Yo-So Massachusetts

Day 1 (76), 09/05, Mark Noepel Shelter, 9.5

The Willows Motel puts out a fantastic breakfast spread…many different bagels, peanut butter, cream cheese, bread, English muffins, yogurt, nuts, and 17 different fruits and berries. With all the fiber introduced today, I may have solid form tomorrow morning. I nibbled and grazed until Paul’s father took Rock and Roll and me back to the trail at 10a. 

By 10, it was already hot. Way too hot to be New England. And hazy, too. Get your act together, Canada. We’ve done the heavy lifting by warming the planet thus giving you more snow-free land. The least you can do is learn how to handle forest fires!

It’s only a 2700’ climb up Mount Greylock, but with the heat, I’m having to stop every 100’ of elevation gain. I pop a salt tab as soon as I start climbing knowing that it’s going to drain me. I pop my second salt tab when my bandanna gets fully soaked and is only moving the sweat around my face and not absorbing anything. The gnats are swarming. I turn on the Peter Gabriel channel in my brain and zen out. I’m at peace with the world and the 7 thousand little m’fers swarming my face. Zen!

It took me almost 4 hours to climb over the two mountains and 6 miles to get to the wizard tower on the summit of Mount Greylock. I almost considered skipping the climb to the top of the tower because it was so hazy, but I’m glad I persevered. I had forgotten something critically important about the war memorial tower—it is air conditioned. 

I climbed the stairs to the base of the spiral stair case, set my back down, and placed my face directly in the air stream cooling off the upper tower. The smell of my body soon permeated the upper levels driving out the other visitors. I had the tower to myself. If only there was water (and I had a pee bottle), I could stay here all night. 

The AC was great, but I hear ice cream calling me from Bascom Lodge at the base of the tower. I can sit in there and finish cooling off. I might even stay the night for $50. I was a bit miffed when I read the sign on the door “closed because of staffing problems.” Why not pay the workers more and suck less off the top for executives that never see the inside of the park? I gave up my AC to get sucked into politics on a hot day!

I started strolling down the mountain towards the next shelter. Maybe since I’m out of VT, I might get a shelter all to myself. On the way down a rocky trail worthy of being mistaken as Rocksylvania, I met a gentleman slightly older than myself. Esteban told me to make his day and tell him he was near the top. I did. He was.  

We started chatting as I am known to occasionally do. Esteban used to live in Chicago when he first came to the US. He’s Italian by birth but has a house on the Mediterranean on the Iberian Peninsula. He also speaks 3 languages. (I am so embarrassed by our education system while one party is trying to weaken it even further by eliminating the Department of Education). 

Either he needed a break or we’re both long winded. We ended up talking for almost an half hour. His daughter got tired of waiting on us and tried to motivate him to get moving again by heading on up the mountain. We exchanged stories and phone numbers. Chance encounters with people like Esteban are what make the journey an enjoyable experience of discovery. 

My fantasy of having the shelter to myself was crushed when I was walking up to it. Cubit was already in there all spread out and relaxing. I suppose his solo fantasy was also crushed. While we were talking, Sea Turtle came in. We knew each other, but took a few minutes to remember we had met at Hikers Welcome Hostel in NH. 

We barely had our packs off when another couple hikers showed up. Somewhere close, Chaps had found a swimming hole because he was completely soaked. With him was Pica who told me she had been about a day behind me since the Whites. 

At least I know I’m not the last SOBO. Pica told me there’s maybe 20 more behind us. I’m going to have to slow down a bit more to get the trail to myself. That plays right into my wheelhouse to be a slow hiker. At least tonight I already knew 3 of the 4 other hikers. How does a hermit know so many people?

Day 2 (77), 09/06, Dalton, 13.7

Sea Turtle was up and out early because she’s meeting her boyfriend in 2 days and he’s going to finish her hike with him. Cubit is leisurely walking home to Maine; he has no schedule to follow. Pica and Chaps decided to take pity on the old man and hike with me today. Nonetheless, I took off a few minutes before them because I know they’re both faster than me and will catch me soon. 

