Author Archives: donsbrother4

Over the years I have always considered myself to be extremely fortunate to have a number of really good friends. Many of those really good friends are my running buddies. Between 1998 and 2006 a group of these buddies would meet me at the high school where I taught for a 5:30 AM run every Wednesday. A certain camaraderie develops when runners meet before dawn to pound out 8-12 miles before a busy work day. As I’ve gotten older and slowed down considerably, the long Wednesday runs have ended for me. The friendships, fortunately, have not. So at a time when despondency was creeping into my everyday psyche, two of these really goods friends arrived to again pound out miles of a different kind. Today I hiked with enthusiasm, and without a pack, as John Teeples and Jimmy Brooks took an 18.3 mile hike with me on the Appalachian Trail.

I was still a little stunned this morning over the late night arrival of Jimmy. I knew of course that John was coming up to hike with me for three days; however, Jimmy’s arrival was truly a surprise. Actually, it was a shock. The second surprise came at the breakfast table of the Cooper Creek B & B (note the name, my Columbus friends) when Mary placed a bowl by my plate. Staring in disbelief, I asked, “Are those grits?” Jimmy had not only arrived to hike but had brought grits with him. I quickly dubbed Jimmy “Grits” for his time on the trail. Along with the scrambled eggs and cheese, sausage, toast, and coffee, the breakfast has to rank among the top five I’ve enjoyed since the hike began.

After breakfast Cooper drove the three of us back to Bulls Bridge Rd. What made today’s hike a little different was the opportunity to hike without a pack all day. We carried only one, stocking it with food and water. I should say my friends carried one pack. My two buddies insisted on alternating carrying it, so I got to hike packless. With some fairly challenging climbs and high humidity again, it certainly felt good to have the weight off my back.

Throughout much of the day I shared some of the best conversations I’ve engaged in on the hike with John and Jimmy. At one point I found myself talking about Don. Both of my friends listened compassionately as I shared aspects of his life, illness, and death. For me, I guess one could say, it was kind of therapeutic. Regardless, I appreciated their understanding. We also talked about John’s businesses, Jimmy’s practice, our families, running, and of course my hike. It was all good.

The trail today posed a few more challenges than yesterday. There were several water crossings that required some rock hopping, an occasional series of rocks to negotiate, and some mud. My buddies wanted me to hike in front; however, I’m sure both could have easily increased the pace at any time. Not having seen any other thru hikers yesterday, I hoped that John and Jimmy would at least get to meet one of my fellow Maine bound pilgrims. That finally occurred at a stream in the early afternoon. Colin, a hiker I’ve been around many times since early in Virginia, was taking a break by the water. We would see him again throughout the day.

The most challenging part of today’s hike was hiking down St. John’s Ledges. I should say it was a bit of a challenge for me. John and Jimmy had expected something more technical. Near the end of that section we came across two rock climbers. Dave and Lacey had affixed a rope to a tree at the top of a rock face. Dave began the climb up as we watched. I sensed that John would have liked a turn, having done a little rock climbing himself. Unfortunately the hike needed to continue. And so we hiked on toward the Housatonic River.

For much of the final six plus miles the trail parallels the river. At one point my two companions decided a swim was in order. So for the second time in two days John has gone for a swim during my hike. I watched from the bank as John and Jimmy cooled off in the rippling water. After their swim we picked up the pace until a final climb commenced. I needed a short rest before we completed the last mile. Just before we reached CT 4 near Cornwall Bridge, we spotted Cooper walking up the trail to meet us. After a stop for a Mountain Dew, we headed toward the inn.

After cleaning up we ventured into Kent for a little grocery shopping and a meal. Good conversation resumed over supper. Like so many times throughout my hike, someone special has helped to make my day less difficult. With good friends to accompany me on today’s hike, I barely thought about the miles. My buddies, however, have real jobs in the regular world, so tomorrow will be the last day they will hike along with me. As John would say, I know it’s going to be another “magnificent” day on the Appalachian Trail.

July 4th has always had special meaning for my family. As a child I remember my dad grilling on Independence Day. After I started running, I regularly competed in the Peachtree Roadrace 10K in Atlanta. When my kids were teenagers, our family, along with Don, Lisa, and Brent, would spend a few days at the beach. My brother always enjoyed setting off fireworks as darkness approached. Three years ago Don and Lisa joined Linda and me at our downtown condo to watch fireworks over the river. Two years ago we did the same; however, the occasion warranted little excitement since Don had received his ALS diagnosis only a few weeks earlier. I think we all knew it could be our last Fourth of July celebration. At this time last year, Don had lost use of his arms and legs, and he could barely speak. It was a somber Fourth.

So as I hiked today, moving from New York into Connecticut, I thought often of my brother. Having my good friend, John, along to share the hike was truly special. John’s travel day reads like an odyssey of its own. After a cancelled flight in Atlanta, a change of itinerary to land in Newark rather than LaGuardia, a cab ride through Times Square, a mad dash to catch a Metro North train, and a taxi ride from Pawling, he arrived at the Wingdale motel after 11:00. So when we walked up the highway for an early morning breakfast, it was on very little sleep. Still we knocked out 18.8 miles in just over ten hours which included an additional 1.2 mile round trip road walk for lunch.

