Hello from Massachusetts! Well, I have to admit we've been having a rather soggy time of it lately. It was great staying in Kent at Sprout's friends' home, they treated us well and drove us back to the trailhead. Unfortunately there was quite a bit of rain thereafter, mostly beginning on the day we left CT. It was actually a pretty dangerous situation, because mostly the trail runs over rocks wet with rain, and of course usually up or down a steep slope, sometimes to the point of climbing hand-over-hand. I remember saying at one point how lame it would be to slip and fall to my death there, in Connecticut, the geek of all the AT states. I mean, there's no big mountains, the views were only alright, it's a very short state in terms of miles... really it has nothing going for it. Of course no sooner had the words left my mouth, when I slip on the rocks again and nearly fall. I apologized profusely to the state, assuring it that I found it to be cool and dangerous.
Well, since then we only had one day of sun, not counting today, as I hear it's going to rain later. Massachusets has been probably my least favorite state thus far. The Berkshire Hills are more of a plateau than a mountain range; even at elevation you're mainly on flat ground, at least thus far; I know Mt Greylock will change all that. But there's just a ton of ponds, marshes, and swamps up there, meaning mosquito hell. It's supposedly the worst state for them on the AT, I hear. And all the rain is not helping. You stop for a break or to catch your breath on a hill and you're immediately swarmed.
And then the rain, for God's sake, the rain. Ok, we haven't been caught out in much of it, but it still is making life difficult. Yesterday was the worst. After recieving some awesome trail magic from Freefall's parents (brownies, soda, chips, pretzels, hummus, and fresh fruit), about 9 of us left in a train of thru-hikers, making for the shelter (a 3 sided lean-to, which are to be found along the entire length of the trail spaced roughly 10 miles apart, like bunkhouses) 1.8 miles away. We were sped along by the rumbling thunder in the distance that seemed to be moving closer and closer. About a half mile from the shelter we were moving very fast, dodging all the flooded sections of the trail as best we could. We began to hear the rain falling ahead, moving towards us as we hurried towards it; imagine 9 hikers at a dead run up up a steep rise trying to make the shelter that finally is in sight. And we made it, too, to watch a half hour of torrential rain and pea-sized, then golfball-sized hail.
As soon as it finished, Enoch, the one of us with any motivation left at this point, says "lets go," so we saddle up and grudgingly head out. The trail was a river, I quickly gave up any notion of keeping my feet dry and just waded through the ankle deep puddles. Which was fortunate since we soon came to a dirt road, actually now a raging river a foot deep in a brown rush of water. There would be several of these to come, some roads, mostly streams, the stepping stones or plank bridges underwater. The trail itself was under water for abouty 4 miles, either flowing or puddled, and freezing cold from the hail. We laughed our way through it, mostly, but as the 9 miles to the next shelter, home for the night, dragged on my mood fell. So did I, several times, once very hard on a wood bridge. Thought I broke my elbow, and took a long time getting up. But thanks to good friends, I was feeling better before we reached the lean-to, cold and wet though my feet were, and hungry as I was. Knowing I was close to done for the day helped too.
But Marsh-achusetts has definitely become my least favorite state so far. I don't think we've even had a view in the last three days, just trees, mud, mosquitos, and swamps. I'm excited to get to Vermont and some real mountains again.
Today we're in town for a quick resupply. Well, not quick, been in town for hours now, but as soon as I finish this I'm heading to a church hostel in Cheshire, about 9 miles away. My boots are still soaked, and I hear the trail is a muddy, wet mess the next 20 miles or so, but I'll push on. I feel kinda bad; we've been traveling in a pretty big group lately, with Neon, CC Rider, Orangedust and her dog, KBomb, Enoch, Icarus, and Sprout, and have been having one hell of a good time; but I think we're about to split up. CC is sick with some intestinal bug, and Neon, who's been his hiking partner for a long time, will stay with him, as will Orangedust probably. And Sprout gets off the trail today, her section hike over. Figures, all the girls are staying behind. Hopefully we'll see them down the line soon. I guess that'll have to be it for now, I want to try and beat some of this weather if I can.
