Sept 4th …Scaring Eva and Short Term
OK, let me think back to where I left off. I last wrote when I was on top of Mt. Moosilauke. I believe I started to descend around 1 p.m. About 3/4ths of the way down I decided to stop for a second lunch by the waterfall that goes most of the way down the North Slope. I was exhausted. The descent was almost as tough as the climb, very steep and at times leaving little room for a misstep. My goal that day, Saturday, was 16 miles. A high goal for my 1st day in the Whites. After getting to the other side of Moosilauke, only 9 miles in, I was wore out. I somehow made it up another steep climb. At the top, about 5 miles later I ran into Butch and Stonedance. A couple hiking that I’d met earlier in Palmerton, PA. I caught up with them as the sun disappeared behind us and they informed me that my friends Eva and Short-term (a couple who met on the trail) and Dirty D were just down the trail. That lifted my spirits. I haven’t seen them in awhile and I was glad to be close to them. As I walked on while Butch and Stonedance found a place to stealth, I realized this would be a perfect opportunity to scare the daylights out of my unsuspecting friends up ahead; provided I was the type of person given to base deeds like that. Well I’m that type of person.
In the deepening twilight, as I neared in the sound of Eva’s unique giggle and Short-term’s southern drawl, I shut my headlamp off and began knocking over dead trees and breaking branches.
“What IS that?” I heard Eva curiously wonder out loud.
“Aw, it’s just some dead trees falling over.” Short-term was unconcerned. He has a great tattoo by the way. A little pull behind camper on his left arm. The caption says, “Home is where you park it.” I understand he lives in an Airstream. Anyway, so the branches mysteriously breaking on a completely windless night wasn’t doing it. I began then to vocalize a growl I’d been working on for years. It’s not bad, and especially effective when echoed in cupped hands. This got their attention a little more but they were still unconvinced of any danger. So I pried a 50 lb. rock loose from the ground and started smashing it off of other rocks. I was pleased with the unnerving sounds the rocks were making and I knew this would have the desired effect. I was now about 15 yards away from them.
“Are you going to DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT!?!” Eva appealed in earnest.
“Uhh, OK.”, the reluctant response from Short-term.
He started towards me with his headlamp on. Right before the beam betrayed me, I sent forth my best, most sincere and grizzly growl that I had in me. In the twitch of an eye that headlamp beam spun a 180°. Short-term, he wheeled around, yelled, “GET IN THE TENT!” Short-term was ready to fight to save his girl. He grabbed a trekking pole and started towards me and I couldn’t bear it anymore. I’d gone too far already. I can’t remember what I said to give myself up but they heard a human voice and were confused and relieved at the same time. I think I said, “Everything alright up here?” And Eva said “AGHH!!! You scared the #!@% out of us! Who are you?” “Owen A” I said.
“ AHhhh!!! Owen A it’s so good to see you again, we thought you were days ahead! You seriously scared the #$@! Out of us. “
They were laughing hysterically between talking. A flood of emotions from anger to happiness, re enactments of dialogue and actions, and questions, catching up and laughter filled the next 10 minutes.
I had to sit down then. Eva said, “Owen you look beat.” “I am.” I replied. I told them I did 14 miles which impressed them and they talked me into stealthing nearby, which I didn’t really need convincing to do. We said our goodbyes and I went down the trail a ways to find a spot, still hearing bits and pieces of their laughter and cussing and reenacting.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Sept 1st I’m finally in New Hampshire. The last few days have been good, getting back into the trail life after some days off with my friends Kelly, Patrick and my girlfriend Caitlin, and two of Kelly’s friends. (I hung out with them before I stayed at the barn but I don‘t know if I mentioned that. )
My last two days in Vermont were probably the most beautiful on the trail yet; low 70’s, crisp, early autumn air, the terrain hasn’t been bad, and blue skies. I spent a lot of time in Hanover, killing the brunt of the day eating free food. Hanover was once dubbed, somewhere in the media, a non-hiker-friendly town, so they’ve overcompensated and now one place gives free bagels, another a free slice of pizza. The library is the nicest I’ve been to on the trail; they even have a wall dedicated to hikers and the A.T.. Also I got some water purification drops, Aqua Mira, at an outfitter. All in all, Hanover was a good visit.
After hiking a few miles out of town it began to get dark so I set up a stealth camp across the road from a cemetery where there was a guy buried named Alpheus Melville Hurlbutt (great name), but I didn’t sleep well. This gremlin of an animal was circling and growling/wheezing at me all night. All I could see of it was his eyes; about three inches apart and about two feet off the ground. He moved quietly and fast and had this blood-curdling vocalization, like I said. It sounded like he had a jagged chicken bone stuck sideways in his throat and had also been a chain smoker for 60 years. It was by far the most sickly sounding noise coming from a man or beast I’ve personally ever heard. Whenever Silence would finally get a foothold on the night; when she’d lovingly caress me and the rocks and trees about me, and I’d drift off to sleep; this mutant fiend would start another bout of retching his guts out, 20 yards away from me. He probably smelled and wanted the open bag of Frito’s in my backpack. When dawn finally came he left and I was able to get some decent sleep for an hour or two.