For the most part, John’s first day on the AT proved rather uneventful. Other than a few minimal climbs, the boggy areas with an abundance of black mud dominated the hike. We saw a few day hikers but no thru hikers all day. I suppose most are at the nearby July 4th hiker bash. An accomplished ultra-marathoner, John easily adapted to the rigors of the trail. I suspect there were times he would have liked to run rather than walk, if not for the pack. Today, however, was as much about good conversation as it was miles. Among the topics we talked about were Big Dog, Iron Bank Coffee, and the Run Across Georgia. And of course we talked about the running buddies. I told John I had heard from Jimmy, Kevin, Reynold, and Cecil, all good running companions over the last several years.

With good conversation and a friend with whom to share the hike, for at least today, I didn’t even seem to mind the humidity and mosquitoes. John discovered his greatest appreciation for the trail near the end of the day, when we reached the Ten Mile River. After crossing the Ned Anderson Memorial Bridge, John decided that a swim was in order. I chose not to join him, but I must confess, it looked refreshing. After the swim we hiked on to Bull Bridge Rd., where I had arranged for a taxi to take us to Cornwall Bridge, CT. I had given John the option of a shelter after his first day on the trail, but he said he’d prefer my “find a nearby bed” method.

We changed out plans during the ride, however, since there was no place to eat near the motel in Cornwall Bridge. Instead we retraced out route to Kent, where we found a hiker friendly B and B. After getting to Kent we had a meal at an Italian place before calling the inn for our complimentary shuttle. Exhausted from the late night and hiking day, I fell asleep shortly after getting to my room. When I awakened about an hour later the real surprise occurred. Standing next to my bed was Jimmy Brooks, another running buddy from home. John had managed to keep Jimmy’s arrival a secret throughout the day.

So as I end this Fourth of July I feel truly blessed. So many people care about this hike. From strangers I’ve never met who have taken the time to write, to two good buddies whose friendship I’ve cherished as we have put in the miles over the years, folks are concerned about me. At one point today, John said I needed to replace the word “misery” with “magnificent.” He’s right. This is in all respects a magnificent trail and I’m being given the magnificent opportunity to hike it. And more importantly I get to share it with two special friends when tomorrow John and Jimmy join me for a jaunt on the Appalachian Trail.

Maybe I need to rethink my “no tent” philosophy. When I arrived at the RPH Shelter last night, I thought I was getting the next to last bunk. When I turned in for the evening, however, only Johnny Walker had decided to tough it out in the shelter. After the mosquitoes made their presence known, everyone else set up their tents or hammocks in the grassy area adjacent to the cinder block building. With both ends of the structure open, JW and I were fair game throughout the night. With the night too hot and muggy to fully get inside my bag, I opted for a long sleeve shirt and another coating of bug spray. I’m not sure how many bites I had this morning, but I actually slept quite well. After awaking at dawn, I dozed until my watch alarm sounded at 6:00. As I began packing up those who had tented followed suit. The humidity had to be 100% as I hit the trail at 7:12.

Even though I was the first to leave camp, within the initial hour I was passed by Misery, Johnny Walker, Tugboat, and Chickadee. The young folks always smile and speak respectfully as they leave me in their dust. They hop over the rocks as if the obstacles don’t exist. I pause and calculate my next step to try to ensure I won’t fall. Speaking of which, I had five consecutive “no fall” days until about half an hour before today’s hike concluded. Oh well. It wasn’t a bad one, and I suppose I can start a new streak tomorrow. At least the fall didn’t involve a rock or mud.

Since I had only dined on leftover pizza for breakfast this morning, I walked the 0.4 miles up the road to the Mountaintop Market Deli when I reached NY 52. Even though it was mid-morning, I ordered a breakfast sandwich and drank two chocolate milks. The proprietors had placed a plastic lawn chair next to an outside outlet, so I was able to charge my phone as I ate. I also refilled my water bottles and bought a root beer and Gatorade before leaving. I also must confess that I napped for about fifteen minutes. It made for a nice interlude to battling mosquitoes. All in all I hung out at the little market for well over an hour.

Before leaving I ran into Torch, a young hiker that I had last seen on McAfee Knob when he and his buddies, Rango and Half and Half, had taken some pics of me. Torch is farther north on the trail; however, he’s back in the area for a big 4th of July thru hiker bash sponsored each year by a local fellow named Bill. Unfortunately, however, he said his two buddies have gone home. When I got ready to return to the trail, Bill gave me a ride. I thanked him for the invitation to the party, but explained that I had a friend from home joining me for the next few days. Bill is shuttling hikers around all day to allow some slack packing, especially for those who skipped this section, knowing that they could hike it when they returned to the area for the 4th. When I resumed my hike I met two of them, Bulldog and Trucker. The last time I saw Bulldog, he was returning to the Super 8 in Erwin with a bag of a dozen cheeseburgers. It was at Cowboys in Damascus that I had last seen Trucker. Both hikers immediately recognized and remembered me. It was definitely good to catch up with the two.

