8/17/93 – Tue.

And the rain continues…

The rain abated sometime last night, although the sky was still heavily overcast this morning. I got a late start (7:45), mostly due to my late arrival the night before — my gear was not as straightened out as it usually is when I go to bed, thus making for a longer pack-up time in the A.M. About a mile down the trail, a light mist began to fall. Within an hour it had become a light rain. None of my gear had really dried out during the night, so nothing really got much wetter, but nothing got drier, either. I ate lunch at a shelter a bit over 12 miles down the trail, and debated whether or not I should stay there. I was already wet, though, and the next shelter was only 5 1/2 miles down the trail, so I decided to press on. I arrived at the shelter at 4:30 — still plenty of time to spread out gear, do some maintenance work, and relax — only to find a Boy Scout troop doing their impression of a can of sardines. So…I pressed on yet again. 1.8 miles (+ .3 miles down a side trail) to get to the next shelter, which is big and a bit run-down, but of which I am the sole occupant this evening. I was still here by 6:00 (I pumped 5 qts. of H₂0 at the last shelter and carried it here, as the water here was listed as unreliable).

The Scouts said they’d heard on the radio that the rain is supposed to end sometime tomorrow, and I certainly hope they are right. My pack rain cover continues to repel water like a sponge, so my pack, as well as a lot of the stuff in it, is quite damp. Fortunately, I put the camera in a new ziploc bag in Salisbury.

Buck is two days, or a little less, ahead of me now, so it’s still possible I will catch her before I take off for Rush. I think finding a hiking partner might help me level out on the emotional rollercoaster I have been riding of late. I go from being excited about “how little” of the trail is left to being depressed about how much is left. In so many ways I continue to appreciate & enjoy the A.T. experience, but in another way I am so ready to return to a life that has Julie in it every day.

There’s been no sign of Roadrunner or Antaeus, so I have no idea how far back they are.

Both the Buck and the Roadrunner/Antaeus mentions illustrate an interesting phenomenon on the trail. Communication flowed one way through the shelter registers. The registers were notebooks that people would leave in a shelter — typically with their address in the back of it. Whether they were locals or thru-hikers who were carrying a blank notebook, the protocol was that you waited until you found a full register and then swapped it out with a blank notebook and sent the full one to the person who had left it there. Hikers made entries of all sorts in the registers. I wrote a couple of humor pieces along the way — one about my imagined etymology for “gnat” — “goddamn nat” to “g’damn nat” to “g’nat” to “gnat” (they were pretty bad at that shelter). Another was about how scientists had estimated that, by the year 2010, the entire AT would be paved with the rubber slowly shed by hikers’ boots over the years.

Thru-hikers also used the registers to send greetings to the hikers they knew were behind them. And, at the same time, hikers could predict when/where they might reconnect with hikers in front of them. As I think will become apparent over the coming entries, I “chased” Buck (and Roadrunner) for quite a while — I knew I was within a day of catching them, while they had no idea and would choose the next day to “yellow blaze” (hitchhike) farther up the trail. By the time of this entry, this had already been going on for a while. I think I caught up with her shortly hereafter.

As for the mention of Rush, I was close enough to Boston that I’d planned to get off the trail for a long weekend back at my fraternity house as the new freshmen arrived on campus.

8/16/93 – Mon.

Everything is wet. I made Salisbury, CT, last night and did the maildrop thing this morning. Suffice it to say that Salisbury is about as far from making anyone’s “Top Ten Trail Towns” list as it could possibly be without the use of barbed wire and shotguns.

I headed out shortly before 11:00 AM, planning on just doing an easy 14 or so miles to the Glen Brook Shelter. It started raining about 1:30 while I was eating lunch at Bond Shelter, so I just waited until the shower passed to hit the trail again. Of course, it turned out to be an all afternoon and evening precipitation thing, and I had to climb (and descend) three mountains that were 90% open rock face. I got to watch my feet go up past my head on the way down race mountain, and I got an upside-down turtle’s view of the world immediately following.

I didn’t roll into camp [until late], which meant I had to cook and eat in the dark, which I hate.

Wet socks, wet boots, wet rain cover, wet rain jacket, wet pack. And it’s still raining. This is not the sort of thing to put me in a good mood.

I never mentioned that Roadrunner’s undergraduate degree was in English.

