Tag: #vermont

The stay at Wicked Wayside couldn’t have started any better. While the owner was showing me around, we saw 2 black bear cubs dart across the road and into the forest. They had been eating apples that had fallen off her trees and something spooked them (I didn’t think my farts were that loud). 

On my full zero, I just totally chilled and got my music fix for a while (Peter Gabriel, Talking Heads, and Elton John). I also texted my niece in Hawaii and talked to my brother. 

Day 1 (73), 09/02, Glastonbury Mountain, 12.2

I knew I was going for a short day. My choice was to leave at 7, 8, or 10. When I’m town, always choose the latest possible departure time to maximize civilization. I didn’t leave until 10. 

I ran into Pack Man right away. I hadn’t seen him since our second day on the trail when we encountered the flooding in Baxter. I had no idea what had happened to him. Spoiler alert—he’s alive and well. 

I also met my trail twin—clothes twin at least. We had the same shirt and shoes. He hiked in 2003. The hiker formerly known as Food Lion has been the caretaker at Horn Pond and a trail runner for 2 years around Boiling Springs, PA. 

Since I have a Scottish connection, I do talk to most men I see in kilts (not my type, personally—the men or the kilts…I still prefer women (in spite of my history—not ready to switch teams, yet) and pants. Not women in pants. Pants for me. Women can wear (or not wear) whatever they like). Lego Man is from NH and does IT for NH national guard. He’s figured out how to take time off and accrue active duty time while working in a semi-civilian position. We talked quite a while about trails we have hiked and want to hike around the world. I think we both need a couple more lifetimes. 

I also met ER doc from New Mexico carrying a gun. It didn’t come up right away as in “back off creepy dude…I’ve got a gun!” but it is a concession she made to her husband to hike the trail alone. She has been chased and had close calls in the past, but like the single women who picked us up while hitchhiking in OR, she didn’t get the serial killer vibe from me (and she was nice enough to not point out that I wasn’t good looking enough to be a serial killer).

Pack Man joined the conversation with the ER doc. We agreed to meet on the closed tower on Glastonbury. When I actually climbed the tower with missing stairs, he was surprised. He didn’t think the old man could climb up to the second level after the FAA removed the lower stairs. In spite of being underestimated, again, I handed him his pack so he could sleep on the tower while I satisfied myself by sleeping in my tent on the ground. It turned out to be a very windy and, at times, rainy night.

Day 2 (74), 09/03, Clangdon Shelter, 14.7

I’ve noticed my brain is recovering. I purposely do not listen to anything while hiking and limiting my phone access at all other times—I am able to multiprocess like I used. At least I’m starting to. There was a time I could keep 3 channels open and processing simultaneously. It was great for tests. I would read test questions before answering (unless they were multiple choice). I would pick the one or two hardest questions that required more analysis and then set them on a background process while I’d work on the rest of the test. By the time I got back to the questions, I’d have them figured out. Today, I noticed I could play music (on a background channel for mood), have a discussion with myself, and still communicate with the forest. The iPhone has been my downfall in productivity and creativity. 

I only saw 2 NOBOs today but dozens of LT hikers. I had no idea the Long Trail was so popular. I was really hoping to have fewer people on the trail so I’d be distracted less and walk more. I’m still looking for my 5 mpd bump in distance. 

Mr Green and Cardivana called out to me. I had met them at Wicked Waystation a couple days ago. They had left pizza in the fridge and said I could have it if I wanted. Out of respect for their generosity, I didn’t eat the pizza until they were getting in the car headed towards the trail. They live in Erwin, TN and told me to stop by when I get there. 

The trail was pretty dry. I’ve heard people say they have come through VT when this was the case, but I only thought they were BSing me. Every time prior to now that I have been in VT, it’s been raining. Conditions today were fantastic. Even with my late start, I made it to camp, set up, filtered water, and cooked by 7:30. 

Often times, I don’t remember a shelter by name, but I do recall it when I see it. This shelter is where we camped with Mizman in ‘18. I just talked to him a couple days ago and I’m going to see him again in Great Barrington in about a week. 

Day 3 (75), 09/04, Williamstown, MA, Willows Motel, 14.2

I wasn’t expecting to see anyone today since it’s Labor Day. I figured all the LT hikers would have started on Friday or Saturday. Instead, I saw 15 LT hikers still starting today, but only 1 NOBO who is still planning on making Katahdin without flipping. He was French (they are competitive hikers by birth), so he might make the 600 miles in the next 5 weeks (but I’d bet against it). 

