Greylocked

At this moment I am hanging in my hammock, inside a shelter partway up Mt. Greylock, the highest peak in Massachusetts. We are in the midst of what is forecast to be a four-day long rainstorm. I suspect that all the other hikers have found motels and hostels to wait out the worst of it, so we have the shelter to ourselves. We spent last night in a motel in Dalton, MA, but as a popular trail aphorism goes, “no pain, no rain, no Maine.” And as if to buoy our sodden spirits, as we hiked down into Cheshire, MA this afternoon we met a gentleman hiker by the name “Battle Axe,” (his radio handle from the Vietnam War) who treated us to lunch at the local pub before we parted ways – he to a B&B and we to begin the ascent of Greylock. The generosity of strangers on the trail still surprises us and is a habit we hope to take with us when our journey is complete.

We were able to enjoy a few gorgeous days after leaving Salisbury, which produced a number of great photos:

The view from our second “Bear Mountain,” this one the highest peak in Connecticut.

We descended through an area called “Sages,” a beautiful place of hemlocks and cascading brooks.

It was there that we crossed into Massachusetts, although our guidebook claims this sign is “misplaced.”

We walked along a half mile of ledges and cliffs atop Race Mountain.

Anne is posing in front of Mt. Everett. If you zoom in on the horizon over her shoulder you may be able to see saddle-shaped Mt. Greylock. A few minutes after this photo was taken we heard an incredible chorus of coyotes, which was fascinating but also chilling. Willett was hilariously perplexed by their carnival of crying barks.

We followed a gloriously mossy old stone wall in a verdant section of Massachusetts forest. It is always interesting to see these sorts of historical relics. We try to imagine when this land was someone’s farm and needed a wall.

Anne noticed this adorable frog inside the hollow rung of a ladder that was part of a footbridge. Can someone identify it for us?

Some more history; we passed the site of the final battle of Shays’ Rebellion near Sheffield, MA.

A cool and shady stone face.

On the Summer Soltice we celebrated the longest day of the year by hiking twenty five miles, breaking briefly to take a cooling dip in Upper Goose Pond. Willett was particularly delighted.

Two Thirds!

Today finds your number one favorite hiking trio in the lovely town of Salisbury, CT. We recently passed the two-thirds mark of our journey and have fewer than 700 miles to go. All eyes are on the prize.

Our day began thusly:

6:00 am — Alarm goes off but hikers remain ensconced in hammocks, unresponsive. Dog barks at sudden noise.

6:30 am — Allure of a day in town is sufficiently exciting to rouse hikers. Many unpleasant minutes spent removing slugs from: shoes, backpacks, raincoats, tarps. Tea and breakfast. Pack up belongings.

8:00 am — Hasty hiking along the Housatonic. Dog spends too much time sniffing.

12:00 pm — Arrive in Salisbury after a ten mile hike, locating the house of a very nice woman who rents out rooms in her house to hikers. Secure dog in room.

12:30 pm — White wine and hamburgers on the patio at the restaurant across the street. Bliss.

After such a lovely time with my family last weekend, we worried that returning to the trail might be rather difficult. Many hikers seem to share our sentiment that this hiking business is all well and good, but the lack of creature comforts is getting a bit tiresome. This week, however, we realized that much can be overlooked given a spirited assortment of hiking companions. While we rarely actually walk with other groups, we appreciate the banter and antics of fellow hikers when we reach our daily destination. It also fosters a pleasant sense of community to hear that, for instance, others are now thinking of Willett’s welfare during particularly hot and rocky stretches.

And now, the photos!

The view from Bear Mountain in New York.

Crossing the Hudson on the Bear Mountain Bridge. Our lowest elevation of the trip at 124 feet above sea level. Also, the rumored end of the merciless rocks. The terrain has indeed improved.

We should have known that the stretch in New York would boast both the best hot dog cart and pizza of the trip–each within a ten minute walk of the trail.

We knew we were in the neighborhood of the Dover Oak, the largest on the AT. Foolishly, we thought this was it…

That’s more like it!

Sometimes we make a game of determining which food a given fungus most resembles. This one was a stretch, but we thought Cheetos.

Lemon custard with corn flakes.

Floppy eruption of pancakes.

