July 17, 2011 (Williamstown, MA to Congdon Shelter (Daily Miles: 14.7 – Total Miles: 1,598.9)

The sign showing I was entering a new state and a short relationship with The Long Trail.

I woke up on time around 7 am and felt pretty rested. I had mostly cleaned up the room the night before, so I was ready to get moving. I grabbed my gear and headed out to the road to start hitching the two miles back to the trail. It was a walking hitch, and no one picked me up. Two miles isn’t too long of a walk, but I was willing to shed any junk miles I could. Once I got back to where I had left the trail the day before, It took me a minute to find the the white blaze leading back into the woods. Eventually I spotted the mark on a tree between two driveways.  I trekked over a few drainage streams and ended up in some dark, shadowy woods. After a short time the trail suddenly went up the side of a steep, grey rock pile. I climbed and climbed, up about 1,500 feet to where the trail leveled off a little bit. The warm weather made me sweat, and the overcast sky had me in a bit of a melancholy mood. Hiking by myself, my mind would often go to strange places. I wallowed in a sea of good memories and some bad ones too. I thought about what my friends and family were doing and about the future. All of the sudden I decided to take a break in the middle of no where. I just dropped my bag and sat in the bushes on the side of the trail. I have no Idea why, but I think, mentally I just needed a break.

Ten minutes later I was back on the trail pressing forward at a good pace. 2.7 miles into the day’s hike, I came to a sign informing me that I was at the border of Massachusetts and Vermont and also at the Southern terminus of The Long Trail. The Long Trail goes from the MA/VT border all the way up to Canada. The Appalachian Trail follows the Long trail from for about a hundred, before splitting off and heading east toward New Hampshire and Maine. At the sign, I met an older gentleman who was taking a break. The kind old dude said he was at the beginning of a thru-hike of the long trail. He asked where I had come from. When I answered, “Georgia,” He smiled. I think he was soaking up the vibes for his long hike or something, because when we were done talking, he just sat on the rock and stared into the woods. I said goodbye and continued on into the dark, green Vermont woods.

The trail section in each state seemed to have its own unique and interesting flavor. The Vermont section felt quiet, and a little more isolated than the Massachusetts section. The tall pines were gone and I got the distinct feeling of heading back into the mountains. For the rest of the day I hiked past beautiful little ponds and over fast flowing streams. After hiking 14.7 miles, I came to the Congdon Shelter. The water source for the shelter was stream that flowed right out in front, so I filled up my water bottles and walked around to investigate the area. The shelter was packed, I could tell none of the people staying there were thru-hikers, in fact it seemed like they had all been there for a few days at least. The shelter and surrounding area kind of had a creepy tent city vibe to it. I decided to walk a little further past the shelter and set up camp about 100 yards up the trail. I found a small, flat area and set up my tent. As I started to boil my water for my pasta, the rain started to fall. I finished cooking my meal just outside the door of my tent, while I sat cross legged inside. Once I had finished my dinner, I enjoyed a snickers for dessert and got right into my sleeping bag. Since the tent city was right around the corner from my tent, I figured that hanging a bear bag would be futile. I wrote in my journal and fell asleep quickly.

July 16, 2011 (Zero Day – Williamstown, MA) Daily Miles: 0.0 – Total Miles: 1,584.2

I slept well in the hotel bed, and I woke up early when my parents started to activate. My father, my mother and myself went on a mini-exploration to find some coffee. It was a sunny, warm day and it was nice to sit in an air conditioned car and explore the Williamstown area. With my coffee in hand, my dad drove me to the catholic church where New Balance had supposedly shipped my new boots a week or so earlier. I knew where the church was, because I passed it as I hiked into town the day before. When I got out of the car and started to walk toward the doors of the building, I spotted Little Knee chilling underneath a huge pine tree. I stopped and chatted with him for a while. When I first met Little Knee, hundreds of miles earlier on the trail, he seemed a little aloof. As we talked, I could tell he was just a little shy, but he was a funny and kind dude. Little Knee went back to staring off into space and I went to the large, wooden front doors of the church and went inside. The interior of the church was dark and empty. I walked slowly toward the back where I saw a couple of large metal doors. One of the doors was opened so I looked inside. I expected the church to be quiet, but I thought someone would be inside. I walked slowly down the long, dark hallway, saying ,”Hello?” every once in a while, and hoping for a response. I peeked in open doors, analyzed bulletin boards and even rummaged through some boxes that were stacked in a corner, looking for one that had my name on it. When I reached the end of the hallway, I opened two metal doors and found myself standing in an empty parking lot. Maybe I should have called, I thought to myself. As I stood on the pavement looking at my phone, I saw a small house in the back of the parking lot. I figured that it must be the priest’s crib, so I walked up the front steps to try my luck. the yard was nicely maintained, and the pad looked welcoming. After ringing the doorbell, I heard a large dog bark, and a few minutes later a smiling gentleman answered the door. He had a quizzical look on his face as I explained the situation. As the words left my mouth it sounded completely insane. “Hello, my name is Philip Hinckley and I am hiking on the Appalachian Trail. I recently ordered some boots from New Balance, and they said they would ship them to this church. Do you know anything about this?” He stared at me for a few moments and furrowed his brow. “I don’t think we have any packages,” he answered and my heart sank. “Let me check.” the man said as he turned around and disappeared back into the house. He emerged into the light a few seconds later with a box. “Is this what you were looking for?” He smiled. “Yes, thank you very much!” I quickly answered as I jogged back to my parents car.