I found a beautiful stealth spot for my return trip by the new Seth Warner Shelter. I decided to keep this to myself, but not an hour later, I met a couple trying to decide where to camp for the night. I spilled the beans. I hope they keep their mouths shut. 

As hot as it was, I met a runner at the state line who was enjoying the completion of another state. I was about to ask her to take my picture at the line, but she had already gone. For the record, I crossed out of VT at 3:11p on 9/4/23…Labor Day. 

MA gives NOBOs a sampler of what’s ahead; boulder scramble (NH), mud (VT), and tree roots (ME) in the final 4 miles of the state. Just enough like an appetizer leaving you wanting more. If you get a full size serving of each, it would just be too much. 

It was way too hot today. I popped 2 salt tabs because I was sweating so much. Then the gnats started swarming. I wasn’t planning to, but I broke down and headed into town and got a hotel room. I needed AC and a shower (pizza and wine were unplanned bonuses).

EFG

Daily Mileages

Day 1 (67), Sun 08/27, Gov Clement Shelter, 10.6

I think I’ve joined a cult. I’m weak. They put a plate of eggs in front of me and told me to eat them. I hate eggs. I ate them. They’ve got control of me and I didn’t even read any of the literature. I knew this would happen. My best “out” will be when they make me turn over my assets and discover I don’t have any, they’ll kick me out. 

They were really nice. I could’ve lost my soul, but the deli was closed down “for remodeling”. As I recall, the source of the Boulder Wildfire was traced to the local Yellow Deli and they are being sued for the billions of dollars of damage that caused. They (the almighty They who are suing the Yellow Deli) are trying to say all the Yellow Delis are actually just one entity and THEY are going after all their assets. This Yellow Deli is quietly giving away their assets one roll of tp at a time. 

I was in the common room trying to find the TV remote, but first I had to find the TV (🎶“no outside voices here”🎶). One of the caretakers came by and gave me a roll of toilet paper. When I went back to my bunk, there was another roll there. I’ve got tp coming out of my ass. (I’ve quit using my wet wipes because of the mouldering privies so maybe it’s not coming out of my ass but just stuck there—either way, I’ve got plenty of tp). 

Sadly, there are plenty of dirt bag “hikers” that are taking advantage of this hiker hostel. I’m pretty sure homeless people have figured out that they can stay for free, without any pressure, if they can find an old backpack. They’ve already got the hiker smell down. 

There was no pressure to join or read the literature, but there was a standing, open invitation to visit the farm. A few did. A few said they wished they had more time. The majority got out after 1 or 2 days. The imposter hikers had been there for weeks. Myself, I bought fuel for my stove, left a $30 tip, and caught the 9:15 free bus to the trail. 

The trail continued to be beautiful in spite of all the dire warnings of “mud, terrible mud, so much mud” I got from every NOBO hiker I passed. I stepped around a few muddy patches and decided to have lunch at 1st shelter—it had been almost 2 1/2 hours since I last ate.

On the way of to Killington Summit, I ran into a girl that seemed familiar. Her name was trooper. She was hiking the Long Trail NOBO. We had met at the Yellow Deli yesterday just as I was arriving. She’s walked all the trail south of here to the Massachusetts border and told me the mud was about like this all the way—about 1/4 of the trail has mud. By my 2018 experience, Vermont is in a drought. 

I met probably another 7-8 people I’d met at the Yellow Deli throughout the rest of the day. Most of them had ignored me at the YD but now they realized I was a SOBO and could answer their burning questions: no you’re not going to die, The Whites are not that bad; cut your mileage expectations in half through The Whites; resupply in Norwich rather than Hanover; stay at The Cabin, Maine Roadhouse, and Shaw’s in Maine; there’s a good hundred miles of Maine you can make time up on; the rivers are all down, you’re going to have to do something really stupid if you’re going to die in the Whites or Maine, but I have faith in you.

I ran into Shamrock again, he was slack-packing today. We originally met in The Whites and then bumped into each other again at the YD. He will finish his hike when he makes it back up to Franconia Notch. He was with the Green Mountain Club ridge runner. 

