Reunited (and it feels so good!)

Today I was reunited with my Red Knees and I couldn't be happier. The hiking to get to him included a pretty brutal climb up Quimby Mountain but I didn't care. I all but ran down the other side of the mountain, thrashing my knees in the process, and just about destroyed his brand new tent attempting to attack hug him. We walked all day jamming out to music and catching up. I am so happy. 

The past two days have been low key, including a zero at the Inn at Long Trail. We arrived at the Inn two days ago after a great climb over Mount Killington (the views were incredible) and set up our tents in the open grassy area across the road (well, more accurately, a freeway which we were forced to scamper across in terror to get to the bathrooms in the Inn). Once Holler arrived we enjoyed beers at the pub downstairs (the bartender can pour a proper Guinness - clover drawn in the head to boot!) before getting a ride into town for a quick resupply. 

While we enjoyed some ice cold Budweiser's at our tents more hikers that we hadn't met began to roll in. They too set up tents while causing a raucous. We introduces ourselves and quickly realized that they were the Southbound group "Stoners with Boners" who I had been hoping to run into for weeks. 

All the Stoners were hilarious, in particular Firprettius who put on an impressive fake German accent and Happy Ending who kept attempting to kiss the faux German causing him to erupt in expletives and shield his face. It was priceless. Once everyone was set up we all walked over to the bar for live music (it was largely just a singalong with about 3 renditions of "Wagon Wheel") and dinner. 

The festivities went long into the night with many hikers taking the stage and showcasing their singing abilities. I, for one, learned that I am excellent at tongue twisters and can out-rap just about anyone when it comes to "Baby Got Back" - no big surprises there. I excused myself fairly early to chat with my girl 2pac on the phone before falling asleep almost embarrassingly early. 

The next day, still sore from three weeks of hiking with no zero, Holler and I decided that it was due time for a day off. The majority of the Stoners headed out with the exception of Happy Ending who stayed and relaxed with us for the day, watching "Naked and Afraid" on the Discovery Channel (watch it - it's addicting and absolutely nothing like what we are doing out here though please go ahead and assume that it is to increase my badass rating) and drinking PBR and telling riddles. So relaxing and necessary. 

With night and rain quickly approaching and what appeared to be a budding romance/attraction between Holler and Happy Ending I retreated to the Inn to relax on the couch. When I woke up at 2am and the building was deserted I decided I had lucked out and curled up for the rest of the night. 

The hiking today was great. Kind of hard but RK was back. I cannot explain the happiness and relief I felt at seeing my friend, one of the few people out here that gets me and knows my life and whom I can rag on mercilessly and constantly. Tonight we are staying at an empty cabin atop a mountain with an overlook that looks right onto Mt Moosilauke and the beginning of the White Mountains where we will be in a short 5 days. I could not be happier to have my partner in crime back with me, rocking out to music along the trail, for these massive mountains.

Forward Progress

Some days, like yesterday, when I can't quite get into the beat of the music in my headphones and I'm walking alone, I spend entirely too much time thinking about what to write here - what emotions I need to remember to convey, good metaphors that should definitely make the cut, witty repartee and snarky remarks that will keep people interested in this adventure when, in reality, more often than not it isn't that interesting. Last night when I sat down to write I had a full arsenal of literary gems and a whole hour of daylight in which to write them...and then I fell asleep. It's getting real geriatric up in here. 

We left Chloe's at around 9:30am and managed to get two good hitches back to the trail head, the second of which could only take us as far as Bromley Mountain ski area unless we could wait for him to pick up an elderly gentleman who he was taking to a doctors appointment. Not wanting to hitch again we squeezed into the backseat and had the pleasure of meeting Bob, perhaps slow on his feet but with stories of the trails in the area that got us jazzed up for our walk. 

The first climb of the day up Bromley appeared to be the biggest and it was over in a flash. The view from the top by the chairlift was gorgeous with views of 5 states and a sneak peak to the mountains we would soon be climbing (note: they're huge). 

From there the day was all gradual ups and downs that I cruised over quickly, arriving at the halfway point of the day early, considering our late start. At Peru Peak Shelter I again ran into Twix, Paraguay, Not Yet and Sunshine and we had a great chat while I forced down ever more peanut butter in an attempt to get enough calories (I should be eating, by my calculations, about an additional 500-1,000 calories a day. This has never been a problem I have had before). 

After lunch I tried to wait for Holler but my restlessness got the best of me and I had to move on. The next 10 miles seemed to fly by and, after a quick rest at Big Branch Shelter and a conversation with two southbound brothers with packs easily twice the size of mine (those will get swapped out in two weeks tops), I arrived at Little Rock Pond. The water was beautiful and clear - if the temperature had remained in the 90s I would have jumped in in a heartbeat. 