In the car, I opened the box and found a pair of light weight, black hiking shoes. They were not as heavy duty as my other New Balance boots, but they seemed well made and had some nice tread, so I was happy. I was so relieved to be holding the boots that I would hopefully be wearing all the way to Maine. With my task completed, we drove around the town a little more, and then stopped in a restaurant for lunch. I had been craving fish over the past few days, so I sampled a salmon dish. It was relaxing and entertaining to sit and talk with my parents. They were genuinely interested in my adventure, and I liked hearing all the stories from back home. After lunch, they dropped me off at another Hotel and surprised me by saying that had paid for a room for me for that night. I knew they had to hit the road and get back to Cape Cod, but I was just expecting a ride back to the trail. I really didn’t need a full zero day, but I wasn’t going to refuse either. We said our goodbyes and I settled into the bed and flipped on the television. Even though it was nice to relax in a cool, quiet hotel room, I felt a little guilty. I felt like I should be in the woods. Around dinner time I had a pizza delivered and spent the rest of the evening watching television, writing in my journal and straightening out my gear. I fell asleep early in the soft bed.

 

July 15, 2011 (Dalton, MA to Williamstown, MA) Daily Miles: 23.0 – Total Miles: 1,584.2

I got up just after sunrise. The other hikers were all still asleep. I wanted to thank Tom Lavardi for his hospitality, but after seeing him attack that bottle of peppermint schnapps the night before, I was sure he was passed out somewhere. I creaked open the screen door and continued following the white blazes down the the street in the cool, misty morning. I had over 23 miles to hike that day, including a big climb of Massachusetts’ highest peak, Mount Greylock, so I was pushing pretty hard. Knowing that I would see my family and eat a real meal was also great motivation. Once the mist burned off, the day became sunny and warm. For the entire morning I did not see another person, but knowing how fast the other hikers were, I knew it would not be long before they caught up to me. Around the middle of the day, I came to a huge field where the trail slithered up a hill. It was a gorgeous area and I stopped under a large tree to have my lunch. I only took a short break, but it was nice to sit in the shade and enjoy my pepperoni sandwich.

My picturesque lunch spot right before climbing Mount Greylock.

After the small hill was the beginning of the slow climb up to the summit of Mount Greylock at 3,491 feet. It wasn’t a huge challenge compared to climbing some of the five thousand footers in the South, but it was a good slog that was spread over a number of miles. It was a warm day and as I hiked, the sweat began to drip down my face. The trail was nicely shaded and in the woods for the entire climb, but the day seemed to grow more and more humid by the minute. This was one of the few times on the trail that I had to make it to my goal because I was meeting people. I enjoyed challenging myself, but I was pushing harder than I ever had before. Around the middle of the afternoon, I approached the summit of Mount Greylock. I knew that it was a popular, touristy kind of place for families to visit, but I was not expecting to find a road and a lodge at the top. As I wandered around the grounds, I ran into Derek and Jeremiah.

A cool looking pond near the summit of Mount Greylock.