Yesterday afternoon we hung out on this older fella’s porch and shot the breeze; myself, Rainbow Dash and Firefox. The guy gives out ice cream bars to hikers and lets us use his bathroom and get water. It was a nice time but I still had 5 miles of climbing ahead of me. After walking in the dark awhile, I got to a very crowded shelter, actually an old cabin, on top of Smarts Mountain just before the rain began to fall. I was welcomed immediately when some hikers I never met saw my new little guitar thing I recently bought. It’s called a strum stick; three strings, diatonic fret scale, and it has a great little mountain twang to it. These guys had 2 guitars and one Ukulele; so we played a few songs and they even sang and harmonized ’I’ll Fly Away’ and it sounded angelic, in a folky sort of way, in that crowded little cabin. Everyone else was listening intently and seemed to be wholly enjoying themselves. I know I did; and I’m sure I’ll never forget that evening in the little hut on the mountain, where through the cracks between the boards the music seeped out and the mist seeped in.
Then this morning around Seven I climbed the fire tower on the summit and saw such a perfect scene. It was like looking out onto an ocean of clouds, with black mountains rising up out of them. It tied with #1 on my best views so far.
…I’m by a stream now, four miles into my day, shooting for 20 miles in my last decent bit of terrain before I start the Whites, which will be tomorrow if I get 20 today.
Sept 2nd.
I did that 20 miles and it felt rewarding to get a higher mileage day in before the White Mtns. Last night I stayed at the Hiker Friendly Hostel; 20 bucks for a bunk & shower and some rough, but very hiker-esque amenities. These include outdoor shower, toilet, sink and washer/dryer, all under a plastic awning. We had a great time. Being days behind the group I’d been hiking with, I’m now around a few familiar faces and many new ones. As we spent the night on the Southern threshold of the Whites, spirits were high and expectant, and the mood light. A good sized group of us sat around a fire until well past midnight and had a great time telling stories and recalling pop culture facets of our childhood and teen years. It’ll be one of my favorite memories of the trail I’m sure.
As I write this, again, I’m sitting on top of a big rock. It’s called Mt. Moosilauke.
What. A. Climb. An elevation gain of 3,746 feet. It’s total elevation is 4,802 feet. I’m above treeline. I’ve never climbed this high on my own power. It’s Saturday and there are a lot of people up here. 1 o’clock. I’m still going to try and do 11 more miles to get to a shelter I think, we’ll see if my legs agree with that plan. It’s cool and breezy but I’m on the lee side and the sun just came out. Feels so nice.
My last two days in Vermont were probably the most beautiful on the trail yet; low 70’s, crisp, early autumn air, the terrain hasn’t been bad, and blue skies. I spent a lot of time in Hanover, killing the brunt of the day eating free food. Hanover was once dubbed, somewhere in the media, a non-hiker-friendly town, so they’ve overcompensated and now one place gives free bagels, another a free slice of pizza. The library is the nicest I’ve been to on the trail; they even have a wall dedicated to hikers and the A.T.. Also I got some water purification drops, Aqua Mira, at an outfitter. All in all, Hanover was a good visit.
After hiking a few miles out of town it began to get dark so I set up a stealth camp across the road from a cemetery where there was a guy buried named Alpheus Melville Hurlbutt (great name), but I didn’t sleep well. This gremlin of an animal was circling and growling/wheezing at me all night. All I could see of it was his eyes; about three inches apart and about two feet off the ground. He moved quietly and fast and had this blood-curdling vocalization, like I said. It sounded like he had a jagged chicken bone stuck sideways in his throat and had also been a chain smoker for 60 years. It was by far the most sickly sounding noise coming from a man or beast I’ve personally ever heard. Whenever Silence would finally get a foothold on the night; when she’d lovingly caress me and the rocks and trees about me, and I’d drift off to sleep; this mutant fiend would start another bout of retching his guts out, 20 yards away from me. He probably smelled and wanted the open bag of Frito’s in my backpack. When dawn finally came he left and I was able to get some decent sleep for an hour or two.
Yesterday afternoon we hung out on this older fella’s porch and shot the breeze; myself, Rainbow Dash and Firefox. The guy gives out ice cream bars to hikers and lets us use his bathroom and get water. It was a nice time but I still had 5 miles of climbing ahead of me. After walking in the dark awhile, I got to a very crowded shelter, actually an old cabin, on top of Smarts Mountain just before the rain began to fall. I was welcomed immediately when some hikers I never met saw my new little guitar thing I recently bought. It’s called a strum stick; three strings, diatonic fret scale, and it has a great little mountain twang to it. These guys had 2 guitars and one Ukulele; so we played a few songs and they even sang and harmonized ’I’ll Fly Away’ and it sounded angelic, in a folky sort of way, in that crowded little cabin. Everyone else was listening intently and seemed to be wholly enjoying themselves. I know I did; and I’m sure I’ll never forget that evening in the little hut on the mountain, where through the cracks between the boards the music seeped out and the mist seeped in.
