Week 12

Week 12 Monday- Tuesday As time creeps by, and I begin week 13, I realize that a new normal has set into place for me. I no longer have the occasional out-of-body experience where I see my arms and legs hiking away, and I can't remember why I am out here. I have a different mentality. It is as if I no longer need to think of a reason why I am walking 2,189M. I don't need reasons. At this point, all I need and want is to take in every second of this incredible experience and enjoy it as much as possible. When I pass into towns and people ask me why I am hiking the trail, I am unable to give them a practical/reason-filled answer. There is nothing practical or reasonable about what I am doing. I simply tell them that I can't put it into words and they just have to experience it themselves one day to really understand the "whys". Everyday is a beautiful mix of magic, adventure, and tranquility. It is the trip of a lifetime. 

Leaving Connecticut last week was a beautiful hike. I caught up with my friend Wolfdog, and we ended up staying in Salisbury, CT before leaving the state. (Rain delay) The hostel we stayed at was adorable. It was run by an older woman named Maria McCabe. It was more like a visit to grandma's house than a stay at a hostel, if you ask me. The house was over a hundred years old and was dressed with all sorts of old vanities, beds, doilies, and drapes. 

The painted wooden floors squeaked with every step you took, and I even had a fringe-lined lamp hanging above my ancient bed frame. This is so typical of the trail. One minute, I am hiking down a mountain in the rain, and the next I am sitting down to tea with grandma in her kitchen. These surreal moments out here are such a trip sometimes. Maria was a kind and sweet soul. She was originally from Northern Italy, which during WWII was German occupied, so she spoke both Italian and German. She chatted me up about all the hikers she had in the house over the years, and how it always kept her house full and her loneliness away. She had two husbands that had both passed away before her, and the house would have been too big for her to keep if it weren't for the hikers who constantly kept the rooms upstairs occupied. It was a pleasure meeting Maria. I'll never forget that kitchen, the Earl Grey tea, and the windowsill full of birthday cards she had received from her family, friends, and hikers for her 88th birthday the week before.

As we left Salisbury and entered Massachusetts, it was apparent we were officially in New England. The landscape was covered with endless terrain of Hemlock, Spruce, and Evergreen trees. The smell of Christmas wafts in the air at every turn the trail takes, and the pointy green peaks atop the rolling mountains of Mass are just gorgeous. One of our first stops in Mass was at Upper Goose Pond. 

The cabin there was run and kept by the ATC. This place was hiker Mecca! The cabin had about a dozen bunks, with a fireplace, kitchen, and front porch. They also had a few canoes you could take out on the pond directly behind the cabin. Wolf dog and I grabbed one as soon as we got there and took it out to the small island in the middle of the pond to eat dinner. We went for a swim, and saw the most beautiful New England sunset, right on the water. In the morning, the caretaker, Thumper, made all of the hikers pancakes and percolated coffee. It was such a delight, waking up in my bunk to the smell of fresh coffee, staring out the window at the sun rising over Upper Goose Pond.

On our hike out from the cabin, we stopped by a house right off trail called the "cookie ladies" house. If you didn't already guess, it was a ladies house where she passes out free cookies to the hikers. She was a little weird, but the cookies were delicious, and she even sold us a couple of cokes to boot. 

Later that day, Friday August 11th, I made it to my halfway point on the trail. It was an awesome feeling. I still can't believe I have hiker over 1,000M. The feeling reminded me of the feeling I had on the first anniversary day of my recovery. That year was both incredibly challenging and fulfilling. Each day felt so long, but the year seemed to flash before my eyes when it was all said and done. I felt like I could accomplish anything after getting through those first 365 days. I feel the same way after completing these first 1,095M. From now on, the numbers start going down on the trail for me. This is bittersweet because I absolutely don't want it to end, but like everything in this life, it is only temporary.

In Massachusetts, hikers get to do a bit of town hopping. Each day in this state, we have come across a town and have been able to stop there briefly for a real meal and few minutes of R&R. It has been so much fun to walk through so many different towns on the AT. In this portion of the trail, the towns possess a colonial vibe. There are American flags, New England Patriots signs, and colonial-style houses everywhere. It is so different from where I am from in Georgia. I can never say it enough. It is so neat to adventure across this beautiful country in such a unique way.

The biggest climb we got to experience in Mass was Mount Greylock. The climb was 3,500 ft. high and spanned over 15M to completely ascend and descend from the mountain range where it was located. The mountain was foggy and eerie on account of a storm that blew through while we were there. The lightning from the storm was so close to where we slept in the first shelter, 3M before the summit, that it literally shook our bunks. It was intense. By the next day, we onto the summit where we experienced no views on account of all the fog. 

After leaving the highest point in Mass, we descended into Williamstown, MA where my cohort and I took a nearo and stayed in a motel for the night. We figured we needed a night of pizza, ice cream, and reality television before starting a new state. The next morning, Wolfdog unfortunately chipped a tooth while chomping down on his continental breakfast, so we are having to take another town break in Bennington, Vermont. That's right! I have crossed yet another state line and have entered the land of Cabot cheese and Ben and Jerry's Ice cream. 

They call this state VerMud, and I immediately got the joke the second we crossed the state line. It was weird. We were still on the same mountain that we were climbing out of Mass, but the second you cross that state line... there is nothing but mud and sludge. 

It has been nice to slow my roll a bit and enjoy yet another one of these cute little trail towns, but I am also extremely excited to start racking up some miles in Vermont. I can't wait to get to Stratton Mountain tomorrow, the summit where Benton MacKaye was inspired to propose creation of the AT. It will be glorious. The journey through the Green Mountains continues.