Across the Mid-Atlantic

Often times when you are hiking all day, the mind wanders from past to present to future. We recieved a call as we came into North Adams that a friend from Washington had suddenly passed away at the age of 28, and as such, our minds and hearts have been heavy with the thoughts that life is all too short. Micah was always such a happy human being, and I truely believe that his face was a stranger to a frown. It is times like these that I am reminded to do what you love with the people who matter, for there are no guarantees. For this I am thankful to be thru-hiking with such amazing people, and the family that keeps me going.

We left town around lunch time, despite getting harrassed by the police for trying to hitch-hike. Thankfully a long time resident recognized us for what we are, and gladly shuttled us to the trail head. Hiking out of town always seems difficult, but this was definitely one for the record books. As far as proper introductions go, our first climb in Massachusetts is the tallest peak in the state – Mt. Graylock.

The first few miles were relentlessly steep, but eventually the grade eased up and we were able to pick up the pace. As we climbed we could see and hear the storm clouds building, which only persuaded us to hike faster. We reached the summit quicker than anticipated, and took a short break to admire the veterans memorial and the stone lodge.

As we began down the otherside, the clouds only thickened into a dark mass that blocked out the sun all together. Soon we could hear the cracks of lightning come from all around with increasing frequency. We hiked on as fast as we could, enjoying the dry trail while it lasted. While we may be fast hikers, we can’t outrun a storm, and soon the heavens opened up and turned the faucet on high. We were drenched in minutes, but at times like this, the best way to stay warm is to keep hiking. After about half an hour of the deluge, the rain let up a little bit – before coming back with a vengeance forty minutes later.

At last we came down into the town of Cheshire just in time for the rain to take another hiatus. We spread out our things on the stoop of a church that welcomes hikers camping in their yard, and slowly peeled off all the wet clothes and replaced them with dry ones. It was a poor night of rest, but in the end we at least stayed dry.

The rain mostly held off throughout the night, until the sun came up the next morning. As no one was anxious to pack up in the rain, it was a slow morning getting the train moving. With the tallest peak in state already crossed off, the remainder of our miles in the state are relatively smooth. We had good weather and smooth trails all day, and made twenty miles in leisurely time. But just as we arrived at our shelter for the night, the wind picked up and the sun disappeared. Within ten minutes the weather took a 180° turn, and no sooner than we got our tarp up, the fury of the storm found us. Grateful for a little dry patch we could call home for the night, the timing couldn’t have been better.

Exhausted from our long day and running on fumes, we collapsed into our sleeping bags early and did not emerge for a solid nine hours. We slept like the dead to compensate for the restless night at the church, and woke up feeling born again.

Planning on a short day, we enjoyed a leisurely morning before hiking some seven miles to US-20. Here we caught a ride into the town of Lee where we made a quick stop into the local grocery for some fresh rations. This included quite a bit of fresh berries as we planned on stopping at the Upper Goose pond cabin where the care takers make pancakes on the regular.

We caught a ride back to the trail, and within a few short minutes we ran into Captain and Smudge. The two of them were standing on the overpass of I-90 making the universal sign to honk one’s horn, seeing how many semis they could persuade. Soon the whole lot of us could not resist the fun, and the seven of us began making the motions as well. Sometimes you have to stop and smell the roses; or listen to the roar of the semi-trailers as they fly beneath you.

Soon after we found ourselves at Upper Goose pond, and all the rumors we’d heard for hundreds of miles came true. We borrowed canoes and paddled around the lakes all afternoon, and enjoyed soaking up a little sun on the beach. The care-takers made burgers, hotdogs and pie for all, an impressive operation for an off-the-grid cabin. Early morning brought fresh pancakes and coffee, coupled with good conversations.

Here our southbound family split up on their own tracts, hoping that space and time might realign soon to bring us back together. Smudge left ahead of the sun with the intention of getting picked up later in the day for a ball game with his family. Wags similarly set out to get ahead, anticipating the time she will take off in Connecticut. And thus, there were four: Captain, Appalachian Gail, Mandalynn and I.

The hike out from Upper Goose was a slow one, not for any particular reason outside our own sluggishness. We opted to follow the old Appalachian trail for a five mile stretch, and were rewarded with two porcupine sightings, a fresh patch of untouched blackberries, and massive ancient stone dam. Along the way we even found some of the old trail markers fading away on old trees.

As the day came to a close, we caught a ride with Papa Joe the trail angel into the city of Great Barrington. Here we found complementary camping behind the community center, where we can access the facilities during the day for a small fee.