Then this morning around Seven I climbed the fire tower on the summit and saw such a perfect scene. It was like looking out onto an ocean of clouds, with black mountains rising up out of them. It tied with #1 on my best views so far.
…I’m by a stream now, four miles into my day, shooting for 20 miles in my last decent bit of terrain before I start the Whites, which will be tomorrow if I get 20 today.
Sept 2nd.
I did that 20 miles and it felt rewarding to get a higher mileage day in before the White Mtns. Last night I stayed at the Hiker Friendly Hostel; 20 bucks for a bunk & shower and some rough, but very hiker-esque amenities. These include outdoor shower, toilet, sink and washer/dryer, all under a plastic awning. We had a great time. Being days behind the group I’d been hiking with, I’m now around a few familiar faces and many new ones. As we spent the night on the Southern threshold of the Whites, spirits were high and expectant, and the mood light. A good sized group of us sat around a fire until well past midnight and had a great time telling stories and recalling pop culture facets of our childhood and teen years. It’ll be one of my favorite memories of the trail I’m sure.
As I write this, again, I’m sitting on top of a big rock. It’s called Mt. Moosilauke.
What. A. Climb. An elevation gain of 3,746 feet. It’s total elevation is 4,802 feet. I’m above treeline. I’ve never climbed this high on my own power. It’s Saturday and there are a lot of people up here. 1 o’clock. I’m still going to try and do 11 more miles to get to a shelter I think, we’ll see if my legs agree with that plan. It’s cool and breezy but I’m on the lee side and the sun just came out. Feels so nice.
Monday, December 24, 2012
August 27th, 2012
The rain is presently picking up, but no matter, for I'm sleeping in a barn, circa 1860's. I never expected this when waking earlier today, let alone the fact I'd have to earn my stay in this humble place, doing of all things, 'work'. Work, to the tune of about 2 and a half hours of weedwhacking. I was coming down through a field, 6-7 miles away from my goal when I noticed a nice barn and house, then a hiker at the road said we could sleep in the barn. I considered it, some rain was moving in and my right knee was hurting me more than any day on the trail so far. I calculated I'd done 15 miles already and talked myself into staying. Then the owner came out and wondered if we could do some yard work, weedwhacking and whatnot. "Sure" I said, I'll do some oddjobs for my stay. Easy Peasey. Well after I topped off the gas tank on the trimmer for the FOURTH TIME!!!, I started to wonder if all this work was worth it just to sleep in a barn. Soon into the ordeal though, "4 Spoke" the hiker i'd just met, said the guy mentioned something about a pasta dinner if we did a good job. This was what kept me going; and the hope that the guy was a good cook.
Earlier, when 4 Spoke and I assembled to work, the owner asked if either of us had weedwhacker experience. My 5 years of mowing and trimming my church cemetary during my salad days easily outweighed my new buddy's trimming resume. I set off toward my work, overhearing that 4 Spoke's employment would involve the use of a wheelbarrow. "Sucker" I thought. Then 20 mins into my job, the trimmer head clogged and the guy had to fix it whilst I helped 4 Spoke pull weeds. "Sucker" I thought. By and by though the guy got the thing fixed and I was soon back to laying weeds low while dreaming of a big pasta meal. I wasn't even sure if the meal was in the bag; he said 'IF' we do a good job. Once, I overfilled the tank and the guy wiped the spilled gas off a rock with a paper towel. One strike I thought. But then later he said I had a steady hand at running the weedwhacker and that he now trusted me to trim between his Hostas lining the driveway. Up til then I'd just been down trimming along the creek bank. So I tarried on, now hoping I'd have shower coming too. I dreaded getting into a sleeping bag all grassy. In fact I was getting thrashed by small stones and debris in my hiking shorts. Formerly, I would always weedwhack in jeans.
A little later the guy mentioned shower and laundry too. I think we were impressing him. He's got us tidying things up for a wedding in his yard in a few weeks. The place needs alot of work. The back yard was trashed by Tropical Storm Irene last year. Piles of sediment, silt and rock still linger. Some lingered in my leg flesh after I plowed into them with the trimmer head.
So finally, as darkness and light rain fell, he said we could put the tools away. I got showered. The guy, Dan, is definitely a bachelor. He said he didn't have any bar soap, but handed me a pump bottle of instant hand sanitizer to shower with...luckily I found some sort of soap in a bathroom closet.
Anyway, he made us a great meal with homemade pasta sauce from his garden's tomatos. Quite good. Also, I found out he owns a company that restores old buildings, specifically church steeples. Dan said he's done work in New York City on the Statue of Liberty torch and also on the Old North Church. So we talked old stuff.
