's nice to walk around without 35 lbs. on my back.

Book store next. I was reading "The Devil Wears Prada" by Lauren Weisberger, but I gave it up about half-way, because it was too much of the same thing, and it was heavy, meaning that to send it back, lightened my load, and so, it is in the postal system. It was a NY Times bestseller, but I don't know why. However, if you know anyone who thinks they have a bad boss, tell them about this book; it will lift their spirits.

The Green Mountains are getting higher and steeper. Day before yesterday was my hardest day yet; a lot of climbing. I didn't get to the shelter until 7 PM, and I slept in yesterday morning and didn't hit the trail again until 10:30 AM. Starting late is a bad habit, because it reduces your options later in the day.

The Long Trail

A bit of history for reference.

The Appalachian Trail joins another trail in southern Vermont called The Long Trail, and they proceed on the same path for about 125 miles until they cross Rt. 4. There the Appalachian Trail turns east for New Hampshire and The Long Trail continues north to Canada. The Long Trail, built between 1910 and 1930 is 275 miles long stretching from the MA/VT state line to the Canadian border, all of it in Vermont. It is the oldest long distance hiking trail in America and the inspiration for the Appalachian Trail.

I first became aware of The Long Trail when I crossed Harmon Hill, southeast of Bennington and saw a sign which said, "Katahdin- 55x miles; Canada (via The Long Trail) - 22x miles." (I had been walking on The Long Trail since I crossed the MA/VT state line, a few miles south of Harmon Hill.) I was intriqued by the notion of walking to Canada, and by the shorter distance; and I was ready for some fulfillment, success, whatever you call it, but I put that thought away and slogged on.

When I walked the wrong way and ended up in the Rutland outfitter, my mind was stewing with options. I thought, I have already hiked about one-third of The Long Trail; why not finish it, and then go back to the A.T.?

That is what I'm doing; I think I can do the rest of The Long Trail in 2-3 weeks. I turned off the A.T. yesterday. Last night I shared a shelter on The Long Trail with a nice young couple hiking with two beautiful Golden Retrievers. They were very well behaved. Today I'm writing this from Brandon, VT about 10 miles--and a difficult hitch--off The Long Trail (I stopped here for groceries--the options are fewer and farther apart than on the A.T.) It is a different world; no helpful guides like the A.T. publishes to tell you where the next grocery store, or library or laundromat is. I like it. It is closer to the real thing.

Here is my new plan: I will hike The Long Trail to Canada, and assuming Homeland Security does not arrest me as an illegal alien, from there I will catch a bus to Baxter State Park, ME and restart my A.T hike from Mt Katahdin. I will climb Katahdin and then hike south on the A.T. back to the Maine Junction at Willard Gap, just off Rt 4 in Vermont, where I left the A.T. for The Long Trail.

From there, I will take another bus back to Delaware Water Gap and resume hiking the southern part.

There is a black lab in this library named Jack (he belongs to one of the employees). He is to die for.

Wrong-Way Again

5.16. I walked out of the Clarendon Shelter in the wrong direction! Ended up back on Rt 103. I was highly agitated by this, and rather than walk back on a path I had already walked twice, I decided to hitch into Rutland, VT and look for a library. I read that there was an outfitter there and that was added incentive to detour into town.

A very nice man picked me up and took me to the library, but it was closed on Sunday. He then took me to the outfitter, which was quite a distance from the center of town, but conveniently on the road back to the A.T. It was about 10:30 AM and the outfitter didn't open until noon, but there was a Dunkin Donuts next door and a NY Times on the newstand. Homerun!

I spent the afternoon at the Outfitter and left with a trail guide to the Long Trail and a new backpack. My old pack was killing my shoulders and it was coming apart at the seams. I guess it was meant to be that I walked backward, huh?

I left the Outfitter and hitched back to the trail, a long uphill transit that would be brutal on foot. A very nice older lady picked me up an took me all the way, about a 5 mile trip. I stepped on the trail about 5 PM.

Lost and Found

5.14. I spent tonight in the Little Rock Pond Shelter where I met an 81 year old man who is on his 5th thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail. "Are you nuts?" I asked. He said no and went on to show me his gear; homemade everything, bivy sack, backpack, stuff sacks, etc.

5.15. I got lost this morning. I think my mind sub-consciously kept me on a logging road after the A.T. turned off. Didn't know where I was until I passed a big lake and found that on the map. By that time I had ventured way off the trail and I continued on the logging road which ran in the general direction (Northeast) that I wanted to go. It crossed a ski slope, and eventually ended at a T-intersection. I flipped a coin and turned right. Soon got picked up in a pickup and rode a spare tire into East Warrington. East Warrington has a Post Office and a general store, and it is on Rt 103 which intersects with the A.T. All was not lost; I bought groceries, hitched back to the trail and continued on north. By that time, I had covered 14 miles on the map, but I had walked much less. Being lost was fun; took the drudgery out of slogging along on the trail one step at a time. I hiked to the Clarendon shelter and spent the night.

Bennington to Manchester, VT

5.10. I got up early and walked to the grocery store to stock up. Tom Bluto drove me back to the A.T. and I hit the trail at 10:00 AM. It was a warm day and I stopped at the first shelter to change into shorts. Two young guys were settled in there and told me they were on the 5th day of a 25-day fast. Right. I chatted with them and they seemed OK, but my antenna was raised, and I quickly changed and got back on the trail.