Obviously the iPhone can’t capture the splendor of all moments. This photo is more of a placeholder to remind us of the evening we spent looking out over an incredible field of fireflies–all different types and light patterns–while the full moon rose behind.

Everything happens for a reason… Willett’s refusal to walk and our resulting early arrival at my aunt and uncle’s kept us out of the storm that wrought havoc on the trail.

Furthermore, this creek was too treacherous for all three of us to cross and necessitated a detour.

This is what we found on our detour. Plus a package store that gives free beer to thruhikers. Thank you for overflowing, Guinea Creek!

There’s a big fat rattlesnake in that crevice. Luckily, a very kind hiker ahead of us left a note held in place with a rock: “Rattle snake within 10 ft —>” We had just come through a torrential thunderstorm, luckily (?), so the snake was ostensibly comatose.

Willett pointing to a patch of Indians Pipe, a plant that functions without chlorophyll.

The Housatonic, falling somewhere south of Salisbury.

Massachusetts tomorrow and Vermont in a week–these middle states have been short hitters. It’s all uphill from here, though…

Much to Report

A lot has happened since our last update, which I will recount in order, so this is may be a little lengthy. The synopsis is that we have finished rocky Pennsylvania, as well as swampy, buggy New Jersey and nearly all of heat wave afflicted New York.

First, our current location and condition: all members of our party are in good health and spirits as we escaped some brutally hot weather thanks to Anne’s aunt Penny, who drove from her home in Connecticut to pick us up in New York a few days earlier than we had planned. We are spending the weekend with Penny, her husband and Anne’s parents while the heat breaks and Willett recovers from his first trail related ailment, a limp and heat induced fatigue, the subsequent disappearance of which permitted the local veterinarian to deem him fit for further hiking.

And now we rewind back to central Pennsylvania, where we last left our heroes as they entered a notoriously rocky and strenuous portion of the trail:

This scene was not uncommon. Where the rocks were not as great as these, the trail consisted of miles upon miles of loose cobbles.

There were pleasing looking forests, abundant with ferns and hundreds of scuffling and squeaking chipmunks, but this did little to alleviate our troubles with toe stubbing and ankle twisting rocks.

We ascended a difficult hillside at Lehigh Gap, where the ridge has been deforested due to two hundred years of zinc smelting. Willett had to be lifted up some sections, which were harrowing enough to climb with our heavy backpacks.

We couldn’t fathom why the trail was routed through this area, which is designated a Superfund site by the EPA.

It was a horrifying no-mans-land of rocks and carcasses of trees. Grasses and other hardy vegetation are returning in places, which seemed to only provide habitat for innumerable ticks.

With this view of Delaware Water Gap, PA we knew we had finally been delivered from Pennsylvania. We arrived in town to partake of the special at the Village Farmer Bakery, a hot dog and a slice of pie for $2.49. We then crossed the Delaware River into New Jersey.

Jersey started out quite nicely, with improved terrain and views, such as the glacially formed Sunfish Pond, where some cairns had been built on the shore.

My dad met us near Port Jervis, NY on his way to Nova Scotia. He brought Willett a huge marrow bone, the result of which was a completely satisfied pooch, not even roused by a tempting pizza crust.

We were lucky to get clued into the existence of a sort of secret shelter for long distance hikers. A selfless benefactor built a pair of small cabins, with an outdoor shower, well water and a lovely pastoral location. We shared the space with a garrulous ex-Navy medic and his dog, Elvis. He shared many tragic tales with us and gave us advice on subjects ranging from what to do if coyotes attack your dog to proper response and contingencies following a rattlesnake bite.

It was during this period that I noticed the loss the phone charger, so there are few other pictures of New Jersey, which is probably just fine, as the rest of the trail there passed through mosquito infested swamps and wetlands where we didn’t care to pause to record the surroundings. The water sources in this stretch were equally unappealing, and we were lucky to be provided with occasional faucets at park headquarters and even gallon jugs left near road crossings by local trail angels. We soon passed into New York, where the bogs were left behind in favor of hot and lengthy stretches of exposed rock faces.

Wild blueberries abounded here, and miles of bushes laden with yet under-ripe fruit teased us. We only can hope that there will be some tastier specimens further north this summer.