Sure enough then he asked us to work tomorrow too. He said it would be worth staying because there's a dinner tomorrow night on the green in Woodstock, celebrating or commemorating one year since Irene, which devastated the area and much of Vermont. Woodstock is a beautiful historic town. I drove through it the other day when I rented a car to see some friends. I guess the meal will be family style for like 3000 people which would be cool to be a part of. So again, the perenial question, should I stay or should I go? Always a dilema. I'll sleep on it. In a barn.
August 28th
As I was slowly waking this morning, still deliberating on whether to stay and help this guy, I decided to stay. I think mostly out of the sense I had that he really needed some help. Also recalling Carver's philosophy, "Where I am is where I'm supposed to be" ran through my head.
Anyway I found out that Dan is divorced, which makes me understand why his house was a little messy, not in a disgusting way, just as if it hasn't been swept or dusted in a very long time. When I told him I'd stick around to help he seemed elated. "You have no idea how much stress you've taken off me by agreeing to stay" he said, very genuinely too, so I felt good that he really needed my help. So like I said, it just needed sweeping and dusting so I worked on that all day, and it's a big Colonial with many rooms, I had plenty to do. While cleaning I realized I still hardly knew a thing about Dan, he doesn't divulge harldy anything personal at all in conversation. So I let myself put things together, at least as best I could, based on context clues from his house while working. Which was kinda fun.
For supper, like he promised, we went into Woodstock. I was amazed as we walked into the center of town, and came to the Green. There were so many people; and tables lined up for hundreds of feet in length. The high school Jazz n Funk Band was jamming and it was great music, then later as we ate grilled steak and vegetables, kabobs, beans, rolls, everything; and all so good, a New Orleans Style Jazz band walked amongst the tables playing 'In The Sweet By and By' then, and I just sat back and soaked in the scene. Thousands of people eating together, the biggest collection of people eating a family style dinner I've ever seen. There was laughter and smiles, a drastic contrast I'm sure from what flood victims were going through exactly a year ago. I've seen the look of defeat and hopelessness on the faces of people recently displaced by floods and other disasters and I much prefer the happiness on the other side of the trials endured when things have turned around and are better.
This was a great, unexpected treat the trail has given me, this night, really this whole experience, meeting Dan and all. He said I've always got a place to stay if i'm in the area. Also I'm sure I'll take advantage of his building and timberframe knowledge if I'm ever in a pickle. Well, back at the old grind tomorrow.
The rain is presently picking up, but no matter, for I'm sleeping in a barn, circa 1860's. I never expected this when waking earlier today, let alone the fact I'd have to earn my stay in this humble place, doing of all things, 'work'. Work, to the tune of about 2 and a half hours of weedwhacking. I was coming down through a field, 6-7 miles away from my goal when I noticed a nice barn and house, then a hiker at the road said we could sleep in the barn. I considered it, some rain was moving in and my right knee was hurting me more than any day on the trail so far. I calculated I'd done 15 miles already and talked myself into staying. Then the owner came out and wondered if we could do some yard work, weedwhacking and whatnot. "Sure" I said, I'll do some oddjobs for my stay. Easy Peasey. Well after I topped off the gas tank on the trimmer for the FOURTH TIME!!!, I started to wonder if all this work was worth it just to sleep in a barn. Soon into the ordeal though, "4 Spoke" the hiker i'd just met, said the guy mentioned something about a pasta dinner if we did a good job. This was what kept me going; and the hope that the guy was a good cook.
Earlier, when 4 Spoke and I assembled to work, the owner asked if either of us had weedwhacker experience. My 5 years of mowing and trimming my church cemetary during my salad days easily outweighed my new buddy's trimming resume. I set off toward my work, overhearing that 4 Spoke's employment would involve the use of a wheelbarrow. "Sucker" I thought. Then 20 mins into my job, the trimmer head clogged and the guy had to fix it whilst I helped 4 Spoke pull weeds. "Sucker" I thought. By and by though the guy got the thing fixed and I was soon back to laying weeds low while dreaming of a big pasta meal. I wasn't even sure if the meal was in the bag; he said 'IF' we do a good job. Once, I overfilled the tank and the guy wiped the spilled gas off a rock with a paper towel. One strike I thought. But then later he said I had a steady hand at running the weedwhacker and that he now trusted me to trim between his Hostas lining the driveway. Up til then I'd just been down trimming along the creek bank. So I tarried on, now hoping I'd have shower coming too. I dreaded getting into a sleeping bag all grassy. In fact I was getting thrashed by small stones and debris in my hiking shorts. Formerly, I would always weedwhack in jeans.
A little later the guy mentioned shower and laundry too. I think we were impressing him. He's got us tidying things up for a wedding in his yard in a few weeks. The place needs alot of work. The back yard was trashed by Tropical Storm Irene last year. Piles of sediment, silt and rock still linger. Some lingered in my leg flesh after I plowed into them with the trimmer head.