At the shelter just off the water we again ran into Danno and O.B. and chatted with some day hikers before a remarkably early bed time. The next morning we got a much earlier start so we could take it slow. 

Of course I say these things to myself at the beginning of the day and by my third mile in I have become a runaway train, running over rocks and roots at a minimum of 3 miles an hour until I realize what's happening and I consciously slow down only to have the process repeat in the next few minutes. 

The early part of yesterday was beautiful - the day was cloudy giving the air a substantial chill and the trail was lined with young pine trees, the combination of which made the forest smell like Christmas morning and the fallen pine needles added spring to the ground beneath our feet. Eventually the trees thinned and the smell waned, leaving us with just the biting cold of the morning so again I took off. 

Despite some good climbs the views were few and far between (thanks for nothing Bear Mountain) and I ended up pushing through the day quickly. So quickly, in fact, that I almost didn't stop to say hello to a group of Southbounders until they offered me a celebratory sip of their boxed White Zinfandel. Celebratory?

There, nailed to a tree, was a tiny piece of wood engraved with the words "500 miles to Katahdin". 500. I remember so vividly the 1,000 mile to go mark, taking a picture with S'Rocket and 2pac and celebrating the beginning of the countdown. Now half of that is behind me and arguably the most challenging 500 miles is ahead of me. 

As I walked away, with a slight buzz and my headphones back in, the sun peaked through the clouds and I cried, just a little. I had made it so far and will make it so much farther. When I began this trip I knew nothing about backpacking and camping except that I wanted to do it. So many times I have nearly given up on this great adventure but something has kept me going. It's the little victories and gifts that the trail brings - a milestone or a bouquet of wildflowers from a gay couple out on a late hike with their adopted son. Sometimes just letting your muscles rest in a warm sleeping bag on a cool, bug-less night is all the reward you need. 

Ver-mud

I am currently in a bed. A plush bed in a cottage with running water and electricity about 11 miles from the trail. We have actually had great luck with our stays the past three days but this is such a needed reprieve from all of our big miles and sleeping in the woods. 

The day after getting into Vermont we took another big 22 mile day largely just because we could. The sun was out but the weather was cool and breezy so we were able to cover ground quickly up to Goddard Shelter high in the mountains (our first shelter over 3,500 ft in a while). 

Overnight it dumped down rain which continued into the morning. When we woke up, Cliffnote, Holler and I looked at each other and, with a look, decided we weren't going out in that mess. The rain was so aggressive on the tin roof of the shelter that it sounded like we were curled up in our sleeping bags directly beneath a waterfall. We all drifted back in and out of sleep until 9:30am when the rain had mostly stopped. We scrambled to pack up and put in some miles before the rain started up again. 

We were unsuccessful. Less than a mile from the shelter the telltale sprinkle started back up again and before we could even think of darting for shelter it was an onslaught. At a point you stop caring how wet and muddy you are because no amount of water could make it any worse so instead if teetering from one exposed rock to the next in the midst of the Appalachian Trail-turned-River you pound right through the water like a kindergartener, relishing in the satisfying splashes you are making and almost enjoying the sickening squish of your shoes in the ankle-deep mud. And it really is ankle deep. 

Trying to forget the rain, and knowing that the forecast called for sun in the afternoon, we kept pushing forward to Stratton Mountain. True to the predictions, as we began our 2,000ft ascent up Stratton the sun came out just enough to dry us slightly and provide us with a stunning view from the fire tower atop the mountain. We relaxed there for a but before more ominous clouds began to roll in and we began to jog down the mountain towards the shelter down the way at Stratton Pond. 

The shelter was a large cabin with wooden bunks that were surprisingly well maintained, thanks to the caretaker at the site (I guess that's what my $5 fee is going to). Something doesn't quite sit well when it comes to paying to sleep in the woods but I do recognize all the work that the trail maintainers put in so I forked over the money. 

The next morning we planned for a short day into Manchester Center, VT. It was cool out and the terrain ahead was flat so we expected to make great time. We expected the mud as well but we weren't prepared. Overnight all of the rain from the previous day had soaked down into the soil and turned it into soft, deep, suck-the-shoes-right-off-your-feet mud. Every so often I would take a step onto what looked like solid ground, only to have my foot submerge up to my ankles in thick, dark sludge. It was pretty brutal but what did I care? I had a brand new pair of shoes waiting for me at the bottom of the hill.