PS: I did get the tent safe and sound, thanks mom. And for the cold-weather gear, I'm going to need my gloves, long johns, and the thick wool socks. I'll let you know which town to send it to when I get that figured out.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Kent, CT
Man, the states are beginning to really fly by now. It helps that they aren't each as long as Virginia was, and that we can consistently do the miles we want without too much trouble. But here I am in New England already! It's pretty crazy to me. Having never been north of New York state, I'm in for a whole new bunch of territory. Should be interesting; so far Connecticut is a very pretty state. We've been following the Housatonic River mostly, and it is just beautiful. Seen some neat covered bridges too, including one (Bull's Bridge) which was used by George Washington and his army several times during the Revolutionary War. Mostly original construction too.
Really things are going great, and I'm enjoying the hiking immensely. New Jersey, despite being New York's armpit, was beautiful. There were some lovely ridge-walks, often in a sort of wooded grassland sort of environment, so you don't feel so enclosed in the "long green tunnel" that was often the case in PA. There were tons of views off those ridges, too. And all the pines (at least in places) and the glacially weathered rocks remind me a lot of the hiking I'd done in Michigan's UP, which is nice. Hiking in pines is some of my favorite, I don't quite know why.
New York was also very pretty. It's full of all these little ups and downs, but the glacial landscapes have increased by this point, so it's all very rugged as well. As I hike I can't help but think of mountain lions prowling around upon the ledges and cliffs the outcrops form, or a surprise attack by a band of roving Indians on some European army. If you ever saw that movie Last of the Mohicans, you get a sense of what was on my mind as I passed through these areas. It helps that the woods are just FULL of old, slowly crumbling stone walls; you can get a real sense of the history of the area just walking in it, and knowing a bit, as I do, of what sorts of events once took place in the very woods through which I'm hiking.
We had one crazy night just as we entered New York that is worth mentioning. It was pretty late, but we decided to push on a bit to make it down into Greenwood Lake to set ourselves up for an early resupply the next day and a quick out of town. First we misjudged our location, thinking we only had 2 miles to go to the side trail down the mountain...walked for 2 hours before finding it in the failing light; it turned out to have been 4+ miles. Then we couldn't find anywhere to camp; because the police station was right next to the park, so stealthing there was out of the question. We eventually asked some teens who were playing basketball for a place to go, and ended up in some park/dirt-bike jump area/dump behind a CVS. And talk about mosquitoes. Being the lazy type, I decided to cowboy it, my tarp being a pain in the ass to set up in the dark, besides it being mostly treeless near where my group set up. Then the rain started. I hurry into the dense, weedy woods and hastily throw up the tarp, not bothering with stakes, just basically draping it over some branches super ghetto style. Pathetic really. And with my 20 degree sleeping bag in the middle of summer, I began a night of sweating and being eaten alive, but certainly not sleeping. Didn't get wet, though.
Made me realize just how half-assed my equipment selection has been thus far: external frame pack, heavy, worthless tarp, sleeping bag too warm for the season, too-heavy food bag (not the food, the bag itself), boots that are literally falling to pieces (that last outfitter was worthless so I'm still in the old ones; hopefully that will change tomorrow). I tell myself that 10, 15 years ago this was all standard and perfectly adequate equipment, but I know I could be making things easier on myself. If only I wasn't so damn cheap, and the stuff I needed wasn't so expensive. I'm not worried about it, though. I know I can get there on what I have. But I did break down and make the call home for my tent to be sent back to me, more for the bugs than anything else.
One thing I feel like mentioning as well is how every day I'm freshly inspired by the fact that everything I need to get by in life in on my back. It's so amazing how happy a man can be with so little; just the few necessities, plus friends and nature. The simple life. And most of the necessities aren't. I don't need the stove and fuel; a fire works just as well and is free. All this really drives home the fact that it's not the things we own that makes us happy, it's the people in our lives and a clear purpose. In this case my purpose is quite simple, just to walk north, but of course there's more going on than that; I'm out here for more than that. But it doesn't have to be complicated. I really hope I can hold onto this real sense of peace and happiness when I've finished, to keep these lessons in mind and close to heart, and to maybe pass them on to others.