So finally, as darkness and light rain fell, he said we could put the tools away. I got showered. The guy, Dan, is definitely a bachelor. He said he didn't have any bar soap, but handed me a pump bottle of instant hand sanitizer to shower with...luckily I found some sort of soap in a bathroom closet.
Anyway, he made us a great meal with homemade pasta sauce from his garden's tomatos. Quite good. Also, I found out he owns a company that restores old buildings, specifically church steeples. Dan said he's done work in New York City on the Statue of Liberty torch and also on the Old North Church. So we talked old stuff.
Sure enough then he asked us to work tomorrow too. He said it would be worth staying because there's a dinner tomorrow night on the green in Woodstock, celebrating or commemorating one year since Irene, which devastated the area and much of Vermont. Woodstock is a beautiful historic town. I drove through it the other day when I rented a car to see some friends. I guess the meal will be family style for like 3000 people which would be cool to be a part of. So again, the perenial question, should I stay or should I go? Always a dilema. I'll sleep on it. In a barn.
August 28th
As I was slowly waking this morning, still deliberating on whether to stay and help this guy, I decided to stay. I think mostly out of the sense I had that he really needed some help. Also recalling Carver's philosophy, "Where I am is where I'm supposed to be" ran through my head.
Anyway I found out that Dan is divorced, which makes me understand why his house was a little messy, not in a disgusting way, just as if it hasn't been swept or dusted in a very long time. When I told him I'd stick around to help he seemed elated. "You have no idea how much stress you've taken off me by agreeing to stay" he said, very genuinely too, so I felt good that he really needed my help. So like I said, it just needed sweeping and dusting so I worked on that all day, and it's a big Colonial with many rooms, I had plenty to do. While cleaning I realized I still hardly knew a thing about Dan, he doesn't divulge harldy anything personal at all in conversation. So I let myself put things together, at least as best I could, based on context clues from his house while working. Which was kinda fun.
For supper, like he promised, we went into Woodstock. I was amazed as we walked into the center of town, and came to the Green. There were so many people; and tables lined up for hundreds of feet in length. The high school Jazz n Funk Band was jamming and it was great music, then later as we ate grilled steak and vegetables, kabobs, beans, rolls, everything; and all so good, a New Orleans Style Jazz band walked amongst the tables playing 'In The Sweet By and By' then, and I just sat back and soaked in the scene. Thousands of people eating together, the biggest collection of people eating a family style dinner I've ever seen. There was laughter and smiles, a drastic contrast I'm sure from what flood victims were going through exactly a year ago. I've seen the look of defeat and hopelessness on the faces of people recently displaced by floods and other disasters and I much prefer the happiness on the other side of the trials endured when things have turned around and are better.
This was a great, unexpected treat the trail has given me, this night, really this whole experience, meeting Dan and all. He said I've always got a place to stay if i'm in the area. Also I'm sure I'll take advantage of his building and timberframe knowledge if I'm ever in a pickle. Well, back at the old grind tomorrow.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
8-23-2012 In Which I Take a Few Days Off.
I wanted to be walking into into Hanover today, that’s 40 miles away. Instead I’m sitting on a rock in front of the Long Trail Inn. I managed to escape the magnetic pull of the Yellow Deli. I had decided to stay, but then couldn’t stand not being on the trail or in the woods. So at almost 5pm I left, which was pretty late to take a 40 mile hike into Hanover. So I was going to night hike and try to get to a road 20 miles north, then hitch to Hanover, but that didn’t work out because I left my headlamp at the Yellow Deli. So I figured, “Welp” I’m here at the Inn, might as well grab a bite and comingle. I thought of Carver’s trail philosophy, he says, concerning the trail, “Where I am is where I’m supposed to be.” So I like that. At the restaurant I met an old Austrian guy named Adi. I asked him what he does, he said in a heavy accent, “I’m a woodworker” and showed me his hands. Man they were beat up. One finger showed scars of being almost completely unattached at one point in its career. I pointed at it and asked, “Table saw?” He said, “Shaper” and I cringed. I won’t describe what a shaper does and hopefully spare you the cringe. So we talked woodworking for awhile as he enjoyed his Reuben, I my broccoli soup. It was hard to understand him, but I learned that he makes some higher end furniture for people on the high end, but his bread and butter are cedar chests with dovetail corners. I really wanted to see his shop and some of his work so I asked where it was and if I could stop in this morning and he said I could. I just came from his shop. It was what I expected for the most part, an old red building with a charming handmade sign out front that said “Adi’s Woodworks” and as I walked in, a pleasing blend of black walnut, and aromatic cedar lovingly flooded my nasal labyrinths. I breathed in deep and smiled. The first piece that caught my eye was a stunning quilted black walnut cabinet with wrought iron pulls. The grain was so vibrant and alive. I couldn’t believe, in looking around, that this shop produced such a piece. Like most wood shops, it was cluttered and didn’t have the expensive chisel and plane sets, expensive power tools and other fine implements you can spend money on. He had ryobi and chicago routers which aren’t top of the line, but a top of the line person can do a lot with a little. Adi was a top of the line guy, he definitely had a certain anachronistic style about him too, with his faded non collared corduroy jacket, and Austrian accent. When I asked if he learned woodworking from his father or grandfather, I learned that before Adi turned 3, his father was killed on the Russian front in WWII. He’s definitely making some quality furniture at his age. It was just refreshing to be in a non-trail setting talking with a non-trail person about non-trail things. My normal conversations cycle through things like food we fantasize about, where our next town stop is, the best hostel or restaurant in the that town, how the terrain is up ahead, what kind and how well our gear is holding up, whether so and so is up ahead or behind and were they took some time off. It’s all like that. I gets old, so a wood shop was just what I needed.
