It is quite apparent by this point that I have not been updating my blog regularly. Mainly, this is because I have not been stopped in a single place for long enough to have the time to post, or because I could not obtain suitable computer access in the places I did stop to do so.
However, I have now made a necessary yet unfortunate stop in Pennsylvania and am off trail for a few days. My grandmother has recently passed away, and I am currently with the rest of my family in/around Philadelphia. I do plan to return to the trail fairly soon, however, but I am thoroughly enjoying my unexpected zero days despite the circumstances. It is so nice to be able to play video games, eat junk food, lay around on a couch, and do anything besides hike 20 miles before the end of the day. Not to mention hang out with my family whom I hadn’t seen since Christmas of last year.
Of course, it must also be confessed that if I were to attempt to stay here for more than a few days, I would gradually start to be haunted by the nagging feeling of a journey not yet completed and, one way or another would end up back on the trail.
But picking up where my last post left off in Connecticut:
I was ultimately not in Connecticut for more than 2 more days. The following night after leaving Salisbury, I camped out at a site that had this for a privy:
Apparently it never rains in Connecticut, so a roof (or even a defined structure for that matter) around the privy itself is completely unnecessary. Needless to say, I did not appreciate their sentiment.
The following day, I decided to stop in at a town called Kent. The terrain had been particularly friendly that day (including a near 7 mile jaunt along a handicap accessible riverside trail) and I was able to knock out 20 miles in no time at all. So when I made it to the road crossing near Kent by 1 in the afternoon and realized the center of town was less than a mile from the trail, it was certainly easy to decide that I would be going in. I had also been out of water for quite some time, and the day had been oppressively hot. The thought of a cold Gatorade seemed heavenly.
Lucky for me, the town’s gas station had a special running on Gatorade. Buy 2 get 3 free. I’m not quite sure how giving away more for free than was initially purchased in the first place makes solid business sense, but then again, I wasn’t about to argue. I only really wanted two Gatorades, but I was done hiking for the day, and figuring out what to do about an excess of cold delicious Gatorade was a problem I didn’t mind having at all. Moments later I walked out of the gas station with my 5 Gatorades.
I immediately chugged two of them. The other three I debated about. I was obviously going to pack them out, but wasn’t sure of the best way to carry them. Yet seeing as how I was completely out of water, I ultimately opted to dump all three into my Camelbak. Although I was unsure about how my Camelbak would respond to dealing with a sugary liquid that was not water (they can be finicky at times), pouring the Gatorade into it was a decision I would reap the benefits from for several days after.
Across the street from the gas station was this store that caught my eye:
I immediately got excited as soon as I saw it. Being half Belgian, I have acquired a taste for legit Belgian chocolate, but it is almost impossible to find in this country. There are knock off brands, of course, (just like “Blue Moon” claims to be a Belgian beer), but nothing truly compares to the real thing. I scampered over there as quickly as I could.
Sure enough, this chocolate was the real deal. It had been imported straight from Belgium, and the labels had been modified to make them legal to sell in the US. I stocked up on a bunch of them to send home, and picked up a few extra for myself. Sure it was heavy and would probably melt in my pack, but I really didn’t care. The stuff is that good.
So now that I had got my Gatorade and Belgian Chocolate, the next task was to locate lodging. There were no hiker hostels in Kent, so that meant that I had to get a room at an actual hotel/bed and breakfast place. Which would not be so bad, except for the fact that I was traveling alone…most of the time it’s not so bad, but it also means that I’m stuck footing the hotel bill myself when I make it into towns and don’t get to split the cost with anyone.
Now would be a good point in the story to provide some commentary on the town of Kent:
Picture in your mind what you would consider a stereotypical “weekend getaway” town in New England. Yep, that’s Kent. And to make matters worse, the town was hosting an internationally renowned jazz festival the weekend I happened to show up, so it was crawling with snobby New England-type people who didn’t actually LIVE in New England in the first place. That’s not to say that all people who like jazz music are snobby New England wannabes, but from what I saw of the people who were around town, the place was full of them.
It should also be noted that, to the untrained/ignorant eye, a homeless person and a hiker have a similar appearance. It is no surprise then, that I received plenty of condescending and blatantly offensive stares as I walked around town in my hiking clothes and pack. I got the sense that the town as a whole did not appreciate my presence, and they wanted me to do them all a huge favor and get the hell out. Yet I ultimately knew that all that was required to change their attitude towards me was a shower, a set of khaki shorts and a polo shirt. People can be so ridiculously fickle, sometimes.
Thusly, this “anti-hiker” vibe spilled over into other facets of the town. After walking down the street from the gas station about a quarter mile, I happened upon a rather large looking house with a sign out front that read “Starbuck Inn.” I figured I would mosey in and see about getting a room for the night. I walked up to the front door and lifted the oversized ornamental brass knocker, but the door immediately opened before I had a chance to physically knock on it.