In the early afternoon I took another break at the Morgan Stewart Shelter. Funnybone, Tugboat, and Chickadee also were hanging out there. Funnybone wasn’t sure what his plans were for the day; however, Tugboat and Chickadee were utilizing Bill’s trail angel generosity to get in a slack pack as well. I remembered staying at this shelter on my section hike of NY. After about a ten minute break I headed back onto the bug infested trail. For some reason they didn’t seem as much of a nuisance at the shelter. Perhaps the varmints prefer moving hikers over stationary ones because once I began walking, they attacked again. At least with my continued one pole hiking, I have a free hand to swat.

Maybe it was due to the calories, for I hiked with renewed enthusiasm throughout the afternoon. The final 3.3 miles passed quickly. I only stopped for one minimal view, the only one of the day. When I arrived at NY 55 I was fortunate to meet two very special trail angels, Cynthia and Todd from DC. Having just finished a day hike southbound from the Dover Oak, they had to return to pick up their car. When I told them I’d like to get to a motel near Wingdale, they kindly agreed to take me. I can’t say enough about how good it feels to be given a ride by strangers. Their generosity sure topped off a pretty good day in nice fashion.

While hiking today I really enjoyed running into Trucker. He likewise seemed glad to see me and commended me on still being on the trail. Many have offered encouragement, both on the trail as well as in the regular world. Not that others’ haven’t been, but Trucker’s words just seemed so sincere. I hope our paths cross again somewhere up the trail. As for tomorrow, my followers are in for a real treat, I think. My good running buddy and ultra marathoner, John Teeples, is coming up to hike with me for a few days. I’m sure all his friends back in Georgia will be eagerly awaiting John’s indoctrination on the Appalachian Trail.

My good friend and hiking buddy, Alton, recently diagnosed my situation with “not having anyone to share the misery.” Today I not only had others around me most of the day, but I met and hiked awhile with Misery, a young man from Buffalo. Just after beginning today’s walk at US 9, I was passed in succession over about an hour by Tugboat, Johnny Walker, Chickadee, and Funnybone, as well as Misery. I wound up leapfrogging with these hikers throughout the day, and am sheltering with them tonight at the RPH Shelter, a fully enclosed structure with bunks. Pizza has been ordered and should arrive shortly. Despite the warm evening and a few bugs, I’m glad to be in the woods with fellow thru hikers tonight.

Early in today’s hike the trail as usual offered up a good bit of variety. Most of the rather flat terrain was forgiving even though muddy portions slowed my movement. There were no rock scrambles, and the climbs were minimal. When I reached Dennytown Rd. I stopped for lunch. All of the above mentioned hikers were also taking a break. Someone commented how rare it was for this many thru hikers to be gathered in the middle of the day. I hiked out while the others continued their break.

Not long after, the rain began. For a brief time it kept the mosquitoes away. When it ceased, however, the critters began swarming again. For the past few days I sincerely say that the pests are more a deterrent to morale than any other factor. I must have sprayed myself at least five times. At one point I paused to talk with a southbound section hiker, Jennifer, from Long Island, who asked to borrow some spray. I happily obliged since the swarm around her seemed larger than mine. The only relief came when the trail gained in elevation.

When I got to the rocks with a view of Canopus Lake, I took another break with Misery and Funnybone. Then I hiked with Funnybone for about an hour prior to Shenandoah Mountain and the 9/11 Memorial. A triathlete from Boulder, Funnybone is only the third hiker I have met in his 40’s. I enjoyed the brief time we hiked together since we talked a little about endurance training. At the memorial I took a brief break but quickly hiked on, leaving Funnybone, Chickadee, and Misery relaxing. From there I made good time, arriving at the shelter a little after 5:00. Fortunately, I was able to get one of the six bunks available.

So once again, I’m spending a night in the woods even though the shelter is enclosed. As I write this entry, I’m trying to hurry because the battery in my phone is at 10%, and of course, there’s no place to recharge tonight. Hopefully, I’ll be able to do so at a deli early tomorrow or my pics will be few. Many of my companions are winding down for the night. It’s muggy and warm, however, the bugs haven’t been too bad thus far. Today was a good day. I met Misery and Funnybone and saw Tugboat for the first time since Harper’s Ferry. There’s also a good chance I’ll get to hike some more with these fine folks as I continue my northward walk on the Appalachian Trail.

