I have successfully hiked from Georgia to Maine. Three days ago I entered the 14th and final state along the AT. Now it is largely a game of holding on, simply maintaining the forward momentum for the final 260ish miles remaining. The big pushes, the big mile days, are mainly over. We're all pretty well past our peak-hiking condition, the mountains have worn us down, and speaking for myself, my legs have no power left on those climbs. I can walk all day downhill, can cruise on the levels, but any incline at all and I'm struggling. I need rest and lots of food, and there's no time for it.
And what's it all for? 1900+ miles of hiking, and in what condition do I find myself? Ever fewer things in my pack, as I continually try to trim weight; ever less weight on my body as fat and muscle alike are metabolized into energy; ever less money in my bank; ever less desire to get a job when I finish, let alone a career; and finally, ever less a sense of belonging in the society, the American culture in which I find myself.
People have occasionally asked my fellow hikers and me if we have lots of deep philosophical thoughts while out there hiking in the wilderness of the mountains. Often we answer that it's just the opposite; even with all that time to think, you'd be surprised at the nonsense, the absolutely random thoughts that go through a hiker's mind. And while that's true, for myself at least, I have had a lot of important epiphanies and thoughts while out there. I've learned quite a bit about myself, had some good ideas. One is that I'm not really much of a loner after all; truth be told, I think a good part of my previous dissatisfaction and unhappiness in life were because I spent too much time alone.
But mainly it's a refinement, a sharpening of my certainty of things I already had a general feeling for. I've always sorta known, but have now become sure, that alcohol is not good for me; physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and socially, it's just poison, I don't need it. I knew before that money and things didn't make me happy, but now I've lived it. I may miss music, or my bike, but 6 months without these things, and they've been the happiest times of my life... and I'm basically homeless out here!
That's actually something that's been on my mind a lot lately, now that I'm near the end of this journey. I had initially hoped that this trip would give me time and perspective on my old life so that I could make some decision about what to do with myself. Once underway on the hike, the sense of belonging, of doing what I was supposed to be doing, made me feel like I might actually make some progress in that. It was as if I was on the right course, and that some answers might at long last be found to the questions in my mind. But I'm almost done and this has not occurred.
I tend to believe in a spirituality of subtraction; that is, dropping one's baggage, letting go of things so that they can flow as they will...basically getting out of one's own way. And I seem to be getting rid of a lot of things, as I said above. The progress, of course, is partial, but I have been learning what it is I don't want in life, what I don't need; and I'm happy to have broken out of my old, stagnant life. But I'm still no closer to figuring out what it is I do want. It's clear to me that my goals in life are different from most people, even those I'm hiking with. Family and career aren't list-toppers. Having a family would be alright, of course, but I've never really been driven towards it. And really, a career is only worthwhile if you have loved ones to support; I don't think it makes sense to work my life away if I'm only doing it for myself. As long as I'm fed, it seems, I can be happy. This hike has taught me that much, so there's no real need for the settled, stable life as long as I'm single. I'd rather wander the mountains.
The problem is mainly that my needs and desires are often conflicting. For example, how can someone who wants to spend his nights out under star-filled skies, who wants to go get lost for a few months in some really wild mountains have the social interaction that he feels he needs to be happy?
Anyways, while all these things stew about in my mind, I'm still having a great time. Weather continues to be pretty good, the mountains have eased off in their ruggedness (the Mahoosuc Range was brutal, capped off by the crazy boulder field of Mahoosuc Notch where I nearly ended up as dead as the moose skeleton that resides down there. Took some tumbles, nearly broke my leg, but it was fun!). Right now I'm in a hostel in tiny Andover, watching U of M football! A slight sense of normalcy for a not so normal life, I guess. Gotta make my family back home proud!
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Gorham, NH
Hello again from New Hampshire. Things have been going considerably better since I last updated. The weather broke, and we had sun every day but one through the White Mountains, which is good because we were above treeline for a few days and bad weather is REALLY bad up there. The one bad day was a great example of that; it was the day we traversed Franconia Ridge. After taking a zero-day in the woods the day before (I was puking my brains out, drank some bad water I think), we woke to rain. Well, by the time we made the climb up to the ridge, we were in the clouds and 60 mile per hour winds. You could see NOTHING and could hardly stand up to some of the gusts, it was very disappointing for me, since I'd been anticipating this ridge (said to be one of the most beautiful views on the AT) since I began hiking. I had the mountain in my sights for 4 days, and when I finally got to it all there was to see was fog. This has happened too many times on this hike, and it put me in a very sour mood.