Now. I think I’ve finally figured out what to do here. After Adi’s, my plan was to hitchhike to Hanover, hang out with my friend Patrick for tonight and tomorrow morning, then rent a car, go pick up Caitlin and hang out with her and Kelly until Saturday. Take Caitlin back to the airport, but then I’d be stuck with having to get back to Killington, and back on the trail. So after 15 minutes of unsuccessful hitching, I just figured I’ll pay for an extra day of car rental, save myself a big headache, and rent from Rutland. I’m slowly coming to terms that it’s okay to be taking it easy. 5 days off trail seems like a lot, but I’ve only had one zero mile day so far. I need to relax and enjoy myself. Mentally prepare for the White Mountains in New Hampshire maybe. My brother-in-law, Reuben, is always telling me it’s not about the destination, but about the journey, so I just need to relax. I'll still finish in December in Georgia, which will be chilly but shouldn’t be too bad. So I think I’m definitely relaxing. I’m excited about driving a car too. It’s been about a month and a half since I’ve driven…good thing it’s a rental.
…Evening…
I’m at Patrick’s right now in Hanover. His family has a very nice place, and we had a relaxing meal outside. Looking forward to breakfast in Hanover and seeing the town a little bit in the morning. Driving the car was fun. It’s not like it was hard getting the hang of it, but I had to be mindful of things moving much faster than normal. Looking forward to the next 2-3 days very much, feeling relaxed.
I wanted to be walking into into Hanover today, that’s 40 miles away. Instead I’m sitting on a rock in front of the Long Trail Inn. I managed to escape the magnetic pull of the Yellow Deli. I had decided to stay, but then couldn’t stand not being on the trail or in the woods. So at almost 5pm I left, which was pretty late to take a 40 mile hike into Hanover. So I was going to night hike and try to get to a road 20 miles north, then hitch to Hanover, but that didn’t work out because I left my headlamp at the Yellow Deli. So I figured, “Welp” I’m here at the Inn, might as well grab a bite and comingle. I thought of Carver’s trail philosophy, he says, concerning the trail, “Where I am is where I’m supposed to be.” So I like that. At the restaurant I met an old Austrian guy named Adi. I asked him what he does, he said in a heavy accent, “I’m a woodworker” and showed me his hands. Man they were beat up. One finger showed scars of being almost completely unattached at one point in its career. I pointed at it and asked, “Table saw?” He said, “Shaper” and I cringed. I won’t describe what a shaper does and hopefully spare you the cringe. So we talked woodworking for awhile as he enjoyed his Reuben, I my broccoli soup. It was hard to understand him, but I learned that he makes some higher end furniture for people on the high end, but his bread and butter are cedar chests with dovetail corners. I really wanted to see his shop and some of his work so I asked where it was and if I could stop in this morning and he said I could. I just came from his shop. It was what I expected for the most part, an old red building with a charming handmade sign out front that said “Adi’s Woodworks” and as I walked in, a pleasing blend of black walnut, and aromatic cedar lovingly flooded my nasal labyrinths. I breathed in deep and smiled. The first piece that caught my eye was a stunning quilted black walnut cabinet with wrought iron pulls. The grain was so vibrant and alive. I couldn’t believe, in looking around, that this shop produced such a piece. Like most wood shops, it was cluttered and didn’t have the expensive chisel and plane sets, expensive power tools and other fine implements you can spend money on. He had ryobi and chicago routers which aren’t top of the line, but a top of the line person can do a lot with a little. Adi was a top of the line guy, he definitely had a certain anachronistic style about him too, with his faded non collared corduroy jacket, and Austrian accent. When I asked if he learned woodworking from his father or grandfather, I learned that before Adi turned 3, his father was killed on the Russian front in WWII. He’s definitely making some quality furniture at his age. It was just refreshing to be in a non-trail setting talking with a non-trail person about non-trail things. My normal conversations cycle through things like food we fantasize about, where our next town stop is, the best hostel or restaurant in the that town, how the terrain is up ahead, what kind and how well our gear is holding up, whether so and so is up ahead or behind and were they took some time off. It’s all like that. I gets old, so a wood shop was just what I needed.