I was considering going further than Governor Clement Shelter but there was something too appealing that kept me there. The shelter had chairs—real chairs with backs and 4 legs. I took one to my camping area and used it to set up camp, cook, and just sit in. It was a forgotten bit of civilization that made it out to camp. Life is good.

Day 2 (68), Greenwall Shelter, 14.9

Easy walking for the first 7 miles. I’m still looking for the terrible mud but I’m missing it. Maybe my tolerance has built up after coming through the wettest month in Maine’s history. 

When I started my decent into Clarendon Gorge, I ran into an old guy coming uphill sweating bad and complaining about how hard the Long Trail was. He was telling me he and his 74 year old father had planned on hiking the entire LT, but it was too hard on his old father. He was worried about putting so much stress on his dad. They have changed their minds and will be happy with making it to Rutland and 100 miles. A few minutes later, the dad emerged from the ascent. He looked strong (and actually younger than his son). The first thing he said was “give me back my walking sticks.”  The son gave him the sticks and headed on. I talked to the dad for a bit. It’s true, he’s 74 and from Kent. He’s lived in the US for 38 years but needs to go back to England to take care of his 96 year old mother. He didn’t even appear to be sweating. I’m wondering who was truly struggling. 

Also this morning, I immediately hit it off with another NOBO—Conductor. We both noticed the commonalities when we were talking. We eventually got around to figuring out we were both automation engineers. Then we discovered we both worked for Bridgestone at the same time. We started naming off everyone we both knew. Geoff Hobe still works for Bridgestone in Akron but I’m on full time “run away from work” mode. 

Clarendon Gorge has changed in my memory. I swear the river was running in the opposite direction. Water has been doing tricky things on the trail this year. It was still an amazing experience going over the suspension bridge. 

Honestly, Vermont trails have been fantastic. Maybe going through The Whites first changes one’s perspective on the rest of the trail. I made it to Minerva Hinchey Shelter just before 5. I really wanted to start putting in 15 mile days to see if I’m even capable of longer distances. It was less than 5 miles to the next shelter. I should be able to make it before dark. 

Less than 1 mile out from Minerva, it started to rain. I looked at the sky and it didn’t look to be too dark. It couldn’t last long. About a mile later, the rain still hadn’t let up. The trees were doing their part to keep me dry, but I just got the feeling I should get out my umbrella. 

No sooner did I get it rigged up did the skies really let go. Once again, I was spared from the worst. It poured the rest of the way to camp. The final part was 0.8 miles up 800’ and I was feeling pretty tired. I made it to the side trail to the shelter just before dark. I needed to get water on the way in so I dropped my pack and grabbed 4 liters. When I put my pack back on, it was pitch black. 

I could see stones in the trail enough that I might be able to follow the trail without falling (my headlamp was buried in my pack). It was supposed to be less than 0.2 miles to the shelter, but I still hadn’t made it by 8. I couldn’t see a thing and I was heading downhill. I tried using my phone flashlight but that only made my vision worse. 

I was directly in front of the shelter before I even saw it. There were already two hikers in the shelter. They only asked one question: “Do you snore?” I lied and said I don’t know. I was hoping I’ve lost enough weight that I’m a quiet sleeper. One of the hikers offered earplugs to the other. He said “ I hate them. I have hiking poles if he snores.” I’m getting stabbed in my sleep tonight. 

Day 3 (69), Peru Peak Shelter, 14.5

Mr Considerate, as I call the earplug hating hiker, answered one question definitively—I do, in fact, snore. I didn’t get stabbed. He chose a much subtler approach to wake me up. He slammed his hand on the floor making sure no one got any sleep which included the hiker quietly sleeping with his earplugs in. 

When he got up at 6, he started bitching about his terrible night and complaining about everything I was doing. It was obvious he wanted a confrontation, so I stayed in my bed ignoring him and refusing to engage in any conversation until he was gone. With any luck, he’s a NOBO and I’ll never see him again. He’s definitely tainted enough to be a NOBOu who’s tired of the trail. 

The other occupant of the shelter was Knees. He’s trying to hike the VT section of the AT and this is just his second day. I apologized for keeping him up with my snoring. He told me it wasn’t my snoring that kept him awake. He had earplugs. 

Knees was next to leave. I was still in bed but just about done with breakfast. It didn’t take me long to get ready and head out. It had rained most of the night but I didn’t think the trail was too bad. I was feeling pretty good and making great time (in excess of 2mph). 