Mountain laurel is in full bloom as well.

Willett and I are seen here passing through “The Lemon Squeezer.” The next few days got hotter and hotter, until we were obliged to stop walking during the middle hours of the day. Even with the siesta, we were quite belabored by the heat, especially Willett, who developed a limp and then to our dismay began to collapse trail side in protest. We were uplifted by a meeting with a trail angel who went by the name “Paddy-O” at Lake Tiorati who refreshed us with cold beverages, snacks and hot dogs. We intended to hike a few days more before meeting Anne’s family, but Willett’s condition did not improve by the morning, so we arranged for rescue by Anne’s aunt.

And that brings us up to date. We intend to be back to finish the last few days in New York after the weekend, and from there knock out Connecticut and Massachusetts in the coming weeks before entering much more challenging and mountainous terrain, hopefully without the debilitating heat.

Technical Difficulties

I have to keep this post succinct because I lost the phone charger and won’t be able to replace it for a week or so. My bad.

The short of it is that we have happily finished Pennsylvania and are now moving through New Jersey, which is beautiful, contrary to expectation and popular belief. We hope to update the blog soon with the latest of our travels, but for the meantime, please be satisfied with this fine image:

P.S. The sign reads “True Love!”

P.P.S. I subsequently shaved the facial hair; don’t be alarmed.

Extra Lucky

Due a sixty-mile detour to DC and a bonus day of repose with our friends in Shippensburg, the official halfway mark proved far more elusive than a previous blog post suggested. In case you were worrying, we did in fact make it.

See:

Quite a fancy halfway marker if you ask me.

Shortly after the halfway mark there is a general store famed for hosting the “Half Gallon Challenge” wherein hikers consume a half gallon of ice cream as fast as possible. As you can see, Travis lagged behind my admirable time of 26 minutes. He claims the chocolate chips “interfered” with his ability to consume rapidly.

After the glory of walking 1,090.5 miles wore off, we found ourselves back in rainy PA–only now we were slogging through miles of muddy farmland. On the bright side, we did find this lovely specimen next to a corn field:

That is by far the largest four-leaf clover either of us have ever seen and has traveled with us ever since. We figure the amount of luck bestowed on the finder is proportional to the size of the clover, thus we are extra lucky.

Cases in point:

1. Pennsylvania is a notoriously dry state. Past hikers have had to hike miles off trail just to get water. Lucky us, days of rain to fill the springs and streams!!!

And then we get to ford the river, just like in Oregon Trail. Extra lucky!

2. For hungry hikers in Duncannon, all food options come in epic proportions. Pancakes? 11 inches in diameter. Ice cream? A small gets you a pint of ice cream forced onto a waffle cone. While hikers tend to eat more than an average person, we are not immune to excess-induced malaise. Oh well, extra lucky!

3. Apparently, some people go their entire hike without seeing a venomous snake. Extra luckily, my first such encounter involved not one, not two, but THREE large rattlesnakes sunning themselves most inconveniently on and near the trail. We opted to give them wide berth and bushwhack past the sunny rocks they called home. Extra lucky!

We have not yet decided whether the freakishly large clover accompany us much further. A little moderation would be much appreciated.

Photo miscellany:

Orchid!

Looking down on the Susquehanna on our way out of Duncannon.

Venomous Snake 2.0, the Copperhead.

…We get our fun in when we can? Willett mostly sleeps discreetly in the background.

980.6 miles to Katahdin!

A Dry Place in PennsylRainia

During our muddy trudge through the first section of Pennsylvania, we had been anticipating our arrival in the home territory of our friends at Toigo Orchards. For those following this blog who aren’t familiar, I frequently used their tasty fruits in my dessert making in D.C.

Mark Toigo had called us a couple weeks ago to invite us to stay with them, as the trail passes nearby their farm. With the forecast threatening more daylong soakings, we decided to call them a little earlier than planned. Vas, the orchard manager, picked us off the trail on very short notice and put us up in his house in Carlisle. Having availed ourselves of the shower and laundry, we were taken out for burgers and beer in nearby Boiling Springs, a trail town which we will walk through in couple days.