I was greeted by a well groomed older looking man whom was already in the middle of a conversation with some other guests, but waved me inside without so much as a break in words. He shut the door behind me and continued his conversation with the other guests for several minutes. The following conversation takes place after the other guests are out of earshot.
Inn Keeper: Wow, it sure is a hot one today. I’m Bill.
-Extends hand to shake-
Me: I’m Adrian…or Foot-z, depending on what you want to call me.
-Shakes hand-
Bill: Nice to meet you. Please follow me back into my office.
Me: Very well.
We walk through the overly ornate house full of bookshelves with fake books, antique end tables in hallways, and tacky ornamental statues to Bill’s office, which appears to be just as overly ornate as the rest of the house. Bill sits down at his desk.
Bill: Alright. I’m going to be up front with you. This is a luxury inn. The base price for a room here including tax is over $200 a night. This is typically out of the price range for most hikers, which I am assuming you are. Now there are alternative places to stay in town which may have availability. If you would like to sit outside on our patio and call these other places, you are more than welcome to do so. In fact, here’s the number of a place that might be more suitable for you…
-Writes number down on sticky note and hands it to me-
Me: …I will certainly do that. Thank you.
I had never experienced blatant discrimination before, but there is a first time for everything. Here was a person making sweeping generalizations about me based on nothing but my appearance, yet trying to remain professional about it while simultaneously provide me with alternative options so as to not seem impolite. An interesting scenario, for sure. Even though I probably could’ve bit the bullet and forked over the $200 for a one night stay, I knew better. The inn keeper didn’t want me there.
I walked out to the patio and called the other place. The lady on the other end of the phone was much more pleasant, but a bit eccentric. I told her I was looking for a simple room, I didn’t need anything extravagant, just so long as it had the basics (shower, AC, TV, etc). She said that she only had one room available, but it was probably “more than I needed” and was slightly more expensive than the others…around $190 plus tax. Yet I got the sense that she wasn’t 100% firm on the price, so I stayed on the phone with her for several minutes just talking about nothing in particular.
She was certainly a character and frequently changed subjects in conversation much like you would surf channels on TV. Yet most importantly, she didn’t bat an eye at all when I admitted that I was a hiker. Once that was out of the bag, all she said was “Oh! That’s awesome! The most interesting people I’ve met are hikers! I haven’t been open that long, you know, but I ride past the trail every day on my bike. I’ve always wanted to see what that was all about. Hikers are nice people. And they always get up early. I like that because then I have all the time in the world to get the rooms ready. But they get up at 5 AM. I like doing that because 5 AM is sort of a magical time when all the creatures start waking up, but it’s hard for me to do…”
I let her go on for as long as she wanted. After a while, she realized we hadn’t actually arranged anything as far as the room was concerned and switched subjects again.
“So how much did I say the room was? $190 with tax? It’s ok, you can have it for $120 total. That’ll be my support of the cause. But you have to pay cash.”
Bullshit. Discount or not, talking numbers like that, you definitely need to take cards as a courtesy. And I wasn’t about to walk all the way across town to an ATM just to pull out a wad of cash. So in the words of my fraternity brother Ryan Schmid:
“You’re being that girl right now…” I said in a playful tone “I definitely appreciate the discount, but are you SURREEE you wont take a card? I mean I know it costs money per transaction and everything, but you gotta try to service your customers…”
She agreed.
“Oh I know, but you see, all this technology is just hard to deal with. You know one day all this stuff is gonna go away for good?...”
She then proceeded to discuss the downsides of technology for several minutes. And rather than weigh her argument down by introducing these things called “facts,” I just let her talk some more. Eventually, the conversation circled back to the room.
“…But anyway, yeah, that’s fine.”
Lucky indeed.
“Excellent, I’ll be right over. Thank you!”
Not 10 seconds after I hung up, the back patio door opened and Bill stepped out.
“So, did you get a room?”
I’m positive he had been eavesdropping, although for what reason I don’t know.
“I did. Thank you very much for providing the info on the other place.”
“You’re very welcome.”
He showed me to the door, and I walked the half mile or so to the other place. My room was certainly more than I needed, but I enjoyed it much more knowing that I had successfully gotten it for a much lower price.
As I thank you, I gave her the extra chocolate I had bought. She thoroughly enjoyed it.
The next morning, I mailed the rest of the chocolate home and left town with a fully resupplied pack and a Camelbak full of Gatorade.
I then briefly passed through the Schaghticoke Indian Reservation, though there were no indications I was actually doing so except for small wooden signs like these (apparently the Schaghticoke are a conglomeration of east coast tribes and have sections of their reservation for each).
Once past the reservation, I crossed the border into New York.