Hiked 10 miles to the Goddard Shelter and stopped for the night. Goddard is the nicest shelter I've seen with a real porch and a covered roof. Also a view to die for.

5.11. It rained last night harder than anything I have experienced--maybe ever. It was like the clouds turned updside down and dumped the water all at once.

It's noon and I'm at the Kid Gore Shelter for lunch and to change into shorts; getting warm again.

4:30 PM. I stopped at the Story Spring Shelter for the night. The famous black flies greeted me here. Didn't see another hiker all day.

5.12. Last night was the first night that I slept without long pants, long sleeve top, socks, and hat. Starting today in shorts and tee-shirt, another first.

Officer Taco walked into the shelter as I was packing. He is the #2 dog, about 100 miles behind Magic. Officer Taco is a nice young guy from Holland, Michigan and studying to be a police officer. He cooked tacos on the trail one night for some other hikers and they anointed him with his trail name on the spot.

I checked my map before heading out and I noticed that the Stratton Pond Trail led straight to the next shelter, as compared to the A.T. which zigged and zagged all over the map. I estimated I could cut the mileage by 30-40% and I blue-blazed it to the Stratton Pond Shelter. I ate lunch there and continued on to the William Douglas Shelter and stopped for a break. Officer Taco, who took the long route, sauntered in a few minutes later and I could tell he was shocked to see me there; I fessed up and told him how I got ahead. We were both headed for Manchester Center to pick-up mail and he said he was going on the next shelter and spend the night, then walk in to Manchester the next morning. Sounded good, and I told him I would see him there later.

The A.T. soon joined a gravel road, and I looked at the map to see where it went. The road ran off my map, but I could see that it was headed Northwest toward Manchester. It was mid-afternoon and I gambled that the road led to Manchester or intersected with another road that did and I kept walking. About an hour later, I came out on a highway leading to Manchester, hitched a ride, and got to the Post Office at 4:50 PM, with ten minutes to spare.

Then I walked into town, replenished my groceries, got my coffee fix, my Ben & Jerry's fix, stopped at REI to buy a part for my backpack, and headed back to the trail. It is 5.5 miles to the trailhead and I walked 4 miles before I got a ride. It was almost dark by then, but I thought I could get to the next shelter before I lost all daylight. Not to be. I was still walking at 10 P.M. when I lost the trail. I ventured left, then right, but I couldn't find the trail under my feet nor could I see the next blaze. I pulled out my tarp and slept on the trail. When I woke up the next morning the first thing I saw was the Privy roof; I was only 50 yards from the shelter. Go figure.

5.13. Hiked from my "trail-bed" to the Peru Peak Shelter and stopped for the night. Officer Taco breezed in later, and was again surprised to see me ahead of him. I told him about my "country road to Manchester" detour. He went on to the next shelter.

Bennington, VT and The Knotty Pine Motel

5.07. I stepped back on the trail at 4:00 PM, passed over the MA/VT state line at 6:00 PM, and walked into the Seth Warner shelter at 7:40 PM. Had the shelter to myself.

5.08. Cold this morning; I couldn't get out of the sleeping bag and didn't leave the shelter until 9:30 AM. Not a good hiking day for me; my old muscles were without energy and I stopped at the Congdon Shelter at 3:00 PM. Two young couples with two dogs walked into the shelter at 5:30 PM. One dog was very friendly, but the other, a large Husky, was very aloof and barked at me from time to time. This behavior continued until everyone went to bed, and I'm thinking, OK when my bladder calls during the night, how do I get past Brutus? Luckily, my bladder did not call.

5.09. I got up at 6:30 AM, packed--with only one warning bark from Brutus--and left. After hiking for about five minutes, I felt something; I don't know how to describe it, but I felt like I was not alone. I turned around and there was Brutus tracking me down the trail, and away from his master. I shooed him back and went on. Another five minutes went by and the same feeling returned; I looked back. He was still there. I shooed him away again and that was the last I saw of him. I don't know if he decided he liked me, or if he was simply escorting me out of the area; probably the latter.

Arrived at Harmon Hill, elevation 2,325 ft. at 7:40 and I noticed a mile marker posted there. 557 miles to Katahdin, but only 252 miles to Canada.

I crossed VT Route 9 at 9:00 AM and the rain began. It takes me about five minutes to switch into rain gear, which I did on the side of the road, and I impusively held out my thumb as an old van approached headed in the direction of Bennington, VT. The van stopped! The driver took me into town and dropped me at a local coffee shop and I had eggs and hash browns with the NY Times. Bennington is another pretty little college town. I walked around the historic district in the rain after breakfast.

This return to civilization weakened my resolve and I pulled out the A.T. guide and perused the listings for a motel in Bennington. The listing for the Knotty Pine Motel said they had a shuttle to take hikers back to the A.T., and I called and verified that before I hiked the 1-1/2 miles to the motel.

I got to the Knotty Pine and I was greeted by Tom Bluto, the owner. We started talking and one thing led to another and I discovered that Tom is a serious yachtsman. He and is wife are leaving in June on their Chris Craft, THE KNOTTY LADY, for a circumnavation of the East Coast, starting north on the St. Lawrence, into the Great Lakes, down the Mississippi River to the Gulf Coast and then back around Florida and up the East Coast to the Hudson River. Small world, huh? He is a nice man and a generous one; I am typing this entry on the computer in his office. Saves me a trip to the library tomorrow. And Mrs. Bluto just stuck her head in the door and said she was fixing me a plate of food from her Mother's Day dinner to take back to the room with me. What can I say? Very nice people.

