Author Archives: donsbrother4

I first set foot in Bennington, VT in the mid 90’s. Linda and I had flown to Boston, rented a car, and were doing a B & B vacation throughout New England. We stopped off in Bennington for lunch at the Madison Brew Co. before driving up to Manchester Center for the night. At the time I doubted that I would ever visit Bennington again. Less than ten years later, however, Alton and I ended an AT section hike of CT/MA here the day Ronald Reagan died. Then in 2007 I hitched in from VT 9, just to get a Friendly’s burger, before hiking to the Melville Nauheim Shelter at the beginning of our Vermont section hike. So today I’m walking around Bennington for the fourth time. I like this town.

The day began with another trail angel, Alan, the proprietor of the motel, driving Banzai, Pilgrim, and me to the Blue Benn Diner for breakfast. A favorite of hikers, the Blue Benn looks like it belongs on a 50’s movie set. With a juke box at every booth, I wondered what would happen if multiple people chose to select a song simultaneously. Fortunately only one patron needed to be serenaded on the already hot morning. My friends and I listened along for free. It doesn’t get much better than classic country music during breakfast in a small town America diner. With home made raspberry jam from a jar, bacon and eggs never tasted so good.

After our meal Alan even returned to offer another ride to wherever we needed to go. I chose a trip to the laundromat. From there I walked to the post office to pick up my packages. Thankfully, I’ll now be able to hike with two poles after finally getting the replacement parts from Leki. They honored their lifetime warranty with a complete new shaft. Since I’ve hiked with only one pole for over three weeks, it may take an adjustment to acclimate myself to two again. Really it should be no issue. I’m sure I’ll once again be grateful for both as I resume the Vermont AT tomorrow.

So with a free afternoon I decided to go for a walk. At one point I asked a pedestrian how far it was to the Old First Church. She said it would take me about an hour and forty minutes if I were a fast walker. I arrived at my destination in twenty minutes. After a brief tour of the 208 year old current structure, I ventured to the cemetery behind the church to pay homage to my favorite American poet, Robert Frost. Frost had owned a home in the nearby town of Shaftesbury and was present at the Old First Church for its re-dedication. While visiting the site, a couple from Manassas, VA engaged me in a conversation regarding my hike. I told Greg and Nora about Don and some of the facets of the trail. Seeming very interested, they asked lots of questions. Before leaving the graveyard, I sat on a shady bench by Frost’s grave for awhile and wrote.

For the remainder of the afternoon I just rested. Much has certainly transpired over the past week. For instance, last Tuesday when I saw Susquehanna Slim sitting on a bench in Salisbury, CT, looking tired and dejected, I shared with him a little about my method of hiking the AT. A few days later he had temporarily left the trail, suffering from exhaustion. So I emailed Slim an invitation to embrace the Don’s Brother’s Method (DBM) for the remainder of his hike. Last night Slim accepted the offer. With a prior commitment next weekend, Slim plans to continue his southbound hike toward the Delaware Water Gap for now. Then one week from today he intends to join Banzai, Pilgrim, and me for the assault on Katahdin. Yes indeed, it’s all coming together. Our trio will soon become a foursome as our motley bunch marches northward up the Appalachian Trail. “One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.”

Time moves slowly on the Appalachian Trail. Time passes quickly on the Appalachian Trail. Time often seems irrelevant on the Appalachian Trail.. Four weeks ago today was Father’s Day. I said goodbye to Linda after her brief visit and took the rest of the day off. There were 996 miles still to be hiked. Three weeks ago today I dined happily in Stroudsburg, PA after a satisfying first day in New Jersey. Two weeks ago today I arrived at the Hudson River, having walked alone all day. Last Sunday I spent a pleasant day in Salisbury, CT after hiking in from Falls Village. Sundays continue to be the only day of the week that somehow seem to set themselves apart from the other six. I remember Sundays.

So today I crossed the state line in the middle of the woods, entering Vermont with Banzai and Pilgrim on a tiring 18.4 mile day. Now in Bennington, VT in the comfort of another “mom and pop” motel, I find myself with a mere or staggering (depending on how one looks at it) 580 miles remaining. If all continues to go as scheduled (if planning is truly possible) I should have six Sundays left of my thru hike of the Appalachian Trail. As I ponder the magnitude of what still awaits, I reflect on “the day that The Lord hath made.” Despite periods of loneliness, discomfort, and fatigue, I try “to rejoice and be glad in it.” Whatever the circumstance, Sundays always seem to offer some semblance of purpose for this endeavor that I have undertaken. I appreciate the Lord’s Day on the trail.