We spent the following day out on the town, thrifting at Goodwill, treating our clothes with tick repellent, picking up groceries and going out for a little Mexican food. We spent most the day with our new friend Nanook, sixty years old and hiking the international Appalachian trail from Nova Scotia to the Florida keys. With a passion for traveling long distances by simple means, he entertained us with his stories and tales.

Papa Joe shuttled us back to the trail head after our day off, helping us get an early start out of town. Our first miles out were beautiful flat with the occasional rolling hills. After making our way through the open fields, we began our climb up to Mt. Everett. We got some great views from the granite ridgelines that meandered up to the top and over to the next peak – Mt. Race.

Water was surprisingly scarce through here, but thanks to the generosity of a local trail angel, a cooler full of ice cold water was awaiting us half through the longest dry stretch. As our day neared its end, we crossed a few rambling brooks, mossed over and full deep pools.

We set up our camp in Sage ravine where we temporarily reunited with Smudge, whom we hadn’t seen in several days. But strategically placed right right on the Massachusetts / Connecticut border, Captain and Smudge hiked out at 2:30 AM to take on the Connecticut challenge; 51 miles and into New York in day.

We got up a few hours after the boys, and hit the trail with the sun. We left the ravine and made our grand entrance into the state of Connecticut. While the sign was a few miles premature, the real imaginary line was marked only with a few rocks.

For the second state in a row, our introduction came in the form of the state’s highest peak – Bear mountain. When we got to the summit, we could see a storm beginning to build; but still in its early stages, it created numerous sun rays casting down between the clouds. It was one of the better summits we had been on as of late, but the impending storm persuaded us to hike on while the miles were dry.

As it began to slowly drizzle, we walked into the town of Salisbury, where we took refuge in a very high end café. They were incredibly friendly though, keeping us fueled witb free coffee refills, and letting us charge our things as we waited out the rain.

Around this time, we got word from Captain and Smudge that they were not going to complete the 51 mile challenge. Smudge was on the verge of getting shin splints, and had taken a good fall on some of the wet rocks. It also didn’t help that Connecticut was far more mountainous than any of us ever expected, and the climbing was steep.

We took some shortcuts to try and catch up with the boys, but they managed to stay ahead just the same. As the day was getting late, Appalachian Gail and Mandalynn were getting tired, and opted to “Yellow blaze,” (catch a ride) into camp. With a little bit of energy left, I parted ways and hiked the last 6 miles to camp to solo. I soon realized that despite the 30+ pounds of gear that I was toting, I had no way to filter water as Mandalynn had taken our filtration device with her. To further complicate things, I had left with only a quarter liter of water….

After the first few big climbs, I was sweating so hard from the humidity that all my clothes were fully saturated, and the added weight only made the climbing more difficult. I stopped for a quick wardrobe change, slipping into my shorts and loosing the shirt, but at this point I was wringing more sweat out of my clothes than water I had left in my canteen.

I pushed out the six miles as quickly as I could, spotting a massive black bear along the way, but by the time we were all reunited, I was already severely dehydrated. We bought some powerade from the nearby gas station, but drinking it only set in the nausea of my stupidity. I spent the next hour miserable and restless, unable to take in any more fluids.

Eventually I was able to up-chuck everything in my stomach, and while I was still very dehydrated, this brought some relief. From here I began taking in liquids at a tremendously slow pace, despite my thrist. We wandered into a state campground for the night, and here I was able to take a hot shower which helped immensely. By time we were settling into bed, I was feeling human and could drink fluids at a normal rate.

Let that be another lesson learned the hard way.

We all slept in the next morning, and took advantage of the complimentary showers before motivating and moving on. We grabbed a few last supplies at the Cornwall Bridge County store, and hit the trail around lunch. After a brief and steep climb, the trail came down to the Hoosatonic river, which we first encountered the day prior.

This stretch of trail was an absolute delight as we sauntered along the river for miles, enjoying its gentle downward grade. As we took our afternoon break , we explored the maps and discovered a low route that contined to follow the river down an old forest road. While the official trail climbed and fell numerous times up and down the hills that follow the river basin, the low route continued on its gentle course and provided us with a relaxing afternoon.

As evening set in we hit the highway, and a quick 10 minute walk got us back on the official trail. Here we ran into Chimney, whom we hadn’t seen in nearly two states! We had a sweet reunion at the shelter; a great end to a well rounded day.