When we got to the parking lot near the road into Manchester we attempted to clean ourselves to no avail. We may have gotten most of the mud off our legs but our shoes still made us look like swamp people that had recently arisen from the bog. Apparently that worked for us, because within seconds of throwing out my thumb a van pulled to the side of the road and let us hop in. Granted we were sitting on top of belt sanders, skill saws and other random power tools but beggars can't be choosers. I had a few Dexter-esque flashes from the mental how-to movie of "How to Dismember a Hiker and Not Get Caught" looking at the array we were sitting on but I tried to push those thoughts from my mind. 

Our driver very kindly stopped by at the Avalanche Motel-turned-Econolodge on the way into town and I sprinted in and was rewarded with a brand new beautiful pair of purple Solomon Synapses (no duct tape required!). These should last me until Katahdin - fingers crossed!

The rest of the afternoon we spent doing laundry (while wearing clothing purchased from the dollar store), eating more pizza than we really needed, resupplying and picking up a few necessities from the outfitter. As we finished up our laundry we saw a few hikers across the way and it turns out that one of them was the other OB (Old and Busted)!! Finally the two OBs have met. He told me that he thought I would look different (more obnoxious? More bitchy?) but we took a bunch of photos to commemorate the moment nonetheless. 

We got a hitch back to the trailhead around 5:00pm so Cliffnote could keep walking. Holler and I, however, had a place to sleep with a bed so we continued our hitch past the trail head, saying goodbye to Cliffnote who we likely will not see again, all the way to South Londonderry where Chloe, a manager at Per Se when I worked there years ago, now owns a beautiful restaurant - SoLo Farm & Table. 

The restaurant itself is beautiful, with rustic wood floors and a bar made from Vermont marble and a comforting, warm feeling that reminded me of Blue Hill at Stone Barns in New York. Every detail seemed to be thought out meticulously but in a way that was laid back and carefree in a way that is so pleasing and relaxing - exactly how you want to feel when you are treating yourself to a nice dinner out.

The grounds were equally gorgeous. The restaurant sits on 3 acres of pristine land a good bit of which is dedicated to farming the produce that SoLo uses in the restaurant. It was so lush and green and vibrant in the late afternoon sun that I couldn't help but think, who would ever leave a place like this? Of all the places to come to raise a family (her son Rafa is maybe the most adorable little boy I have ever seen), this seemed to be utopia. 

After our tour of the property, Holler and I settled into the cottage behind the restaurant and relaxed for the evening. I spent hours on the phone with loved ones, desperately trying to catch up after having had a dead phone since the top of Stratton Mountain (I can barely function without Red Knees, clearly). 

Today we are going for another 20 miler but we shall see given all the mud. I'm a bit tempted to slow my pace to let the Tribe catch up (they are all back in Dalton, MA). I am equally excited, however, to get to the White Mountains so we shall see what wins out. 

So are you really dedicated? Or just stubborn?

Ladies and Gentlemen: I'm in love with the Appalachian Trail again. You heard it here first. 

The past two days have been everything I needed to renew my faith in both myself and this trip. I feel strong and fast, my joints and feet hurt a respectable but tolerable amount and - this one's the kicker - I'm happy. Who knew going out on my own could be so beneficial? This isn't, of course, to say that I don't miss all of my previous hiking companions. Not a day goes by that I don't think about 2pac (in my mind she's always just around the bend), Goatman (puh-puh-puh-pokerface), Red Knees (death sprints all over this trail), Beetlejuice (yeahhhh buddy!), Monk (goodnight neverland!), the Tribe - there are too many to mention. My mindset and nothing else has shifted perceptibly in the past two days. 

Life is about the choices that you make, including your choices of how to react to those things which you have no control over. So I have a choice: I can either let myself wallow in the sadness and self-pity stemming from being unjointed from a group or I can embrace this time and get to know more people, spend all the time I want relaxing at beautiful views and sing just a little louder when I have my headphones in. 

Yesterday I hiked with Why Not?!, Slim Jim and Sky Pilot out of the Cookie Lady's early - we must have been on trail by 6:30am to try and beat the heat. Music on, I cruised quickly over the first 7 miles over relatively flat terrain. As I was descending slightly, singing along to some terrible pop song, I came to a dense step of roots and immediately jerked back barely stifling a scream. Inches below my foot was hands down the most massive, spiniest porcupine ever to walk the planet. If they made 25 pound bowling balls, that is how big this beast would be. Like a Tinkerbell with spikes that, at the time, I believed could shoot those spikes out to attack incoming predators (I think maybe that's just a Pokemon upgrade?)

The beast looked back at me with a bored look in his eye that seemed to say: "Go ahead, step down. I dare ya" as he scooted off the trail painfully slowly. I managed to get a picture of him shortly before he disappeared behind a tree. Well, I was certainly awake. 