So after another wholesome breakfast at the Chef’s Hat, I joined Banzai and Pilgrim for the ride back to the trail near North Adams. Once again, Steve Labombard provided the trail magic transportation. After crossing a pedestrian bridge, we walked briefly on a neighborhood street before heading back into the woods. And folks, I mean the woods. Our streak of three hot lunches abruptly ended as we didn’t even cross a paved road until we reached the end of today’s hike at VT 9 near Bennington. This was the most isolated section of trail I have hiked since…..honestly, I can’t remember a section this much in the wilderness in some time.

Even though we climbed over 2000 feet during the course of the day, it wasn’t the elevation change that caused the most frustration. It was the MUD. Seeping, oozing, “sucking up a shoe” black mud was everywhere. Although we had been forewarned, my frustration level increased with each new section to navigate. After a while it became obvious that there weren’t enough rocks and sticks to step on to avoid the yucky substance. My blue trail runners now have taken on a new appearance. The only saving grace was that no rain fell on us today.

Early in the hike Banzai continued to fascinate Pilgrim and me with his wealth of knowledge on such a wide variety of subject matter. For all practical purposes, Banzai is a walking encyclopedia. From Roman history to Greek philosophy to Christian theology to classic literature to the NBA, Banzai can conduct a walking lecture while scaling rocks or attempting to circumvent mud. Whatever subject I broached, Banzai immediately began a diatribe that left me admiring his intelligence and Pilgrim shaking his head in disbelief that the young man is so knowledgeable. We both suggested Jeopardy.

About four miles into today’s walk we passed the sign welcoming us to Vermont. For the next few days the AT and the Long Trail are the same. Eventually, the Long Trail will bear off to travel northward until it reaches the Canadian border. After stopping for some pics at the state line, we hiked steadily until noon when we took a lunch break on some rocks under a power-line. A cool breeze kept the bugs away while we ate. In the afternoon we met three southbound thru hikers, Danko, Four Meals, and Righteous. All had started between May 31 and June 6. It should now be a pretty regular occurrence to see southbounders on their way to Georgia.

As the afternoon waned Banzai hiked ahead, leaving Pilgrim and me to walk quietly for the last three hours. Other than the mud, nothing else stood out except for the dangerously steep descent to the road at the end of the day. Even though there were rock steps for much of it, the final mile required a concentrated effort and extreme caution. Pilgrim followed as I tried to select the least perilous path to the highway. When we finally reached the road Steve was waiting with a cold Mountain Dew for me and chocolate milk for Pilgrim. Banzai was already there, sitting on the tailgate sipping on a coke. We quickly drove the five miles to town and a motel. After sharing a room the past three nights, we decided to each get our own today.

It’s almost dusk. My buddies went for an early meal. I wanted to write first, so I’ll be dining alone tonight. A little solitude can be comforting at times. After all, tomorrow I’ve planned a zero day. After hiking 18 consecutive days, I feel like it’s time for a break. I can’t think of a better place for a respite than Bennington, a town with some nice shops, cafes, and a good bit of history. So tomorrow I’ll rest. Then on Tuesday Pilgrim, Banzai, and I will continue the journey through Vermont on the Appalachian Trail.

The story goes that when he observed the slope of Mt. Greylock in the winter, Herman Melville was inspired to create the 19th century novel Moby Dick. The eventual classic, published in 1851, would be one of only two that I did not finish reading the semester I took The American Novel. I have a theory that only a handful of people in the entire world have ever read every page of the prodigious masterpiece. So today when I made my assault on Mt. Greylock I took about fifteen seconds to pay homage to Melville. Those were the only seconds I could spare on what turned out to be an almost relaxing 14.7 mile day. With varying weather patterns to contend with, my two hiking companions and I not only scaled Greylock but did so at a steady pace and without a break.

The day commenced with another hearty breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and coffee at the Chef’s Hat outside Williamstown, MA. Banzai, Pilgrim, and I were then transported back to the trail in Cheshire by Tom Levardi. We greatly appreciated Tom taking the time to do a rather long shuttle. Longskirt also joined us for the ride.

We all began today’s hike together from where we had left off yesterday at the post office.The trail continued through the sleepy town of Cheshire for a short distance before turning into the woods. Then the first of several climbs confronted us. Banzai and I hiked ahead as the elevation increased from 1007 feet to 3252 over five miles. This was the first time the trail had been above 3000 feet since Virginia. With the higher elevation, mosquitoes suddenly became non-existant, at least for the day.

