Duckie and Tiba were set up in the shelter last night. We didn’t realize it until we heard them talking while we were eating. I thought we were going slow since Kent, but then we saw them in Great Barrington which made us feel better. It seems like everyone is being affected by the high humidity and heat. In addition, they may have gotten a beer bug in GB which caused them to take a double zero.
I heard the most disgusting thing in town two days ago—only 5 months to Christmas. I hate Christmas and everything associated with it (quit hyperventilating Pami—I’m not even sure she takes her tree down at all she loves Christmas so much; kind of odd for a Floridian). I haven’t liked Xmas since I found out (spoiler alert to Bunny’s kids, but I know they don’t read this blog) that Santa isn’t real. I was only 4 but felt guilty knowing that my family was buying me all that stuff.
My sister loved Christmas. She got to be a great gift wrapper because she would unwrap all the gifts to see what was in each package and then re-wrap it. If she hadn’t started telling my brother and me what we had gotten, she would have gotten away with it. Once my parents were on to her, they tried putting a padlock on their closet door. I remember coming home from school and finding Beth with a hammer and screwdriver taking the hinges off the door to get in the closet. I ain’t cheap, but I can be bought. My silence cost her $20. My brother pretended to have morals and ratted her out.
So why do I hate it. My sister died from cancer 26 years ago. She died in January. She loved Christmas so much that she already had all of her presents ready for the next year. She had made everyone in the family gifts. On Christmas Day, 11 months after my sister died, I got a handmade Christmas tree skirt. She had spent tens of hours working on it while she was enduring chemo and radiation. She wanted us to love the season as much as she did. Christmas is all about the giving, but how can you give anything to someone who’s been dead for a year?
The only thing sadder would be to have your birthday on Christmas. My grandfather was a Christmas baby. All it ever got him was the next larger size of Old Spice aftershave. I’ve also got to feel bad for Daniel J. Not only does he cowboy camp on the AT (right in the middle of the trail), but he’s a Christmas baby. It never works out. Daniel was born on Christmas and all I ever got him was a little sympathy in my blog.
Like Christmas, today was a day of disappointments. We came across two different attempts at trail magic, but we got there too late. Often times, people will leave coolers out with a few cold drinks. If you are fast, or an early riser, you get the magic. We are neither fast or early risers so we get to see a lot of trash filled coolers.
There was also a trail side stand which Cheesy had told us about. It’s an honor system set up, but there might be mice inside, so be sure to check any packages for chewing before purchase. He had been by it only 2 days ago. We got there and it was empty. The only thing there was a bag full of money. A note on the fridge said popsicles in the freezer for $.25 each. Maybe it won’t be a total bust. I opened the freezer and they were liquid—the electricity was off.
At least we will make it to Upper Goose Pond Cabin for the night. There’s a full time caretaker on site that makes pancakes for all the thru-hikers. It has 18 bunks so we should get to sleep inside. We got to the turn and it started to pour. We just got out our umbrellas and walked the 1/2 mile side trail to see a half dozen tents already up. When we got to the porch, Duckie told us it was full. The bunks were all taken by 1 and it was 7:30.
I didn’t want to set a tent up or cook in the rain. We just ate a bunch of snacks and asked the caretaker if we could sleep on the floor downstairs. We weren’t the only ones to ask. In the end, there were 10 of us sleeping on the floor in addition to the 18 in bunks, plus another dozen people outside tenting. We are in the bubble.
We did get to see Iron Fist again, but got the sad news that she is getting off trail. Her ankle is not holding up and she doesn’t want to risk permanent damage. Duckie and Tiba are getting off tomorrow, but just for a few days to go to a concert in Boston. Freeman was tenting behind the cabin, but stayed the evening in his tent. I’m worried that he’s missing out on the social aspect of the trail because of language. Other than those few, we knew no one else there.
We sat out on the porch talking until midnight (the hiker one). Bunny crawled under a table and tried to sleep while people were hanging around the fireplace talking. I was impressed that she would even crawl under a table with her claustrophobia being so bad. I was one of the last ones up, I hate to miss out on stuff. I wonder if I may have had some influence on my niece, Jill. As far as I know, to this day she is always the last one to bed afraid that she might miss out on something.
EFG