It seems like an eternity since I last saw Julie. I don’t think I ever would have started the trail if I’d known it was going to be this hard.

If I’m remembering correctly, Salisbury, CT, wasn’t inhospitable in the same since that some of the southern towns were known to be (various trail guides warned of fish hooks being strung across the trail in certain places and certain towns to steer clear of). Rather, it was a bit of an “uppity” town. I rolled in fairly late in the evening and couldn’t readily find a cheap hotel (keeping in mind I was walking). I wound up finding a B&B, and they clearly weren’t thrilled to have my business. The bathroom was shared among several rooms, and I have a memory of pretty dirty water in the tub by the time I was done washing…and not feeling too bad about it. I couldn’t find a restaurant that was suitable for my attire, so I wound up firing up my campstove in the room I was staying in to make my dinner — the only time that I ate a “trail dinner” when staying in a town. The next morning, I hit a grocery story to supplement my maildrop, and they carried nothing in hiker-sized quantities. Obviously, you wouldn’t expect grocery stores to be particularly hiker-friendly, but more often than not, the “trail towns” embraced hikers and the local businesses went out of their way to accomodate them. Salisbury jumped out as not fitting this mold.

8/11/93 – Wed.

Well, I missed a day in my journal here, but with good reason. Tuesday, I hiked about 27 miles. I say “about” because the last 5 miles was part of the roadwalk through Harriman State Park — the temporary re-routing of the trail out of the woodlands due to both fires and the hazard of fires along the trail. I caught up with Roadrunner shortly before lunch, and we hiked the rest of the day/evening together. During that time was when I realized that I had waxed eloquent on the approach of autumn somewhat prematurely — Roadrunner pointed out that the leaves were falling from the trees because the weather has been so dry; not because it is their time to go. At the same time, it is clearly no longer the middle of summer.

This morning, I was on the trail (or rather, the road) by 6:45 AM. By shortly after 9:00 AM I was at the Bear Mountain post office — the end of the road walk and a waiting package. A container of applesauce had semi-exploded in the maildrop, but everything was in plastic bags, so it was not too difficult to clean up. I’d been meaning to mention to Dad that those foil lids were easily punctured, but I guess I needed a fairly significant event with it to really spark my memory.

After dealing with the maildrop, I found a phone and called Julie. She seems to have sunk down into a bit of a depression again due to lack of money, lack of a job, and too much of her relatives. It now looks like I might not see her again until I get to Maine. In some respects, Katahdin was starting to seem close, but in terms of being the next place I will see Julie, it is distant beyond measure. With luck, we will figure something out before then.

After talking to Julie, I wandered through the trailside zoo/museum, which was a bit urbanized for my tastes. The A.T. reaches its lowes point (124 feet above sea level) in front of the bear den, so I guess that was a landmark of sorts.

Around noon, I finally headed across the Hudson River and on up the trail — 7 miles to the Graymoor Monastery, which is an amazing place. Hikers get a private room with a bed, a sink, and a writing table. There are hot showers as well as a washing machine and dryer. There was an all you can eat dinner that was fabulous and complete (salad bar, dessert table, any number of beverage choices, plus an unlimited quantity of the entree), and breakfast that I’m sure will be comparable (why is this pen crapping out on me?). There are a lot of hikers here this evening — four southbounders, Roadrunner, me, Antaeus, Yoram Goldhammer (skipped last 40 miles to Bear Mountain), Weary Wanderer, Cal, & Pot Roast (skipped even more to get to Bear Mountain). So, it looks like I am back in the thick of things again.

Oh, yeah, for this monastery, they simply accept donations — nothing requested or required. They probably take in more money that way, oddly enough!

Possible chorus lyrics for verse written in last entry (I have something similar to this written down somewhere at home):

(chorus)
So put your hand in mine
We’ll take it one step at a time
Making our way…through life…together.
Yes, put your hand in mine
And you will always find…
Me…by your side…forever.

Call it rough, but it may be something to work with. I miss my guitar.

Well, the almighty telephone is dialing my number, so I am off to make my phone calls!

P.S. Roadrunner “beep-beeps” every time he crosses a road — started in Georgia & is now superstitious about it.

8/9/93 – Mon.

I did a long hard 25.3 miles today to get to Wawayanda Shelter. From people I talked to on the trail, I thought I was going to catch Roadrunner here, but the shelter was empty when I got here and I am now the sole occupant.