We spent a full day on Vas’s couch, avoiding the continuing precipitation, enjoyed a series of fantastic meals and indulged in many adult beverages, all of which Mark and Vas insisted were at their expense. In short, we received such fair and generous treatment from our benefactors, that we are still at a loss to express our gratitude.

Vas prepared us goose eggs and bacon for breakfast. The yolks were enormous and rich as butter, perfect for dipping into with sour rye bread.

Mark showing off “Dirty Girl,” his seaplane that he bought in Brazil, refurbished and flew back to the States. Whoa. He is still working on her and hasn’t done a water landing yet, but the five day journey sounded pretty epic. Our hike seemed pretty tame by comparison.

Anne crawled into the nose of the plane and opened a hatch that a crew member would use to assist in mooring the plane on the water.

Before returning us trail, Vas took us by the orchard where Willett cavorted with his wire haired Dachshund, Effie. We left with our packs heavy with apples, cucumbers and strawberries.

New Digs

As Travis hinted in the previous post, life since the C&O Canal has been, in a word, soggy.

The bulk of our hiking has been divided between dodging immense puddles, depicted above, and scrambling over slick, lichen-ous boulders, depicted below.

Even in such trying conditions, our new hammocks handled the evening rain and passing storms admirably. That said, I came just shy of scampering over and into Travis’ hammock during a few particularly fierce rounds of thunder. Willett slept soundly below Travis’ hammock all evening.

Here are a few sunny shots of hammock life:

Sans tarps.

With tarps.

So far hammock life has been quite pleasant. They are quite cozy and, if you position yourself correctly (diagonally), quite comfortable. We both stayed dry, as did our belongings, which makes the hammocks at least as effective as a proper tent in rainy conditions. Finding two sets of trees at an appropriate distance is significantly easier than finding a flat, bare patch of ground. We are, after all, in the woods. As an added bonus, we have very little interaction with the swampy ground.

Some may see hammocks as the “separate bedrooms” option for thruhikers, but rest assured that Travis and I are no less fond of one another and he does not stink or snore excessively.

Bye bye biscuits and gravy 😦 Hello snazzy new hiking skirt–all the better for changing discreetly while at camp. This sign marked the MD-PA border.

The other Washington Monument. This one is located in Maryland and is significantly more creepy inside.

Fancy fungus

Stay tuned–stories of our wet weather rescue forthcoming!

Back on Trail

We are back to hiking after four full days in Arlington. We kept busy during our visit, although we admittedly spent most of the time preparing to party with family and friends. The chefs from Clyde’s managed to get away from the restaurants for the evening and prepared an enormous amount of downright righteous food. There was leg of lamb, hanger steaks, grilled chicken and escarole salad, pasta with Italian sausage and another with asparagus, beautiful platters of cured meats and an inspiring array of cold salads and veggies. My former assistants from the bakery brought us sourdough bread and a Marjolaine, a French cake made from thin almond meringues layered between chocolate, vanilla and hazelnut creams. Anne and I rounded out the selection with a rendition of the now infamous Grape Koolaid Pie and a pile of brownies, blondies and “redheads” (our recently imagined molasses bar cookie with candied ginger and raspberry jam). Thanks so much to everyone who contributed to the festivity and especially to my mom for hosting it putting so much effort into the preparations!

After the dust settled, Anne and I spent the entire next day planning the next half of the hike, which had us running to several grocery stores, multiple trips to the outfitters, the post office and to pick up a very advanced backpacking hammock from our friend and former thruhiker, Joseph. Anne meticulously examined the guidebook to plan the next thousand plus miles of resupplies and mail drops. We also carefully evaluated our summer clothing and gear selection, which involves some interesting changes that we will detail in a future post.

My mom drove us back to Harpers Ferry early the next morning (we figured that walking back wouldn’t be as novel as the walk in). The trail has welcomed us back with days of rain and thunderstorms, and the forecast promises much more of it to come, which is a dreary and defeating prospect, particularly for Willett, who looks terribly forlorn when the big deluges roll through. We are looking forward to moving through the rainforest that is Maryland and into Pennsylvania where we hope to be able to phone a friend to get us dry and resupplied…

John roasted a locally raised leg of lamb. This shot is prime for some photoshopping…

Francois brought us a gift of morels, the last of the season. Somehow I neglected to take photos of any food other than the mushrooms.