I was happy to see some familiar faces and we all investigated the grounds together. We climbed the stone tower, sampled the bathrooms and snapped some photographs. Apparently, they were also meeting some friends in Williamstown, so we were all excited to get to town as fast as we could. Derek, Jeremiah and another hiker whose name I don’t remember, but I will call him “Eagle Breath,” joined me as we left the crowds and hiked back into the woods. We still had 6 miles from the summit of Mount Greylock to Williamstown, but the time flew by. Again, we all built on each other’s momentum and more or less ran down the mountain. We all hiked pretty closely together and everyone was talking and joking the entire time.

Here is a picture of me in the parking lot at the summit of Mount Greylock.

Before I knew it we had been spat out of the woods and were walking down a sleepy suburban street. I said goodbye to the crew and I walked down the main street toward the center of town. My parents had booked a motel room for us, and I walked down the street and found the place. It was a typical, doors on the outside, two level motel, but it looked clean enough. Since my parents were still a hour or so away, I decided to find a bite to eat. Right before the motel, I found a little diner where I stopped to enjoy a meal. The place was fifties themed, and full of people, which is always a good sign for a restaurant.  I ordered a BBQ bacon cheeseburger with fries and a shake. I don’t know if it was good, because I ate everything in under 2 minutes.

After dinner, I sauntered over to the motel and checked into the room. It was a small, clean room and I was happy to have made my goal. I had hiked 23 miles over some challenging terrain and arrived before dinner time. I was pretty proud of myself. The timing was good too, because I got a chance to hop in the shower before my parents arrived. When I had washed the dirt and sweat off of myself, I sat in the air conditioning and watched “Frasier”, until I heard a knock on the door. My parents were happy to see me and I was happy to see them too! We talked and caught up on all the news, I told stories, they told stories and we laughed a lot. It was a great evening.

The boys and I enjoying a nice view on our hike down off the summit.

July 14, 2011 (Upper Goose Pond Cabin to Dalton, MA) Daily Miles: 20.5 – Total Miles: 1,561.2

With my ear plugs in, I slept great in the bunks of the cabin. As usual, I got up when the sounds of other hikers stuffing sleeping bags and zipping backpacks started echoing through the bunk room. On the first floor of the cabin, a pancake breakfast was being prepared for us, and it was free! The cabin felt like such a strange place. It was so beautful, so isolated, a place just for serious hikers, where a full pancake breakfast was served by a couple of elderly volunteers with super postive attitudes. It was an amazing way to start my day. Even though I hadn’t seen a large concentration of thru-hikers in New England, there were quite a few at the Upper Goose Pond Cabin. In fact, there were about ten of us, so we had to eat in shifts. Knowing I had big miles ahead of me, I was excited to get back on the trail. So once my belly was full of carbs, I made my way to the front port to digest and get myself together a little before getting back to work.

As I started down the trail, the sun was warm and the sky was clear. I hiked with purpose, and soon I caught up to Derek, Jeremiah and Whip. Derek’s trail name was was “Chutes” and Jeremiah’s trail name was “Leak,” but since they were brothers, they called each other by their real names, so I quickly fell into that habit as well. In stark contrast from my first days on the trail, I was not so worried about how far I would hike in any particular day. My plan was to hike as far as I could and then just set up camp. It was as simple as that. As soon as I met up with the other hikers, my pace picked up to match theirs. Those guys hiked fast! I enjoyed their company and was able kept up with them. We went full speed up and over large hills, blasted through overgrown sections full of poison ivy and briars.

After a little over an hour, I stopped to tie my boots and have a granola bar. When I looked back up, they were long gone. Even though I had started out the morning like a bat out of hell, I was in no rush. I had a nice view of Finery Pond, so I relaxed for a few minutes and enjoyed my break. For the rest of the morning the trail took me through incredible forests full of tall pines with very little underbrush. I had not expected the Massachusetts section of the trail to be that beautiful. As I walked on the soft pine needles and enjoyed the sights and smells, I got a chance to really enjoy the awesome woods. Another bonus feature of the trail in that area was the lack of elevation change. For a few miles it was just a flat line on my elevation profile, the perfect kind of terrain for busting out some big miles.

The muffin man at the “Cookie Lady House” in Massachusetts.