If you know someone hiking this way, tell them about the Knotty Pine. Very convenient location. There is a diner next door, a McDonalds one block away, and two blocks the other way there is Dunkin Donuts, Wendy's, Walmart and a major grocery store.

My next town stop will be Manchester Center, VT where I have a mail drop. Probably be there Thursday or Friday.

Nightime Pastime

The days are long and hard, sometimes short and hard, but the nights are long, because I always stop short of dusk. That gives me leeway as to where I will camp for the night, or if hiking to a shelter, more time to get there. The result is that I am always in bed early; if for no other reason than it has been cold, and my sleeping bag is the only place to stay warm.

I pass the hours by reading; couldn't have made this far without books. So far, I've read the following books:

Mystic River by Dennis Lehane
Good story. I wonder what part Sean Penn played? I see two possiblities.

Blessings by Anna Quinlan
Another good story. I became a fan when she was a columnist for NY Times and I think I've read all of her books.

The Footprints of God by Greg Isles
A techno-religious thriller. Interesting story and a page turner.

Hotel DuLac by Anita Brookner
Found this book in the East Mountain Retreat hostel. I read it, because it won the Booker Prize in 1983 (I think), and because it was short, and I could finish it before I left. Another good story; I like her style.

Money Ball by Michael Lewis
A fascinating book about baseball and the haphazard way the game has been managed. It is about one man, Billy Bean the General Manager of the Oakland Athletics, and how he employed technology and objective analysis to analyze the game and its players. Oakland succeeds with a payroll a fraction of the New York Yankees. You don't have to be a baseball fan (as I'm not) to enjoy this book.

A book I can't remember (My half-heimers at work, I guess)

Mt. Greylock and Williamstown, MA

5.06. Magic and I left Cheshire about 4:45 AM in the dark, my first time to hike with a headlamp. It was a short experience, because the sun soon peaked over the horizon and the morning birds started their symphony--woodpeckers too.

I was dreading the day, because Mt. Greylock, at 3,400+ ft, is the tallest peak on the A.T. in MA. It was not that bad, in fact the descent into North Adams was the hardest part of the day; very, very steep and lots of slippery leaves to slide on. Took me forever to get down that mountain.

I need gaiters, because when wearing shorts with nothing to shield the top of my boots, they collect everything; leaves, dirt, etc. Hard on the socks too. I read about The Mountain Goat, an outfitter in Williamstown who lets hikers camp behind the store, and I hitched into town from the trail intersection with MA 2. A very nice young woman gave me a ride; first time I've been picked up by a woman.

It was a good news, bad news story. The bad news was that The Mountain Goat had no shorty gaiters, only the long-legged type. I called another store in North Adams, but the woman who answered the phone, did not know what gaiters were--nuff said.

The good news is that, John Bryan the owner let me camp behind The Mountain Goat store. I slept on the bank of the Green River about 25 yards from roaring rapids that put me to sleep in minutes. And there was a picnic table there, so eating dinner was a treat. AND there was a laundromat next door. I washed clothes and slept in clean garments. It was great!

5.07. I got up at 6:00 AM and took the opportunity to rearrange my pack; sent more stuff home and repacked other things. The laundromat opened at 7:30 and I took my sleeping bag over and fluffed it up in the dryer. Convenient, because it rained last night and the bag was wet on the edges.

Williamstown is a very pretty place. It is dominated by Williams College and the campus seems to snake in and out of every street. It has the feel of a college town. I like it.

Went to the post office at 8:30 and the library at 10:00 where I am now, updating this log.

Back on the trail when I leave the library. Don't know how far I will get today, but probably not past the Seth Warner shelter, seven miles away and a 2,000 ft climb.

I'll be in Vermont tonight.

Slackpack Cheshire to Dalton

5.05. Tom drove us to Cheshire and we hiked the ten mile stretch back to Dalton (in reverse and without packs). Unbelievable experience to hike without thirty pounds on my shoulders! So this is what hiking is all about, I thought. Not bad. I flew over the terrain like I had wings on my feet.

Of course Magic was ahead of me, and out of sight within an hour. When I walked into Dalton, I was confused by the street signs and I flagged down a car to ask the driver directions into the town. He said, "Straight ahead, you want a ride?"

Aha, my chance to beat Magic, I thought, but he was already in the library when I got there.

Tom made dinner tonight; pasta and meat sauce, salad and ice cream for dessert. I ate like a horse.

We went to bed early, because we are leaving at 4:15 AM in the morning.

Dalton, MA and Tom Levardi

5.04. It was very cold in the Kay Wood shelter last night. I woke up at 6 AM, got up...and went back to bed. I got up at 7 AM...and went back to bed. This shivering scenario was repeated two more times, until 9 AM, when I managed to keep my feet on the floor. It was hailing when I left the shelter, but the swirling little pieces of ice soon dissapated and my walk into Dalton, MA, only three miles away was uneventful.