After passing the Jones Nose Trail, we braced for the ascent of Greylock. What we had anticipated as being strenuous actually turned out to be just another moderate climb. When we reached the summit we found ourselves in a cloud and light mist. The highest peak in Massachusetts, Greylock is also the home of Bascom Lodge. Banzai, Pilgrim, and I had the good fortune to eat a hot meal right on the trail for the third straight day. Lots of folks were hanging out at the lodge. Most, however, had driven up. There was even some kind of Native American drum presentation underway. We just had our lunch and walked back out into the fog.

As we started our descent the cloud cover came close to concealing the blazes. In fact, we wandered briefly before finding the correct direction. When we did get going Banzai quickly hiked away from Pilgrim and me. With only 6.3 miles to walk in the afternoon, we had high hopes of finishing much earlier than the last two days. Knowing that we still needed a shuttle from the trailhead at MA 2, I called Ellen McCollum from the ATC list. What a terrific surprise it was to discover that Ellen was not only a former thru hiker (2000), but that she had been reading my trail journal. Bagel was happy to provide my buddies and me with a ride.

After a very steep, time consuming descent to 660 feet, Pilgrim and I walked the 0.5 miles on Phelps Ave. to MA 2 where Bagel was waiting. Banzai had already arrived and was enjoying an extra large cookie and a bottle of juice. Trail angel Bagel had cookies and juice for Pilgrim and me as well. After some brief getting acquainted, Bagel drove us back to our motel. I continue to be humbled by the fine people I am meeting along my way. I can’t thank Bagel enough for her kindness and generosity.

All of a sudden everything seems to be going great again. Another potential trail angel, Steve from Bennington, VT, sent me a message today offering any help we might need while we’re in his neck of the woods. When I called him about a ride after tomorrow’s hike, he suggested he pick up our gear here in Williamstown so that we can slack into Bennington tomorrow. Things are really coming together. Banzai and I have gone so far as to declare this “The summer of George.” Pilgrim has no idea what we’re talking about.
So in the morning my two buddies and I will hike out of Massachusetts and into Vermont, state number 12 on the Appalachian Trail. It’s all coming together, folks.

Tom Levardi asked, “Are you having fun?” I paused briefly, remembering the same question posed by Mary the librarian in Greenwood Lake, NY. “Yes, I’m having fun again, at least for now.” With cooler weather, good companionship, and fewer mosquitoes, life once again is good on the Appalachian Trail. At least it was at Tom’s home on Depot St. early this afternoon when Banzai, Pilgrim, and I walked into Dalton, Massachusetts. For the past 35 years Tom has been allowing AT hikers to tent in his yard. So as we strolled by just before noon, we were greeted by Colin and Misery.

The day had started five hours earlier with a shuttle back to Washington Mountain Rd. When I arrived back at the Quality Inn from McDonald’s, the silver Subaru had already pulled up in the parking lot. In place of Roy, however, Marilyn “the cookie lady” Wiley was behind the wheel. It was a real pleasure meeting the somewhat famous lady known for her delicious treats. So as soon as Pilgrim and Banzai made their way to the car, we headed out of Pittsfield and back to the trail. Before starting our 18.3 mile day, Banzai snapped a pic of me with another AT legend.

Today’s hike went quickly. With only a minor climb and few challenging sections, we hiked into Dalton right on schedule. When I spotted Misery sitting at the picnic table in Tom’s yard, I was surprised that he wasn’t a couple of days up the trail. The young man from Buffalo may have acquired a new reason for his trail name. Earlier today Misery explained that he had undergone a root canal. That’s not something one expects while hiking the trail. So since he needs to return to Dalton for a follow-up appointment in two weeks, Misery was getting ready to bus to Lincoln, NH and southbound back here.

Also at Tom’s was Nomad and his van. After having to end his thru hike attempt at 400 plus miles, the former youth pastor from Austin said he felt God had other plans for him. So for the past three months he has been helping out hikers up and down the trail. I chatted with Nomad about Don and his faith. Nomad asked me to sign his van, a tradition that other AT thru hikers are following. He provided Banzai, Pilgrim, and me with cold soft drinks as well. It’s people like Nomad, who give unselfishly of their time and resources, to help hikers reach their goal.

While my hiking buddies and I were hanging out at the house, Tom offered to drive us from the corner where the AT turns up High St. to the Dalton Restaurant for lunch. He also made a stop at the post office so that Banzai and Pilgrim could pick up mail drops. After a nutritious meal, Tom drove us back to where we left the trail. For the next mile we walked by quaint New England homes on High St. before following the white blazes back up into the woods. When we reached the woods, we were again greeted with a climb. That was followed by more mundane terrain until the final mile of the day.