But fortunately the weather the rest of the week was great, sunny, clear, and calm. Mount Washington was having the best weather of the year the day we climbed it, so we heard from some folks in the observatory club. The summit disgusted me, though. What was once a holy mountain to the Native Americans is now a parking lot/train station, with gift shop, museum, and deli/lunchroom, and a zoo of tourists. I knew it would be like that, but the reality is worse than the idea. I just wasn't prepared for it, I guess, and couldn't wait to hike off and back into the silence of the mountains again. I wasn't the only one; about an hour later, while KBomb and I were taking a break somewhere along the rest of the Presidential Ridge, he said "listen" and it took me a minute to realize that for the first time in a long time, there was no sound. No distant highway, no airplanes, no wind, not even any flies. It was just us and the naked rock around us, an utter stillness all the more stark and certain for having so recently been on the most touristy mountain I hope I'll ever encounter.
So, yes, I'm enjoying myself and this adventure far more. The work-for-stays at the AMC huts were nice too. The deal is this: a night's stay costs $89, but the AMC lets thru-hikers do odd jobs for our stay, given the lack of options available to us. One night we worked some compost for an hour, another time we swept up and folded some blankets. In return, we get to sleep in the dining room, and eat dinner and breakfast, in huge quantities of whatever is leftover from the guests. Not a bad deal. On the other hand, a few times we didn't want to work, and just stealth-camped. The day hiking over Washington was one of them; we got to Madison Springs Hut too tired to want to bother with work, so we went up on the ridge (above treeline) and slept in the most beautiful place I'd ever been in my life. The weather was perfect for a great sunset, excellent star-viewing, and a nice sunrise. It's the kind of camping I'd always dreamed about; and KBomb keeps telling me it's like that times ten in Colorado, so now I'm dead set to head west after I finish the AT; maybe I'll even do some sections of the PCT. I don't think I'll thru-hike it, or any other +1000 mi trail again, though. Too much need to push, you pass by too many things because of deadlines and such, which is not what hiking should be about.
So it turned out that Whites were not as impossible as I had been fearing. If there's one thing I've learned, it's not to believe the hype. You can always do the climbs, just as long as you keep putting one foot in front of the other, even if it is ridiculously steep. The mountains do have an end to them, there is a summit somewhere, you don't have to climb forever. It's like I said before, you can't worry about what's coming, just about where you are: there, it isn't a 3500 foot ascent, it's just another step, and that is always doable.
Still, those climbs did take a toll. We're all pretty damn tired, and are taking today as a zero here in Gorham. Heading down the 8 miles into town the other day, my legs were so wobbly and weak I didn't know that I'd make it in; I kept falling and slipping on the wet rocks, and just generally felt like shit. We were going to keep going today, but we all realized that this terrain is so rugged, and will continue to be so for some time, that we should rest up, refuel and regroup before moving on. We'll be in Maine in 2 days, and though the Whites are officially behind us, the trail will not get much easier for probably 100 or more miles.
On the plus-side, being out of the AMC areas, we'll save money: no more paying $8 for the lean-to shelters/campsites we've been staying at for free all along, no more opportunties at huts to buy food. Now it is only the trees, lakes, and mountains of Maine that await us, and I couldn't be happier.
But fortunately the weather the rest of the week was great, sunny, clear, and calm. Mount Washington was having the best weather of the year the day we climbed it, so we heard from some folks in the observatory club. The summit disgusted me, though. What was once a holy mountain to the Native Americans is now a parking lot/train station, with gift shop, museum, and deli/lunchroom, and a zoo of tourists. I knew it would be like that, but the reality is worse than the idea. I just wasn't prepared for it, I guess, and couldn't wait to hike off and back into the silence of the mountains again. I wasn't the only one; about an hour later, while KBomb and I were taking a break somewhere along the rest of the Presidential Ridge, he said "listen" and it took me a minute to realize that for the first time in a long time, there was no sound. No distant highway, no airplanes, no wind, not even any flies. It was just us and the naked rock around us, an utter stillness all the more stark and certain for having so recently been on the most touristy mountain I hope I'll ever encounter.
So, yes, I'm enjoying myself and this adventure far more. The work-for-stays at the AMC huts were nice too. The deal is this: a night's stay costs $89, but the AMC lets thru-hikers do odd jobs for our stay, given the lack of options available to us. One night we worked some compost for an hour, another time we swept up and folded some blankets. In return, we get to sleep in the dining room, and eat dinner and breakfast, in huge quantities of whatever is leftover from the guests. Not a bad deal. On the other hand, a few times we didn't want to work, and just stealth-camped. The day hiking over Washington was one of them; we got to Madison Springs Hut too tired to want to bother with work, so we went up on the ridge (above treeline) and slept in the most beautiful place I'd ever been in my life. The weather was perfect for a great sunset, excellent star-viewing, and a nice sunrise. It's the kind of camping I'd always dreamed about; and KBomb keeps telling me it's like that times ten in Colorado, so now I'm dead set to head west after I finish the AT; maybe I'll even do some sections of the PCT. I don't think I'll thru-hike it, or any other +1000 mi trail again, though. Too much need to push, you pass by too many things because of deadlines and such, which is not what hiking should be about.