We walked into Dalton, MA a few miles later and stopped to grab a snack at a shop called Java and Juice where we spent the better part of two hours indulging and charging our phones. With ominous looking clouds looming on the horizon, Why Not?! and I packed up (I threw my pack cover on - just in case) and headed out for the remaining 8 miles into Cheshire. 

The hike was beautiful and clear with a slight breeze, the storms missing us entirely. We made great time into Cheshire and got settled at a Catholic Church which allows hikers to sleep in the basement. It was plain but it was nice to have running water and a roof over our heads. 

After a good sleep we got a later start to head up Mount Greylock - the first proper mountain we have had in weeks. The climb was steady and quick and our hard work was paid off with some remarkable views. We rested at the top and gradually the number of hikers grew - Mallet, Hammer, Humen, The Dude, Cliff Note, Holler and a bunch more were all there, starting up a game of frisbee and soaking up the sun. It was a glorious and well earned break. 

The climb down from Greylock was steep and harsh on the knees, but thankfully over fairly quickly. At the bottom of the mountain, Cliff Note, Techie and myself hitched into town for another break. Techie went to a motel but Cliff Note and myself decided to go down to the Williams Inn and spend $6 for a shower, pool, hottub and sauna break. It was worth every penny.

After some easy hitching and a good resupply we got back on the trail around 5:45pm, itching to check off another state. The hiking was tough and rocky at points but when I saw the "Welcome to Vermont" sign I somehow found the energy to jump around like a kid on Christmas that just got a puppy with a big bow on it. WE MADE IT. This is the good part. Where the views make every challenge worth it. We have arrived. 

Another three miles in we found the shelter and set up in the fading light. I am exhausted but so excited for tomorrow and to get into Manchester Center soon to finally get some new shoes! The novelty of the duct tape is wearing off. 

Trail Magic

More often than not the trail gods are unforgiving, serving up punishing rain, rocks, vertical ascents and mud for days on end. But sometimes, when you really need it, when you are beaten down and half a decision from a hitch to the nearest airport, the trail and Mother Nature deal you a winning hand. For me, that was the past two days. 

Yesterday we woke up on the edge of the lake to a beautiful sunrise and got an early start on a 20 mile day. Dip n Sip, Newton, B-Line and Why Not all got on the trail before me. I wanted to stay a bit later to enjoy my morning and not feel guilty for hiking with my music on. 

The first 6 miles flew by thanks to good conversation with Why Not who I caught on a downhill around mile 4. At a dirt road a ways down the big descent of the day we officially passed the 650 miles to go mark. Despite the absence of my hiking buddies I am still making miles - still continuing my push towards that great mountain, one day (one mile, one step) at a time. 

In the afternoon we had a 1,000+ foot climb to tackle but we had the dangling carrot of trail magic provided by B-Lines parents two miles from the top. Despite the unsustainable grade of the trail (and the fact that I realized that I had lost my earphones on the trail while getting water - double dang it!) I enjoyed the climb immensely, one of the first climbs that I have truly enjoyed in a while. I felt strong and consistent, alive and light on my feet. It was like a runners high that propelled me along to mile 15 of our day and the awaiting trail magic. 

B-Lines parents are amazing. There was a table set up with cold, fresh fruit (I ate way too much pineapple, suffering through the mild anaphylaxis and tingling tongue with every bite), potato chips, chocolate chip cookies, brownies, crudités and ice cold beverages. To my ultimate delight as I walked up they pulled out a special beverage especially for me: 20 fluid ounces of liquid gold, Mountain Dew, my rocket fuel. 

We lounged around outside the car, enjoying the shade from the trees and chatting for at least an hour and a half. At that point, B-Lines parents offered to slack pack us the remaining 4.3 miles into town where they would pick us up and drive us into town to a motel where they had a room reserved for us for the night. Glory glory hallelujah! By some gift of god I had managed to have a great hike, slack pack, personalized trail magic, a free stay in town and the opportunity for a good meal, shower and laundry. Oh, and S'rocket had found my headphones mid-trail and brought them along for me. If that wasn't god's way of saying, "You've got this shit, Tobie" I don't know what it is. 

And, indeed, all of those things came to fruition, including a fantastically extravagant meal at an Indian restaurant (Lamb Korma and garlic naan anyone?) with an exceptionally mediocre glass of Pinot Grigio. I slept like a rock last night, heavy with the food and beer induced itis. 

In the morning we awoke semi-early to grab breakfast in town before heading out. At breakfast, S'rocket invited me to join her, B-Line and Hotdog at a river float back in her home town. I seriously contemplated the idea before I realized that I needed to keep hiking to avoid losing motivation (and money). 

