"To all: get drunk, smoke, make love before 6:00pm." The Corsican, 5/21/11, Eckville Shelter
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| Tom Laverdi's House (June 13, 2011) Sensei (black vest), Spam (light shirt in the middle) & Windscreen (Red) |
In Massachusetts somewhat taller mountains reappeared. By taller I mean nothing
compared to the smallest mountain you've ever seen in the Rockies. Talking about anything in the Appalachians is all relative to other mountains in the Appalachian range. The mostly flat mid-Atlantic region was transitioning to mountains--more defined ups and downs.
Everything now seems to be about the business of finishing and whiffing the finish line allowed me to relax a little bit. Especially when we made it to Dalton, Massachusetts and stayed two days at Tom Laverdi's house.
I slept in the basement with Sensei and Windscreen. Spam was two days behind because we'd all been separated during a terrifying thunderstorm a few days prior. At this point on the trail, hiking partners are really just people you camp with at night. During the day you are on your own. On any given night you'll conjure up plans for the next day (where to hike to). If you change plans midday, the people you meet up with nightly won't have any idea where you are. Usually you can text them, but since we're on foot there isn't much one can do to close a huge distance gap in a short time.
Spam finally contacted us at Dalton to let us know he'd gotten sick and was two days behind. I was already traveling with a ginger (Sensei). Now I was hiking with a hypochondriac.
The time off waiting for Spam (was it my imagination or where we always waiting for Spam?) ended up being fruitful. We could walk to bars, coffee shops and libraries. Tom drove us to the grocery store. We could also watch movies at his house and basically do what we pleased.
Once we made it into Vermont things became downright pleasant. I even stopped hating the trail for a spell. Spruce forest returned with lovely views and first-rate trail (i.e., easy to make miles on and not rocky). Vermont was extremely muddy and buggy but we were flying through it. Spam got behind us again to meet his sister; Windscreen stayed behind to nurse a nagging foot injury from new shoes.
I would say the final third of the trip is spent tending to varying foot ailments. I had become a woman: obsessed with shoes and my own feet. Well, that, and finishing. The countdown to the end, which you try so hard to put out of your mind, becomes paramount.
Vermont had some cool towns and rewarding views. The Long Trail, a prominent hiking trail in the state that runs north-to-south and overlaps the AT, brought on some extra foot traffic. There were more people to talk to. I was able to chat with a guy who had thru-hiked in 2010 and harass him for details on the remaining part of the trail to Katahdin.
I continued my new habit of buying tallboys (24 oz beers) from whatever store was in striking distance of the trail and hiking with a buzz. My newest goal was to make this as much like a vacation as possible--if that was possible. And I don't know that it ever was. But it seemed like the right thing in the moment.
The day before we hit the New Hampshire border a huge rainstorm pounded us and Sensei and I cruised into the shelter absolutely soaked. I wasn't fazed this particular evening, however. The next day we'd cruise into Hanover and take a zero. I pulled the Budweiser tallboy out of my bag and leaned up against the shelter wall. It was probably about as good a feeling as I would ever have on the trail.
Hanover, home of Dartmouth, ended up being my favorite trail town. It was my kind of pristine college town full of coffee shops, smart people and girls. How I adore the smart people. They are so happy and skinny. They have no children and basically don't suck at life. My best advice to aspiring human beings is to stay aware from bitter people. Youth and smart people should be your target populations.
Soon I'll be back in the real world where people don't smell and walk in the woods all day. 441.8 miles and I'm there.
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