There is a famous trail angel in Dalton who lives right on the AT as you enter town from the south. His name is Thomas Levardi and his hospitality is legend. Tom keeps a water hose in his front yard for thirsty thru hikers, and he allows them to camp in his yard and to sleep on his porch. I was on the lookout for his house, because I knew that Magic stayed there last night, and I was hoping to do the same tonight. When I got to the house, the first thing I saw was Magic's pack on the porch. I knocked on the door, but there was no one at home, and I parked my pack on the porch and headed for the library and post office. (I signed the trail register so they would both know I was in town.) I did not expect to see Magic; I assumed he was shopping and whatever, and that when he finished his business, would probably be on his way to Katahdin. I spent an hour at the library and then walked about two miles to a major shopping center with a WalMart, a Barnes & Noble and a major grocery store. It was after 5 PM when I got back to Tom's and I was surprised to see that Magic was there. Tom soon came in and told me I could stay for the night.

The three of us went to an All-you-can-eat Chinese restaurant and then Tom drove us to a nearby mall with an EMS store. Then it was back to the house where I spent a very restful night on his porch. The next morning Tom treated us both to breakfast at the local deli only a block away. Then he drove us back to EMS, because I had forgotten to check on something I needed last night. An incredibly accommodating man, and a pleasant one.

I told them I had a maildrop waiting in Chesire, only ten miles up the road and Magic, who wanted to rest another day, suggested that we go to Chesire and get my mail, and then slackpack back to Dalton where we would again spend the night at Tom's. Then we could resume our Northern hike in the morning from Chesire. Only one hitch. We needed two rides to Cheshire; one today, and another tomorrow morning. Tom to the rescue. He took Magic and me to the Chesire Post office this morning; I put my mail in his car and then Magic and I hiked back. And Tom will take us back in the morning to resume our hikes. What can you say?

Tom has hosted thousands of At thru-hikers during the last twenty years and I can see how he developed such a stellar reputation. I have met some very nice people the past month (as I've written about), but my time with with Magic and Tom has been the highlight of my hike. They are special people.

Tomorrow, on to Maine.

Kay Wood Shelter

5.03. I passed the nine mile shelter, and went on to Kay Wood; 18 miles away; a world recored for Bear Meat. I was inspired by Magic, but the relatively flat terrain helped too; no serious mountains to climb today. I would have made it to Dalton, but I ran out of daylight.

Magic

5.02. I left Tyringham at 6:30 AM amid overcast skies, but a warm temperature; wearing shorts and SS tee. Misty rain started a couple of hours later..rain...stop...rain...stop. I held off donning rain gear for about three hours, because of the heat, but when the tempo picked up, I had to suit up. Temperature started to drop about the same time. I walked into Upper Goose Pond Cabin at 12:30 PM, looking forward to building a roaring fire in the famous fireplace, but the cabin was closed and the caretaker was not around. I wimped out and decided it was too far to the next shelter; I did not want to camp out in the rain, and I stayed at the cabin, because it has a big porch that I could sleep on out of the weather. Later I discovered the front door was unlocked and I knew I could sleep inside if it got too wet or too cold.

At 6:35 PM, I heard a noise and looked up to see another hiker walking toward the cabin. It was Magic Dinsmore, the lead dog on the 2004 Appalachian Trail. Magic left Springer Mountain, GA on February 16th and he is leading the pack; he estimated the closest hiker to him is about 100 miles behind. 1,532 miles in 2-1/2 months! I was awestruck; this is Rock Star quality, my friends. I told him I was honored to be in his presence. Then I peppered him with endless questions about everything I could think of. He very patiently answered everything I threw at him. Here's the topper; he did the same thing last year! Yep, back-to-back thru hikes. I said, "Are your nuts?"

Magic left the next morning at 7:00 AM and left a half-hour later. He was bound for Dalton, MA, 21 miles away. I was bound for the next shelter, nine miles away.

East Mountain to Tyringham, MA

5.01. I left East Mountain at 7:00 AM and walked into Tyringham at 4:30 PM; 13.5 miles today. It is hot; I would pay $100 for an ice cream cone. I stopped here because there is a pavilion next to the volunteer fire house and the community allows thru-hikers to camp there. A beautiful little town, but nothing commercial here, except the post office. It was a warm night with a light breeze and I slept good on the picnic table.

East Mountain Retreat

4.30. I found the hostel last night. It's about 5 miles outside Great Barrington, but only 1/2 mile off the trail. A real bed, hot shower, and washer and dryer for $13! My first shower in 15 days. Lois Rose, the owner, is a very nice lady. The retreat is just that; 3-4 houses on a mountain where people come to meditate and reflect on whatever it is that moves them. Her website is at http://www.eastretreat.org.

Lois has an affinity for hikers, and I suppose anyone who is in tune with nature and it's just her way of giving something back. She had a small sign on the AT marking the trail to the retreat, but the Appalachian Trail Conference made her remove it. Is the ATC another bureaucracy that has lost its way?

5.04. I've rethought the above hasty comment about the ATC. Two days ago I met a thru hiker on his second consecutive AT thruhike and he set me straight. He explained that the AT has to protect it's boundaries or anyone and everyone would be posting signs and other stuff on the trail. Makes sense. He also gave me an idea that might solve Lois problem and I will pass it on to her.

Salisbury, CT to Great Barrington, MA

4-27. Salisbury was a nice little village with all of the hiker's neccessities; post office, library, and well-stocked grocery store. I left there mid-afternoon and hiked to the Riga Shelter and spent the night. The shelter log dated 4-24 said that a bear woke up the residents at 2:15 in the morning. He was climbing the steps to the shelter when someone woke up and scared him away. I didn't sleep as well at Riga as I did the night before.