I’m still not really sure what I’m going to do about the road-walk around Harriman State Park. If I feel up to it, I may push to about 30 miles before camping tomorrow so I can get in and out of Bear Mountain the next day and on to the monastery for the evening (private room, AYCE diner, AYCE breakfast). But , that would make for a couple more long days, which I’m not sure I’m up for.

It’s really starting to seem like fall is on the way! Along some sections of the trail, the ground is covered with recently fallen leaves. There is the merest hint of a chill in the air in the morning, and the swelteringly hot portion of the day is only a few hours long, rather than most of the day. And the shortening of the days is almost noticeable.

I never mentioned that Julie spotted a coyote when she was hiking with me, which was kind of neat.

I’ve run into the same ridge runner two days in a row now. His name is Artie, trail name "Mushroom Man." He could actually pass for a late-fifties version of Jack (mentioned in earlier journal — the unofficial "Mushroom Man"). He’s got the same long beard, and he talks as much, but what he has to say is much more coherent.

Tomorrow I will cross the NY-NJ border. States down: Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey. States to go: New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine. I may get there after all!

I haven’t talked to Julie since last Thursday, and it seems like an eternity. I screwed up on Friday and didn’t call until after she’d left for West Virginia, which I’ve kicked myself about daily.

This shelter is supposed to have a semi-resident bear that is somewhat crippled. I hung my food bag well, so I’m not too worried about it, but I do wonder if she will make a visit or not. I guess I will find out.

Scratching your head as to "AYCE?" That’s "all you can eat." I did stay at the monastery, so more on that in an upcoming entry.

I’m not sure about the "she’d left for West Virginia." For some reason, I’m thinking Julie was heading from West Virgina back to Akron, so that might just be sloppy documentation.

The ridge runner was an interesting role. Along certain sections of the trail, these were people who were hired pretty much to walk different sections of the trail every day to help out hikers, check for maintenance needs, and generally be "eyes" on the trail. Not a bad gig.

And, now that I’m an entry or two past the night super-crowded night, I’m realizing that I didn’t make a note the next day about the next shelter I passed. I stopped for lunch at a shelter where the journal register logged accounts of recent encounters with a bear. I remember thinking that: a) there was a darn good chance at least one of those groups was heading for that shelter for the evening, and b) those kids left a lot of dirty dishes lying around after dinner. I always wondered if there was an adventure on someone’s hands that night.

8/12/93 – Thur.

I’m staying at the RPH cabin tonight with Antaeus, a southbounder named Comeback Kid, and a guy named Taro who is here in his truck (John Prine — Jesus, the Missing Years album playing on his stereo, and a cooler of beer & Pepsi for the taking). Taro thru-hiked in 1988 (and/or 1991) and hiked from Neel’s Gap, GA, to Rusty’s Hard-Time Hollow (Virginia) this year. He’s kind of bopping around looking for some guys he had been hiking with before heading home (Wood’s Hole, MA). The important thing is that he is letting the John Prine album play through a second time!

Roadrunner was going to stay here, too, but he decided to press on in the hopes of getting to Kent, CT, in time to get his maildrop before the post office closes on Saturday. Yoram Goldhammer apparently went to a state park to camp — still having foot problems.

I’m starting to get back into a group of hikers, as I mentioned, and they are a really enjoyable crowd. Yoram, Roadrunner, Antaeus, and I kind of bumped into each other off and on all day today, which was kind of nice.

Antaeus and I had a discussion about the definition of "purist." We concluded it lies more in the mind of each individual than anywhere else.

I tried to come up with some more song lyrics today, but I failed. Perhaps tomorrow.

7/17/93 – Sat.

14.5 mmiles today to the David Lesser Memorial Shelter. A southbound thru-hiker named Rob Roy showed up shortly after we did, and Roadrunner rolled in about 7:00.

A quick note: Roadrunner is a CPA from Albuqurque (sp?), NM — early to mid-50s.

14.5 was probably a bit long for Julie, but she toughed it out and we were still here by 5:00 PM. Her knees are fine, but her ankles and feet are bothering her a bit. It’s only 8 miles to Harper’s Ferry tomorrow, though, and we’re not supposed to arrive before 3:00 PM, so we can really take it easy.

Again, I am going to cut this entry short in the interest of getting the most out of the time I have with Julie.