When I attended junior high school, I ordered a copy of a book entitled “101 Elephant Jokes” from my English teacher’s book club. One of the riddles asked, “Why did the elephant wear blue tennis shoes?” Because his red ones were in the wash. So why is Don’s Brother wearing his blue shirt today? I’ll let my followers answer that one. So other than the possibility that I’m really losing it and may need those “men in their little white coats” soon, why am I talking about elephant jokes. Because today is my 101st day of hiking on the Appalachian Trail. By now I’m beginning to see as many correlations with the hike to jokes as I am with Odysseus. I’m trying to identify the humor involved in order to keep my sanity.

So after a bagel sandwich breakfast at a deli across the road from the Bear Mountain Bridge Motel, I rode the 1.8 miles back to the trail with Doug , the owner of the inn with his wife Ingrid for over forty years. A former soldier, Doug was at one time stationed at Ft. Benning. The light sprinkle that had fallen an hour earlier had subsided as I headed over the Hudson River via the Bear Mountain Bridge. Cars zoomed by me in both directions as I crossed. On the overcast, early Monday morning visibility was minimal. I did notice a large barge headed down the river.

On the eastern side of the Hudson I had to walk up the road a ways before heading back into the woods. Soon after I began the 500 foot climb, the rain commenced. At first it was a mere sprinkle; then it became a drizzle; finally, it poured. With only my slack pack, I didn’t even bother to apply my rain cover. I also walked without a rain jacket. At the top of the first incline I came across Pfeiffer and Lentil who were breaking camp. Pfeiffer was preparing for a short day on the trail before heading into New York for a few days. I found out that Lentil was going as well. After a short pause I hiked on.

Hiking carefully over the wet rocks, I still made good time. Eventually Pfeiffer and Lentil passed me. I decided to pick up my pace and try to keep with them for as long as I could. As the rain continued at first I was glad because it was cooler and kept the bugs at bay. Slogging along in wet shoes proved to be the downside. By the time we reached the Appalachian Market at US 9 I was soaked. I went inside with the others for cover. Funnybone also came into the store with us. Pfeiffer quickly talked a lady into a hitch into Peekskill, so she and Lentil were off to the train station.

While having a bite to eat I heard that a flash flood warning was in effect for the area. It was at this point that I decided that I really didn’t think it wise to continue the hike today. So with a 5.8 mile day completed by 10:00, I opted to go back to my room for the remainder of the day. Fortunately, after striking up a conversation with a store patron, I got a ride. The South Bronx fireman took me all the way to the motel. Once again, a trail angel was there when I needed one. For the remainder of the afternoon I have just been relaxing. My short day today means a longer one tomorrow as I continue the state of New York on the Appalachian Trail.

WANTED: Full or part time support person for the duration of Don’s Brother’s thru hike of the Appalachian Trail. Interested applicants should have valid driver’s license and be at least 25 years of age. Applicant should be able to navigate paved roads and/or highways where the AT crosses. GPS skills are a must. Vehicle must be provided by the applicant. A car is fine; however, van, SUV, or RV is preferred. The length of support may range from one day to eight weeks beginning Monday, July 1 from Fort Montgomery, NY to late August at Mt. Katahdin. Don’s Brother would prefer a trail angel or angels; however, compensation may be offered to highly qualified individual. Any interested person should send a private email to donsbrother4@gmail.com

Today was the best I’ve felt in the last five. The reason can be stated in one simple word: slackpack. With only a light pack containing food and water, I not only stayed vertical, but regained some much needed confidence concerning the balance issue. I even managed some rock skipping over water and didn’t seem to mind as much the boulders at higher elevations. Plus it was much easier to pull myself up the rock scrambles wearing a light pack. So despite the continued heat and humidity, I knocked out 19.8 miles while hiking alone all day. Even though the hike took almost eleven hours, I wasn’t totally exhausted at its conclusion. I could have probably gone at least a half mile more…maybe.

So if I could just find a support person(s) that would make it possible to slackpack every day, I would be good to go. After all, Molar Man has Sweet Tooth, Steady has Spirit (and an RV) and as far as I know, Chin Music’s wife is on the trail to help him awhile. Boo Boo’s wife was also with him earlier, and I’m sure there are others. Since my wife has obligations back in Georgia, I’m soliciting, no, make that begging, for help. Once again you can email me at donsbrother4@gmail.com

And now back to the regularly scheduled program; I mean back to the hike. I started the walk up Arden Valley Rd. in Harriman State Park at 7:20. With the sun already beaming down, I was sweating profusely after the nearly 800 foot climb up Island Pond Mountain. Along the way I had to pass through the infamous Lemon Squeezer, a narrow stone passage that requires a sideways navigation. Since I was slack packing, I kept my pack on; however, it did scrap the sides of the rock occasionally. After the Squeezer, a rock climb and scramble followed. With the lighter pack I was able to handle the challenging section without too much difficulty.

As the morning progressed I met several day hikers and some southbound sectioners. I talked with one group from Jersey that had a bird watcher with binoculars in its party. I took a pic of Erin and her dog Riley after I told her about Don and his love of dogs. Around noon I took almost a half hour break for lunch at the William Brien Memorial Shelter. It was one of the most run down I’ve seen on the entire trail. While eating, I chatted with a father and son, Howard and Jordan who had just begun their hike today. I would see others throughout the afternoon, but stop to talk with none.