4.28. Left Riga and crossed the CT/MA state line at noon. Another state bites the dust! I hiked on until about 5:30 when I arrived at the Hemlocks shelter and I stopped for the night. Very nice shelter, with 2 double bunks and a loft that sleeps 4-5 more. And a picnic table. Nice to eat sitting at a table. It was a nice weather day for hiking; cool and overcast, but when the sun went down, it got very cold, very fast. I ate dinner and hopped into the sleeping bag. The hike today was the most beautiful stretch I've seen. I could see for 30-40 miles in both directions from Mt. Race. Spectacular views.

4.29. Left Hemlocks and remained on the trail until I came to a road into Great Barrington. I heard there was a hostel there with a shower and washer and dryer. It's been about two weeks since I bathed and cleaned clothes and I'm ready for some soap and hot water. I spotted an internet cafe as I entered town and that is where I'm sending this from. I discovered I walked the wrong direction for the hostel and I have to backtrack to go there. There is an outfitter on the way, and I'll stop there for better directions.

Falls Village CT

April 25. I left Kent, CT late Saturday afternoon and walked the Housatonic River for about 6 miles until I came to the Morgan Stewart shelter. Surprise, surprise! It was full of young women; four of them out for a weekend hike. They were all spread out with food, pots and pans, stoves, clothes, backpacks, and sleeping bags everywhere. "Where do you want me ladies?" I asked.

They politely, but I'm sure disagreeably, scooted around and made a space for me on the end. They were very nice about it and I tried to stay out of their way. I unpacked dinner and walked away to eat. And I generally stayed outside the shelter until bedtime. By then they were all tucked away in their sleeping bags. I left at 7:00 AM the next morning (Sunday) and continued hiking along the river for another 16 miles until I arrived in Falls Village, CT at 4:30 PM. Stopped in West Cornwall for lunch, but it was uneventful.

The forecast was for two days of rain and as I entered the Falls Village area I spotted a state trooper parked in the Regional High School parking lot, I walked over and asked him if he would arrest me if I slept under the overhang leading to the front door. He grinned and said that would set a bad precedent, but he went on to tell me about a park on the edge of town, and he said I could camp there. He volunteered to radio his comrades and tell them not to bother me during the night. A nice guy.

I walked through the park and into town, because it was still early and I wanted to locate the Post Office where I was to pick up a bounce box the next day. (A bounce box is mail that I forward to myself. I didn't need everything Annice sent to Pawling, NY and I forwarded some of it to Falls Village; that saved having to carry things I didn't need for a few days.)

I spotted a small eatery "The Toymakers Cafe" and I walked over to check it out, but it had closed at 4:30, only minutes before I got there. I stood on the porch pondering my next move when the door opened and a lady said "Are you a thru-hiker?"

"Yes," I said.

"Come on in," she said.

Ann and Greg, the owners were there alone, cleaning up and they told me to sit and enjoy. They opened the coffee pot for me and I sat and chatted with them for a couple of hours. They said that Falls Village is the smallest town in CT and it is populated by writers, some who live there full time and others who commute from NYC on weekends. They have a Post Office and a library--a magnificent Gothic building--open three days a week. The cafe is open four days a week. There is also a liquor store with snacks and a dog who is afraid if you walk in with your backpack on. Also a bank and an upscale restaurant and pizza parlor. A very laid-back town. When it was time to leave, Greg asked me where I was staying and I told him I was camping out in the park. He said "Camp out in our backyard." I spent the night under my tarp in a grassy area behind the restaurant. More nice people.

April 26. It rained all night, but my little tarp performed admirably and I emerged dry with only a few wet spots on the sleeping bag.

I went to the Post Office and forwarded the bounce box to a town in MA, because I thought I had enough food to get by for another 3-4 days.

Then I walked to the Falls Village Town Hall to look for a local map. The AT maps, although very good at displaying the details of the Appalachian Trail, do not include much information on surrounding areas. I got into a conversation with Mary Palmer, the Falls Village Town Clerk, and she told me about Sue Spring, formerly the town clerk of nearby Salisbury CT. Sue Spring, 65 years old aka Mama Lipton hiked the AT last year. Before I knew it, Mary called Sue and 15 minutes later Mama Lipton walked through the front door. We chatted for about 1/2 hour and she was very interesting and encouraging; I'm glad I had a chance to meet her. Sue has become a local celebrity and she has an AT presentation with visuals which she gives to various fraternal and civic groups. She took a 5 MB digital camera on the hike and apparently got some spectacular shots.

I returned to the cafe to pickup my backpack which I left on the front porch. When I walked up the steps the front door opened and Ann handed me an enormous cup of coffee for the road (they were not open).

I left Falls Village in the rain and fog and after walking for 2-1/2 hours in increasingly dismal weather I ducked into the Limestone Shelter and spent the night. It was only 4 miles from town, but I didn't feel like hiking another 8 miles to the next shelter.

4-27. The Limestone shelter has a tin roof and it rained cats and dogs last night. I slept like a baby, the best sleep night I have had on the trail. I did not get up until 7:45 and I felt guilty for sleeping in, but the sun was out and the birds were singing. Life is good.

I ate breakfast and discovered I had mis-judged my food inventory yesterday, and I decided to stop in Salisbury CT and stock up. I'm writing this from the Salisbury library. I'll tell you about Salisbury in the next post.