It is safe to say that New York has probably been my favorite state so far on the trail. The terrain was fairly calm, the views were nice, the trail was interesting, and there’s a delicious deli less than a mile from almost every road crossing. ‘Tis the good life.
I realize the statement “the trail was interesting” may be ambiguous, so this is what I mean:
In this case, the trail runs around “Nuclear Lake,” a place where the US government used to test fuel for nuclear reactors (the flat patch of ground in the picture above is where the facility used to be). While it has long since been demolished, the US Forest Service assures the public that the area is perfectly safe.
Okay…if they say so…
And for those of us hikers who commute, New York provides a solution:
This is the Appalachian Trail NYC commuter train station. The trail literally crosses the railroad tracks right beside the station, and hikers wishing to visit NYC can easily hop on. I opted to hike past it, but it is quite a tempting convenience…
And as if an old nuclear test site and train station weren’t enough, the trail also passes directly through a zoo.
Nothing too exotic in here, really. It’s more like a place where people who want to see what animals are in the woods in New York can go without having to go into the woods to actually see them.
Even us AT hikers get to be part of the zoo.
Yet to get to the zoo from the trail, you must first cross the Bear Mountain Bridge over the Hudson river…
…not get attacked by Peregrine Falcons….
…and above all, resist the urge to jump off the bridge and commit suicide.
Yes, the trail can be quite perilous at times…but the views are nice, so that’s always good.
The main down side to New York, however, is the water. As a rule, hikers are typically advised not to draw water from any indigenous sources in the state…pollution is apparently a large problem. Instead, most shelters have water pumps such as this one that link to underground wells.
The problem is that while the water may be clean-ish, it looks disgusting and has a metallic taste (the rust from the pipes in the pump flavors the water). Yet my water filter never ceases to amaze me. Here it is getting rid of all the crud in the pump water and leaving me with good tasting, clean, delicious nectar of life.
And now, the part you’ve all been waiting for…
THE BEAR ALTERCATION
My third day in New York the weather was terrible. It had been raining for about half the day, and I was soaked. I had planned to go 20 miles, but the rain got steadily worse as the day wore on, so when I came to a shelter after 15 miles, I had no qualms about stopping early.
I had just taken off my boots and wrung out my socks when three other hikers came trotting in.
“How you doin’ man?”
“I’m fucking soaked, man! How’re you doing?”
“’Bout the same.”
At a quick glance, all three of their packs looked way too heavy. There’s no way they were thru hikers.
“You guys up for the weekend?”
“Yeah, we just came out from Long Island. We set up our tent a little ways away, but it’s full of water now, so we decided to move in here. We started down by the road yesterday. Where’d you come from?”
I always love that question. The farther south I get, the more awesome the answer seems.
“Maine.”
All three hikers stood stunned for a moment.
“You’re doing the whole AT?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“But you started in Maine?”
“Yep.”
“So you’re doing it backwards?”
I hate that question. “Backwards” implies that there is a ‘correct’ way to do the trail, and that we Southbounders are somehow traveling in the wrong direction. While the more patriotic Northbounders will insist that this is the correct interpretation, the fact of the matter is that they are flat out wrong. But that’s another story.
“Well if by that you mean going SOUTH, then yes.”
“That’s awesome!”
We made small talk for a good while, and then the rain stopped and the sun came out. I quickly took to setting my wet clothes out to dry and filled my cookware with rocks to boil (filling soaked boots with steaming hot pebbles turns them into mini saunas; the moisture inside them will gradually evaporate). The other hikers started to cook their dinner.
Beans and rice. Heavy to carry, pain in the ass to make, and a bitch to clean. Not to mention the fact that they spilled a good deal of it on the ground near the fire pit while they were cooking. Part of me wanted to bitch them out about it and make them clean it up (animals will gladly eat any dropped food, and then go after whatever you have left in your pack), but I decided to let it go. I wasn’t too concerned about animals, and nobody likes being bossed around. I prepared my own dinner of Ramen and tuna, ate it, and went to sleep in the shelter. The other hikers followed suit soon after.
The next morning, I awoke around 6 am. I immediately started to pack up my stuff (I am normally on the trail and hiking by 6:30) when I saw something moving around outside the shelter.
It was a bear.
I was initially excited about seeing a bear. I had already seen several on various trips in the Shenandoah, and I assumed this bear would behave much like the ones there (stumble through camp, look around, knock some stuff over, and then keep walking into the woods). So rather than freak out and alert the others who were still sleeping, I decided to keep quiet and take some pictures instead.
After some time, however, it was obvious that the bear had no intention of leaving. It hung out around the fire pit (EXACTLY where the hikers had dropped their food), but kept looking up and sniffing around as if it were looking for something.
I watched the bear pace back and forth by the fire pit for several minutes when it suddenly stopped; its gaze fixated on the shelter. This was bad.