Sal and Sophia with the largest specimen.

Some leftover steak with eggs and morels was our supper the next night.

Spontaneity on the C&O Canal

As some of our surprised friends and family now know, as we approached Harpers Ferry, we found ourselves tempted by an intriguing opportunity. The AT follows the C&O canal for several miles as it leaves town northbound. We realized that we could possibly go AWOL from the trail and hike sixty miles on the neatly maintained and perfectly level towpath directly to DC and arrive a few days early for our midway break. With a little research we learned that the Park Service has built campsites with tables, porta-potties and water pumps about every five miles. We convinced ourselves that it would be a memorable and unique addendum to our thruhike, and so found ourselves ignoring the white blazes for the first time in months. Our first camp was just ten miles out of town, where the canal is adjacent to what turned out to be a very busy set of railroad tracks. We hardly got an hour of quiet all night as we suffered the incredible din of aged and poorly lubricated freight trains passing.

The next day we pushed for thirty-four miles, almost ten more than we have managed on the AT in a single day. The towpath gets pretty monotonous compared to the views and lively company of the trail, however we did enjoy perfect weather and a good deal of interesting wildlife. We saw muskrats, owls, geese, dozens of turtles, herons, colorful skinks, hordes of mosquitos, abundant wildflowers and honeysuckle and some impressively old and thick sycamore trees. When we stopped for the night just fifteen miles shy of Georgetown we were completely spent. We still managed an early start and were able to surprise my sister on the front steps of my mom’s house in Arlington by mid-afternoon. We are now relaxing and planning the second half of our journey, which will resume after the weekend and it’s festivities.

Here is the highlight reel from the canal marathon:

The journey began here.

Fungus the size of platters.

Anne spotted this silver dollar sized snapping turtle struggling on a bridge. We helped it to find some water.

Almost every mile looked like this.

We finally reached a place near Great Falls that we recognized.

I found a four leaf clover near the Dam!

The Key Bridge at last. Sixty miles in forty-eight hours is not something we will likely attempt again, but it was really rewarding when we arrived.

The Comma

As exciting as it was to be back in the land of our gear tests and practice hikes, nothing has yet compared to the feeling of hiking 1,000 miles. That comma carries some serious weight. When, aside from flying, have I done 1,000 miles of anything in a continuous fashion?

Hooray! No one was here to take our picture so this is another magically spliced photo

We passed into the four digit realm on our first day in West Virginia. The day had been an interesting one. We began with the “Roller Coaster”–a 14.5 mile stretch with a dozen tightly packed ascents and descents ranging from four hundred to seven hundred feet. We were lucky enough to drop in at a PATC hostel midday for a couple of pints of ice cream–our number one craving on warm, rigorous days. Passing the 1,000 mile mark late that afternoon gave us a boost of energy that lasted into Harpers Ferry, the symbolic halfway point of the trail. Technically, it’s about 75 miles shy of the actual halfway point but the Appalachian Trail Conservancy has its headquarters there and makes a pleasant fuss over the hikers passing through.

Here are a few images from our days in Shenandoah National Park and Sky Meadows:

Four separate thruhikers reported that this particular bunny sat obstinately in the middle of the path leaving the shelter. Why it returned repeatedly to such a high traffic location, we may never know.

Skyline Drive cuts through the middle of Shenandoah National Park and the AT tracks it closely–we crossed back and forth over the road as many as 12 times in a day.

A yellow lady slipper orchid growing by the trail.

After switching to our lighter weight summer gear a few weeks earlier, we encountered fits of freezing rain and snow even into May. This day had us in high hopes for seeing a “snowbow” (the snowy sibling of a rainbow…) but it never materialized.

We found the tree from one of our previous forays into the park!

Sky Meadows on a lovely Mothers Day meant lots of families out and about. One such mother, bedecked in sparkly fairy wings, explained that we were in “Imaginationland” as her two children passed by in even more extravagant costumes.

Crude.

The view at the end of the Roller Coaster.

Behind those twigs lies the mighty Shenandoah River with Harpers Ferry just across the bridge. Halfway, ho!