Gates to Heaven

I'm in Kent, CT updating from the library. Only 30 minutes per PC session, so I will be brief. Two days ago on April 22nd I was walking along in the middle of nowhere, when I turned a corner and I was looking at the Gates to Heaven, a cemetary with a brick arch at the entrance and the name inscribed in metal on top. It was about the size of a football field with five tombstones, all of them separated by great distance. Beautiful, haunting, and sad.

I hustled from Pawling to the Wiley shelter for the night, about 9 miles. Made it barely ahead of the rain. It rained all night and continued until 11:00 AM the next morning (yesterday). I left the shelter at noon and and the rain Gods resumed their drizzle as if they had been waiting on me to venture out. It was OK though, my rain gear works great and my body and my backpack were dry when I arrived at the Ten Mile Shelter in Connecticut. Shared the shelter with two locals out for the weekend. I'm in Connecticut! Bye, bye New York and New Jersey, a mere 160 miles in total, but two states are behind me. A Win is a Win, as they say. I'll take it. Only twelve states and 2,000 miles to go.

I hiked along the Housatonic River this morning on my way into Kent. Thought I was in New Mexico or Colorado; serious rapids and a beautiful river.

Kent is as nice as Pawling, but not as natural; more of a Muffy and Buffy atmosphere (New Yorkers double the population on the weekends, I'm told). I detoured here, because there is an outfitter in town, the first I've encountered on the hike, and I needed to repair a couple of things. I hit the Post Office and the grocery store and now the library.

It's a beautiful day (Saturday) and the forecast calls for a couple of days of clear weather before the rain returns.

I'm outta here when I leave the library.

Pocket PC-Cell Phone Died

My communications tool died this morning; not the battery, but something more serious. I'm sending this from the Pawling Public Library PC. If I happen to be near a major town I will look for a Sprint Store; maybe they will replace it. I'm still in Pawling this morning. Sorted through things from Annice; packed 4-5 days of food in backpack and mailed the rest to Falls Village, CT where I'll pick-up on Tuesday. Slept in the town park last night in the pavilion. Not as cold; much easier to get up this morning. I stopped at the fishing store and got my Burly fix, and I'm off. It's a pretty day.

Pawling, NY

I'm in Pawling, NY to pick up the package from Annice. This is the neatest town I've been in. Everything I need--Post Office, Library, Deli, and 24-hour laundry--is within one block. Very friendly people too. And I met a beautiful black lab named Burly in the fishing store. He is 7 months old and weighs 113; he will be a giant dog, but he is gentle as a kitten. Took his photo, but he wouldn't stay still, so it probably didn't turn out. Got a haircut from Caroline Kennedy. Could I make it up?

Log 4-16 to 4-20

My last entry was from Hemlock Springs campsite. I left there at 7:30 the next morning and I blew by Graymor about 10:00 and didn't bother to stop.

It was a beautiful day, Saturday, I think and I was mindlessly walking along when I looked up and saw Peter Pan dancing down the trail toward me. As we closed I could see that Peter was a woman, at least 80 years old. We stopped and talked and her personality was as lively as her step. She was about 5 feet tall with a small daypack on her back and her hair was beautiful; gray, thick, long, and down to her shoulders. I told her it was gorgeous. She asked me where I was going, and I said Maine, and she said, well you're on the wrong trail. I missed a turn about 50 yards before we met. Ha..Ha, my little Navigator. She reminded me of Maude in the movie Harold and Maude.

I slept under the stars Saturday night.

Sunday, I realized I was running out of food and out of nearby places to buy anything, and I sent Sherpa Annice an emergency email request for a food maildrop to Pawling, NY, but that still left me three days without grub (Mon-Wed). Sunday was a beautiful weekend day and I met several day hikers. When I encountered them near a road, I asked if they knew of a deli or grocery store in either direction, because my Trail Guide is two years old and I assume not up-to-date.

My first surprise came when I stopped and talked to a young couple from NYC. They said no, there was not a grocery store in the vicinity, and then she opened her daypack and gave me an apple and candy bar. I was shocked; a very nice gesture. The best apple I ever ate!

About an hour later and shortly after I crossed 301, a major road, I met a guy walking alone, and we stopped and chatted. He was interested in my trekking poles and wondered if they acted somewhat like ski poles. I told him I had no idea, never having been on skis in my life.

His name was Martin and he had a kind face with a full beard and thick mane of hair (my weekend for hair), and I wondered if he was a monk from the Graymor Friary, but I later discovered not. He was well traveled; Russia, Middle East and East and West Europe. Eventually I got to my question, which was, You know of any nearby grocery stores? Martin said no, but I will drive you to the nearest town. I couldn't believe my ears. I meekly protested--not too strongly--and we were soon zooming into town. Along the way I discovered that Martin is a holistic vegetarian, and I laughed to myself as he followed me down the grocery aisles watching the candy bars, donuts, and jerky fall into the cart. I tried to buy gas for his car but he wouldn't take it. We returned to the trail and he hiked with me for about twenty minutes and then he was gone. A very nice and generous man. I've thought of him with every bite oof food the last two days.

Last night I was in the Morgan Stewart shelter with three teenage boys. They came in about an hour after I got there. They looked tired and I could see they were lugging big packs. Then they started dinner and I saw where the weight came from; out came kitchen sized pots and pans and food to feed an army. They cooked and ate for two hours! Nice kids; kept the music inside the headphones.