The 10 miles we hiked today were easy, despite the heat of the day thanks to a cool breeze that swept over the mountains for the majority of the afternoon. At around 3:30 I arrived at the Cookie Lady's place where, predictably, the owners give the hikers cookies and provide them with tenting space for free. There is also a huge blueberry patch where they charge $2 per pound to pick some of the sweetest, juiciest blueberries I have ever had the pleasure of eating. I briefly contemplated moving on to get in another 6 miles but with significantly damaged shoes (part of the sole had fallen off during my hike and, when the duct tape failed to hold it on, I snipped it off mid-trail) and a beautiful evening rolling in I figured I would be a fool not to stay and enjoy the evening with Why Not, Slim Jim (sneaky son-of-a-gun is everywhere!) and Sky Pilot - I will just forgo my planned zero in Dalton. 

The evening has been a dream - the sun is low, just about to disappear behind the old garage, one of the boys in the family is playing the piano inside, the sounds from which are wafting across the lawn and we cooked dinner on a picnic table overlooking the blueberries. I am happy, full and tired but with motivation renewed for the remainder of my journey - if I ever leave this chaise lounge. 

Solo

Now that my hiking group has dissolved I have a sneaky suspicion that I will begin writing here more. Lets see if I can keep my phone charged enough to actually get these posts up. 

Today was one of the hardest days that I have had on the trail and we only walked just over 10 miles. After watching Red Knees and Monk board their bus I meandered up to the post office in the center of town and picked up a belated birthday card that was waiting for me there. The kind, loving words brought me back from the sadness of being at least temporarily a solo hiker out here and brought me back up. A few minutes later, my long lost friends Lady and Bomber strolled up and we headed down to the Gypsy Joynt for an ice cold lemonade. 

After our cold beverages Bomber generously offered B-Line, Why Not?! and me a ride back to the trail. I have never been so thankful for people as I was today, though I fear I showed it pretty poorly. Having a guaranteed ride as well as friends to hike out of town with helped to spur me along and get me back onto the trail - I think they knew that I needed support today to keep me moving. 

The first part of the trail out of Great Barrington was a relatively flat walk through grassy fields filled to the brim with mosquitos, gnats and (I assume, though I never saw) ticks. I immediately applied a generous layer of Deet to my body, clothes and the surrounding area. Mosquito mass genocide continues. 

After the fields we headed up a long but steady climb to the ridge line. Low on water and desperately hungry (genius Tobie, way to not eat lunch), I could feel my mood begin to sour even before we arrived at the first shelter. When we finally  walked up and found that the water source close to the shelter was dry and the one slightly further was 0.3 miles down an aggressively steep hill I pretty much lost it. I let Why Not?! and B-Line hike on...I needed a "come to Jesus" moment. 

Here I was in the woods. Alone, bug-bitten, tired, smelly, sore, blistered and malnourished (while in town last night I realized that I have lost my glorious butt to the Appalachian Trail. Why?!?). I had just watched two of my closest friends go home and countless others leave to take time off. I missed everything about home and everything about my comrades that were no longer with me. In most normal circumstances that would cause me to leave wherever I was an seek out civilization instantly. And yet I felt guilty for even thinking of leaving. How could I let down everyone that has supported me and who is cheering for me and believing in me? My friends, my family, my trail buddies both near and far, everyone that reads this persistent whining that I call literature...so many people want me to keep going. Hell - I want me to keep going. But that didn't change the aching feeling of longing for home as I sat on a tragically lopsided rocks with tears streaming down my face, haplessly swatting mosquitos off of every exposed inch of skin I could find. 

Somehow I found a way to pack up my things and sling my pack on my back and begin moving, one foot in front of another. Soon, two miles were down (we crossed a road where I looked longingly towards civilization before putting my headphones back in to tackle another climb) and then another two. 

At a gravel road I veered off and walked the extra half a mile to get to a lake where Dip n Sip, Newton, Why Not?! and B-Line were planning to have dinner and camp after a refreshing dip in the lake. 

After a few hugs, at least a gallon of water, 800 calories, several long calls to friends and loved ones at home and a chat with some local kids out with a summer camp I now feel rejuvenated. The mosquitos can't get me in my tent and the moon is illuminating the forest beautifully. Across the lake frogs are groaning and croaking, hopefully full from a glorious dinner of mosquitos. I think I will sleep well tonight - tomorrow is a new day. 

Talk to me, Goose

So often when you meet people you can't even begin to imagine the impact that they will play on your life. You certainly don't know, though you may suspect, that they will become one of your closest friends. You can't imagine how your heart will break when you see them get on a bus and drive away from you and the trail, possibly indefinitely. 