One more thing before I go. I want to mention trail magic, because I don't think I have yet. Trail magic is when people leave, say, water out near a road crossing in a dry section, or a cooler full of gatorade, soda, and snacks. The kind of thing that really reminds you of the goodness of people. It's amazing how much less cynical I've become on that front throughout this hike. You just come across so many kind and helpful people doing this, you can't help but remember that most of the negetivity is media-created sensationalism. Most people aren't like what's on the news.
Anyways, the other day I had a car drive by just as I was walking into the woods off a road to ask if I wanted a Coke. Then this other day I was filling up my water bottles from some gallon jugs of water someone had left out when this guy, Paddy-O, drives up, gets out of his truck and starts asking about how many hikers were out today. I mentioned the 5 in my group, plus a few others I knew of; turns out he was going to go to the next road and do a hotdog cookoff, but only if there were enough hikers to make it worthwhile. Made me feel like I was integral to the party, and it sure gave me motivation to bust out those 3 intervening miles to where he was setting up. It was a great time, we stayed for hours gorging ourselves on hotdogs, salsa, beer, and donuts. After we left, he ended up hiking the 1.5 miles up to the campsite with a backpack full of whiskey and moonshine, and we stayed up pretty late having outselves a big party in the woods. And the weirdest part was Sprout, a woman we'd been hiking with for a week or so and a new member to our group, actually knew the guy from a hike she did earlier in the year. She was actually writing him a postcard when he drove up (she was ahead of me that day and happened to be waiting for me and Chopsticks (another young woman who'd recently joined our group) to catch up). Sprout had no idea Paddy-O was coming or was anywhere around, it was kinda freaky really. Small world, you know?
P.S. you all may want to check the New York Times' on Fridays in August; I came across a writer/photographer team yesterday and they did a quick interview for their piece on the AT in Connecticut. I may be quoted or pictured in the freakin Times, man! It'll be in the "Escape" section, and there's a better chance for it on the internet version than the paper one. Still, mom, dad, if you could buy the paper copy for me, just on the off chance of it, I'd appreciate it. It'd be cool to have.
PPS dad, I'm really happy you're doing that bike tour. I'm actually kinda jealous. I've been missing my bike a little lately, and it'd be awesome to do something like that with you. Another time, I hope.
Really things are going great, and I'm enjoying the hiking immensely. New Jersey, despite being New York's armpit, was beautiful. There were some lovely ridge-walks, often in a sort of wooded grassland sort of environment, so you don't feel so enclosed in the "long green tunnel" that was often the case in PA. There were tons of views off those ridges, too. And all the pines (at least in places) and the glacially weathered rocks remind me a lot of the hiking I'd done in Michigan's UP, which is nice. Hiking in pines is some of my favorite, I don't quite know why.
New York was also very pretty. It's full of all these little ups and downs, but the glacial landscapes have increased by this point, so it's all very rugged as well. As I hike I can't help but think of mountain lions prowling around upon the ledges and cliffs the outcrops form, or a surprise attack by a band of roving Indians on some European army. If you ever saw that movie Last of the Mohicans, you get a sense of what was on my mind as I passed through these areas. It helps that the woods are just FULL of old, slowly crumbling stone walls; you can get a real sense of the history of the area just walking in it, and knowing a bit, as I do, of what sorts of events once took place in the very woods through which I'm hiking.