The trail today actually offered up a good deal of variety. As I’ve already stated, boulder climbs and rock scrambles were prominent. Occasionally, a gentle trail allowed for some faster walking. There were also sections with foliage bordering on both sides. Like yesterday, I almost stepped on another deer. This one just looked at me as I snapped her picture. The trail also offered up several spectacular views. Even though clouds rolled in, in the afternoon, visibility remained fairly good. I paused for a few minutes atop Black Mountain to chat with thru hiker Cocoon, a young man who is taking his time to really observe nature and to write some poetry. He was the only thru hiker I would see all day. There were also beautiful views from West Mountain. On Black and West the trail stays on the ridge for quite some time, with the views in the distance.

Eventually I made my way to Bear Mountain. The ascent is different from when I section hiked here in 2005. A rock staircase provides an easy route for much of the climb. Easy for most, that is. I fell off near the bottom, but I didn’t fall. At the apex of Bear stands Perkins Tower, from where a view of NYC is visible on a clear day. By the time I reached the top, the sky was overcast. The descent also consisted of hundreds of rock steps. I wondered how long this project took. At the crest scores of people strolled or lounged around the area. Even more were busy at a variety of activities in the park or by the lake at the bottom of the mountain.

The AT follows a path around the lake for awhile and then goes through the Bear Mountain Zoo. The bear cage in the zoo is the lowest point on the entire trail at 166 feet. Unfortunately the zoo closes at 4:30, so I had to walk back up to the park and out via a road since the blue blazed trail was closed for work as well. John, a park employee and retired NYC fireman from Brooklyn, left his post to walk me to where I needed to go to get out of the park. When I told him I had gotten a ride with another retired NYC fireman in Greenwood Lake, he said he knew Gene who was a good friend of John’s brother. Small world, we agreed. Since the white blazes weren’t available today, I’m glad I got to walk through the zoo on my section hike.

So tonight I’m back at the Bear Mountain Bridge Motel. I’m planning another slackpack for tomorrow to Dennytown Rd. It’s pricey, but I need to do what I need to do to get this hike done. The hike was again fun today. The trail offered variety and I was fairly comfortable, considering the weather. No day is going to be easy; however, if I can maintain that positive attitude, and maybe get a little support, Maine is within sight. Not really, but it will be soon if I just keep putting in the miles on the Appalachian Trail.

“Old age hath both its honor and its toil,” stated Tennyson in his poem “Ulysses.” Today I felt old. I don’t really consider there to be any honor associated with this hike, but there sure is a lot of toil. It took me over seven hours of hard work to cover a mere 12 miles on another hot, humid, buggy day in New York. With multiple rock scrambles and several areas of poorly blazed trail, my frustration level was exceeded by early afternoon. If not for the knowledge that I would again be sleeping in a bed and eating a restaurant meal later in the evening, the hike would have been unbearable. OK, I sound like I’m whining. I suppose you could say I am.

When my alarm sounded at 7:00 I had to coax myself out of bed to resume the walk. I bid Breezy Point adieu and headed back toward the trail via HWY 210. After a quick stop at the Country Grocery, I started looking for a breakfast establishment. Murphy’s, a bar and grill with a prominently displayed sign advertising country breakfasts on weekends, caught my eye. Two couples dined on the front veranda; however, I was the only patron in the dining room. (Note the use of the semi-colon, if you’re reading this, Chin Music.). Strangely enough, several folks were already at the tavern. Some were at the bar; others were shooting pool.

My breakfast was quite appetizing even though I still couldn’t get grits. The portion of eggs looked outrageously large. It seemed more like four than two. While eating, I inquired of my waitress if there was a taxi service in town. The bartender called for me and even paid the $10 fare. That was some good magic to start the day. Before I left the restaurant one of the ladies who had been dining outside stopped by my table to ask about my hike. Mary, the local librarian, asked, “Are you having fun?” “No,” I replied. For a second I couldn’t believe how quickly and easily I had uttered the word. Finally, I’ve said out loud, “This hike really isn’t very much fun.” We chatted briefly about its perils until my cab arrived.

When I got back to the AT I met Jeremiah, a hiker whose name I had seen in the registries but not encountered on the trail. I hiked up the trail ahead of him and didn’t see him again until the end of the day. From the beginning of today’s hike I kept asking myself why I had remembered this section as enjoyable. My memory is fading fast. It was downright treacherous and frustrating, (from this old man’s perspective) all day. Beginning with the Eastern Pinnacles, I found myself using my hands often. What concerns me more and more is how tentative I have become on dangerous sections. At one point I sat down to negotiate a rock about ten feet long and three feet across. A short while back I would have just strode over it. Noticing that there were potentially fatal drop offs on both sides, I just couldn’t do it. I fear I have lost my confidence in my balance. With the most difficult part of the hike still remaining, I need to regain it.