I may have met Red Knees prior to Erwin, but I was likely still in a Smoky Mountain haze. Somewhere in Walmart I found myself sitting next to Waffles, asking him what the name of the guy sitting in the electric wheelchair shopping cart was as we waited on Ms. Janet to pick us up and return us to town. Red Knees, he said. We started hiking together somewhat unintentionally shortly after that, never actually together, but always ending up at the same campsite or shelter. 

It wasn't until after Trail Days that we began hiking in lock-step. We never talked about it but our hiking styles meshed so we just kept going. When I got back on trail after recovering from shin splints, he was the first person that I saw back on the trail. We have hiked every day together since. 

Yesterday was Red Knees last day on the trail, at least for now. When we sat down for lunch yesterday something happened and he snapped. It happens. There is a point at which you can't continue not having fun and convincing yourself that you are. At which the heat and humidity and bugs and mountains are beyond toleration. At which you need to be clean, blister-free and able to sleep in your own bed. I can't say I blame him. 

We hiked 20+ miles two days ago, including a 5 hour stop in Falls Village, CT (side note: the only place open on a Monday in this tiny town is the package store. So we drank beers on the sidewalk out of brown paper bags and ate delivery pizza. I bet my mom is so proud) and a short night hike over Prospect Mountain. Yesterday we hiked over 3 steep hills - Bear Mountain, Race Mountain and Mount Everett. The heat was brutal and we were pretty lifeless. When we arrived at trail magic with one of our hiking buddies that had gotten off a few weeks ago, Hotdog, we decided that the last 8 miles of downhill to town weren't worth it. When she offered a ride to Great Barrington, we took it. 

After a hearty meal at the brewery in Great Barrington we passed out early in our massive and comfortable hotel beds that, for once, we didn't have to share with any other smelly hikers. This morning we ate breakfast and did laundry before dropping off my little RK at the bus pick-up. 

And then there was one. There are others out here that I know and love and - knowing me - I will get chatty and find new buddies to hike with. But in so many ways its not the same. I'm on my own now and I'm (kind of) okay with it. I am looking forward to making hiking plans, spending some time alone, taking as much time as I want at views and walking at my own pace. I'm also terrified. I haven't hiked truly alone for a day on the trail, though, I guess, you're never alone on the trail. And when I think of how I have grown since I started, how much better of a hiker and backpacker I have become, I hardly recognize myself (that and the fact that I have lost an incredible amount of weight). I'm gonna be okay. I'm going to be great. I can't wait to see all these mountains and see how far these legs will take me. 

Life in the Ball Pit

Close my eyes for a while

And force from the world a patient smile

And how can you say that your truth is better than ours?

But I gave you all, I gave you all

The more people get off the trail the fewer women are out here. In fact, it has thinned out so dramatically that many days will go by without seeing another lady, leaving me alone with the often vulgar, smelly mountain men. Not that I mind, particularly, though I fear that the constant exposure is doing terrible things for my sense of humor and tolerance for lewdness. The men, in fact, have begun to call themselves the "Ball Pit" so our hiking bubble has affectionately become "Tobie and the Ball Pit". I think I accidentally provided this name the other night at the monastery when I deliriously  commented, while camping in a pavilion with 8 gentlemen, that I wanted to be in a ball pit, à la Chuck-E-Cheezes. They noted that I kind of already was and thus, a name was born. 

After we returned from New York City we got a late start on the trail to cover 12 miles. The hiking was quick and relatively painless and was over in just a few hours when we arrived at the Ten Mile River campgrounds - finally a campsite with a water pump and a privy! 

That night I slept restlessly and awoke in a sour mood. Everything that everyone said pissed me off and my body was uncooperative. My pack felt unbearably heavy, my legs stiff, my arms unwilling to swing my poles forward, wanting to lie lifelessly by my sides. After a brief stop at a deli just outside of Kent, CT we tackled our first climb and I felt like it was my first day out in the woods. I could barely make my way up the unimpressive mountain and when I arrived at the top I was shaky, light-headed and nauseous. I thought back to the tick I had pulled off myself in the city - could this be Lyme Disease? According to Red Knees my face was pale and I looked particularly out of sorts. We were halfway between cities though so there was not much to do but press forward. 

A few miles from the road to Kent, CT we ran into a hiker named Tilt-a-Whirl who offered us a ride into Kent at the bottom of the hill where his car was parked. We took a few hours in town to wait out the heat, have a leisurely lunch and charge up our phones. 