We had one crazy night just as we entered New York that is worth mentioning. It was pretty late, but we decided to push on a bit to make it down into Greenwood Lake to set ourselves up for an early resupply the next day and a quick out of town. First we misjudged our location, thinking we only had 2 miles to go to the side trail down the mountain...walked for 2 hours before finding it in the failing light; it turned out to have been 4+ miles. Then we couldn't find anywhere to camp; because the police station was right next to the park, so stealthing there was out of the question. We eventually asked some teens who were playing basketball for a place to go, and ended up in some park/dirt-bike jump area/dump behind a CVS. And talk about mosquitoes. Being the lazy type, I decided to cowboy it, my tarp being a pain in the ass to set up in the dark, besides it being mostly treeless near where my group set up. Then the rain started. I hurry into the dense, weedy woods and hastily throw up the tarp, not bothering with stakes, just basically draping it over some branches super ghetto style. Pathetic really. And with my 20 degree sleeping bag in the middle of summer, I began a night of sweating and being eaten alive, but certainly not sleeping. Didn't get wet, though.
Made me realize just how half-assed my equipment selection has been thus far: external frame pack, heavy, worthless tarp, sleeping bag too warm for the season, too-heavy food bag (not the food, the bag itself), boots that are literally falling to pieces (that last outfitter was worthless so I'm still in the old ones; hopefully that will change tomorrow). I tell myself that 10, 15 years ago this was all standard and perfectly adequate equipment, but I know I could be making things easier on myself. If only I wasn't so damn cheap, and the stuff I needed wasn't so expensive. I'm not worried about it, though. I know I can get there on what I have. But I did break down and make the call home for my tent to be sent back to me, more for the bugs than anything else.
One thing I feel like mentioning as well is how every day I'm freshly inspired by the fact that everything I need to get by in life in on my back. It's so amazing how happy a man can be with so little; just the few necessities, plus friends and nature. The simple life. And most of the necessities aren't. I don't need the stove and fuel; a fire works just as well and is free. All this really drives home the fact that it's not the things we own that makes us happy, it's the people in our lives and a clear purpose. In this case my purpose is quite simple, just to walk north, but of course there's more going on than that; I'm out here for more than that. But it doesn't have to be complicated. I really hope I can hold onto this real sense of peace and happiness when I've finished, to keep these lessons in mind and close to heart, and to maybe pass them on to others.
One more thing before I go. I want to mention trail magic, because I don't think I have yet. Trail magic is when people leave, say, water out near a road crossing in a dry section, or a cooler full of gatorade, soda, and snacks. The kind of thing that really reminds you of the goodness of people. It's amazing how much less cynical I've become on that front throughout this hike. You just come across so many kind and helpful people doing this, you can't help but remember that most of the negetivity is media-created sensationalism. Most people aren't like what's on the news.
Anyways, the other day I had a car drive by just as I was walking into the woods off a road to ask if I wanted a Coke. Then this other day I was filling up my water bottles from some gallon jugs of water someone had left out when this guy, Paddy-O, drives up, gets out of his truck and starts asking about how many hikers were out today. I mentioned the 5 in my group, plus a few others I knew of; turns out he was going to go to the next road and do a hotdog cookoff, but only if there were enough hikers to make it worthwhile. Made me feel like I was integral to the party, and it sure gave me motivation to bust out those 3 intervening miles to where he was setting up. It was a great time, we stayed for hours gorging ourselves on hotdogs, salsa, beer, and donuts. After we left, he ended up hiking the 1.5 miles up to the campsite with a backpack full of whiskey and moonshine, and we stayed up pretty late having outselves a big party in the woods. And the weirdest part was Sprout, a woman we'd been hiking with for a week or so and a new member to our group, actually knew the guy from a hike she did earlier in the year. She was actually writing him a postcard when he drove up (she was ahead of me that day and happened to be waiting for me and Chopsticks (another young woman who'd recently joined our group) to catch up). Sprout had no idea Paddy-O was coming or was anywhere around, it was kinda freaky really. Small world, you know?
P.S. you all may want to check the New York Times' on Fridays in August; I came across a writer/photographer team yesterday and they did a quick interview for their piece on the AT in Connecticut. I may be quoted or pictured in the freakin Times, man! It'll be in the "Escape" section, and there's a better chance for it on the internet version than the paper one. Still, mom, dad, if you could buy the paper copy for me, just on the off chance of it, I'd appreciate it. It'd be cool to have.