Late in the afternoon Banzai hiked on up the trail ahead of Pilgrim and me. Just before the final descent into Cheshire, Pilgrim and I encountered him resting on a rock chatting with Long Skirt, a section hiker from Indiana who plans to hike all the way to Katahdin. Just past this outcrop a blue blazed trail led to the Cobbles, another marble outcropping with a view of the town of Cheshire. Long Skirt and I ventured up the short side trail for the view while Banzai and Pilgrim kept going. After Long Skirt and I retraced our path back to the white blazes, we hiked together at a steady pace into Cheshire. When we arrived at an ice cream shop on the outskirts of town, we joined Pilgrim for a refreshing treat while we waited for the Wiley’s and a shuttle to Williamstown.

So tonight I’m in another “mom and pop” motel in Williamstown, MA with Banzai and Pilgrim. Pilgrim just declared, “I’m going to keep the bathroom door closed because the sink drips and the toilet runs.” Banzai responded, “Why can’t we just have one problem?” Ah, such is the life of the AT hiker on the DBM plan. As I’ve been saying about this hike since Georgia, “You can’t always get what you want.” Hey, who’s complaining. We’ve slack packed 18.3 miles on a cooler day, had three restaurant meals, and are sleeping in a room tonight. Considering all things, life is pretty good these days on the Appalachian Trail.

The hiking day is over. I’m sitting in a Friendly’s in Pittsfield, MA. It’s late. Pilgrim, Banzai, and I are waiting for our meal. Pilgrim and I ordered from the senior menu. Our meals include a complimentary two scoop, one topping sundae. The service is slow. We are hungry but patient. It’s been a long day on the Appalachian Trail.

My day began with a ride from Great Barrington back to the trail near Tyringham, MA. Roy Wiley, another AT legend and the husband of the “cookie lady,” has been shuttling hikers for over twenty years. So with an old plan and two fellow hikers for companions, I covered the 18.0 miles in under nine hours. Other than two beautiful lakes, there really wasn’t much to get excited about throughout the day. Still we all hiked with new found energy and enthusiasm, mainly due to lower humidity and fewer mosquitoes.

The picturesque, placid lakes we passed today made me think about my brother. As I stood by the banks of Upper Goose Pond I thought about how much Don would have loved to be fishing here. I could see him casting from the bank on the lazy afternoon. This was the type of day he loved to be out on his bass boat, appreciating an opportunity to enjoy nature. Don would have really liked Upper Goose Pond.

Just past Upper Goose Pond the trail crosses over I-90 and then heads back into the woods toward US 20. At the road we walked the 0.1 mile to a small inn with a picnic table by another lake where we could have some lunch. Pilgrim and I had each packed a couple of burgers from McDonald’s. When we went inside to use a soft drink machine, we also discovered a microwave. This hike keeps getting better. Not only was I able to purchase a Coke, but I got to heat up my burgers.

After lunch the three of us faced only the second substantial climb of the day. Regardless of the elevation change, all continued to go well. Sure, there were some rocks, a good bit of mud, and a few pests, but overall we were only pleasantly tired at the end of the hike. Banzai said he was definitely liking the DBM (Don’s Brother’s Method). With two fellow hikers aboard, I hope to perfect some of the minor issues over the next few days.

Late in the afternoon Banzai hiked on ahead for awhile. When Pilgrim and I arrived at Washington Mountain Rd., and the home of Roy, Banzai was sitting at a picnic table having a cookie. Roy returned shortly with cookies for Pilgrim and me before he drove us to Pittsfield. A little later we checked into a motel, cleaned up, and headed to dinner. So despite the slow service at the restaurant, we eventually were served a good meal. Tomorrow I’ll move closer to Vermont as I hike along with Banzai and Pilgrim northward on the Appalachian Trail.

What a difference a day makes. With two hiking buddies, a slack pack, gentle terrain, and fewer pests, today came close to being a magnificent one on the Appalachian Trail. I sensed that a lot of folks must have been offering up prayers after yesterday’s journal post, because the mosquito population appeared to be substantially decreased today. Armed with a new supply of Off, I walked behind Banzai and ahead of Pilgrim for most of the comfortable 12.2 mile day. After having covered my arms and legs with the oily substance at the outset, I only re-applied once throughout the five hour, twenty minute hike.

The day started with breakfast at the Great Barrington McDonald’s before we headed up to the intersection of US 7 and MA 23. We had barely stuck out our thumbs when Marty, a local resident driving a van, pulled over. Commenting that we were in a very hiker friendly town, he seemed pleased to assist us with a ride back to the trail. That’s two rides, in an average of about one minute’s wait, I’ve scored in the past two days. Banzai noted how it must be a good sign that he’s now hiking along with Don’s Brother. Pilgrim and I were just grateful for a quick pick up, knowing that we had to finish the hike by 2:00 to meet our pre-arranged free shuttle.