The next 11 miles to the campsite were buggy and relatively easy with the exception of some painfully steep stone steps that forced you to sit on your butt and scoot down to the next foothold. My mind was elsewhere, however, as we trudged down the hill. At the top of the mountain we had run into some men from search and rescue - they were looking for a missing hiker whose belongings had been found abandoned and who had last been seen walking with a rope and a bucket (they believed he had intended to commit suicide). They asked us to keep our eyes peeled on our way down the mountain so I necessarily spent the entire descent scanning the woods, expecting at any point to see a lifeless naked body (they had found his clothing as well) strung from a tree limb at which point I figured I would either a) respond heroically and use my much outdated CPR training to save the day or b) scream like a banshee, faint, and tumble down the rocks to my own imminent demise. Thankfully neither happened and as we arrived at the bottom of the descent we found more search and rescue organizing to take another look. 

We finally arrived in camp late after a chance run-in with fellow hiker Bomber (who we hadn't seen since Damascus, where he got off trail to accept a job with the ATC) and flash downpour and set up quickly to avoid the bugs. I have been feeling much better so I am hopeful that I do not have lymes but instead have some thrilling combination of heat exhaustion, dehydration, fatigue and PMS. Tomorrow we press on another 19 miles and we will be officially under 700 miles to go by the time we reach camp for the night. 

Rollin' the Dice

With 2pac's departure for Philadelphia, we wrote off the idea of going to New York City - too expensive and we need to be heroes and push on! ...right?

After our departure from RPH Shelter we hiked a relatively easy 5 miles to a deli just off trail to grab breakfast sandwiches and replenish on water (allegedly the water sources north of RPH are contaminated with E. coli - definitely not risking that one). As we sat outside of the deli we got to talking: we would be passing through a town with train service to New York City later in the day. We could still make it, couldn't we? After a half an hour and a few phone calls we had a place to stay (thank you dad!) and the determination to make it to the train station post-haste. 

We threw on our packs and took off on what we later called a death-sprint to Pawling. After an hour back on trail we had covered 4 miles, slamming through solid walls of mosquitos, leaving them smashed and bloodied in our wake. We quickly reevaluated to figure out that we could easily make the 4:45pm train (instead of the 6:45pm train) if we booked it. Let the death-sprints continue.

With 5.5 miles to town we passed a road where we briefly contemplated hitching in to catch an even earlier train but NY state law and unwilling motorists quickly squashed that plan. Butts out and heads down we barreled up the next climb and arrived at the road crossing by 4:00pm - record time - and were able to take photos with the biggest tree on the AT before Beetlejuice's little brother (I dubbed him Mini-juice) picked us up to take us to town. 

With less than 10 minutes to spare, we made it onto the train for a relaxing two hour ride to the city. We were able to have seats practically to ourselves with our exceptionally ripe aromas causing other passengers to take shelter in other cars of the train, often choosing to stand rather than sit next to us (sorry?). 

When we arrived in the city we had a brief touristy moment in Grand Central for Red Knees and Monk before catching the shuttle over to Times Square and our hotel. After a pity-upgrade to a room on the top floor with a city view (these poor homeless children, all alone in the woods for so long!) we quickly showered and Monk and I headed out to Columbus Circle while Red Knees waited for his friends. 

Once in the Time Warner Building we went to work finding outfits in H&M to make us slovenly hikers look presentable. We bought everything - down to the shoes - and changed in the public restroom before headed up to the 4th floor where I have spent so much of the past few years for a cocktail at Per Se. They styled us out, really outdoing themselves (a copper pot filled with Animal Farm butter and shaved black truffles just to shmear on our cornbread that was an accompaniment to corn and lobster chowder? Bravo, Chef Eli!). I even lucked out and was able to see nearly everyone that I knew from working there two years ago (and a few friends from Yountville as well). After 3 hours of incredible food and drink, we went back to say thank you to the kitchen before the clock struck midnight and Cinderella here had to change back into hiker attire and store her recent clothing purchases nicely to be returned the next day (one of the sketchier things I have done - ah well). 

Monk and I stopped for a completely unnecessary night cap before heading back to the hotel where I was asleep within minutes of my head hitting the pillow.

Apparently Red Knees came back at some point that evening because he was there in the morning when I woke up. We packed up our things leisurely and walked over to a nearby laundromat to hopefully rid ourselves of some of our hiker funk. While waiting for our laundry, Monk figured out how to get to his family reunion, allowing him to spend an extra night in NYC. With clean clothing in our bags, we walked back up to Columbus Circle and with surprising ease returned our outfits from the night before and grabbed a juice at Bouchon Bakery. 