It wasn’t 20 minutes before they caught up with me having a rare conversation with some NOBO section hikers from Chicago. The husband had some heart issues so his wife was very protective of his pace and distance she’d allow him to go. This was a foreign idea to me—a protective wife. I’ve heard about these but haven’t experienced it myself (and never will unless I listen to the “natural sequence” of liberal life according to Rush Limbaugh and I marry my dog when I get one). 

Pica, Chaps, and I walked together the rest of the day—mainly because of the same food motivations. Cheshire was in a couple of miles and I remember a Dollar General just off the trail and an ice cream stand on the edge of town. This is the Dollar General where a local followed me all around the store in 2018 then came up to me outside to tell me how much I stunk. Very thoughtful guy. I had no idea walking in 90 degree heat for 15 miles. No such encounter today, but I was overwhelmed with their selection and bought way more than I needed. My pack was just too light. 

On the others side of town was the ice cream stand. We dropped our packs in the shade and went up to it. Opening time was 11 and it wasn’t even 10. I knew I was waiting. I was planning on my first banana split of the trip. The owner saw 3 grungy hikers and came out to talk to us. She took our orders and served us before she opened. The extra 1000 calories will help with the afternoon climb. 

We tried to call the flea hotel in Dalton on the way into town. They told Pica they were fully booked for tonight and tomorrow night. I tried calling to see if they were just a bit misogynistic—still booked. Chaps tried hoping for a woman to answer so he could use his charm. It was the same guy who wasn’t gay, so Chaps failed as well. 

It was sweltering by my standards. Chaps is from Texas and he agreed it was on the warm side. We wanted a night of AC. Chaps and Pica started a broader search while I waffled. I had just stayed in a hotel the night before last. I might survive. In the end, I caved to peer pressure. 

The hotel they found was about 10 miles from Dalton. I was still considering staying in Dalton at Tom’s place even though he doesn’t let you pee in his yard. While we were walking into town, a woman drove up to us and asked if there was anything she could do to help us. Chaps said we were fine but I thought I’d push the limits and see if she’d drive us to the hotel. She agreed but said she had to unload her car first—is there somewhere she could pick us up? Chaps had declined because we wanted to go another mile. Now that excuse was gone. Peer pressure and trail magic lead to another comfortable night in a hotel for me. 

Day 3 (78), 09/07, Berkshire Inn, Pittsfield, ZERO

Pica has drive and determination. Chaps desires comfort. I’m easily swayed (and forgotten). We had stayed up late soaking our feet in the pool and enjoying adult beverages while we made up back stories for all the activities happening on the street. In the end, we decided to call Fox News and expose the baby smuggling/drug ring we discovered in which Hunter Biden was a key player (we make excellent detectives). I thought for sure Pica would want to stay and witness the breakup of the ring, but her drive forced her back on the trail. Chaps wanted to see results. I was swayed to stay. 

Pica’s determination cost her dearly. She didn’t witness the bust. In fairness, neither did we, but it stormed like hell the second night. So bad that the electricity went out for a few minutes which woke me up when my AC went off. I worried about her in the storm for an entire minute until the electricity and AC came back on. Drive is way overrated. 

Day 4 (79), 09/08, October Mtn Shltr, 11.8

I found a local shuttle driver to drive us back to the trail at 10:30. Normally, I would have gone for 11 but I didn’t want to push the checkout limits just in case the driver was a little unreliable. He showed up at 10:20. I should have said 11. 

I don’t believe in conspiracies. I don’t think there is a world cabal that is calling all the shots. I don’t think the government is trying to steal our money. The CIA isn’t trying to destroy our government. The rich aren’t coordinated in trying to control us. The rich are just acting individually out of greed thinking the one with the most when they die wins. Have you ever seen 2 more miserable SOBs than the Coch brothers. How much is enough? The same can’t be said for our driver this morning. He scared the shit out of me. 

He seems to agree with the cabal’s goal of killing at least 5-6 billion people. Covid was just a failed first attempt. They’re going to wipe out the population of Africa next before they expand it to Asia. Of course, Trump holds the antidote which he will share with his supporters. The rest of us are going to be part of the third wave. I’m putting my phone back on airplane mode and not shutting it off the rest of the trip. 

I was so freaked out, I was able to keep up with Chaps for the first 3 miles. He was thinking of going further than I planned today so he eventually kicked in his afterburners. I’m still 4-5 days ahead of schedule to meet my best friend from college in Pawling, NY so I see no need to push. 