After such an enjoyable time following the river, we decidely continued to do so for another 9 miles. Once again we found an old road that followed the river, while the trail stayed high above. We found an old cemetery along the way, full of grave stones dated from the mid 1800’s.

Eventually the trail came down from the hills and joined our road. We meandered with the river for a couple short miles, before we said our last goodbyes. Nearby we found a hand pumped well to replenish our canteens with, and just like that we found ourselves in New York state. An excellent example of NoBo-centricism, there was a sign greeting north bounders to Connecticut, but nothing to celebrate our entry into this new state. Maybe next time.

After a few more miles, we found ourselves sitting in an open cow pasture, next to an old wooden water tower. We were thirsty, and the tower had water, but there was no way to access it. As we were sitting there discussing our options, a car pulled up to the trail crossing, and stopped.

A woman got out, crossed the road, and disappeared into the bushes down the trail. We started asking ourselves if we had missed something, and about this time the woman took notice of us. She introduced herself as Carolyn, and explained that she was restocking her water cache, something she does twice a day. With this we quenched our thirst and our new friend promised to come back for us later in the evening.

Soon the rest of our trail family arrived, and as we sat in that same field discussing where to go next, a couple folks in town clothes came strolling down the trail. They introduced themselves as English and Justin, professional photographers who do portraits of hikers as a special form of trail magic. Our photo shoot lasted about an hour, and we had a lot of fun in the process…

As English and Justin began packing up, everyone else walked down the highway, destined for their first New York deli. Meanwhile I caught a quick ride into town to visit the grocery store with Justin, while Mandalynn held down the fort in the field. By the time I returned, the sun was going down, and we began scouting out a place to camp.

Just as we settled on a spot, our friend Carolyn from earlier in the day reappeared, and informed us that she was kidnapping us; we would be staying at her house tonight. It was a short drive down the road, and soon she was giving us the nickel tour of the grounds. She pointed out a great spot by the pond to pitch our tarp, and soon began decorating with tea lights and place mats.

Her husband John joined us as well, and together the two of them provided us with the most luxurious camping experience we’ve on trail thus far. We ate our burritos on real plates, complete with all the utensils. Carolyn made a fresh salad fron her garden, and complemented it with large glasses of wine. Meanwhile we took turns cleaning up in the shower, before enjoying the company late into the evening. As we drifted off to sleep to the sounds of cicadas and tree frogs, we could hardly comprehend the chain of events over the last six hours.

We slept like the dead, and were treated in the morning to Carolyn coming out to our tarp with fresh coffee, cream and sugar. We got the last of our things packed up, and on her way to work Carolyn dropped us off at Tony’s deli where the rest of our trail family had spent the night. Open from 3 a.m. to midnight everyday, with free camping for hikers, wifi, showers and a small convenience store, it was a hiker heaven. We stopped in and got some egg sandwiches on fresh bagels, our first genuine New York bagels to date.

Feeling refreshed from the night before, with a good breakfast in our stomachs, we hit the trail with a pep in our step. The trails in northern New York were very good to us, with rolling grades and moderate climbs. After some of the steep pitches we found in Connecticut, it came as a welcomed change.

Unfortunately, finding good water sources was our biggest difficulty; many were stagnant or dry altogether. A few of the shelters were equipped with a hand pumped well, providing cold clear water on the hottest of days. These were far and few between though, forcing us to plan our water more closely, a first for this trail.

We finished the day at yet another deli, similar to the one we had started at. Evidently hungry hikers make for lucrative clientele, and so it not uncommon for the deli’s to offer free camping and other services.

Planning on a short day, we enjoyed a slow morning before heading out around nine. The humidity over the past few days had been some of the worst we’ve seen, bringing the relative heat index over 105°. With rumors of a trail side lake with sandy shores, it seemed like an excellent way to escape the heat.

We arrived at Canopus lake around midday, and quickly discovered it was Saturday; the beach was crowded with New York locals, eager to cool off just as much as ourselves. We claimed a picnic table, and spent the remainder of the day swimming, eating, and pretending not to be thru-hikers.

Our good friend Taj also made an appearance here, and provided us with some impromptu trail magic. Bringing cold drinks, snacks, and live music, it made for an excellent addition to our day on the beach. He even brought a little inflatable globe, which we attempted to play some volleyball with. The wind made this difficult though, and soon some of the locals took pity on us and invited us to play with a real ball.

We played a few heated games, jumping in the water between rounds to cool off. By the end we all sustained some minors cuts and brusies, but had a real good time in the process.