By mid morning, I had gone a little over 11 Miles and crossed a rural paved road leading to Beckett, MA. I had read in my guide that 0.1 miles from the road crossing was “The Cookie Lady House.” “The Cookie Lady House,” was the home of an elderly woman who baked cookies for thru-hikers. The book also mentioned that there was an outdoor spiquet for filling water bottles. It was a hot day, and good water in Massachusetts had been a little scarce, so I decided to investigate the “Cookie Lady House.” Filling my water bottles was my goal and I was completely indifferent to the cookie part of the equation. As I came to the road crossing, I could see some hikers milling around in the front yard of a modest little house just a few yards from the trail. I approached the house to find Whip, Derek, and Jeremiah sitting at a pinic table. When I walked up to the yard area, I was approached by a man in his 60’s or 70’s. He offered me a soda and a muffin. No cookie, that was bullshit! Just kidding, I actually preferred the muffin. While stuffing some muffins down my throat, I consulted my trail guide and decided I would hike another 14 miles to the Crystal Mountain Campsite. That would have made my total miles for the day 25.7, but with relatively pleasant terrain and excellent weather, I knew I could do it. Also, my body was feeling great and I was hiking by myself, so I had nothing to hold me back. After wolfing down my snack, I filled my water bottle and all of us had a conversation with the nice old gentleman. We talked small talk, about the trail and miles per day, and where we were from, stuff like that. It was a great little break.

30 minutes after arriving, I hoisted my pack back on my shoulders and was back into the shade of the woods moments later. The rest of the afternoon was warm and the trail was varied enough to be interesting, but not too much of a challenge. Around 2 PM the trail started to descend out of the hills. Then through the trees I saw a clearing and some railroad tracks. The signs of civilization told me I was entering the town of Dalton, MA. I was making great time and with a spring in my step and multiple “Road House” references in my head, I continued across the railroad tracks and followed the white blazes down the sidewalk of a quiet suburban street. Suddenly I heard someone call out, “Hey Smooth!” It was Jeremiah. He and his brother Derek were sitting on the porch of one of the houses. I knew from the trail guide that it must have been Tom Lavardi’s house. Tom Lavardi opened his house to thru-hikers for showers and camping in his yard. I had not planned on stopping there, but when I heard my name, I smiled and went up to the porch to say hello. Tom was out on the porch, he was a super nice guy and as a few other hikers trickled down the driveway the stinky group slowly grew. We sat, talked and joked on the front porch of the stranger’s house. At one point Tom said,”If you want to use one of the bikes, you can resupply at the convenience store up the street.” I had enough food in my pack for a few days, but I decided to take the oppertunity to ride the bike and explore the area a little. After hiking for over 1,500 miles, my legs were not cooperating when I tried to ride the bike. I could phyically do it, because I was stronger than ever, but the motion of using the peddles felt so odd. After grabbing a coupld of gatorades, I peddled back to the house. I was still on the fence as to whether I should stay or not, but as I pulled into the driveway, Tom was standing next to a van as hikers piled inside. “Hey, climb in, we are heading over to old Country Buffet.” The deal was sealed. I was going to pack my guts with horrifying, low quality food at the buffet and then sleep in a stranger’s yard.

A gathering of some hikers on Tom Lavardi’s front porch.

The scene of eight hikers at an “all you can eat buffet” was just as jaw dropping as you would expect. Plate after plate of terrible food being consumed at face melting speeds. 30 minute later, with the staff of the restaurant scarred forever, we filed out of the restaurant and stumbled toward the van. Right before getting in the vehicle, one of my comrades lost his buffet all over the parking lot. To paraphrase the great George Costanza, “He flew too close to the sun on wings of low quality ham and soft serve ice cream.” Back at the Lavardi house, Tom sat us all down to watch a video a thru-hiker friend of his had made a few years prior. It was sort of a super low budget documentary. The video was entertaining enough and sparked up some interesting conversations among the hikers in the room. At one point, Tom asked if anyone wanted to do a shot with him. A few of us went into his cramped kitchen and we did a few shots of Peppermint Schnapps. He seemed so genuinely excited to have people around. I started thinking about how he must be doing this every night for a month or more. As I drank the booze, I started thinking, “There must be some kind of catch, or scam.” But no, Tom Lavardi seemed to actually be just super generous, elderly man who enjoyed the company of the hikers. After the movie, I fell asleep on the floor of the living room. Some hikers were on the couches, others were in the yard. It was an interesting end to another good day.