Pica made the 20+ miles to Upper Goose Pond yesterday and told us the cabin was still open and serving pancakes to hikers. I am planning on getting blueberries from the cookie lady tomorrow for blueberry pancakes on Sunday morning. I’m just thankful to be out of civilization and in airplane mode once again. 

If a hiker were to make miles in a stretch, this would be the stretch to do it. This was a nearly level trail all day after the climb out of Dalton. We didn’t start until 11 and I was in the shelter by 5 including a couple of generous breaks and a stop at the cookie lady. 

I saw Chaps across the road when I was heading to the cookie lady. He told me there were still 2 cookies for me. There wasn’t anyone home and I wanted some blueberries. I went into the garage and checked the freezer and hit pay dirt. I left a $20 in the money jar, ate my cookies, used the port-a-potty (never pass up OPP—Other People’s Paper), and grabbed 2# of frozen blueberries. I left with the exact same total weight as when I arrived. 

I was a bit dismayed arriving at the shelter. The picnic table had 7 people around it. Chaps was cooking off to the side by himself. I thought the shelter was full. They assured me they were all tenting so only Chaps and me were in the shelter but sharing of the picnic table wasn’t happening. Weekends! Will I ever get a shelter to myself?

Day 5 (80), 09/09, Upper Goose Pond, 8.8

The group was planning “boots on trail” at 8. Chaps and I just woke up naturally and left before 7:30. Chaps is very easy to talk to. I have told him more about all of my psychosis in the last couple of days than I’ve ever shared with anyone before. He gave me a few tools to help deal with some of my issues. It was only natural, with all he knows about me, that he’d pick up the pace and walk alone. 

Chaps talked about skipping Upper Goose Pond, but I knew I’d see him again. I had blueberries. I made sure the group of seven knew that as well. I held everyone’s breakfast over their heads—be nice or no blueberry pancakes. 

This was another easy day of hiking except for crossing the Mass Turnpike. Actually, after crossing the Turnpike, it got steep for about a half mile. The rain the last couple of nights had cooled things off. I’m from the Midwest—it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. 

At the top of the climb, I met a couple of hikers that told me they had left pizza and a banana at the cabin. This was Cookie Monster and Lawsuit. I had met them in NH about a month ago. They had finished the trail a couple weeks ago and were avoiding returning to “real life.”

When I arrived at the cabin, Chaps was already there swimming. He decided to stay once he saw the setup. He was the only one in the bunkhouse so far. I grabbed the only bed that wasn’t a bunk, anticipating the group of 7 behind us. Eventually 4 more SOBOs showed up (but they decided to tent as did the group of 7). 

One other hiker was there. I won’t mention his name because he kind of creeped Chaps and me out a bit. He had obvious mental health issues and claimed to be an ex-marine. His story just didn’t add up. I did talk to him for a while. He actually seemed nice enough and I felt a bit sorry for him. He’s obviously been through some heavy shit in his life. I think he’s living full time on the trail—not by choice, like me, but because he has no other options. 

Day 6 (81), 09/10, South Mount Wilcox Shelter, 16.1

It was at Upper Goose Pond where we met our apprentice hiking couple, Bear and Sassy in 2018. Now-a-days, the grasshoppers are the masters. They are currently hiking in Sweden, Norway, and Scotland while I’m here wandering around, lost in the woods on the east coast looking for an unoccupied shelter to call home. All I remember about our first encounter with them was that Bear got the last blueberry pancake and I didn’t get any. 

Breakfast started at 6:30. I checked to make sure there were still blueberry pancakes available. Happy, the caretaker, assured me there was plenty. I wanted coffee. That was gone. I’d have to wait for the next pot. I eventually got 3 mugs of coffee and all the blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes I could handle. Life is good!

Chaps took off as soon as he got done eating. He told me he wanted to pick up his miles (and put some distance between himself and all the crazy people he’s meeting…I’m assuming I’ve revealed too much about myself). The hiker in question was going to try for the shelter in 15 miles. I set my goal for the shelter beyond to be on the safe side. 