With two hiking companions for conversation and a room to return to at the end of the day, my attitude had improved tremendously. Banzai commented that you can learn more about a person in two hours on the trail than you might otherwise learn in years in the regular world. And so I hiked and talked, following a 31 year old mechanical engineer from Michigan and being trailed by a 66 year young retired systems analyst from Los Angeles. I think all three of us felt genuinely pleased to have fellow travelers to share the day, as we traversed another rather nondescript trail for the duration of today’s hike. Such is the life on the Appalachian Trail.

Able to walk without swatting so much and with the aforementioned almost continuous conversation, the miles evaporated quickly. Early on two northbound hikers caught and passed us, stopping briefly to chat. I literally couldn’t believe that I has run into Puffy again. The young man that I had last seen in North Carolina had taken some time off with an infection but was now hiking strong. His buddy, Pigpen, who hails from Georgia, followed him in stride. Seeing Pigpen reminded me just how significant these brief meetings can be. I not only remembered talking with him also back in NC/TN, but even recalled the day. Pigpen had offered me some water from his Sawyer Squeeze as we took a break at a shelter. I remember clearly it was the day of the Boston Marathon. Also a runner, Pigpen talked about the marathon with me that day. Obviously neither of us knew of the events that were unfolding as we spoke. It was awesome seeing the two again.

When my buddies and I reached the trail leading to the Shaker Campsite, I sent Sub Zero a text to ask if he could pick us up an hour earlier than planned. The section hiker and general contractor quickly responded with an OK. With a little more zip in our steps, Banzai, Pilgrim, and I covered the final 3.1 miles in an hour and fifteen minutes. That included a climb over Cobble Hill, a spot with an abundance of some kind of yellow wildflower and the best view of the day. With impending rain holding off and the mosquitoes at bay, I didn’t even mind all the muddy, swampy sections we had to negotiate the final two miles. I was especially grateful at one point that I avoided stepping in some of the oozing black mud that sucked up almost half of my hiking pole.

Getting to the Main Rd. going into Tyringham a little before 1:00, we waited at an AT parking area where Pigpen was having some lunch. Just after 1:00 Sub Zero arrived. The trail angel who had given me a hitch yesterday was happy to offer the complimentary shuttle today. Pilgrim and Banzai road in the back of his truck while I joined my new friend in the cab. Sub Zero enlightened me on some of the “famous” people who live in the area during the ride back to Great Barrington. It was truly an honor and a pleasure to be driven by a fellow hiker and someone who appeared to be a genuine good guy.

As a conclusion to a really good day, Banzai, Pilgrim, and I enjoyed a meal at Ena, a Greek establishment owned by Tom. Originally from Greece and a former acrobat and nightclub owner in New York, Tom seemed to take great pride in entertaining three hungry hikers. Sharing pictures of his past, a few stories, and jovial conversation, Tom was quite the host while we waited for our meal. Once again, I was treated to a great “town experience.”

So after a tough day yesterday, good fortune surrounded me today. In fact, I’m beginning to understand again why some folks envy me and think I’m doing great. My apologies for the tirade yesterday. I sincerely appreciate all the comments and encouragement. Just remember, however, I’m not “almost there.” There are still 647 miles to be hiked which include the remainder of the Massachusetts Berkshires, the Green Mountains of Vermont, the notoriously challenging White Mountains of New Hampshire, and the rugged 100 mile wilderness of Maine. When I get to Baxter State Park, I’ll “almost be there.” For now, tomorrow offers me another opportunity to hike with companions as the three of us continue northward on the Appalachian Trail.

When Fresh Coke asked me how I slept last night, I immediately knew that he and Restless Cowboy had heard my “night terror” screaming. I explained the malady to the German brothers as best as I could. Restless Cowboy replied that he wasn’t sure if he should have come across the hall to check on me. Assuring the two that I always eventually wake myself, they still seemed a little befuddled by the wailing that had awakened them in the middle of the night. It was only my third such episode since the hike began. None have occurred in the woods, thankfully. This one, I think, was also the first that had been overheard by another hiker. Oh well. Maybe it will give the lads from Europe a story to tell when they return to their homeland.

The brothers are leaving the trail for a few days to do some sightseeing in the New England area before Fresh Coke departs for Germany. For him his hike is over. He just points to his head and says, “Mental,” when asked why. Restless Cowboy plans to return and finish the hike solo. With a mid-September visa expiration, he should still have time. Later in the morning I would wish them well before I headed back to the trail. The first leg of their off-trail excursion involves a hitch to Hartford. Both the brothers seemed very sure that they would have little trouble finding a lift.