So it turned out that Whites were not as impossible as I had been fearing. If there's one thing I've learned, it's not to believe the hype. You can always do the climbs, just as long as you keep putting one foot in front of the other, even if it is ridiculously steep. The mountains do have an end to them, there is a summit somewhere, you don't have to climb forever. It's like I said before, you can't worry about what's coming, just about where you are: there, it isn't a 3500 foot ascent, it's just another step, and that is always doable.
Still, those climbs did take a toll. We're all pretty damn tired, and are taking today as a zero here in Gorham. Heading down the 8 miles into town the other day, my legs were so wobbly and weak I didn't know that I'd make it in; I kept falling and slipping on the wet rocks, and just generally felt like shit. We were going to keep going today, but we all realized that this terrain is so rugged, and will continue to be so for some time, that we should rest up, refuel and regroup before moving on. We'll be in Maine in 2 days, and though the Whites are officially behind us, the trail will not get much easier for probably 100 or more miles.
On the plus-side, being out of the AMC areas, we'll save money: no more paying $8 for the lean-to shelters/campsites we've been staying at for free all along, no more opportunties at huts to buy food. Now it is only the trees, lakes, and mountains of Maine that await us, and I couldn't be happier.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Glencliff, NH
Just a brief update here. The rain and mud have NOT stopped. If anything it's worse, because it's getting kinda cold up in the higher elevations. We did a 7 mile day yesterday because I was feeling kinda sick, then we both got wet and it was freezing. I just laid in my sleeping bag all day, shivering, trying to dry off and eventually warm up. Took a couple hours but I eventually did. Thank God the shelter up on that mountain was a four-walled cabin, an ancient fire warden's tower, kinda crummy but kept the wind out.
We had, by this point, lost Enoch and Orangedust (a new-ish addition to our group whom I may not have mentioned. She's cool as hell, and has a little dog with her too, lots of fun). Enoch turned his ankle, apparently, and got into town to rest it. Took us a day to learn this; all we knew was that they never showed up at the shelter the night before. We've since learned, via voicemail-tag and from other hikers, and now from his facebook, that he's made it into town and is looking to do low miles, or maybe take some time off.
Anyways, today I was feeling great, and have renewed my resolve to continue. Despite horrid trail conditions, my mood was pretty good all day. But KBomb's feet, thanks to the constant wet, began to get pretty chafed, and mine weren't doing a whole lot better, so when we hit a road, we decided to hitch into town. Then this guy in a truck driving by just pulled up to where we were sitting (we had not started hitching yet, just snacking and looking at options), and offered us a ride! It's one of those things where you know it was meant to be. When he dropped us off, he gave us $20 bucks too! Best hitch ever!
So we're at the hostel here, just chillin, watching TV and having dry feet. You people back home do not appreciate enough the feeling of dry socks. You just have no idea...
We had, by this point, lost Enoch and Orangedust (a new-ish addition to our group whom I may not have mentioned. She's cool as hell, and has a little dog with her too, lots of fun). Enoch turned his ankle, apparently, and got into town to rest it. Took us a day to learn this; all we knew was that they never showed up at the shelter the night before. We've since learned, via voicemail-tag and from other hikers, and now from his facebook, that he's made it into town and is looking to do low miles, or maybe take some time off.
Anyways, today I was feeling great, and have renewed my resolve to continue. Despite horrid trail conditions, my mood was pretty good all day. But KBomb's feet, thanks to the constant wet, began to get pretty chafed, and mine weren't doing a whole lot better, so when we hit a road, we decided to hitch into town. Then this guy in a truck driving by just pulled up to where we were sitting (we had not started hitching yet, just snacking and looking at options), and offered us a ride! It's one of those things where you know it was meant to be. When he dropped us off, he gave us $20 bucks too! Best hitch ever!
So we're at the hostel here, just chillin, watching TV and having dry feet. You people back home do not appreciate enough the feeling of dry socks. You just have no idea...
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Hanover, NH
Made it into New Hampshire today! I have to admit, Vermont was a pretty hard state for us; if we though Marsh-achusetts (yeah, it's been officially renamed) was muddy and wet, we had no idea about Vermont (Vermud). A more poorly constructed trail I could not imagine, and as the first 97 miles were also the Long Trail, overused as well. Erosion, widening around mud puddles (muddles?) and often just water flowing down the trail... I have to admit, it hasn't been a ton of fun.