As the park began to close, we migrated to one of the back fields designated for thru-hiker camping. We built a little fire, and Taj serenaded us into the evening. As the night grew dark, a small thunderstorm rolled in, the product of the day’s humidity. Nothing puts out a party like a rain storm, and soon eveyone was running for cover.

When we got up in the morning, half of the trail family was already long gone, but we still didn’t move with any haste. We enjoyed our last goodbyes with Taj, before eventually parting ways and hiking into another blistering day.

In that kind of heat, it was hard to keep a fast pace without choking on the moisture in the air. As such it was a slow day, mostly spent trying to stay hydrated and to keep from over heating. Along the way we found an alternate route parallel to the Appalachian trail, along old Albany post road. According to the map it was supposed to be one of the oldest roads in the nation that is still used today. With a factoid like that, we eagerly opted for the road and enjoyed a glimpse into old New York. With some of the most beautiful old stone cottages and farms, it was a detour worth while.

We stopped into a deli in the late afternoon seeking some relief from the heat, and ran into a handful of other south bounders that we hadn’t seen for several states. After a short reunion, we were talked into hiking another four miles before setting up camp.

Just as we finished getting everything set up, the sky suddenly darkened and the temperature dropped 15° in just a few minutes. Soon the wind arrived, and brought the rain. It was an impressively quick transition, but once it started, it did not let up till morning.

We packed up our wet camp with the sun, and made a quick couple of miles to NY Highway 9D, better known as the bear mountain bridge over the Hudson river. As our first major bridge walk on this trail, it was certainly an epic one, providing us with one of the most expansive views we’d seen in a long time.

After crossing the bridge we’d detoured off trail to the historic Fort Montgomery, where we visited the post office and grocery. Along the way we crossed over a a couple more bridges, giving us a great perspective on where we had hiked down from.

We soon got back on trail, and made our way through a trail side museum and zoo. The cages were depressingly small, especially when compared to the expanse we roam on this long walk. It was hard for us to spend much time there, but one of the last exhibits we stopped at was the bear cage, apparently the lowest point on the entire Appalachian trail at little over 150ft.

Upon leaving the zoo, we were granted access to the state park’s swimming pool, which couldn’t have come at a better time in the noon day heat. We sat and swam for hours, and enjoyed watching Captain and Chimney show off their best dives.

When we finally mustered up the ambition to move on, we found it slow going as we lumbered up Bear mountain. But as these are some of the oldest trails in the nation, they are also some of the best maintained. Stone stairways of massive proportions created a perfect grade up to the summit, each step a single massive monolith. As we came down the other side, the steps grew smaller, and eventually the rugged trail we call home began to reappear.

Determined to beat the heat to the best of our abilities, we got up and packed our things in the dark, and set out just before the sun. In the cool morning air, the climbs seemed easy and the trail gentle. If only weather like that lasted all day. With water becoming increasingly scarce, we planned our day around reliable sources and meandered down the trail.

We took our lunch break at Island pond, jumping in the water to cool ourselves from the heat of the day. It was a great break, but from here the rest of our day seemed to move at the speed of molasses as the sun took its toll. Thankfully numerous water caches littered the various road crossings, which couldn’t have come at a better time.

We passed a few north bounders, but their numbers have been dwindling over the last week as we approach the end of their bubble. As the northern terminus at Mount Katahdin has a hard close date of October 15th, the time remaining to get there for NoBos’s is running out. Thankfully one of the beauties of south bounding is the absence of such deadlines, but we’ve payed our dues in other ways.

After a hot twenty miles, a shimmy through the infamous “Lemon squeezer,” along with a black bear and turkey sighting, we pitched our camp at the bottom of Fitzgerald falls; not only a fine water source, but one of the best looking ones we’ve seen in New York. With the trail family ahead and behind, we ended up alone for the first time in a while, though it was not long lived.

The first few miles out of camp the next day went quick, aided by the relatively smooth terrain and smooth grades. But as we neared the New Jersey border, it seemed that New York wanted to keep us for as long as possible. The last ten miles in that state were quite easily the most difficult, between the abundance of rocks and abrupt micro-climbs and falls. It seemed that if there was a prominent rock anywhere nearby, the trail veered to go over it, taking the path of maximum resistance.

A few of the more technical climbs had easy routes that cut around them, and after seeing a few of these, we decided to try one out. We cut around the steep monolithic ridgeline, and expected to re-join the trail on the other side, but the detour kept going. Refusing to backtrack, we pushed on further. Soon we discovered that we were hiking away from the trail, but in our stubbornness we still refused to turn around. As we scoured the maps on our phone looking for a way to rejoin the trail further south, we began to drain what little battery we had left. We soon came to the realization that we were a good ways off trail, and soon to be without maps or help of any kind.