I left the trio sound asleep at 8:00 this morning and dashed to the Telephone Pioneers shelter about four miles from Pawling. I'm two days early for my maildrop and I'm soaking up the sun this afternoon. Tomorrow I will go to Pawling and check the mail; the package might be there, but if not I can camp out in the town park and wait another day.

Repost

10:30 AM. Scratch Bear Mountain, it was Black Mountain, and 34 miles from NYC, not 15. (Helps to look at the charts.) That will tell you how clear it was Friday Morning.

Departed Brien Shelter this morning at 8:00 headed for Graymoor Friary, 15 miles away. Didn't make it. Hard day for me; stopped at Hemlock Springs campsite at 5:30 PM, because I was running out of daylight. Only 11 miles today.

Interesting day. The trail goes through the zoo at the Harriman State Park. Very nice. Especially the vending machines. I scored.

I'm under the stars tonight, no shelter here. I hung a hammock fly over my sleeping bag; might keep the dew off, but it's too small to fend off rain. I'm the onky one here.

Bear Mountain

This may be out of order, didn't get posted when first sent.

4-16, 9:06 AM. I'm on top of Bear Mountain, the highest point on the AT in NY, I think. I can see NYC, about 16 miles away. Beautiful!

Yesterday was first clear weather day of the whole trip. Hiked 13 miles. Trying for 15 today. Going to spend the night with some monks if they'll let me in.

Morningbirds are coming alive. I've heard them for last couple of days. Nice way to wake up.

Log 4-11 to 4-14

I wrote about arriving in Vernon, but not about what happened to me there. I had read about the hiker's hostel at St. Thomas Episcopal Church, but it does not open until June. I thought, it's Easter, maybe the Pastor will be in a generous mood.

I arrived there at dusk and the church was dark, but I saw lights in the Parsonage. I knocked. The door opened and a sleepy face looked at me and said, "May I help you?"

I told Steve Steele, the pastor, my plight. He looked me over and then said, "follow me."

We walked to the church and the man turned the building over to me. He introduced me to a shower, a washer and dryer and an online PC and then left. I washed my body and my clothes and checked my email. A very generous and trusting man; I shall not forget him.

Next morning. I found the Post Office and mailed more things back. My pack weight which started this hike at 48 lbs. is down to 36 lbs. Also bought some groceries.

Noon. Hitchhiked back to the trail and hiked to the Wawayonda shelter, only about seven miles, but on the other side of a very steep mountain. Tough climb for me.

4-12. Had my first shelter-mate tonight, a 64 year old cowboy missionary from Minnesota. Ken Downey is an interesting guy. He rode a horse from Quakertown, PA to Seattle, WA. Then he rode another horse from Louisiana to Minnesota. He drove the routes in advance and planned all of the rest stops, etc.

4-13. Miserable day. Hiked twelve miles in pouring rain. Ugh! In New York State now and spending the night at the Wildcat shelter. Ken is here too. He's hiking into Arden tomorrow to pick up mail drop (food) from Post Office that closes at noon. Ten miles away; he will have to leave very early.

4-14 Ken decided he couldn't make the P.O. before noon, and we agreed to meet in Southfield, NY tonight and share a motel room. Give us a chance to dry our clothes--everything is wet and heavy--and he can pickup mail in the morning.

Afternoon. We are in the Tuxedo Inn and the motel manager is washing our clothes. Life is good.

Log 4-07 to 4-10

Log 4-07 to 4-10

4-07. In Branchville, NJ. Received FedEx shipment from Annice, then spent the day testing my alternate boots with the blisters--they felt worse. I sent them back. So, I guess the problem is my out-of-shape foot and not the boots. Also loaded my stuff into my lighter pack and tested that; it was more comfortable and lighter by five lbs., and I switched. I also discarded some more stuff and I have now lightened my load a total nine lbs.

4-08. Ate an early breakfast at the diner and loaded up on French toast. But then I hung around to watch Condi Rice's appearance before the 911 Commission. Saw about an hour of her testimony, and she looked evasive, but unshakable, but of course I don't know what happened after I left.

Hit the trail at 11:00. Met several hikers today; guess they were out for the long weekend. Stopped and talked to a boy scout group, and a group of three older couples who hike together every year on a different section of the AT. Day hikers, I guess; no serious backpack in the group.

Heard my first bear today. No mistaking that. He was off the trail and down the hill from me. I had just stopped for a break and I was sitting on a rock munching on a candy bear when he went off. Sounded like he was about 1/4 mile away. His roar shattered my reverie. Then he roared again. I left.

Trading packs and lightening my load helped; I did nine miles today, my best day yet. Arrived at the Mashipacong Shelter at 5:15, minutes ahead of the rain. There is a hi-tech solar-powered privy here. Must be special; two groups mentioned it to me today.

Cold and damp; going to cook noodles and then dive into my sleeping bag and knock off 3-4 pages of Mystic River.

4-09. Had the shelter to myself last night. Got another late start this morning; can't get up in the cold. I was about to leave at 10:00 when two guys hiked into the shelter from the opposite direction, and one was carrying my pack, the only time I've seen it on another person. Naturally we had to compare notes; we both had the same complaint, poor hip-belt support which leads to screaming shoulders. That conversation took about twenty minutes and I took off at 10:20.