I saw someone in front of me stumbling along. Their pack seemed to be very crooked. When I caught up to him, it was Knees. I helped him adjust his pack to help his balance a bit. He said he was not enjoying the trail because of the mud and terrain. I admitted a lot of people have been complaining about the trail, but to just remember that the suck is temporary. I wished him luck and headed on. 

Not too far along from Knees I saw another hiker heading south. This surprised me because I’ve met almost every SOBO and know where they are (approximately). This must be a Long Trail hiker. When I caught up to him, it was none other than Mr. Considerate. I thought I’d try to be nice and see if he’d come around. I was, he wouldn’t. He is just an ass in my humble opinion. I just blew by him and hoped that I’d never see him again. 

Little Rock Pond was only 5 miles into my day but I had been making great time and needed a break to refuel to keep up my pace. I found a beautiful spot lakeside to enjoy my break. I was almost done when Mr. Considerate passed me and said “nice spot.” Before I could respond, he’d already left. I was afraid we might keep bouncing into each other all day, but I never saw him again. 

I had been warned there are a few bridges that the forest service has closed after the flooding. Between me and the shelter, I encountered my first such bridge deemed “not safe” according to the sign tacked to it. It looked good to me. It was only at most a 5’ fall. I was tired. There wasn’t a tremendous amount of water. The falls below the bridge was only about 3’. I didn’t see a camera. I went for it (spoiler alert—I survived). 

It was almost dark. It looked like I might have the shelter all to myself. At least it looked promising that Mr. Considerate might not show up. It’s been a while since I’ve had a shelter to myself. If rain weren’t in the forecast, I’d rather set up my tent. I staked out my end and did all my chores. Just as I was eating my supper, I heard a massive figure behind me (I was watching the trail from the south because that was my biggest concern). It was either a bear or a NOBO. Didn’t matter which. My peace was about to be destroyed. 

Day 4 (70), Spruce Peak Shelter, 12.9

I woke up several times through the night expecting rain. At 3:30, I was getting irritated that I’d been suckered again by the rain forecasters, but the rain did come through by 4, and how!  It was still raining at 7 when I started my coffee. Still raining at 8 when I was done eating and started packing up. Still raining at 9 when I visited the privy. When I put my pack on at 9:30 deciding I couldn’t put it off any longer, the rain stopped. Someone is watching over me!

Styles Peak was only 3 miles in and a likely spot for me to have cell service. When I got there, I called Green Mountain House Hostel to make reservations for tonight and tomorrow night. They didn’t answer, then I saw a note in FarOut that they were closed for the season as of today. This was a wrench in the works for me. I tried calling hotels in town, but they all wanted 3x what a hostel would cost and I wanted to take a day off. If I’m going to get a zero, it won’t be in Manchester Center. 

I noticed a new hostel in about 27 miles and called them. They had space and were in my price range so I booked space for tomorrow night and the next. If I can put in a 20 mile today, I could be there by noon tomorrow. It was a long shot at best. Worst case, I’ll be there by dark. 

Things started looking up for me when I made it to Mad Tom Notch Rd. It appeared there might be trail magic in the parking area just off trail. Usually, people will put up a sign or flag down passing hikers. They did neither when I walked up. I pretended to be confused and was checking my phone in the hopes they might notice me. After a couple of minutes, one of the girls yelled “hey hiker, want some food?” Silly question, but I was in. 

Scoops had finished her thru-hike on August 5 and was out trying to find some people she knew early on in her hike. She had found one and was deep in conversation catching up when I got to the trailhead. Since they were talking and not paying attention to me, I was able to consume a lot more calories unnoticed. I was glad she had found a friend. I spent almost an hour chowing down and occasionally getting in a comment. When I was full, I thanked her and pushed on. 

Bromley Mountain was where I had hoped to stay last night but didn’t have the miles in me. It’s a mountain top of a ski range but they leave a warming hut open for thru-hikers. There’s electricity and a clothes dryer but no water. I had to settle for a long lunch with a bunch of NOBOs. When a group of high school kids came up top, I decided it was time to move on. 

I’d spent a lot more time on the phone, eating trail magic, and visiting on Bromley than I had planned on. My 20 was not a possibility. My original day was only supposed to be 10 miles. I guess I had already spilled the beans to my legs and I could only squeeze an additional 3 out of them before they refused to work any more.