July 13, 2011 (East Mountain Retreat Center to Upper Goose Pond Cabin) Daily Miles: 19.0 – Total Miles: 1,540.7

I woke up early and achieved escape velocity from the hostel pretty quickly. I had been hiking solo for a few days and I liked it. After walking on the winding side road for 45 minutes, I got back to the trail and continued my quest. The terrain the trail had in store for me looked a little more varied than what I had been dealing with over the previous couple of days. There were no large climbs, just a series of dips and rises of a few hundred feet. I enjoyed the intesting twists and turns of the trail, and the cool weather helped quite a bit. As I continued on throughout the day, the sole of my left foot became progressively more sore. At one point, when I was litterally sweating because of the pounding, dull, pain, I stopped and doubled up my socks. I didn’t know if it would help, but I was running out of ideas. What started out as an interesting, cool day of hiking became a joyless mile smashing slog. I couldn’t enjoy the hiking because of the pain, but I needed to keep up the pace to meet my parents in Williamstown, MA a few days later.

The front porch of Upper Goose Pond Cabin.

After covering some good miles in the morning, I stopped for lunch very randomly on the side of steep hill. Digging through my pack, I found the left over slices of pizza from my stay at the hostel the previous day. While I sat awkwardly crouching on the side of the hill, Weasel Back, blew past me. “Hey Smooth, see you up the trail.” he said as he disappeared into the birch trees below. Weasel Back..crafty. By mid afternoon, I had reached my goal of 19 miles for the day and I was at the junction of the side trail that led .5 miles to Upper Goose Pond Cabin. I sat at the trail crossing and had some water while I contimplated whether or not to go to the cabin. My guide said that it was an enclosed shelter, but other than that, I had no information. It was only a short detour off the trail, so decided to go check it out. The path to the cabin went along the banks of a large, isolated pond. The views of the pond were a nice change from the green tunnel, but it was more like a mile, rather than half a mile to the cabin. The difference between a half mile and a mile is not a huge amount, but at the end of the day, every little bit extra feels like horrifying death march. As the structure appeared through the trees, I was surprised to find that Upper Goose Pond Cabin, was actually a cabin, set right on the shore of the pond. There was a large front porch, an old kitchen with huge windows facing out onto the pond, and a massive dining room table. The old oil lamps hanging from the rafters and the lack of a refrigerator reminded me that the cabin was off the grid. Up the wide staircase was a large bunk room furnished with plastic covered, thin foam mattresses. It was all very cool, and completely free. I plopped my stuff down on one of the beds and went out back to the cooking area. As I sat down at the picnic table, I recognized a few faces. There were the brothers from Florida, and a few others I had seen here and there. I ate my rice sides and enjoyed some conversation as we all sat and enjoyed the summer afternoon. Just as we were cleaning up from dinner, a huge thunderstorm rolled through the area. Some of the guys went fishing in an aluminum canoe. I thought the metal canoe in the thunderstorm sounded like an action packed idea, but my feet needed a break. I found a comfortable spot on the porch read until the sun started to go down. Then after dark, I went upstairs, put my earplugs in and I was out like a light.

The large fireplace in the Upper Goose Pond Cabin.

July 12, 2011 (Laurel Ridge Campsite to East Mountain Retreat Center) Daily Miles: 21.4 – Total Miles: 1,521.7

A strategically placed sharp rock in my hip and the slight tilt of the ground kept me from sleeping. I was up and out of camp while the sun was still coming up. It was the time of the morning where you can see the outline of everything, but the colors aren’t fully saturated yet. There was supposed to be big storm overnight, but it never came. I was expecting to have to carry a wet tent in the morning, so I was pleasantly surprised when I found everything was bone dry. As I started hiking in the morning, the sky was very dark. I wasn’t exactly sure what the weather report for the day was, but I knew I wanted to get up and over Mount Everett, which was the big climb of the day, before any rain started. Since the mountain was a little over four miles away and the sky seemed to be getting darker, I quickened my pace. The rain I was expecting never did come, but the hike up Mount Everett was steep and slippery anyway. At the top of the mountain, the trail skirted along a ridge of slick, flat granite. It was far from the sketchiest section of trail I had hiked, but it was still pretty scary. Feeling one of my feet start to slip always got my heart racing.

View from the top of Mount Beckett in Massachusetts.