When I got to Cat Rocks, I took the trail around rather than use my hands to climb up the boulders. It was the first time I have done that. I just don’t feel steady these days. Other than because of the falls, I don’t know why. The other issue with today was the blazes. At least a half dozen times, I had to wander around looking for a blaze to be sure I was hiking on the trail. So much of today’s trail was undefined. It was leaves, rocks, and roots, but often without a clearly defined pathway. And like the past two days, the heat and humidity slowed me drastically. I was already so depleted after 6 miles that I decided to change my plans for the night. I called the Bear Mountain Bridge Motel and made a reservation. Then I arranged a ride. Four hours later I was thankful I had.

There were, however, some positives today. Fitzgerald Falls with the adjacent AT steps captures all that is beautiful on the trail. I also disrupted a doe from her nap. In fact I almost stepped on the deer who was resting no more than a yard off the trail. She stood up, looked at me walk by, and then continued grazing. I also saw a snake sunning itself. I think it was a non-poisonous one. At the top of Arden Mountain I enjoyed a nice chat with two day hikers. They knew little about the trail, so I shared my website with them. They also gave me some information about the area. After leaving them I gingerly descended a steep, rocky section to NY 17 from where I would ride into Fort Montgomery. Unfortunately I had to wait over an hour for the ride.

The trail today again offered a variety of challenges. Since I stayed vertical, I met most. Still, it was hard. I found myself thinking of Medicine Man and Kudo, who just weren’t having fun anymore and are now home with their loved ones. I thought of the 1377 miles I’ve walked and of the 806 remaining. I thought of the good days and the bad. So even though I kind of envy my fellow thru hikers who have returned home, I will continue. Despite the pain, frustration, and mental fatigue, there’s a finish line that needs to be crossed on a mountain in Maine. I will continue.

I suppose every adventure needs a little adversity. So today I hiked out of Vernon, NJ with one pole, a sprained hand, and a sore right shoulder and lower back, prayerfully. The day began two hours earlier at The Mixing Bowl. The only thing that would have made my hearty country breakfast better was grits. I got a smile before the “no” when I asked. Several local diners were talking about the trail. When one said he couldn’t believe anyone would walk over 1350 miles to Vernon, his buddy said it was no different from walking around a golf course every day. Excuse me! Did I really hear that? I just drank my coffee and kept quiet.

After breakfast I walked back to the hostel to pack up. Everyone was still asleep when I crept out a little after 6:00. When I returned a few continued to sleep. The youth show no urgency in getting their day underway. Lentil and Pfeiffer, the only ones out the door with me, sought a ride back to the trail at a corner convenience store. I chose to put my thumb out up the road a piece. After about ten minutes a truck stopped. The driver, who later introduced himself as Walter, told me to quickly get in. “There are state troopers all over today,” he stated. “The governor is expected in town.” Apparently hitching is illegal in New Jersey, so he was trying to get me off the street. I thought it was only against the law in New York. Since Lentil and Pfeiffer had not gotten a ride yet, I asked Walter if he would mind giving them a lift also. He gladly turned his truck around to pick up the two.

When we got to the AT, the two quickly hiked into the distance. The climb out of Vernon requires about a 1000 foot ascent up Wawayanda Mountain. Many refer to it as “The Stairway to Heaven” since so many stone steps aid in the climb. With only one trekking pole, I found myself grasping for large rocks to help with balance. Taking my time, it took awhile to reach the Pinwheels vista at the top. Seated on a rock were Leigh and Ed. Leigh asked if I were a thru hiker, so I told them about my hike and Don.

The next couple of hours went well. I saw ridge runner Grasshopper for the second time. Then I took a break at Warwick Turnpike (I’m not sure why a two lane road in the country is called a turnpike). Just as I was heading up the trail, I heard someone yell my name. Rapidly moving toward me was none other than Chin Music. We had been near each other for a good while but had never met. So for the duration of the day I again had a hiking partner.

Also a member of the trailjournals community, we have many of the same followers. Within minutes I felt like I had known Chin for years. In addition to the camaraderie, I was just relieved to know there would be another hiker around when the New York rocks greeted us. As we hiked toward the state line, we shared some data about our lives. When I told my new friend that I was a retired English teacher, I didn’t know at the time that Chin Music and I would be bouncing over the rocks discussing semi-colons. I was glad to oblige and explain various rules since the discussion briefly took my mind off the severity of the rocks. Chin equated some portions to walking across a slanted roof. Nice metaphor, Chin.

So across the rocks we bounded for a lot longer than I had anticipated. Each time I thought they were over, another series of the slanted monsters appeared. In many ways I think only having one pole today benefited me. I often used my free hand for leverage when pulling myself up to the next ledge. At one point I didn’t think I was going to make it around a sloped rock face with no room for error. Chin braced himself in a position that gave me someone to keep me from falling if I lost my balance. Thankfully, no falls occurred today. At one point an aluminum ladder was stationed next to a precariously dangerous rock slab. The assistance was appreciated. It was also good to have a hiking buddy for photo opts.