Several hikers had told me this shelter was nice. In return, I told them about trail magic ahead. A win-win for all parties. When I arrived, the shelter looked deserted, but when I opened the sliding door, I found a father and son playing cards. The son was only 6. I thought they might just be day hikers, but they are finishing up the AT after having done about 2/3 of it last year. 

The son was well behaved and quiet. We all ate and headed to bed at the witching hour of 8. I could hear them talking and playing under their quilt but I didn’t mind. By 9, they were both asleep. Around 10, another hiker showed up. I’ll just say, he had no “inside voice” and didn’t know how to turn on his red light on his headlamp. I was a bit irked at being woken up, but relieved to have someone else in the shelter to blame the snoring on. 

Day 5 (71), Kelly Stand Rd, 14.7

Town day equals extra speed and I’m definitely going to need it since I overslept. A fully enclosed shelter on a cold night is great except I was the first up at ten to seven. Two little windows don’t let in a lot of light. 

The hiker who came in at 10 last night got up a few minutes after me. I’d met a couple yesterday who told me I’d meat an old guy who is slow but gets in 15 miles every day. He also hiked the trail in 1997. This was the guy. What they didn’t tell me was that he had a smaller bladder than me and would get up every hour all night long. That didn’t bother me, but the sliding door on ungreased rails did. However, I held none of this against him. 

I hate deadlines. They’ve always stressed me. I have a deadline, of sorts, today. I’ve made plans to stay at Wicked Waystation and I don’t want to arrive after dark. The terrain doesn’t look bad to me, but I didn’t start until after 8. My first 15 mile day ended up with me getting in after dark. I didn’t want a repeat today. 

At 10:30, I took a break and checked my progress. I was well over 4 miles in. I set a goal of making it to Stratton Pond Shelter for a lunch break at 12:30–that’s over 8 miles of my nearly 15 for the day. If I make that, there’s a good chance I’ll make my pickup location before dark. 

Chris, who I had met in Norwich, was at the Stratton Pond Shelter. I thought I was going fast but here’s a guy that’s only been out a week, ahead of me. Turns out, Chris is not into purity. He’s just out for a month testing “the hiking waters” to see if he likes it. We caught up with events of the last week while we climbed Stratton Mountain and its fire tower. 

Stratton Mountain is the tallest mountain on the AT in southern Vermont. This was where James Taylor, in his first incarnation, came up with the idea for the Long Trail in 1909. In his second incarnation, this life, he’s a folksy musician. Legend has it that in his third incarnation, he will assume the role of destroyer (everyone keep thinking of the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man when you hear news of the current James Taylor’s death). 

From the top of the fire tower, I called for 5:30 pickup. Chris and I said goodbye and exchanged contact info. I had to get down the mountain fast to catch my ride. I was down by 5:10. This was my fastest 16 mile day yet—9 hours with 3 nice breaks. If I can get a plus 5 kick after Mt Greylock in Massachusetts, I might make it to Georgia by Christmas. 

EFG

Daily Mileages

Day 1 (62 cont.), Tues 8/22, Norwich Inn, 1.5

After I finished my town chores and made my last NH blog post, I headed out for my free pizza. As soon as I walked up to Ramunto’s Brick and Brew, I saw Sock Pile and Clean Break. I bought them beers to drink while I ate my pizza. In return, they invited me to spend the night on their B&B floor since it was getting late. 

It was a mile and a half walk across the river and into our third state to get to their B&B. It was a super nice place—way above my level of welcome (nice places tend to shun me). To show their awareness of my plight, they were advertising about homeless people outside—these are my people, minus the super crazy (mildly crazy, I’m fine with). 

Day 2 (63), Wed 8/23, Thistle Hill Shelter, 13.1

A floor in a hotel is still much more comfortable and sleep inducing than a shelter. I was able to let my arms touch the floor without fear of spider bites. (My arm is still not right after the spider bite I got in Carter Notch Hut almost 3 weeks ago…I can put pressure on it again, but I have a swollen pocket of fat on my elbow. I’m afraid I’m going to wake up one morning with thousands of spiders crawling out of my elbow. I still haven’t gotten any superpowers! I don’t see any benefit to being bitten. Hollywood lies!) 