After again cooking myself some breakfast, I moseyed down to the Post Office to send a few items up the trail. Since Franklin, NC I’ve travelled without a tent. As of today I’m sleeping bagless as well. Since I was still carrying my winter bag and recently hadn’t used it except to lie on, I figured why not trim some more weight from the pack. I also shipped my rain pants and gloves ahead. Andy, the postal worker on duty, found me the perfect size box for the items, which I forwarded to Norwich, Vermont, the last trail town before New Hampshire. With all the towns I’m hitting, I don’t know why I haven’t sent these items ahead long ago.

After mailing the package, I walked to a cafe on Main St. for a cup of coffee. As I entered “A Whiter Shade of Pale” was playing in the background. I made a reference to Procol Harum, but it quickly became obvious that the young lady behind the counter failed to understand my comment. I, therefore, decided not to get into “while the Miller told his tale” lyric from the late 60’s hit. Not seeming too interested in my small talk, she turned to help another customer with almost a smile. I took my coffee to a table outside where I joined Banzai who was sipping on some juice and munching a muffin.

Old Banzai looked a little down. When we talked about the morale on the trail, he said some people may say they’re still enjoying the hike, but deep down he feels everyone is miserable. Can’t say that I disagree with him. When I offered him part of my shuttle at no expense, he accepted after a brief rumination. So we walked back up to Grove St. for the ride to The AT. Maria was at her sassy best during the eleven mile trip up MA 41 where I had ended yesterday’s hike. She had both of us laughing and cutting up with the delightful lady for the duration of the ride. I said my final goodbye to the AT legend and then began the walk with Banzai.

We hiked together for the first 3.8 miles, a level stretch through a section of untrimmed foliage. The mosquitoes began their barrage early and never let up for the 12.0 mile day. Banzai left the trail at US 7 for Great Barrington. I hiked on to MA 23, which also leads into town. After Banzai’s departure I saw no one else all day. Fortunately I covered the last 8.2 in well under four hours. The trail today was about as nondescript as any over the past three weeks. Mud, pine straw, a few moderate size rocks, roots, and vegetation summarize it well. What made the hike utterly miserable (in no way magnificent) was the merciless mosquitoes. I’ve come to the conclusion that these varmints have a plan. The first unit’s task is to lick all the Deet off of hikers so that the second unit can come in for the strike. Quite frankly, I don’t think any bug spray is effective. Despite multiple applications, I stayed covered and under attack all day.

With no one else around I was left with a lot of time to think about how miserable I was. At one point I felt downright mad, which is a characteristic I almost never display. I used to tell my students that I only got angry twice a year and that I didn’t intend using one of the times on them. Today I used one on the mosquitoes and biting flies. I kept thinking about all the people who have tried to encourage me and other hikers with comments like, “I really envy you,” or “you’re doing great,” or (the most asinine) “you’re almost there.” If anyone had popped out of the woods with one of those comments today, I might be in the Great Barrington jail charged with assault. I hiked mad all day, and actually felt pretty good doing so.
At least I’m being honest with how this hike is going lately.

So now that I’ve vented for awhile, life is good here at the Travel Lodge. You see, I got a text followed by a phone call from Pilgrim this morning. He’s decided he wants to try my plan for a few days. Having lost too much weight and suffering from the heat and humidity, the fellow sojourner needs new direction. Tomorrow he’ll ship some gear home and learn my method for “light pack, big miles, and beds.” The “big miles,” unfortunately, may not be quite as big with the adverse conditions right now. Vermont, however, is only a few days away where the elevation increases substantially. For now, Massachusetts and mosquitoes continue as Pilgrim and I try a little duo hiking tomorrow up the Appalachian Trail.

Ten down; four to go—states, that is. On another extremely humid, buggy day, I hiked out of Connecticut and into Massachusetts with a slack pack and a positive attitude. Like many other recent days, things went well early in the day, but by mid-afternoon the energy level had plummeted. Still I managed to hike 17.8 miles in ten hours over some pretty challenging terrain. Were it not for a hard rain late in the day, I could have finished at least an hour earlier. Nevertheless, I’m not complaining since I again had a room to return to on Grove St. So everything considered, I’d call the day slightly closer to John’s “magnificent” than to my preferred adjective, “miserable.”

At 5:30 I started the day by cooking myself breakfast in Maria’s kitchen. After my three fried eggs, toast, and orange juice, I walked the approximately half mile back to the trail on Undermountain Rd. I then headed back into the woods at 6:10 and was immediately greeted with a climb of 1000 feet over the first 2.6 miles to Lions Head. This would be the first of several spectacular views throughout the day. After Lions Head I was faced with an additional 580 foot ascent of Bear Mountain. It’s interesting how some names are used more than once on the AT. There have been at least three Deep Gaps, for instance. Today was the second Bear Mountain. I wouldn’t classify the climb as too difficult; however the descent was a “bear.” Pardon the pun. I’m very tired as I write this.