Like yesterday, the heat and humidity prevailed. There were fewer mosquitoes; however, I still received some fresh bites. One thing that I’m finding recently is how tired I get by early afternoon. I definitely could have used some more water. When Chin and I finally reached NY 17, we walked the two hundred yards or so to the Creamery. After a water and root beer, I struck up a conversation with a former soldier, Gene, who wound up giving me a ride to Greenwood Lake and the Breezy Point Inn. I dined on the patio with a view of the lake. It’s been a good day. I met a new friend, completed a difficult section of trail, and didn’t fall all day. Indeed, it proved to be another special day on the Appalachian Trail.

Today would be in serious competition for my most miserable day on the trail. Not due to the terrain. Just as Steady had promised last Sunday, up around the bend, the Pennsylvania rocks finally ended, 45 miles into New Jersey. The reason for my miserable state had little to do with the trail and everything to do with the heat, humidity, and the mosquitoes. If anyone would like to try and simulate what I experienced today, let me suggest the following: Find a place with a 90 degree temperature and 100% humidity where mosquitoes are swarming by the hundreds. Now walk around in that environment for around nine hours. One fifteen minute break in an air conditioned room is permitted.

My day commenced with a final Port Jervis taxi ride back to High Point State Park. It was the first that was more than $5. One mile into the hike I stopped to climb a wooden tower with a platform and view of a tower which sits at the highest point in New Jersey at 1701 feet. From there I hiked steadily, crossing several roads and swatting bugs as the heat increased. After the rocks diminished, the trail became a fairly flat, soft path for most of the morning. It would have been a pleasant hike on a cooler day. Unfortunately the army of mosquitoes had only recently invaded the area, or so I was told by a local.

When I reached Lott Rd. I walked the half mile into Unionville, New York. The trail continues in New Jersey; however, it is so close to the line that some trail towns are in New York. At Horler’s Store I ordered a turkey sandwich on wheat for an early lunch with a Dr. Pepper. I sat in an old red porch chair on the front veranda. Also at the store were Johnny Walker, Sinner, and Banzai. I had not seen my old friend Banzai since before the Shenandoah’s. My break from the heat and bugs was short-lived. When I walked back to the AT I was immediately attacked by a small battalion. I made numerous kills, but many in the army struck me as well.

Sweating profusely and covered in Deet, I tried to outrun the pests unsuccessfully. At one point I put on my head-net, which at least kept the critters out of my face. What made matters worse was that the trail passed near water most of the afternoon, especially around the Wallkill Reserve. After the swampy walk around the Reserve, Pochuck Mountain awaited. Ascending about 700 feet, this was the only challenge of the day. It was here, however, that I again suffered what could have been a serious fall. Due to fatigue, I think, I failed in an attempt to pull myself up on a knee level large slab. As a result I lost my balance and fell backwards on another large rock. This fall evoked no humor. It hurt a lot. My right hand jammed underneath my body as my shoulder hit the rock. And what made matters worse was that I snapped one of my trekking poles. The mosquitoes showed no remorse, sending in reinforcements for multiple strikes as I lay motionless on the ground. Did I say it was miserable?

So with one pole, thoroughly soaked with sweat laden clothes, and triple figure mosquito bites, I painfully proceeded to County Rd. 517 where I took a short break to reaccess the potential injury. From there I first had a boardwalk hike followed by a cow pasture crossing before arriving at NJ 94 and Vernon, NJ. I then walked the hundred yards or so west to Heaven Hill Farm, a combination nursery, farmer’s market, and deli. I ordered a barbecue sandwich and root beer which I enjoyed on their patio. Land Line, a thru hiker who is trying to beat his own thru hike personal record of 74 days, joined me. After the meal, Mike, the deli owner offered a ride to the Episcopal Church Hostel in Vernon.

Several others are at the hostel with me including Banzai, Lentil, Pfeiffer, Lucky, and Fis. All are young folks. After a shower I walked to a grocery store and now am writing this in the only fast food restaurant in town, a Burger King. Darkness has arrived. I’m about to order a burger and then walk the two blocks back to my home for the night. Today was a tough one, but I’ve bought more bug spray so that I’ll be ready for those varmints as I hike out of New Jersey and into New York tomorrow on the Appalachian Trail.

I’m on a train, the Metro North/New Jersey Transit. The Hoboken Line. Destination, Penn Station. Speck sits beside me. Her second section hike of the summer has come to an end. Across the aisle sit Medicine Man and Kudo. All three of my hiking buddies are headed to LaGuardia. Medicine Man and Kudo will fly to St. Louis; Speck heads to Atlanta. I’m going into the city for a special visit. I’ll ride this same train back to Port Jervis later today…alone. For my friends, home and families await. For me, it will be back to the trail community. I will find a way back to High Point State Park and walk solitarily toward Vernon, NJ. But for now, life on the AT is temporarily suspended. Time stands still.