I woke up at 6a as usual these days. I wasn’t quite ready to pack up and go so I decided if I peed, I could sleep another hour before packing up. Once I stood up, I realized I was inside and would be required to use a toilet rather than peeing on Clean Break’s pack (which would have benefited from the ammonia). I fell sound asleep and didn’t wake up again until after 8. 

The local coffee shop was closed so I settled on donuts and a breakfast sandwich from Dave and Whitts (the local grocer). There was a group of NOBOs hanging out in front. Of course, they mistook me as a section hiker because I was clean and shaved. If a woman is clean shaven, she’ll still get the benefit of the doubt, but not old men. 

One of the NOBOs was interested enough to ask pertinent questions about The Whites. I was giving him information about the AMC pass, stealth spots, resupply strategies, and unknown information about the huts (like buying supper at Lake of the Clouds). One of the other know-it-all NOBOs told him not to listen to what I was saying, all the information he’ll need can be gotten at Hiker’s Welcome Hostel and to me “Don’t you have a lot of miles to go? It’s time for you to get going.” I was floored and momentarily pissed, but I didn’t let my anger show. I looked at him, blinked twice, wished them all happy trails, and took off. There was more prior interaction when I was trying to explain the AMC pass. I don’t wish him ill, but I won’t be upset when I hear about a hiker getting fined $500 in The Whites. 

Today was the start of the last bubble (hopefully) and my impression of the majority I met today was less than favorable. I met a girl with her earbuds in who clearly looked at me and saw me talking (“congratulations on your entry into NH”). She didn’t even acknowledge that I said anything—just stared at me and walked by. 

I met another group that acted pretty much the same way. I just said “hi” and they just stared at me and didn’t say a word. The last guy at least said “hi, happy trails” to me.

Happy Hill Shelter would have been my target for last night. Instead, I stopped in there for a snack break. I ran into Chris who I had met this morning at Dave and Whitts. One of the NOBOs had dissed him this morning because he is just starting a section hike today. We talked for a while before he moved on. I still had some unfinished business from my quick departure from the B&B. 

I ran into Chris again at the Blue Barn in West Hartford. We had a cold soda with Linda (the trail angel/owner). We also met a couple of friendly NOBOs while there. It was refreshing after this morning’s interactions to see there are still decent people out. Chris decided to push on the additional 5 miles with me to Thistle Hill Shelter. 

It was almost dark by the time we arrived. I set up my tent and got inside to cook and get ready for bed. I had promised Chris some Benadryl to help him sleep, but forgot it until way past hiker midnight. He’s going to be hurting tomorrow doing 13 miles on his first day. 

Day 3 (64), Thurs 8/24, The Lookout, 14.9

Soho, Chris, and I were the last ones out. I gave Chris a sleeve of Benadryl and wished him luck. I’ve bought a 1/2L of Sauvignon Blanc to drink while I watch the sunset from the deck on top of the Lookout. She’s calling me. 

There were noticeably fewer NOBOs (10 ish) today. I understand they are stressed from being so late in the season. The ones willing to talk wanted good intel on The Whites and what to expect. I shared what info I could pass on in a couple of minutes. A few were concerned about the Presidentials so I shared the plan I’m going to follow on my return which only requires 3 meals to be carried. 

Calamine and Inspector were among the last couple of NOBOs I saw today. We hit it off and talked for quite a while. They gave me intel on new hostels down south that aren’t officially open yet but accepting hikers. They are artists and have been trading their talents for “work for stay”—they painted a mural in a new hostel in Harpers Ferry that I plan on seeing. 

“On the Edge” farm market was 9 miles into my day. It’s close to the trail so I thought I’d drop in for a non-dehydrated snack. They had pints of ice cream which caught my eye. After my dismal trial run of eating 3 pints at Hikers Welcome Hostel (it took me two sittings to down), it’s obvious I need to practice more to improve my game. It’s only 600 miles to the “half gallon challenge.” I started slow with just a single pint, but the extra calories (and turbo output) should help propel me the final 6 miles to The Lookout. 

Groundhog had stopped and talked with me while I was having a snack at a Brook. He had The Lookout all to himself last night. I was hoping for the same luck tonight. The best laid plans…

When I finally made it to the shelter, I found 7 NOBOs already there. It was almost dark and threatening rain. As soon as I stepped on the porch, the threat became reality. No sunset. No sitting on the upper deck. No isolation. 