After finally descending the other side of the other side of the mountain, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. About 30 minutes later while hurridly crossing a 15 foot wide creek, I slipped and fell sideways, right into the water. I immediately started laughing. I fell so fast and straight, it seemed to defy the laws of physics. It was a shame that no one was around to laugh at that fall. The pine forests in Massachusetts were beautiful, and the soft pine needles helped cushion my bruised feet little. My new boots were supposedly waiting for me in Williamstown, MA and I needed them more than ever. Mount Beckett was the only real climb in the day, and since that was already behind me, I was in no rush. The forest was awesome and the hiking was varied and interesting. The Massachusetts section of the A.T. was constantly surprising me in the best possible way. Even though the trail was amazing, it was hard to enjoy with my the bottoms of my feet hurting more and more with every step. When I approached a road crossing at US 7 there was another hiker who was attempting to get a hitch to Great Barrington to resupply. I can’t remember his trail name, so I will make one up. His trail name was Weasel Back. I joined Weasel Back in a quick hitch into town. I had enough food, but it seemed like a fun detour for a cold drink and some real food. In Great Barrington we found a small mom and pop convenience store. Weasel Back and I both got sandwiches, cold drinks and snacks. Deciding to make the detour turned out to be good idea, because 30 minutes later we were back on the trail. After the road crossing, the trail crossed a corn field and then went along the edge of a number of other fields before turning back into the thick forest. I trudged the rest of the day through shaded pine forests, across small creeks and past tons of poison ivy.

When I reached MA 23, I was exhausted. In my trail guide it said there was a hostel a little ways up the road. I thought about turning around, walking a few hundred feet back into the woods and setting up my tent, but instead I walked 1.5 junk miles to the East Mountain Retreat Center Hostel. In my book it said that the hostel was located on a silent retreat set on a large piece of land. The landscaping was beautiful and I followed the signs to where the hostel area was. On the ground floor of a small house, a sliding door led to the hostel. There were two other people there, and they appeared to be a couple. The dude appeared to be in his late forties and the woman was a little younger. The cost for the night was ten dollars. The “Hostel” consisted of a large room with huge bookshelves and some chairs. There was a laundry area, a bathroom and off the sitting room was a bedroom with four beds. I chose a bed and set my things down. Then I made small talk with the friendly couple. They said I could jump in the shower and use the laundry, I did both. The shower was amazing! The water was hot and the pressure was incredible. The water that came off of me was so brown, I was disgusted as I watched it go down the drain. After the shower we ordered some pizza. The pizza was alright, but it was very expensive. With my chores done, I wandered off to call Courtney. The grounds were gorgeous, but again, the mosquitoes came out and ruined my fun. I was able to talk with Courtney for a few minutes, but I wished it were more. When I got back to the hostel, the sun had gone down, and the couple were sipping glasses bourbon. They poured me a glass and we all told stories for a couple of hours. The booze hit me hard, because I hadn’t been drinking for a while. But it was fun to sit, talk and laugh with some nice strangers. Around 9:30 I went to bed. The bed was very comfortable. In fact it was so comfortable, I couldn’t sleep. I just layed there in the dark, thinking about how comfortable I was.

July 11, 2011 (Sharon Mountain Campsite to Laurel Ridge Campsite) Daily Miles: 22.2 – Total Miles: 1,500.3

By 7:00 am, the early morning sun had turned my nice, comfy tent into a stinky, green oven. I opened the zipper and busted out. Immediately, I started taking down my campsite. It was later than I had hoped to get started and I felt a little rushed. Even though I had been in a comfortable, quiet area, I still hadn’t slept very well. Packing up my tent, I started to get attacked by a huge cloud of mosquitos. I jammed everything in my backpack, chugged some water and hit the trail without eating anything.

Connecticut was pretty hiking country, some of the best, but it still seemed to drag for some reason that morning. Around mid day, I crossed paths with Lemur and we both decided to hike into Salisbury, CT. The town of Salisbury was just a 0.5 mile detour off the trail, and I thought some good food and maybe a coffee would put me in a better mood. Salisbury was a quaint little town, and it felt awesome to sit and relax with a cold drink on a warm summer day. In the town square, I found a stealth place to charge my phone as I chowed on a tasty, roast turkey sandwich from the deli. The delicious sandwich and the excellent weather did the trick of putting me in a more positive mood. After lunch, I went back into the little grocery store and restocked my food supplies to last three more days. Being able to resupply for only three days was awesome.

A barely readable, 1885 monument, marking the highest point in Connecticut.