I look through the window at distant ridge lines. Their heights decrease the closer we get to Manhattan. The conductor announces the next stop. Commuters board every time it does. Each takes out a cell phone, or iPad, Kindle, or paperback. All look downwards, just like I’ve daily focused on my feet, and the ground, as I hiked. The train whistle blows. I reflect on the past, think about future days on the trail, but try to live in the present. I have only hours, minutes, to offer well wishes, say good-byes, embrace a moment in time that will never be repeated. The train slowly moves into another station. Again the whistle blows. In many ways I envy my friends who are headed home. In others, I long to be back on the trail. We arrive at our destination, Penn Station.

I say goodbye to Speck, Medicine Man, and Kudo at the intersection of 31st St. and 8th Ave. The Joe Louis Plaza. I shake the men’s hands. I hug Speck. I’ve stood here before. I love New York. There are no white blazes, but for some odd reason, I feel more comfortable navigating the NYC subway system than the rocks of the AT. There’s less chance I will fall on the streets of New York. Perhaps I am an enigma. I have over an hour to kill before the meeting. While my friends head north toward Central Park and eventually a cab to the airport to make mid-afternoon flights, I walk south toward the West Village. It’s a beautiful day in Manhattan.

I walk south on 7th Ave. Sidewalk vendors sell their wares. There’s a fruit stand every block. Food is plentiful. Ah, for an available piece of fruit around every bend on the Appalachian Trail. That would be good. It’s hot. I get to 23rd St. and decide to take a cab the rest of the way. I don’t want to be late. The driver is courteous and jolly. I’m grateful. I arrive 15 minutes early and text Rachel. She comes outside to meet me. I haven’t seen her since the first weekend in March. We hug hello. It’s a bittersweet moment, knowing how brief the visit will be.

I’m quickly propelled into the working world of my daughter. I momentarily become the center of attention for a group of strikingly vivacious young ladies. They all have beautiful smiles. All are interested in my hike. I meet Lauren, Meg and Amy. Then I’m introduced to Madison and Teresa. In the next room I’m greeted by another Amy, Rachel’s boss, who interrupts her meeting to emerge from a glass conference room to talk. I meet Mary and Dustin and others whose names I unfortunately can’t remember. These aren’t trail names. These are real people in the regular world. They could be Rocket or Finder or Paisley or Fatty or a number of other young ladies, if they were hiking the Appalachian Trail.

I see my daughter’s office and am a bit overwhelmed by the magnitude of the company for which she works. We leave to walk to lunch. I’m reading a distinctly New York menu at Westville. I think of another time, when a nine year old sat across from me at a restaurant in Park City. We order and chat. Rachel tells me about her incredibly busy world at SoulCycle. I talk about the hike. We speak of the uncle she loved so much. We smile a lot and enjoy the moment. Lunch goes much too quickly. We walk back to her office. I chat with a few others. We take a picture. Rachel walks with me to the corner of Leroy and Hudson. We hug tightly and exchange I love you’s. She walks back up Leroy toward Greenwich. I turn to watch for a few seconds more before heading up Hudson. I’m simultaneously happy and sad. The two hours with my daughter have become a memory.

I begin walking north on Hudson. There are no blazes. I need none. I’ll turn east to 8th Ave. at W14th St. and keep walking to 31th St. and Penn Station. I pass the Bus Stop Cafe at Bethune and remember the brunch there with Rachel and Sam. I notice the Apple store at the corner of W14th, where Rachel and I stopped on the cold January afternoon I left her in her new city before I drove back to Georgia. I think of all that has happened in the past two and one-half years. I see two women walking dogs. They smile when I ask to take a picture. Lindsey, a beautiful young lady, shows interest in my hike and says she will read my journal. I move on. The sun beams down. I think of a day last week when I saw only two other people over a ten hour period. Today there are tens of thousands marching through time on cement sidewalks. They have no blazes to follow; still, they find their way.

I’m back on another NJ Transit train, traveling in reverse the same route Speck, Medicine Man, Kudo, and I travelled this morning. Their flights are near completion. Their families wait. The coach is crowded. The train rolls between one small hamlet and another. Passengers depart at each stop. Outside, clouds and haze have replaced the sun. An older gentleman across the aisle watches a video on his iPhone. The voice sounds like a five year old granddaughter. He has no expression. I wonder why. I nap. The gentleman to my left wakes me at Harriman. Commuters depart at each stop. A once full train is now nearly empty. I sit alone, gazing at the ridge lines in the distance. They are increasing. I am nearing the trail.

The conductor announces, “Port Jervis, last stop.” I walk from the train. It is raining. I pass by the Burger King where only eleven hours earlier I had shared a meal with three fellow hikers, now friends. I call a cab. I stand near a puddle waiting. I ride back to the motel to remember. It has been a good day, a special day, but a day that now has become a memory. I will rest well tonight because tomorrow a hike needs to be resumed as the northward journey continues up the Appalachian Trail.