Now. I think I’ve finally figured out what to do here. After Adi’s, my plan was to hitchhike to Hanover, hang out with my friend Patrick for tonight and tomorrow morning, then rent a car, go pick up Caitlin and hang out with her and Kelly until Saturday. Take Caitlin back to the airport, but then I’d be stuck with having to get back to Killington, and back on the trail. So after 15 minutes of unsuccessful hitching, I just figured I’ll pay for an extra day of car rental, save myself a big headache, and rent from Rutland. I’m slowly coming to terms that it’s okay to be taking it easy. 5 days off trail seems like a lot, but I’ve only had one zero mile day so far. I need to relax and enjoy myself. Mentally prepare for the White Mountains in New Hampshire maybe. My brother-in-law, Reuben, is always telling me it’s not about the destination, but about the journey, so I just need to relax. I'll still finish in December in Georgia, which will be chilly but shouldn’t be too bad. So I think I’m definitely relaxing. I’m excited about driving a car too. It’s been about a month and a half since I’ve driven…good thing it’s a rental.
…Evening…
I’m at Patrick’s right now in Hanover. His family has a very nice place, and we had a relaxing meal outside. Looking forward to breakfast in Hanover and seeing the town a little bit in the morning. Driving the car was fun. It’s not like it was hard getting the hang of it, but I had to be mindful of things moving much faster than normal. Looking forward to the next 2-3 days very much, feeling relaxed.
8-21-2012
Yesterday I caught a bus into Rutland, VT with simple plans. Resupply, laundry, shower. But the bus stopped and picked up Knoxville, Samson, and Tinkerbell, and they were headed to an all you can eat Chinese buffet and after minimal prodding, so was I. A Wal-Mart was beside the buffet, my resupply, and then there was a hostel close by, which I figured I could work something out to where I could just shower, do laundry, and skedaddle. So I came to this hostel, “The Yellow Deli” and instantly I felt this overwhelming sense of hospitality and belonging. As I approached, a whimsical version of ‘Blackberry Blossom’ was playing on the outdoor speakers, I entered, and was Blown Away. I’ve never seen a décor like this. All reclaimed wood, old barn beams, whiskey barrel staves as booth backs, scythe handle incorporated as railings, and stained glass lampshades. It really would take pages to describe everything. The hiker sitting nearby asked if I was staying, I said no just laundry and shower. He’s like, “No, you seriously need to stay. We’ve been here for 3 days, we can’t leave.” So I get set up with a shower and all, and in the guys dorm I noticed some literature about biblical things, and everyone had different names I realized, and then I realized I’d heard about this place. It was rumored to be a cult. Everyone lives in community, and they use this deli to make money. It’s called the 12 Tribes. Well long story short, I was sucked in, for the night at least. Hopefully. I’m still here…but my bags are packed. I did some chores, made beds, washed dishes and windows, and so that’s called 'work for stay'. Therefore, I was able to stay without paying 20 bucks. I also got the best sandwich I’ve had on the trail. I’m telling you, make the trip to Rutland, VT and eat here. Join us! Just kidding, but seriously, they don’t seem too out there, just following the Bible very fundamentally. They don’t consider themselves Christians, because of the negative connotations with the crusades and everything, but they believe Jesus, or Yahshua, which is the original pronunciation of Jesus. And that he is the son of God and died to save us of our sins.
So anyway. I’ll be back in Rutland on Friday evening with Kelly and Caitlin. Our original plans were to jsut hang out but I'd like to come here for a Sabbath celebration and meal Friday night, it sounds fun.
We’re all still sitting here, Uncle Oops, the guy who said I should stay, and Carver, they’re sitting in their same spot they’ve been in for days. A great rendition of Wayfaring Stranger is playing now as I realize how addicting these folks are. They say cults suck you in and if they’re anything like this, I can see how. Everyone is so gentle and peaceful. My occasional loss of temper might subside hanging around the peaceful guys like Levmilech.
(....Later notes....This place was indeed a cult, and from accounts from other hikers I heard the 12 Tribes is one of the best cults at sucking people in. I'm glad I left, luckily the trail was calling me harder than them, and they were weirding me out anyway.)