In fact, lately it's been feeling more like work than anything, especially with the mountains being "steeper and deeper" ever since Mt Greylock. The uphills are always a challenge for me, and the rain, mud, and a possible intestinal bug have not helped. I told myself, following a fellow hiker's plan, that if I felt like getting off trail for 7 days in a row, I would. I almost made it there this last week, even with the zero-day in Killington. I recouperated pretty well there, our room was a suite and had a TV, fireplace, and was generally very homey, not to mention right next door to the best Irish pub on the trail, and maybe the best I've ever been to. Great food, great times. But it hardly helped my mood improve. As soon as i started hiking again the next day I was depressed and not into it again.
Yesterday was better. I brought back some controlled breathing habits to help me on the climbs which has helped a lot, takes the focus off the pain and exhaustion and puts it solely on the breath; the mud was also less, even with the on-and-off rain all day. Walking through fields of waist high, sometimes shoulder high grass/foliage during or after a rain sucks, you might as well jump in a lake. My feet got soaked again; they've been soaked for days and days, thats actually a big part of my down mood. Your feet are your base, and when the base is troubled, all of you is. I may be moving towards getting trench foot; whatever's going on down there, it hurts.
No, it's not all bad, and I'm sorry to be filling this blog up with negetivity. My friends have been great, we all suffer together and we all bring each other up when it's needed. Thank God this trail is as social a thing as it is; I doubt I could do this alone, if only from sheer boredom. It will suck saying good bye to them when this is over. That's part of why I'm depressed lately, thinking about the end of this hike, and all that goes with it. It's far better, I find, to not think ahead too much, to stick with the present. The future takes care of itself, and when you're not focused on what's in front of you, you just get stressed out. One cool thing is that we may do a road trip after Katahdin to North Carolina to see a friend who's gotten off trail, or maybe farther. So there may be something good waiting for me there.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that even hiking I still almost got hit by a car. I guess parts of VT are NOT hiker friendly. On some dirt road in the middle of nowhere, and old lady swerved TOWARDS me and KBomb. She passed maybe a foot away from us; I couldn't even react, my mind couldn't process it... I couldn't even jump out of the way, all I could do was turn around and watch her drive away, totally amazed, like, what the fuck just happened?
Well, I'm updating here at the pizza shop, and our order is up, so I gotta go. I've got the White Mountains almost in my sights, preparing for the challenge, excited for the views, and hoping, praying, begging for no more rain.
In fact, lately it's been feeling more like work than anything, especially with the mountains being "steeper and deeper" ever since Mt Greylock. The uphills are always a challenge for me, and the rain, mud, and a possible intestinal bug have not helped. I told myself, following a fellow hiker's plan, that if I felt like getting off trail for 7 days in a row, I would. I almost made it there this last week, even with the zero-day in Killington. I recouperated pretty well there, our room was a suite and had a TV, fireplace, and was generally very homey, not to mention right next door to the best Irish pub on the trail, and maybe the best I've ever been to. Great food, great times. But it hardly helped my mood improve. As soon as i started hiking again the next day I was depressed and not into it again.
Yesterday was better. I brought back some controlled breathing habits to help me on the climbs which has helped a lot, takes the focus off the pain and exhaustion and puts it solely on the breath; the mud was also less, even with the on-and-off rain all day. Walking through fields of waist high, sometimes shoulder high grass/foliage during or after a rain sucks, you might as well jump in a lake. My feet got soaked again; they've been soaked for days and days, thats actually a big part of my down mood. Your feet are your base, and when the base is troubled, all of you is. I may be moving towards getting trench foot; whatever's going on down there, it hurts.
No, it's not all bad, and I'm sorry to be filling this blog up with negetivity. My friends have been great, we all suffer together and we all bring each other up when it's needed. Thank God this trail is as social a thing as it is; I doubt I could do this alone, if only from sheer boredom. It will suck saying good bye to them when this is over. That's part of why I'm depressed lately, thinking about the end of this hike, and all that goes with it. It's far better, I find, to not think ahead too much, to stick with the present. The future takes care of itself, and when you're not focused on what's in front of you, you just get stressed out. One cool thing is that we may do a road trip after Katahdin to North Carolina to see a friend who's gotten off trail, or maybe farther. So there may be something good waiting for me there.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that even hiking I still almost got hit by a car. I guess parts of VT are NOT hiker friendly. On some dirt road in the middle of nowhere, and old lady swerved TOWARDS me and KBomb. She passed maybe a foot away from us; I couldn't even react, my mind couldn't process it... I couldn't even jump out of the way, all I could do was turn around and watch her drive away, totally amazed, like, what the fuck just happened?
Well, I'm updating here at the pizza shop, and our order is up, so I gotta go. I've got the White Mountains almost in my sights, preparing for the challenge, excited for the views, and hoping, praying, begging for no more rain.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Dalton, MASS
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