PPS dad, I'm really happy you're doing that bike tour. I'm actually kinda jealous. I've been missing my bike a little lately, and it'd be awesome to do something like that with you. Another time, I hope.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Delaware Water Gap, PA
Ah, finally an internet connection! Tried to update in Duncannon, PA, but the internet at the Doyle Hotel was down. Not surprising, really; the place was a dump. Kinda fun to stay in a place with so much "character" on my birthday. Had some good times though, pretty convenient to be in a town on one's birthday without even planning for it. I really am trying to update more often, but we're not in town as often, or as long when we are, and half the time there's no library or other public computer to use.
I'm here at the Delaware Water Gap, just across the bridge from New Jersey. It's been a bit of a blur since I last updated. Maryland was pretty good; unlike Virginia, I could call it flat, since it was mostly just a ridgewalk. Only one hard part, in the last few miles when there was some major-ish elevation change over some pretty serious rocks. But then again, the serious rocks were waiting for me in Pennsylvania.
PA is legendary for its rocks, people talk about it right from the first days on the trail, it's the monster waiting for you down the dark road, so to speak. At first, I didn't believe it. Even once I got into the state, I wasn't too impressed; there was one day when KBomb and I pounded out 17 miles in just a few hours; the last 3.75 miles we did in under an hour. Then there was this 20 mile wide valley to cross where I probably did similar speed, though I couldn't time it. I didn't want to have a watch out here, as I didn't want to know the time more than what the sun can tell me; it's all you really need, and it's nice to be off a schedule. Of course, some of the people I hike with are always timing our milage and such, which actually can get kind of annoying... Anyways, on through Duncannon the hiking was pretty good.
Then we crossed the Susquehanna River, and it all changed. The second half of this state, just 100 or so miles, has chewed up my feet more than all previous miles had combined. You should see my boots, they're in shreds, the sole is falling off, and the bottoms are nearly smooth. Not bad, though, for having found them in a swap box at a hostel 1100 miles ago... they probably had at least 4-500 miles on them when I got them, so I'm happy with that; most people put only around 800 miles on their boots...but then again, my motto seems to be "good enough gets it done." Still, I'll probably be buying some new ones tomorrow, I hope. I want the same brand, so the outfitter better have them. If not I may just doctor them up with duct tape and try to make it to Kent, Connecticut where there's another outfitter.
Otherwise, things are going great. That valley I mentioned was fun; I was jamming to my mp3 player (though I rarely use it), was in a great mood and felt great for hiking, and it was good to see some farmland. Picking mullberries along the way helped. And lately there's been a shit-ton of blueberries; I'm probably eating too many, but they're delicious, and free, and it's nice to eat right from the open hand of Mother Nature, makes me feel a bit more connected with the landscapes through which I'm walking. That's part of why I almost never treat or filter my water, to the amazement of most of my fellow hikers. What's more natural than drinking clean, fresh water? Why put our silly devices between us and the world? Anyways, statistics show the chances of getting giardia or other water-borne illness is equal whether or not one treats/filters.
The only real bad things I have to report are, for one, I finally weighed my pack, and was dismayed and depressed to find that it weighed 35lbs with only 2 days of food in it. Did have 4lbs of water, but still, I thought it was way less. Also, my tarp failed me during a rainstorm. Well, two rainstorms. The first one it was just some spray blowing in on both ends, forcing me into the center of the tarp. The second one was far worse; however, in hindsight, it was all my fault. I set up in a low spot, and the ground didn't absorb the water: a big puddle formed under my sleeping pad. I noticed in time, but still had to spend most of the night curled in a tiny ball at one end of the tarp, until the water finally soaked in around 4 A.M. Miserable.