Thankfully we hit a trail head for a local swimming hole, and here we found a trail map posted on the bulletin board. We set out down another dirt road and hoped for best. After about forty five mintues of wandering around, we finally hit the trail again with about 2% battery left on the phone. A little too close for comfort… At some point on this alternative route we crossed into New Jersey, but as we were out on some old dirt logging road, the border was unmarked.

We soon made our way into the town of Warwick, technically on the New York side. Here the drive-in movie theater let us camp for free, and even brought us some portable radios so we could tune in. After a somewhat stressful afternoon, it was a great way to end the day, watching “Good Boys,” from our tarp.

While the drive-in was very good to us, it did not have showers or laundry, both of which we desperately needed. So we hiked out five miles the next day to the Rickey Farm, just outside of Vernon, NJ. Here we able to find the things that the theater lacked, and spent many hours talking to the matriarch of the farm about her life and struggle on this farm which had been in their family for 7 generations.

It turns out their farm was once much larger, but they recently lost their barn, carriage house and many acres to foreclosure. They had fought for years to try and keep it, but in the end the property taxes were just too high. Life had certainly delt them a difficult hand, but in the end they kept on pushing. As Miss Marilyn put it, “She was in the right line when her Mama was handing out common sense, and in the end that’s what keeps us going.” After many hours of conversation, hot showers, and laundry, we were felt renewed. We left the farm as different people, and for the better.

We picked up some fresh white peaches on our way out at a local farm stand, the best we have had all year. The trails in New Jersey were dramatically better than that of New York, which we appreciated immensely.

Shortly after getting back on trail, we crossed through a large wetland on one of the nicest board walks I’ve ever seen. Apparently it was also one of the single most expensive projects on the entire Appalachian trail. With flooding in mind, the half mile board walk actually floats and articulates with the water levels like a massive dock. Compared to many of the other board walks we’ve crossed, it was beyond impressive.

We wrapped up the day at a secret a shelter a little ways off trail. Technically on private land, the small cabin belongs to a former thru-hiker who kindly opens it up to travelers. Complete with the world’s friendliest donkey, Jake, it was a beautiful piece of land. With a well, and outdoor shower, it is probably one of nicest shelters we’ve seen.

We left the next day well before the sun, and hiked into first light. It had been a long time since we’ve done this, but getting an early start on the day felt great and before we knew it, we found ourselves on the high point of New Jersey, watching the mist fill the canyons, and a hot air balloon explore the skies. We took a detour through the state park there, and enjoyed the reflection of the high point monument by the lake below.

We did our best to minimize our breaks, and kept a good pace throughout the day. By late afternoon we had covered over 25 miles, rolling into camp with with a great sense of accomplishment. We made a quick dinner, and by 8:00 pm we were sound asleep.

We rose early again the next day, eager to repeat our success from the day prior. Once again we left camp in the dark, and sunset came on just as we summited Rattlesnake Mountain. It had been a while since we’d seen a sunrise, and this one certainly didn’t disappoint.

As we approached the Delaware River gorge, we stayed high on the ridgeline above, affording us excellent views of the numerous lakes and rivers below. Moreover, it was one of the most even ridgelines we’ve walked to date; we never climbed or dropped much, just a smooth and gentle grade.

After another long day, we pulled off another 25 miles. We walked over the Delaware River via I-80, making our grand entrance into the state of Pennsylvania. From what we’ve heard, this is supposed to be the rockiest state, earning the nickname “Rocksylvania.” If the rocks we’ve been seeing over the past 50 miles are any indication, then we are in for a treat.

Surprisingly we’ve seen far more bears in the last couple weeks, but no negative encounters. Supposedly we are moving into venomous snake country as well, but that’s something we’re relatively accustomed to. So far the animal encounters have all been enjoyable.

Staying the night at a church hostel in the Delaware Water Gap, we are anxious to take adavantage of some cooler weather. But Chris, one of the men responsible for the amazing trail magic in Vermont, sent us a 15lb box of magic which we have to consume before we can move on. Passing the generosity all around, it is amazing how one human can restore your faith in strangers….

It seems that fall is thinking about moving in, and at last the humidity has begun to drop. With perfect hiking weather upon us, we hope to continue making some bigger mile days. But we’ll see what happens. Seven states down and seven more remain!

Cheers from the trail!

Stump and Mandalynn