Heading back to the trail, I felt the summer heat radiating up from the pavement. Yet another reason I was always more at peace in the woods. Right outside of town there was a 1,500 foot climb over a six mile stretch, to the top of Bear Mountain. The terrain was varied, interesting and the trail was well maintained. As I climbed higher in elevation, a nice breeze started to blow through the leaves, and it felt amazing. On my climb up the mountain, I decided I was going to push for the border and cross into Massachusetts that day. The last 600 feet of bear mountain was more or less a scramble up giant pile of rocks with scraggly trees on either side. When I reached the base of the last part of the climb, I ran into Tigger. He was sitting on a large rock with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “Hey man, where you headed?” he said. “I’m going to the Laurel Ridge Campsite,” I answered. Tigger was a short guy with bright red hair and a scraggly beard. He had a friendly energy which was always a welcome thing to encounter. “Oh yeah? Me too.” He said looking up at the rock trail leading to the top of the mountain. Tigger put out his cigarette and hoisted his pack on his back.”We’d better get moving, if those thunderstorms come through, these rocks are going to get pretty fuckin’ slippery!” He said in a serious tone. He was right. The wind was warm and the sky was getting darker. It definitely felt like a storm was coming. So we both started scrambling up the rocks toward the peak. It was a fun climb to a great 360 view. Getting a 360 view at only 1,497 feet gave a different vantage point from the 5,000 foot views I was used to seeing in the South.

We continued on down the mountain and at mile 1,498.4, I crossed into Massachusetts. I knew Tigger was around somewhere, but at that moment, I was all by myself. It felt really strange to be beneath a building thunderstorm as I crossed another state line. I felt powerful and old. It was almost like I was playing the character of a grizzled thru-hiker. Massachusetts felt immediately different from Connecticut. The forest seemed older and trail was a little more haphazard. I struggled to see the next white blazes as I slowly walked on the wide, pine needle covered trail. The blazes were more spaced out and seemed sort of scattered, criss-crossing over a small ravine with a rushing stream below.

The tops of two cans of Budweiser, chilling in the spring.

Stumbling into the Laurel Ridge Campsite, I looked for an open tent spot. The camping areas were on different levels and nestled against huge stone walls. Conveniently, there was a large bear box at each campsite. Setting my food bag in the bear box I began to set up my tent. The ground wasn’t very level and there were chucks of rocks protruding through the soil. Although it was less than ideal, I wasn’t about to go searching for another campsite. I had hiked just hiked 22 miles and a storm was coming in, I was done. “Smooth!” a voice called through the trees, “Yeah?” I answered. I knew it was Tigger’s voice, but I couldn’t pin point where he was in the forest. “Hurry and get water, there is a surprise for us.” I grabbed my water bottles and headed for the spring. The water source was something out of a storybook, a 2 foot circular spring flowing right up from the rocks below. Nestled in the middle of the freezing cold water was a couple of cans of Budweiser. I chuckled and grabbed a can for myself. As I walked back to my campsite, I looked for Tigger, but he was no where to be seen. I slowly sipped the beer as I sat on the bear box at my campsite. It was a perfect ending to an epic day. The next day I was going to shoot for another 20 miles or more. After finishing my beer and eating the other half of my sandwich from the deli, I got in my sleeping bag and fell asleep in the pitch black.

 

July 10, 2011 (Mt. Algo Shelter to Sharon Mountain Campsite) Daily Miles: 20.0 – 1,478.1

I woke up at 7:00 am to the sound of children screaming. The kids that were staying in the shelter were playing some sort of loud, annoying game. I decided quickly that it was time to get moving. T…

Source: July 10, 2011 (Mt. Algo Shelter to Sharon Mountain Campsite) Daily Miles: 20.0 – 1,478.1

July 10, 2011 (Mt. Algo Shelter to Sharon Mountain Campsite) Daily Miles: 20.0 – 1,478.1

I woke up at 7:00 am to the sound of children screaming. The kids that were staying in the shelter were playing some sort of loud, annoying game. I decided quickly that it was time to get moving. The shelter I stayed at was basically on the top of a small mountain, so the short hike to the road was down hill the whole way. The weather was clear and warm, which helped put me in a good mood. When I emerged from the woods, I was on a rural looking road, near a small farm. I didn’t plan on hitching because the town was only 0.8 miles from the trail. So I walked on the shoulder less, desolate road and enjoyed the warm summer morning. Kent was a quiet, clean little town. I was sure that I was the filthiest person within a hundred mile radius, and I was alright with that. I found a small grocery store and bought a ton of food for the next few days. I didn’t really map out each day to the mile, but I bought enough for four days. I figured that would be plenty to get me at least another good chunk down the trail. Plus, there were a number of oppertunities to go into town in the next couple of hundred miles for resupply, so I wasn’t too woried. The weird part about Kent was that there was no place to charge my cellphone anywhere. No soda machines outside with an extra outlet, no landscaping outlets, nothing. I double checked on my way out of town but saw nothing, so I just slinked back to the woods. On my first climb after leaving the road, I realized I had bought a little too much food. So I decided to leave some trail magic at a crossing. I double bagged some rice sides, Pop Tarts and a few granola bars and tied them to a tree near a sign.

