There She Goes

First and foremost, thank you to the massive outpouring of support that we have received over the past two days - it has been truly monumental and has helped to guide our feet along the trail. I realized, last night, shortly before falling into what I can only describe as a light coma, that I haven't actually spoken of the trail and our physical journey in several days. I guess the miles have seemed overshadowed by everything else that has been happening. 

New Jersey was pretty but boring, seeming much like Pennsylvania but with half the rocks, a quarter of the miles and three times the Mosquitos. After leaving Branchville on the 5th we did a short (is 16 miles short? My perception of distance is flawed) day to the highest point in New Jersey, aptly named High Point. We slept atop a wooden observation deck that had a beautiful view of the monument and were treated to an absolutely breathtaking sunset. After an equally lovely sunrise the following morning we departed on what we intended to be a 25 mile day. 

After the first 8 miles, 2pac, Red Knees and myself opted to take a side trail into Unionville, NY for a soda at the general store and to refill our water. The next 10 miles were hot and humid, filled with bugs and mud. When we finally descended off the mountain we found ourselves on a beautiful wooden walkway through a marsh that, thankfully, was relatively clear of bugs. After another few miles, right before a large climb, we came to a road with a small convenience store with ice cold sodas and air conditioning. From there we made the executive decision to go into town from this road crossing instead of the next one in 5 miles. 2pac and I, desperately needing a shower and laundry, hitched the other direction to a church hostel to take care of business before hitching back to Warwick for dinner with the guys (Monk, Beetlejuice and Red Knees) and a double feature at the drive-in.

We ended up eating right down the street at a farmers market with a wonderful beer garten out back and seeing the Lone Ranger/World War Z double feature. For $10 we were able to see two movies and tent in the drive in once everyone had gone. Not a bad deal. 

That night I barely slept it was so hot. My tent became like an inferno of heat and humidity and by 6am I could barely breathe, slowly dying in a pool of my own sweat. Four hours of sleep is never enough. 

2pack, feeling the same way as I, suggested we go down and find breakfast. Two Gatorades, a banana and a bagel later I was feeling almost like myself again, though not excited to head out in the 90 degree weather. As Monk and Beetlejuice were heading down to meet us they struck up a conversation with Allen, a kind older man who lives in the town next to Warwick, and he immediately offered them a ride to the trailhead...and $100. "Hitching" has never been so fruitful. At the trailhead he handed another $100 to Beetlejuice - talk  about a trail angel. 

The hike that day began with an intense climb up to the ridge line, about 900 feet. 4 miles later we came to the shelter but 2pac was nowhere to be found. We waited and waited but she didn't come around the corner. The boys began to get antsy so I encouraged them to move on to a good lunch spot. I settled down on a rock and called home. 

20 minutes later as I'm wrapping up my conversation with my mother 2pac rounded the corner and something was discernably wrong. Her eyes lacked their luster and looked red and swollen. Before she spoke I knew what was coming, and when I heard her say that she was done and would be getting off I was already paralyzed with shock. This was my closest friend, my confidante, my balance, my rock, the person out here who I can look at and fall into fits of giggles for no apparent reason. Just by being there she had inspired me and pushed me to keep walking. From day 1 she had supported me in every decision I made (or tried to make) or given me tough love when it was necessary. What would I do without her? Who would help to push me up the mountains? When I'm sitting, breaking from a hard climb, who will come around the corner and throw her poles on the ground in a fit, sarcastically screaming "I QUIT!"

Of course I understood and supported her decision to go into Philadelphia to reevaluate her time on the trail - she is the one person I know that has never gotten off, never taken more than a few zeros at a time. Her body was worn down and beaten, her resolve cracked, her motivations shaky and overused from too many consecutive days of struggling over these mountains. But as I thought of these things I began to question my own dedication to the trail. Did I want to continue hiking? Could I continue on without my rock? What if I took some time off as well?

Gradually, as we walked and talked, I realized that this hike is still for me. I still have that pep, that excitement, when just the right song comes over my headphones driving me to stop and sing or dance my way across the terrain. I am still excited about the miles, even if it means that my feet and spirit will be sore once we get to camp. 

Despite this realization, the combination of knowing that 2pac was leaving and the brutal jagged rocky ridge line that we were scrambling over made the remainder of the hike a huge pain in the ass. At the road crossing we turned down the road and stumbled upon Bellvale farms creamery, our injuries no match for a orange soda-Tahitian vanilla ice cream float and homemade root beer. 

That evening we went into Greenlake, NY to an amazing motel called Anton's on the Lake. The motel was directly on the water with blue wooden lawn chairs overlooking the pier and surrounding homes and restaurants, flanked from behind by the mountains we had climbed and by those we had yet to tackle. For dinner we stopped at a small restaurant around the bend called Rainbow (or Rainbow Trout, I was too tired to figure it out) and enjoyed a beer and a hearty meal. 

As we walked back to the hotel it began to sprinkle, which seemed appropriate as my spirits were still desperately in the gutter with 2pacs pending departure. In the motel room I immediately got into bed to wait for a phone call but some combination of exhaustion, air conditioning and a pillow top mattress had me out like a light within moments of my head hitting the pillow. 

This morning I woke up in the identical position to how I fell asleep, cell phone still in my hand. Typical. We rallied quickly, saying our its-not-goodbye-it's-see-ya-laters to 2pac and hopping in the motel owners wife's car for a ride back up to the trail head. 

The first few miles were strange with a core member of our group missing but we began to get into a rhythm after not too long. Some miscalculations of distance put a damper on our day but that was nothing compared to the accidental 2 mile off-trail detour that Monk and I took down a mountain, following some imaginary blazes. When we realized we were off the trail instead of walking back up the mountain (that sounded way too hard) we opted to bushwhack over to see if we could find where the trail joined back up. Unfortunately this only served to leave us scratched, tick infested and with even further to walk back up the mountain. We were spent. 

Thankfully, 18 miles in to the day we came across a beautiful lake just to the east of the tail where we stripped down and ran into the water along with all of the family vacationers. The cool water hitting our sweat-drenched, mud-stained bodies was as refreshing as the ice cream and sodas that we had purchased from the vending machines above the beach. We spent a good two hours cooling off in the water and cooking our dinners by the picnic tables. The break was much needed for us to hike the next 4 miles. 

Red Knees and I teamed up to power through to the next shelter (camping outside of designated areas is prohibited and the New York ATC seems to have made sure there are no designated areas - go figure), and the time flew by. 

As we crossed the 800 miles to go mark I thought on my day - how good I felt despite the miles walked, how satiated I was from a good meal and a dip in the lake, how desperately I missed my friend and wished that she could've been there for every step of it (except maybe the off-trail part). Losing someone out here, especially your hiking partner, can be devastating. As I mentioned in my last post, people are what matters. People are what keep you going, keep you pushing beyond what your body says that you can do, distract you from the fact that your skin is rubbed raw and chaffed in more places than you can possibly count. And yet I felt okay - like she was with me still, telling me to keep going because, really Obie, it's only two more miles. (Side note: my trail name has changed slightly to Tobie (TOB) courtesy of Papa 2pac, who informed me that my trail name would have to change to Tough Obnoxious Bitch. Yessir, Papa 2pac! I love it! Call me Tobie, friends). 

When I got a message from her saying that she was not going to be quitting - that she would be getting on again after a good long rest in Philadelphia - my heart soared. She may not be skipping ahead to hike with us again but I'm not worried, she'll catch us.