Yesterday I caught a bus into Rutland, VT with simple plans. Resupply, laundry, shower. But the bus stopped and picked up Knoxville, Samson, and Tinkerbell, and they were headed to an all you can eat Chinese buffet and after minimal prodding, so was I. A Wal-Mart was beside the buffet, my resupply, and then there was a hostel close by, which I figured I could work something out to where I could just shower, do laundry, and skedaddle. So I came to this hostel, “The Yellow Deli” and instantly I felt this overwhelming sense of hospitality and belonging. As I approached, a whimsical version of ‘Blackberry Blossom’ was playing on the outdoor speakers, I entered, and was Blown Away. I’ve never seen a décor like this. All reclaimed wood, old barn beams, whiskey barrel staves as booth backs, scythe handle incorporated as railings, and stained glass lampshades. It really would take pages to describe everything. The hiker sitting nearby asked if I was staying, I said no just laundry and shower. He’s like, “No, you seriously need to stay. We’ve been here for 3 days, we can’t leave.” So I get set up with a shower and all, and in the guys dorm I noticed some literature about biblical things, and everyone had different names I realized, and then I realized I’d heard about this place. It was rumored to be a cult. Everyone lives in community, and they use this deli to make money. It’s called the 12 Tribes. Well long story short, I was sucked in, for the night at least. Hopefully. I’m still here…but my bags are packed. I did some chores, made beds, washed dishes and windows, and so that’s called 'work for stay'. Therefore, I was able to stay without paying 20 bucks. I also got the best sandwich I’ve had on the trail. I’m telling you, make the trip to Rutland, VT and eat here. Join us! Just kidding, but seriously, they don’t seem too out there, just following the Bible very fundamentally. They don’t consider themselves Christians, because of the negative connotations with the crusades and everything, but they believe Jesus, or Yahshua, which is the original pronunciation of Jesus. And that he is the son of God and died to save us of our sins.
So anyway. I’ll be back in Rutland on Friday evening with Kelly and Caitlin. Our original plans were to jsut hang out but I'd like to come here for a Sabbath celebration and meal Friday night, it sounds fun.
We’re all still sitting here, Uncle Oops, the guy who said I should stay, and Carver, they’re sitting in their same spot they’ve been in for days. A great rendition of Wayfaring Stranger is playing now as I realize how addicting these folks are. They say cults suck you in and if they’re anything like this, I can see how. Everyone is so gentle and peaceful. My occasional loss of temper might subside hanging around the peaceful guys like Levmilech.
(....Later notes....This place was indeed a cult, and from accounts from other hikers I heard the 12 Tribes is one of the best cults at sucking people in. I'm glad I left, luckily the trail was calling me harder than them, and they were weirding me out anyway.)
8-19-2012
It’s Sunday morning, August 19th, I think. I’m sitting on a giant rock amid another crystal clear, Vermont mountain stream. Again, I can’t say enough about Vermont. Every moment is perfect, constantly surrounded by natural beauty. A highlight last night was reaching the top of a mountain, just as the sun’s bourbon light was ebbing, and I came to a veritable Museum of Natural Modern Art on that mountain. All over a few huge boulders, previous hikers had built elaborate rock cairns. In simplest form, a rock cairn is just a pyramid of rocks, but people had spent a ton of time on these. Elaborate rock arches, overhanging cairns, ones that seemed to defy gravity, and cairns that were skillfully balanced and seemingly delicate, but could possibly have been in place for years. I could’ve stayed for hours but light was fading fast and I had to get to the nearest shelter that unfortunately didn’t have any water. I had one cup on me, not enough to cook, so I’m eating last night’s meal by this stream to get some calories for the day. A Thai Sweet Chili Pasta side is not my ideal breakfast. Biscuits and gravy sound better, but I do what I gotta do.
It’s Sunday morning, August 19th, I think. I’m sitting on a giant rock amid another crystal clear, Vermont mountain stream. Again, I can’t say enough about Vermont. Every moment is perfect, constantly surrounded by natural beauty. A highlight last night was reaching the top of a mountain, just as the sun’s bourbon light was ebbing, and I came to a veritable Museum of Natural Modern Art on that mountain. All over a few huge boulders, previous hikers had built elaborate rock cairns. In simplest form, a rock cairn is just a pyramid of rocks, but people had spent a ton of time on these. Elaborate rock arches, overhanging cairns, ones that seemed to defy gravity, and cairns that were skillfully balanced and seemingly delicate, but could possibly have been in place for years. I could’ve stayed for hours but light was fading fast and I had to get to the nearest shelter that unfortunately didn’t have any water. I had one cup on me, not enough to cook, so I’m eating last night’s meal by this stream to get some calories for the day. A Thai Sweet Chili Pasta side is not my ideal breakfast. Biscuits and gravy sound better, but I do what I gotta do.
Monday, September 10, 2012
8-17-12
What. A. Nice. Evening.
I never knew growing up my whole life that Vermont had such incredible mountains. I was hiking up Bromley Mountain, planning on going another 8 miles when a storm came up and I wasn’t looking forward to spending time in it. So a ski slope was at the top and I figured worst case I’d take refuge under a lift. Well, even better, a warming hut was open for hikers and I got in right before the storm. After the heavy rains, just before night fall, the most amazing sunset developed. Layers of mountains in the foreground, and the clouds and fog were just rolling by us. It was constantly changing, but so beautiful. I love this life.
Last night was great too. We went swimming at Stratton Pond while the sun set in the pond’s horizon, right in the vanishing point of two evergreen strewn hills. We swam, then rinsed out some clothes, then set out for a good camping spot right at dusk. 3 miles later! In the dark! We finally found a spot. I was worn out, but every step closer meant less I’d have to do today. We built a fire, and really had a fun night. Again, so fun. Well I’m sleepy, and I need to get in some big miles tomorrow, 26?
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