From there we took the train down to Union Square to meet up with Red Knees' old college roommate, Josh, and his sister for lunch and a stroll through the Green Market. I was exhausted but managed to zombie through most of the meal. We then went down to REI to pick up a few supplies (more Deet! All the Deet you have!) before heading back to Josh's apartment (where we would be sleeping that evening) to drop off our things. 

Everyone opted to go out big New York City style last night but I was exhausted and in need of some good rest before heading back on the trail so I stayed behind - this was Red Knees and Monk's first time in the city so the allure of the Manhattan club scene had not become stale yet. When they finally stumbled in at 4:00am I knew I had made the right choice. 

We woke up early this morning and packed quickly to catch the 10:48am train back to the trail. We are hoping for an easy 12 miles today to get us officially into Connecticut. New York is an amazing place but - and I never thought I'd say this after just two days in the City - I am so glad to be getting back to the wilderness. 

 

Bangarang

Every day more and more people are dropping off the trail - Smokes, Smiley Virgin, Lost, Dinner Party and...2pac. Of course as soon as I put my phone onto airplane mode I miss a call from her and in her message she let me know of her decision. Atop Shenandoah Mountain I began to cry as I listened to her explain her decision to end her hike - she was no longer excited by the prospect of continuing to Maine or to climb the White Mountains. While I understand her decision and respect it and her journey more than I can express, I still feel an incredible sense of loss knowing that she will not be with us as we summit Katahdin. Nevertheless I am still thrilled and lucky to have made such an amazing friend out here in the wilderness. 

In speaking with her she updated me on the status of the rest of the tribe - many of whom are now yellow blazing as well. They are scattered around northern Pennsylvania and New Jersey, or will be in the next few days. I would desperately love to see them again and my fingers are crossed that our paths will cross before this journey is over. 

The past two days have been exceptional, particularly in terms of food. Yesterday we got an early start on our 16.5 mile day so that we could spend as much time at the zoo (the bear cages are the lowest point on the AT) as possible. The first few miles went quickly and we stopped atop several mountains to snack on wild blueberries or, at the top of Bear Mountain, to consume as many Coca Colas as our bodies could handle. 

At the bottom of Bear Mountain we came to the park that contained the zoo, complete with a concession stand and grill where I ordered two hotdogs, a soft pretzel and a Gatorade (which quickly became the Tobie special). Fat and happy, I napped on a picnic table before replenishing my water and heading into the zoo with Red Knees. 

The zoo, though cool, was a bit depressing. There were very few animals, many of which looked as though they had been put into cages that were tragically too small without the luxury of exercise. The ones that were exciting to see - the bears, in particular - were particularly lethargic, though apparently shortly before or after our visit a zoo employee had let a small child hand-feed the bears in, what I can only assume, was a desperate attempt at a lawsuit. 

The next few miles were steep and hilly as we hiked down into the Graymoor Spiritual Life Center (we saw no monks, unfortunately). After stocking up on sandwiches and snacks at the convenient store down the street we headed to the ballpark below the monastery where we would be tenting (and showering, and charging our devices). In the rafters, Monk found two beers (trail magic!) and that paired with a long day had me asleep by 9:00pm. 

This morning we got a bit of a late start but the miles, at least in the morning, flew by. The chance of rain was high, though, so we tried to wait out every bout of showers as they came through but at mile 11 we lost that battle and the rain came down in sheets. The rain was tolerable but the rubbing of my heels against my shoes was like a million tiny gnomes stabbing their tiny daggers into my feet. It was violent. When we reached a green blazed trail down to a lake with a concession stand I pulled a trump card and made the executive decision that we should all go down to dry off. 

It was an excellent call. We snacked and laid our damp clothing out to dry while I attempted to find a way to cover my shoe rub with a combination of band aids and duct tape. 

It didn't help. My feet were still on the verge of becoming entirely skinless for the remainder of the hike and I was thrilled to finally arrive at RPH Shelter a few miles later to put on my sandals and order a pizza (yep, you can get pizza delivered to this shelter, thus why we stayed here). The shelter is lovely as well, though substantially bug-infested, so instead of sleeping on the nice bunks we have all assembled our tents on the floor. Except for Monk, who has assembled his tarp tent on one of the top bunks (I WILL get a picture of that in the morning). 

All in all it has been a great two days. Tomorrow we lose Beetlejuice to some family time and a few days later we will lose Monk to a family reunion, leaving just me and Red Knees. I am apprehensive but excited to push on these coming days, fueled by the spirit and drive of all of our comrades who are, for whatever reason, no longer pushing on towards Maine. It might not always feel good and I may hate more than love this adventure a good part of the time but, at least for now, I am 100% in this game. A day and a half more and we will be in Connecticut and one more state closer to the end.