After scrambling down the steep descent, including two times when I went to the seat of my pants, I was near the CT/MA border. Just after crossing into Massachusetts, I was treated to the beauty of Sages Ravine. The trail parallels a fast running stream with multiple waterfalls for 0.3 of a mile. Having expected a bridge over the rushing waters, I must admit I was a bit disillusioned when I realized the manner to cross was over partially covered rocks. Knowing that my feet were going to get wet really didn’t matter. I just didn’t want to fall in and get swept downstream. All went well with the crossing until the last two partially submerged rocks. I had to leap from one to the other and maintain my balance. Prayers must have been being lifted up at the moment because I stuck the landing without any slippage. Breathing a sigh of relief, I looked back thankfully at the beautiful natural crossing that I had fortunately handled.

Shortly after leaving the Ravine I noticed a southbound hiker who looked familiar. Susquehanna Slim recognized me before I did him. We had first met way back in Erwin when we shared a shuttle. Slim is doing a modified flip flop due to some off trail obligations. He started a few days ago on Mt. Greylock and is hiking south to the Delaware Water Gap, where he left the trail. When he gets there, he plans to return to Greylock and keep walking north. I’ve been reading Slim’s journal occasionally, so it was an unexpected treat to see him again.

The best views of the day awaited about a mile after I saw Slim. The trail elevates to a 0.6 mile ridge walk on Race Mountain. Even I would classify the continuous vistas to the east as beautiful beyond description. Although somewhat challenging, I never felt that any part of the ridge walk could be construed as dangerous, that is unless you got too close to the edge. I made sure I didn’t. It was after Race and during the climb up Mt. Everett that I began to droop. I kept downing fluids and consuming fruit and protein bars, which finally restored some energy. I just didn’t need another climb when this one appeared. After the ascent I reached the Guilder Pond Picnic Area where someone had left several gallons of water labeled for thru hikers. With almost five miles remaining, I refilled my bottles before continuing through a swampy segment of trail. Like all recent days, the mosquitoes and various species of flies attacked relentlessly throughout the day.

As I headed toward the final difficult section of the day, the descent of Jug End, the rain began. This gave me the chance to try out my new emergency poncho. The rain also afforded me the opportunity to practice descending wet rock slabs, which would have already posed a major challenge had they been dry. Using caution, and the seat of my pants again when necessary, I managed to navigate the slippery menaces without falling. It just took time. When I reached flat trail again, I picked up the pace to arrive at MA 41 a few minutes ahead of my shuttle. After a rather tiring as well as trying day, it felt good to have this section behind me. Tomorrow more climbs and great views await as I try to stay positive while hiking the Appalachian Trail.

Maria McCabe has been welcoming AT hikers into her Salisbury, Connecticut home for well over a decade. Alton and I stayed a night with her on our section hike of this area in 2004. Even though her prices have risen a bit, the house on Grove St. is still a bargain. When she picked me up at the bridge in Falls Village yesterday afternoon, she seemed genuinely happy to see a hiker who had stayed with her before. With all the hikers who have passed through her doorway, I obviously didn’t expect to be remembered. Asking me when I had previously boarded with her, Maria said she could barely remember last week, or something to that effect.

Part of Maria’s “Hiker Special” is a ride to the laundromat. On the return trip Maria enlightened me with a restaurant review for the area. One of the more swank dining establishments got a thumbs down from the feisty, 80 something young lady of German stock. “It’s too dark inside,” she stated without malice. “The next time I go I’m going to borrow one of the hiker’s
headlamps.” She did add that the food was pretty good, but expensive. All in all, it was an entertaining ride both going and coming back to her home. She also reminded me that she couldn’t cook breakfast, but that hikers were permitted to use her kitchen to cook their own.

Maria also noted that she couldn’t shuttle me back to the trail this morning until 9:00. Since I had only planned the short 8.3 mile stretch between Falls Village and Undermountain Rd., leading into Salisbury, the late start was fine. What I didn’t realize, however, was that apparently most of Salisbury slept in on Sunday as well. When I walked the two blocks to the center of town, not a person was stirring at 7:00. As I walked around, I determined that no businesses opened before 8:00. So I found a comfortable weathered wooden bench under a shade tree and just sat. For a while there I thought I was in one of those “Twilight Zone” episodes where an entire town has disappeared. Finally, a car pulled up and a young man entered a bakery across the street from my bench.