In the end, I became a pariah. I set up my bed but ate supper alone on the porch. I even stayed up late to drink my wine, in the dark, listening to the rain. Talk about being outside of the social norm—I had the audacity to stay up until nearly 9p. Thru-hikers don’t stay up that late. I’m clean shaven. Maybe I am a section hiker. 

Day 4 (65), Fri 8/25, Clifford Woods State Park, 14.3

There’s a few problems with The Lookout. There’s no water, so you have to carry it in with you. I carried 4 liters of water 3 miles. But the bigger problem is no privy. I was looking at carrying that load 7 miles if I wasn’t interested in digging a hole in the rain. I wasn’t. 

It rained all night. There is a fireplace and one of the guys had built a fire so that was cozy. I woke up at 6, checked my elbows for new spider bites, and peed off the porch for the 4th time. I heard the NOBOs checking the weather and claiming the rain will stop by 10. I can wait to get up and the urgency for anything else wasn’t bad. 

I’ve discovered new things about my body. I used to think I had a “morning window” to take care of business. I’ve now come to understand that when the urgency wains, the need hasn’t. By the time I left at 9:30, the urgency was gone, but I knew this period was the “danger zone.” All releases must cease or ruin could follow. 

With tears in my eyes, I proceeded as fast as I could. In other words, not very fast because waddling was part of the gate. I didn’t make it to safety until nearly 2p. To my amazement, the effort was worth it to be a part of the early christening of a new moldering privy at Stony Brook Shelter Shitter. 

The rest of the day was blissful and wet. No, I’m not incontinent, too. It was raining. It rained all day. It rained so hard that the trees couldn’t protect me and I had to get out my umbrella again. I passed a few weekend hikers with one in particular that seemed pissed at me for using an umbrella. He screamed “it’s a waste of time. You’re still going to get wet.” I didn’t think he was much of a backpacking authority since he was carrying his sleeping pad and bag in his arms because his pack was too small. Say what you will, my underwear was still dry so my ass wasn’t sticking to my pants. 

It was another late night getting into camp. I somehow missed the state park office and walked a half mile past. There was no way I was going back downhill that far. My priority became finding the bathroom and then finding someplace close to that to stay. There was a shelter next to the bathhouse. I decided to squat there for the night. If I don’t get caught, I’m saving $6. 

Day 5 (66), Sat 8/26, Yellow Deli, Rutland, 3.0

It rained hard again last night. Heavy rain is a lullaby to me. I slept solid until 5:15. Since I was lucky enough to wake up early, I thought I should take advantage of the time to make my escape without detection. I got my earliest start in weeks…on the trail by 6:30. 

I’m having a hard time staying “in the present.” This is one of my goals from this trip: to quit worrying about the future. I know it’s wasted energy. When I catch myself doing this, I do something even more bizarre—I start talking to the trees. In my defense, I’m not having conversations with individual trees where I stop and talk one-on-one. I talk to the forest in general. (I’ve only gotten caught once by another hiker, but I noticed their pace picked up considerably after the encounter).

Today, I was doing what I’m constantly accusing the NOBOs of doing—I was calculating the mileages I need to cover to complete this hike. This is stupid on so many levels. 1) I’m already 9 days ahead of my original plan. 2) I’m 2 days ahead of the plan (which is also accelerated over my original plan) I need to keep to meet my friend, David in NY. And, 3) I’ve still got nearly 14 months to go to complete this hike. 

Once I started talking to the trees, my anxiety dropped. They have this thing they do when I get in one of these moods—they grab my hiking poles to slow me down. I’ve had pretty much dirt track for the last 90 miles, so it’s been more of a challenge for them, but I can always count on them coming through for me. 

The goal for the day was to make it in town to get everything done early and enjoy the day. I had heard there’s a free bus that passes the trailhead around 8:20—my target. I got to the road at 8:35 and saw the outbound bus passing in the opposite direction. I had 45 minutes to kill, so I put out my thumb. 

I got a ride within 10 minutes (who needs women?). I was the 22nd hiker he’d picked up this year. He delivered me right to the door of the Yellow Deli (cult of the Twelve Tribes) in Rutland. He gave me one piece of advice before driving off…”don’t accept any literature while you are staying there. If you take it, they will insist upon discussing it with you. Get out as fast as you can.” 

I think a free bed, shower, and laundry is a fair exchange for my soul…maybe throw in a good Reuben. 

EFG

Daily Mileages