The rest of the day was pretty frustrating. The elevation profile in the book showed a pretty level day, but there were a bunch of 100 foot hills to climb. They were too small to show in the book, but the small stuff was often the most frustrating. There was a 4 mile walk along a picturesque, winding river, but the mileage seemed off. Maybe I was just in a bad mood, but that whole section of trail seemed to be wrong in my trail guide. It seemed to just go on forever. I was used to the guide being off by a quarter mile here or there, but this seemed to be at least a mile of trail that was unaccounted for.

I hoped to do 23.1 miles to Belter’s Campsite, but as the sun started going down, I decided to call it a day after hiking just 20 miles. I stayed at the Sharon Mountain Campsite. Another hiker was camping near the stream, but I found a nice private spot tucked up on the hill. So essentially I camped alone that night. My body felt great, and I was looking forward to getting up into the mountains of Vermont and New Hampshire. I made two ramen for dinner and talked with Courtney for a few minutes before hitting the hay.

July 9, 2011 (Wingdale, NY to Mt. Algo Shelter) Daily Miles: 18.2 – Total Miles: 1,458.1

When I got up in the morning, I was a little hung over from the night before, but I was excited to get back in the woods. I loaded my pack into Kumquat’s car and she drove me back to the trail. The weather was sunny and a nice breeze was blowing through the valley. On our way to the trail, we stopped at a Dunkin Donuts and she bought me a coffee. I hadn’t been drinking much coffee since I started my hike, and it was a satisfying treat to start my day with a hot cup of joe. When Kumquat dropped me off and drove away, I thought to myself, “That was the greatest zero day ever.” With my day of rest behind me, I knew it was time to get back to work.

Hoisting my pack onto my shoulders, I took a minute to appreciate the amazing hiking weather. Only 1.2 miles into starting my day, I crossed from New York into Connecticut. Feeling the accomplishment of hiking into another state was an amazing way to start my morning

A blurry photo of the sign indicating I was crossing from New York into Connecticut. My camera was having many troubles at this point in the trail.

The first part of the day skirted a large river where a number of joggers and dog walkers were out enjoying the day. That far North on the trail, any thru-hikers left were spread out pretty far. So, I ended up stopping and talking to a number of people who were curious about what I was doing. When people would ask where I hiked from, it was fun to answer, “Georgia,” and watch the reactions on their faces.

When the trail left the river and turned back up into the woods, a little white dog with a spiked collar started following me. I figured he would go back to his owner after a little while, so I kept hiking. About a mile and a half later, the dog was still right behind me. The little bastard didn’t look like he had any plans of going back to the park. I thought about adopting him as my trail dog. I pictured us hiking in the sunshine, the dog growling at  charging bears, and me eventually eating him and making a vest out of his hide when I got the White Mountains. All of that seemed like a great plan, but in the end, I figured he should go back to his owner. I leaned my pack against a tree and led the dog back down the hill to find an old lady calling out the dog’s name. After returning her pet, I stopped to bask in the glow of my own kindness.

There were a couple of 800 foot climbs in the afternoon, but the trail was well maintained and the weather remained clear for the rest of the day. I felt stronger than I had in a long time and I was in a great mood. After 18 miles, I arrived at the Mt. Algo Shelter and decided to set up camp. It was late afternoon, and I could have kept hiking, but I decided to call it a day for strategic reasons. 0.4 miles North of the shelter was a road that led to the town of Kent, Connecticut. So I figured I would eat the last of my food that night, hike into town the next morning and resupply. In the shelter, there was a family of four who appeared to be weekend camping. Set up near the shelter was another thru-hiker named Lemur. He told me he had just returned to the trail after resting up for a month when he contracted Lyme Disease. I admired his resolve for getting back to hiking after having to take a month off the trail. We cooked and talked over dinner, he was a friendly and pleasant dude. I went to sleep before the sun went down and slept like a corpse.