Lastly, the beauty and grandeur of Delaware Water Gap was seriously marred by the roar of traffic from the 4 lane highway below. I know we need commerce and transportation, but It's hard when that gets to stand before everything else in our lives, ruining some things that are unique and one-of-a-kind. I think about conservation, sustainable farming/living, and so on pretty much every day, thinking I'd like to get involved in that somehow. And then I see a friend of mine, a hiker who's out here for at least some of the same reasons as I am, and I watch him unwrap a candy bar as he hikes and drop the wrapper, and all I can do is sigh and pick it up when I get to it. I sometimes wonder if there is any hope for us at all.
I'm here at the Delaware Water Gap, just across the bridge from New Jersey. It's been a bit of a blur since I last updated. Maryland was pretty good; unlike Virginia, I could call it flat, since it was mostly just a ridgewalk. Only one hard part, in the last few miles when there was some major-ish elevation change over some pretty serious rocks. But then again, the serious rocks were waiting for me in Pennsylvania.
PA is legendary for its rocks, people talk about it right from the first days on the trail, it's the monster waiting for you down the dark road, so to speak. At first, I didn't believe it. Even once I got into the state, I wasn't too impressed; there was one day when KBomb and I pounded out 17 miles in just a few hours; the last 3.75 miles we did in under an hour. Then there was this 20 mile wide valley to cross where I probably did similar speed, though I couldn't time it. I didn't want to have a watch out here, as I didn't want to know the time more than what the sun can tell me; it's all you really need, and it's nice to be off a schedule. Of course, some of the people I hike with are always timing our milage and such, which actually can get kind of annoying... Anyways, on through Duncannon the hiking was pretty good.
Then we crossed the Susquehanna River, and it all changed. The second half of this state, just 100 or so miles, has chewed up my feet more than all previous miles had combined. You should see my boots, they're in shreds, the sole is falling off, and the bottoms are nearly smooth. Not bad, though, for having found them in a swap box at a hostel 1100 miles ago... they probably had at least 4-500 miles on them when I got them, so I'm happy with that; most people put only around 800 miles on their boots...but then again, my motto seems to be "good enough gets it done." Still, I'll probably be buying some new ones tomorrow, I hope. I want the same brand, so the outfitter better have them. If not I may just doctor them up with duct tape and try to make it to Kent, Connecticut where there's another outfitter.
Otherwise, things are going great. That valley I mentioned was fun; I was jamming to my mp3 player (though I rarely use it), was in a great mood and felt great for hiking, and it was good to see some farmland. Picking mullberries along the way helped. And lately there's been a shit-ton of blueberries; I'm probably eating too many, but they're delicious, and free, and it's nice to eat right from the open hand of Mother Nature, makes me feel a bit more connected with the landscapes through which I'm walking. That's part of why I almost never treat or filter my water, to the amazement of most of my fellow hikers. What's more natural than drinking clean, fresh water? Why put our silly devices between us and the world? Anyways, statistics show the chances of getting giardia or other water-borne illness is equal whether or not one treats/filters.
The only real bad things I have to report are, for one, I finally weighed my pack, and was dismayed and depressed to find that it weighed 35lbs with only 2 days of food in it. Did have 4lbs of water, but still, I thought it was way less. Also, my tarp failed me during a rainstorm. Well, two rainstorms. The first one it was just some spray blowing in on both ends, forcing me into the center of the tarp. The second one was far worse; however, in hindsight, it was all my fault. I set up in a low spot, and the ground didn't absorb the water: a big puddle formed under my sleeping pad. I noticed in time, but still had to spend most of the night curled in a tiny ball at one end of the tarp, until the water finally soaked in around 4 A.M. Miserable.
Lastly, the beauty and grandeur of Delaware Water Gap was seriously marred by the roar of traffic from the 4 lane highway below. I know we need commerce and transportation, but It's hard when that gets to stand before everything else in our lives, ruining some things that are unique and one-of-a-kind. I think about conservation, sustainable farming/living, and so on pretty much every day, thinking I'd like to get involved in that somehow. And then I see a friend of mine, a hiker who's out here for at least some of the same reasons as I am, and I watch him unwrap a candy bar as he hikes and drop the wrapper, and all I can do is sigh and pick it up when I get to it. I sometimes wonder if there is any hope for us at all.
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