I remember a roadside snack stand for AT hikers from 2018, but I didn’t remember where it was. I found it today. I ran into part of the group of SOBOs who stayed at Upper Goose Pond last night. They are already putting in 20+ mile days every day trying to finish the trail before Halloween. In Star Trek vernacular, they’re redshirts and are dead to me. I drank my Diet Coke and ate my Oreos while I watched them recede into death right before my eyes. 

Immediately after the stand is Tyringham Cobble which is a popular day hike for locals. There’s also a nice viewpoint of the town of Tyringham from a cliff side. I met a few groups of locals interested in what I was doing (and thinking I was crazy to hike from Maine to Georgia). When I told them what I was really doing they changed their viewpoints to “convinced” I was crazy. 

It started raining, again while I was on the cobble. It rained hard enough that I broke out my umbrella again for a couple of miles. Once it reduced in intensity to a mist, I put away my umbrella, but the humidity was getting me. 

Pica and Chaps had told me about a couple that they started calling “the Jones’s” because they were impossible to talk with. Rather than spend the effort trying to make conversation and extract information, they decided it was easier to create a back story for them. Tonight, I had the pleasure of sharing a shelter with the Jones’s. 

I pride myself on being able to talk to anyone. This couple proved to me that I am not a conversationalist. After about 10 minutes of trying to start a conversation, I started praying for a strategic lightening strike. Fortunately, there was another occupant of the shelter who was actually interesting. I’ll say one thing about the Jones’s then let it rest. I’ve been having much more entertaining conversations with the trees with more lively interactions than these two, supposed Hobbits (Merry and Pippen). 

The other occupant is a world traveler. He’s a few years older than me (64) and he’s led an interesting life having lived in China, Thailand, Europe, and South America. He’s out killing time until he heads to Thailand in November. We exchanged contact information. He’s a wealth of knowledge that I fully intent to tap. 

Day 7 (82), 09/11, Great Barrington, 11.6

I was the first to leave. I didn’t even bother wasting breath saying goodbye to the Jones’s. I did sit and have a cup of coffee with Greg and have a pleasant conversation before saying goodbye. Even Greg thought they were insular to a point way beyond healthy. I hereby bequeath them back to Pica. I’m sure she has developed a much more interesting back story than they are capable of achieving on their own. 

With the extra mileage I got yesterday, I have managed to cut another day from my schedule to meet my friend, David. I decided to just go ahead and go into Great Barrington a day earlier than planned. Mizman is going to be there this week doing volunteer trail work for the ATC. I was already planning to spend a zero in town—why not two?

Right before I made it to the Tom Leonard Shelter, I heard the Jones’s behind me. They were obviously walking faster than me if they had caught up. I did the courteous thing and pulled off the trail to allow them to pass. Most people will say “thanks” or at least “hi” when they pass to acknowledge the gesture. I nodded to them and they didn’t even seem to notice a person was around, except for when the guy, Merry or Pippen, I don’t really give a rat’s ass at this point, passed, he did say “mumbo jumbo.” Whiskey Tango Foxtrot does that mean. 

I pulled off at the shelter and took a llooonngg lunch to give them plenty of time to make distance. I hope they bypass Great Barrington and I never see them again. 

The rest of the hike into town was uneventful. Just as I was getting to the road and thinking about trying to hitch into town, I took my phone out of airplane mode.  Not 10 minutes earlier, Mizman had texted me and told me he was in town and if I needed anything, text him. 

Days 8,9 (83,84), 09/12,13, TraveLodge, ZEROs

Mizman hadn’t even met his work crew when he texted me. Twenty minutes after I arrived at the road, we were sitting in a brewery having a burger and a beer. The trail (and Mizman) provides. 

I was going to camp with the work crew in the community center, but I really wanted AC. Mizman stopped at the TraveLodge for me to see if I could get a deal. The owner was really cool and gave me a great deal for a 3 night stay. I’m in for AC and a double zero. 

Mizman worked days while I did my town chores and we spent suppers and evenings catching up again. I had a pool at my hotel that no one seemed to ever use, so we spent some time out there. He also offered me use of his truck during the day, but I haven’t driven for months and didn’t want to risk it with all these Massholes on the road. 

Day 10 (85), 09/14, Hemlocks Shelter, 8.0

I had planned to sleep in today but ended up getting up by 7. I went ahead and packed up and headed to McDonald’s for breakfast. There’s a bus stop right there that will take me to within a couple miles of the trail. 