I quickly glanced around the inside of the shelter, looking for anything that might have triggered the bear’s interest. It was then that I made a terrifying discovery: those dumb weekend hikers had left their bags of rice and beans completely out!
I looked back at the bear. Its attention was still fixed on the shelter, but it began to slowly creep forward.
“OH F--K! A BEAR!”
One of the other hikers had now woken up. His scream quickly woke up the other two, and they all froze in panic.
“Shut up! Nobody move!”
I didn’t want any of them to do anything stupid. The bear was obviously fixated on the food they had left out, but any sudden moves would undoubtedly startle the bear. Still, we had to do something. We were cornered in a shelter, and our only means of escape was cut off.
You often hear about the legendary “fight or flight” response of human instinct in various applications. Yet in that moment, neither option seemed very good to me. Attempting to escape from the shelter would be dumb. Bears can run incredibly fast, and can climb faster than they can run. Not to mention the fact that even if the bear did not chase us, it would undoubtedly enter the shelter and ransack our gear.
Fighting, on the other hand, was also out of the question. I had no suitable weapons for taking on bears, and I was already cornered. I felt that if I attempted to take an aggressive stance and challenge the bear, it would simply take me to be ridiculous (much like we laugh at poodles who vehemently bark at delivery trucks) before attacking me and mauling me to pieces. My best alternative was to try to find a way to outsmart it somehow.
As the bear crept closer, my mind was racing. What was I going to do? I couldn’t run, but knew better than to try to fight. I didn’t have time for any overly intricate solution, but every second I spent thinking made the situation more dangerous.
But then, out of nowhere, a rock came sailing out of the air, crashing to the ground just inches from the bear’s head.
“F—K YOU, BEAR!”
The cavalry had arrived. Another hiker had showed up on scene and began throwing rocks at the bear. The bear whirled around. I saw my opportunity, and scampered out of the shelter while its attention was diverted.
Then, once safely facing the bear’s flank, I started heaving rocks, too.
“F—K OFF!”
The bear immediately started to show signs of wavering. It appeared confused, and seemed to be very wary of the rock barrage and loud cursing. We kept the pressure on. Eventually, the bear started to move away from the shelter. We chased it, staying at a safe distance and hurling rocks at it all the while.
Eventually, we realized the bear was deathly afraid and just wanted to get away. So we decided to make the bear do a little bit of AT hiking. The trail by the shelter went up over a small ridge, and was very rocky and steep. Passable, but requiring a good amount of effort. Perfect.
We pushed the bear toward the ridge. It stopped and looked back woefully, almost begging to be left alone in exchange for its departure, but we weren’t satisfied.
“Up you go, motherf—ker!”
By this point, the three other hikers had joined the fray, and hailstorm of rocks came crashing down all around the bear. It saw that it had no choice but to start climbing. With a great deal of effort, it lumbered over the ridge and slunk back into the woods.
Just another day on the AT…
Two days later, I was crossing the border into New Jersey.
My journey through New Jersey was much less eventful, though somewhat enlightening. When most people think New Jersey, they typically think of a state which has nothing good to offer anyone. I thought this as well, but was pleasantly surprised by the beautiful landscape:
Who would’ve thought. Also of note is the fact that New Jersey not only marks the AT fairly well, but also sometimes marks which trails AREN’T the AT, which is even more valuable.
Yet sadly, New Jersey is not exempt from the tacky summit rule:
And now I am in PA. I had been hearing about the legendary Pennsylvania rocks since Maine, and was wondering what they were all about.
Now would be a good time to point out that the name “Appalachian Trail” can sometimes be a misnomer. The “Appalachian” part is almost always correct, but the word “trail”…well, “trail” seems to be an opinion based term. For instance, this is a typical section of what Pennsylvania considers to be trail.
You will notice that this appears to be more like a pile of rocks than a trail. Yet this goes on for miles and miles and days and days. It is hard to navigate, gives your feet a beating, and constant vigilance is required when hiking these sections; timber rattlesnakes tend to like piles of warm rocks.
PA does have plenty of cool views, though.
I also got to take a side trip to New York City and visit my lovely girlfriend and her family. The first town in Pennsylvania, Delaware Water Gap, offered bus rides to NYC. And because my girlfriend has family in NYC, she was up there visiting. I seized the opportunity and got over there as soon as I could.
Surprising to say, I hadn’t been to New York City before, but it was kind of fun walking around a huge teeming city with my pack and trekking poles. I did get to see plenty of cool stuff, though, even if I was only up there for a day and a half or so.
New World Trade Center.
Classic Skyline shot.
Hamilton's Tomb. Had no idea he was buried in NY.
But as for right now, the viewing, wake, and funeral for my grandmother have taken center stage. I aim to get back on the trail Friday, but that ultimately remains to be seen.
I will also try to blog more often. Writing this post took fricken forever!