Stopped at High Point Shelter for the night, a seven mile jaunt. The shelter is adjacent to the highest point in NJ (1,800'+). Again, I had the place to myself. I passed a park office with a pay-phone about two miles before the shelter, and I stopped to call. Anybody used a pay-phone lately? $8.00 surcharge and $1.17 per minute! I passed.

4-10. I forced myself out of my sleeping bag and was prepared for a 9:00 AM record-setting start when two guys again walked into the shelter for a break. You get the trend? Two days back-to-back I have been delayed by hikers taking breaks before I even get on the trail. This time it was a father-son duo, both carrying external frame packs, which produced a round of questions from me. Then I discovered the father did the AT two years ago, and that brought on another barrage of questions. Told them I was hiking to Unionville, NY and stopping for the day, because there is a well stocked grocery store there and a $3 per night hostel, The Backtrack Inn. The hostel presented an opportunity to nurse my feet in the afternoon. The father-son said it would take them 3-1/2 hours to hike the seven miles and I told them probably five for me. Surprise, surprise, I made it in exactly 3-1/2 hours. It was early afternoon when I arrived and I should have re-supplied groceries and continued on, but I didn't. I cleaned my feet, changed the bandages, and put on sandals. Felt good to be bootless for 1/2 day.

You should see the hostel. It has two double-bunked wooden slabs, and the floor is covered with lumber and trash (I'm the first one through here this year), but once again I have it all to myself. The bartender said I could use the restroom in the bar upstairs.

The grocery store will be open tomorrow (Easter Sunday), so I'll have a chance to pickup anything I forgot today. I strolled around town and found an old (and rare) book dealer in this thriving metropolis of 500. His business comes from the internet, he said. There were so many books in the small store, I could hardly walk. He gave me a paperback to replace Mystic River, as if I'll ever finish it.

I bought a NY Times and went back to the Backtrack Inn and read the paper in the bar. I thought I was in a casting call for Deliverance. The boys at the bar were all tattooed up, with full beards, wearing gimme hats and drinking long necks. There were two TV's on, both tuned to World Championship Poker. They paid no attention to the sissy hiker.

The bar remained open until 4:00 AM, and the music started about 9:00. BOOM BA BOOM BOOM...BOOM BA BOOM BOOM...BOOM BA BOOM BOOM. The same beat until 4:00 AM.

I hit the grocery store again Sunday morning and left town at 9::30 headed for Vernon, NJ and a Post Office from which to send back more things.

Made it to Vernon about 6:30. Thirteen miles today, best yet.

LOG 4-01 to 4-06

4-01-04, 6:49 PM: I'm in bed, in the hammock.. Weather was good all day; off and on drizzle, but otherwise nice. Hard day for me though; I climbed from the Delaware River up, up, up all afternoon. Very tiring with the weight on my back and I gobbled trail mix for fuel. I did not see another hiker all day. Started to rain as I cooked dinner--potatoes and cheese, and I scurried around looking for a limb to hang the bear bag (food) from. Ate and turned in with a pocket book, Mystic River. Good book; I made it through three pages.

4-02-04, 6:30 PM Temperature dropped into low 30's last night and I froze my tush off. Had on two pair of socks, T-shirt, two thermal tops and two pair of pants. I should have brought my tent; I could feel the winds whipping under the hammock. The rain made it colder.

Had granola for Breakfast, my favorite. Rain stopped and I broke camp and headed north about 9:30. It was another overcast day, but no rain and day-time temperature felt about like yesterday. Weather turned sour about 4:00 and I started to look for a campsite. I'm spending tonight on a ridge looking down on the Delaware River, 1,500' below; it's beautiful.

I'm hurting. Out of shape and carrying too much stuff. I estimate my speed at one mile per hiking hour. I must get my weight down or I won't make it. It's 6:30 PM, getting dark and the temperature is dropping. Another fun night. I didn't eat much today and don't feel like cooking tonight. Saw no hikers today.

4-03-04 Morning. It was just as cold last night--31 degrees @ 6:30 AM, but I was warmer. Made a lean-to with my tent fly and slept on the ground. The hammock is history. Will send it back when I cross a PO or UPS drop point. I have a monster blister on right heel. My fault; yesterday I felt it getting tender, but didn't bother to stop and put on moleskin. I will pay for that.

The AT passes by the Mohican Outdoor Center run by the Appalachian Mountain Club. I noticed that they handle UPS packages and I stopped there and pruned my inventory. Left a box of stuff with Dave Simpson, the manager to send back for me. "Back" meaning to my home base sherpa, Annice. (That's a compliment, Annice. In the Himalayan's the sherpa's do all the work and the climbers get the credit.)

4-06-04 The past three days have not been pleasant. Pretty cold at night, in fact yesterday morning I woke up to frozen water; both bottles solid ice. It was 21 degrees. The hiking has been rough; steady diet of climbing up--and hiking down, all on rocks. The famous PA rocks don't end in PA. I now have blisters on both heels, and I don't know how to heal them while encased in socks and boots all day. No chance for them to dry out. In desperation I called Sherpa Annice and she is sending my other pair, along with my tent, which will replace the hammock, and also some ointment for blisters. I am spending tonight in a motel sorting through more things to discard and lighten my load. UPS will deliver Annice's package here tomorrow and I will limp back to the trail.

I am amazed at the number of beautiful lakes in NJ. I have been walking a ridge 1,200' to 1,500' up and the views are spectacular. Saw a wild turkey yesterday and a busy little beaver today.

It's an interesting trip; if I had new feet I would be enjoying it.