I ordered breakfast and grabbed a table. When I sat down, I noticed another hiker. It was Pack Man. I hadn’t seen him since he spent the night on the Glastonbury fire tower. He had gotten into town the day after I did. He did camp at the community center. 

When I got done, I caught the bus according to my plan. I headed out to the highway and tried to hitch back to the trail. Fat, bald hitchhikers are not prime pickup targets. I gave up after 10 minutes and headed to the Great Barrington Bagel Co for another cup of coffee and a bagel to change my luck. It did the trick. They comped my bagel and coffee. With the added good luck, I caught a ride as soon as I went back out. 

The trail out of Great Barrington is absolutely lovely. There hasn’t been enough rain recently to make things muddy. Not too far out of town is a memorial to the last battle of Shay’s Rebellion. After the Revolutionary War, the young government needed money so they raised taxes—predominantly on the poor farmers who had neglected their farms to fight in the war. Many of them ended up losing their farms in the process (sound familiar?—screw the poor, the rich need a break: some things never change). 

I had already decided on a short day. I took a break on the ledges above Mount Bushnel. I remembered coming over these ledges in a windy rain and being afraid of being blown off in 2018. Today I could sit and enjoy the view. While I was sitting, Pack Man showed up. 

He’s only 18 hiking the trail. I sure didn’t have balls enough to try this when I was his age. We sat and talked for a while until he headed on. I called my brother while I had signal.  

My goal always was Hemlocks Shelter. I’m trying to kill time to let everyone pass me. I’m bound and determined to start having shelters to myself. Tonight looked like it was the night. I got there about 5 without having seen anyone other than Pack Man today. It’s a Thursday so there shouldn’t be weekenders out. I unpacked and spread out. 

I started hearing noises in the woods above the shelter. They seemed to be coming from the privy. People are supposed to latch the doors when they’re done to keep wildlife from getting in. It sounded to be a pretty big animal trying to get out. Great, a bear has gotten trapped and now I’m going to have to hold my shit in the morning. I started checking my map—it’s 5 miles to the next privy. I’ve had a lot of town food, but I should be able to make it. 

I was in the shelter when the noise abruptly stopped. I was getting ready to look around the corner when Pack Man emerged. He was brown blazing—no bear. I’m not scared of bears, I’m scared of unrequited morning urgency. He was going to try for another 6 miles tonight. I talked him out of it since it was so late. I’ll eventually get my shelters. 

Day 11 (86), 09/15, Riga Shelter, 9.5

I’m thinking Pack Man regretted spending the night with me. It was finally cool enough that I didn’t sweat in my quilt. I’d taken 50 mg of Benadryl. I was pretty relaxed. I must have snored like hell last night. He didn’t stir as I ate breakfast and packed up. 

My goal for today is to get into Connecticut. I’ve only got to get over a couple more mountains in MA and I’m there. However, first up is Mt Everest’s little brother, Mt. Everet. It wasn’t as difficult as I remembered it being. 

When I got to the summit, there were two other old guys there. I noticed we all made it to the top without supplemental oxygen. I know from personal experience that supplemental oxygen climbing Everest is quite expensive. When I went to Nepal in 2009, it cost an extra $16,000 on top of the $60,000 package/permit fees. At least that’s what the wife of an Everest expedition member told me. I was just hiking the Annapurna Circuit. 

The border between MA and CT is a wonderful valley with an old growth Hemlock Forest—Sages Ravine. I had nearly forgotten this gem. I took my time and enjoyed the quiet beauty all to myself. 

There’s a possible place to stay in Salisbury that I was contemplating staying at, but the day was just too nice to go into another town. I chose to stay at Riga shelter. When I got there, to my surprise, it was a brand new handicap accessible shelter. It still had that new shelter smell of fresh cut wood vs. the usual urine, stale fart, hiker smell that comes with age. 

I was overlooking a valley below with towns so I thought I’d check to see if I had cell signal. I wish I hadn’t checked. Someone has stolen my credit card information and my card was canceled. While I was dealing with this, another couple came in. No shelter, no card, but plenty of stress. I’m doubling my Benadryl tonight. 

EFG

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