When a local church’s bell tower eventually tolled eight, I walked the block to the bistro and ordered a bacon and egg breakfast. I wish I had thought to bring a package of the grits Jimmy left with me. I wonder if my waitress would have supplied me with a bowl of hot water. I’ll definitely give it a try sometime. Just as I finished my meal, Colin walked in. Having hiked in from a campsite, he chose to dine outside. I asked for a third cup of coffee and joined him. After a short chat, I ambled over to the market around the corner before heading back to Maria’s. As soon as I retrieved my pack, we were in her car on our way back to the AT.

Starting at the bridge, I had barely walked into the woods when I stopped to view the falls cascading into the river. At the next road crossing I met for the first time Miles From Nowhere who was hiking the same section as I was today. After these two short breaks, however, I just took off and hiked at a steady, fairly fast pace all morning. Again today, I walked up on another deer grazing on the trail. She moved over to let me pass but really didn’t seem too affected by my presence. There was a fairly good view from 1475 foot Mt. Prospect and an even better one of the field called Rands View. Despite missing my buddies, I felt OK hiking solo today.

When I arrived at Undermountain Rd., I walked the approximately half mile back to Maria’s home, ending my trail day before 1:00. For the remainder of the afternoon I have just been relaxing. The two brothers from Germany, Restless Cowboy and Fresh Coke, are also staying the night. Fresh Coke is having a lot of trouble with the humidity. He looks a bit whipped, so I hope the town night will restore some of his energy. As for me, I’m about to head back down to the bistro for another opportunity for some fine dining in Salisbury. I need all the calories I can handle so that tomorrow I can hike northward strongly on the Appalachian Trail.

Sometimes we take friendship for granted. We go through our day to day lives aware of who our friends are; however, at times we fail to grasp the significance of the bonding process that has occurred over a period of years. I first met Jimmy when we trained together for the Marine Corps Marathon in 1995. John and I became acquainted when he started running with a group of my buddies a couple or so years later. Over the years, we’ve shared many a mile and story on the roads of Columbus, but none may have been as significant as those we shared over the past three days on the Appalachian Trail. As I sit at a laundromat in Salisbury, CT, I’m already remembering how important and special those past few days have been.

For the second consecutive day I was able to start my day with grits, thanks to Jimmy. Mary was reluctant to serve them with her blueberry pancakes, at least until we assured her the combination would in no way offend us. Having been told that we were seven minutes late for breakfast yesterday, we hustled to arrive in the dining room six minutes early today. I continue to be astounded by what irks some people. I suppose we all have our shortcomings. Nevertheless, starting the meal thirteen minutes earlier than yesterday meant that John, Jimmy, and I could begin hiking a bit earlier as well. So after the ride back to the trailhead, provided by Cooper, we were walking at 8:00.

From the outset, the hike went smoothly throughout the day, that is if my slipping off a rock in the first five minutes can be overlooked. After I stepped about ankle deep into a stream, Jimmy suggested that I just wade across rather than try to get back up on the wet rocks. I took his advice and paid no attention to my wet shoes and socks. John chose to tightrope a blowdown. This was only the first of several water crossings we would encounter throughout the day. Fortunately I did not step in again. In addition to the streams, a “lemon squeezer” type rock formation added a little variety to another rather mundane trail.

But like yesterday, it wasn’t the trail, but the fellowship among friends, that made the hike enjoyable. Neither the heat nor the humidity nor the various biting bugs could detract from our time together. I again talked at times of Don. My thoughts today seemed even more poignant since today is his birthday. And again John and Jimmy listened with heartfelt compassion. We continued to reminisce about our running pasts and share stories about our many running friends. It was such a satisfying way to conclude my buddies’ brief visit to the trail.

Today’s 14 mile hike concluded in Falls Village, CT. John, Jimmy, and I walked the short distance into Main St. and the Toymaker Cafe. We shared a final meal before the two headed toward the train station for a ride into NYC. John even offered some sound advice for the remainder of my hike. Then they were gone. I momentarily turned to wave before walking the 0.2 miles up the road for a lift to Salisbury and a night in the home of Maria McCabe. So I rode in with Maria, did my laundry, and had supper with Pilgrim at a local bistro. As John would want me to say, it’s been another magnificent day on the Appalachian Trail.

In Memorium

On July 6, 1957 Donald Andrews Stephens was born in Columbus, GA. On August 28 of last year he died at the age of 55. ALS took my brother’s life, but his memory lives on in the hearts of those who loved him. He is missed every day by his friends and by his family. The world is a better place because he lived; it is at a loss because he lives in this world no more. I remember all that we shared with happiness that we did. And I celebrate his life every day by remembering how much Don loved the outdoors. Happy Birthday, Donald.