[at-l] HATT Section 9A Report, part 1

[Trailmixup@aol.com]

I finally got it all together and wrote it.  I've got pictures coming, too.  
Enjoy -- I sure did!  :-)

Trailmixup


DAY BEFORE HATT  (Thursday)

I was running late.  Any notion of getting out of the office by 11:30 was a 
distance dream.  There'd been a spate of crises at work all week long, and 
there was no sign that the deluge was gonna end any time soon.  I finally 
wrenched myself free as the clock hands moved toward 4PM.  Fortunately, all 
my stuff was packed - all that remained were a few small tasks and I was off. 
 'Stopped at a shopping plaza en route to buy a birthday card for someone 
special, order a pizza, and pick up some groceries.  I was really getting 
jazzed about this hike.  

'Pulled my car right onto the property at the RPH shelter and parked at the 
lot.  It was getting dark now, but I could see some activity at the shelter.  
First out to greet me was Walter, whom I'd met at this year's Ruck. Aren't 
reunions great!?  He'll be my "handshake" at the end of the hike.  Also at 
the shelter were a young man of about 17 and someone I recognized right away 
- Nimblewill Nomad!   

We all sat around at the picnic tables and chatted as I hauled out a ton of 
goodies: a chocolate milkshake - a gift to NN from Spur and a Snickers bar 
from me; pizza (the 2nd at the shelter, as NN had ordered one when "Big John" 
had been by earlier in the evening), soda, a box of ice cream sandwiches, 
cookies, donuts, OJ, a bag of oranges, corn chips, and a batch of candy bars. 
 Easily enough for a dozen hungry hikers - we were but four!  (We left the 
extras for others who would be coming through the shelter over the weekend.)

NN talked of his wonderful hike and his book, available in about 3 weeks; 
Walter about his shakedown hikes on the AT this year.  The young man was 
mostly quiet, but did share, exuberantly, his joy at being on the Trail and 
the ability to hike under his "real" name, instead of his lifelong nickname, 
"Slow Burn."  Hey, young fella, I think you got this backwards!  Oh well - he 
was a southbounder.  It just figures.  ;-)

Walter told of his new Trailname: Uncle Buck.  He'd had this nickname for 
awhile and had decided to adopt it for the Trail.  I told the story of how 
I'd finally gotten my Trailname.  (Trailmixup was a screen name that I'd been 
given by some colleagues.  I'd always hoped to get a genuine Trailname in the 
traditional manner - earned on the Trail.)  So here's my "trip report" inside 
my trip report:

My New Trailname:
I'd been hiking with Spur in NY/CT when he'd passed through here earlier this 
summer.   We had made plans for me to meet him in VT when my vacation came up 
later.   From there, I would be off to the Catskills for a weeklong trail 
project.  We had such a great time in VT that we decided that I'd catch him 
at the end of the week further up the Trail, where I'd pass the last of my 
vacation days.  He'd be ready for a 0-day by then and we could fit in a day 
hike.   

The ADK work trip was fabulous, but ended considerably later than they 
usually do, so I rushed out of the base camp at "Snake Ranch" and tried to 
make good time for the over-5-hour trip to meet Spur at the trailhead in NH.  
 I wound up getting there very, very late and very, very harried and tired.  
In the morning Spur hit me with an idea.  Extend the vacation time to 3 days 
and we could manage to fit in a 3-day hike to include the Moosilauke section 
- quite a nice hike, the first of the Whites and very beautiful.  Very 
tempting for someone who'd never hiked on the AT north of CT!  

Two obstacles: I needed permission to take an additional day off work, and I 
wasn't sure I'd have the right gear to pull it off.  (Gear for a work trip 
differs significantly from what I'd use on a 3-day backpack.  I'd brought 
some gear suitable for town and for a day hike.)

'Found a phone in town and called my boss at home.   She was amazing.  Her 
reply?  "Take advantage of this chance while you can!" and she added, rather 
wryly, "...and just hope it takes!"  Does she understand me, or what!?  ;-)  
Next up: gear.  When Spur had suggested the hike, I'd gotten an uneasy 
feeling.  I didn't remember putting my boots back into the car at the close 
of the work trip....  Hmm.  That could be a problem.  

As Spur stood by, I rifled through my stuff - quite a task, since my trunk 
lid doesn't work and I have to access the trunk from the back seat!   I 
hauled out some gear.  Just as I'd feared -- no boots.  (Yup - in my haste to 
get on the road, I'd left them at the farmhouse back at the ranch.  I was 
able to find a pair of teva-like sandals, some clean socks, some 
not-too-hideously-dirty hiking clothes; my pack-frame would do; 'found my 
hiking poles, water bags; had a tent, sleeping bag, pad,  - all looked good.  
I emerged from the car, smiling.  "I've got it.  I'm ready!"

As we hiked that day, we talked about how everything had somehow fallen into 
place.   I loved the spontaneity of the events and how they had unfolded.  It 
was in keeping with my entire past year - new job, new city, new lifestyle, 
new attitude.  I was ready to embrace change, to meet some challenges, plunge 
myself into it all, headlong.  That's when it struck me - or was it Spur who 
suggested it? - I don't remember.  "I'm ready!" had been a very telling 
declaration - it defined who I was!  It would make the perfect trailname for 
me!  And so, I became "Ready."

We chatted into the evening.  NN had retired to his bunk inside the shelter, 
from which he joined in on the conversation; the other three of us had stayed 
at the picnic tables just outside the entrance .   After awhile, we all got 
sleepy and crept to bed.

I should tell you a bit about this shelter.  It was once a cabin.  One wall 
has been removed so that it now faces onto an open, patio-like, covered area. 
 There are two picnic tables on the patio, 8 bunks inside, along with a large 
table and chair - perfect for reading/writing in the shelter log or getting 
some solitude from others who generally congregate at the picnic tables.  
This shelter is super well-maintained and feels spacious and comfortable.

There is a water pump - complete with a sign warning to treat the water.  
Historically, in spite of the brown, mineral-rich appearance of the water 
drawn from this well, the water has always passed inspection.  Unfortunately, 
this has not been the case in the last several tests, so this well joins the 
others in the area whose water should be treated.  Fortunately, locals often 
bring water to the shelter, as do Joe (the caretaker) and Big John (who also 
stops by around 6PM each evening during the busy thruhiking season to take 
deli orders and to leave a cooler of cold sodas).

The grounds around the shelter offer plenty of room for tents.  There are 
catawlpa trees  too -- my guess is that folks have so frequently asked what 
species they are, that someone thought to tack a sign on one and be done with 
all the questions.  There's a thermometer on another tree.  Today it's 72* -- 
nice.  The privy is a comfortable distance away.  As you approach the shelter 
from the Trail, you are greeted by a wonderful arch of shrubs through which 
the welcoming "RPH sign" over the door of the shelter is perfectly framed in 
green.  I'll bet that this has been a welcome sight for many a tired hiker!  
For hikers' convenience, a sign points north and south on the Trail to 
eliminate doubt to any whom had stumbled in after dark.  This shelter site is 
just yards from homes and backyards, and very close to the busy Taconic 
Parkway and Interstate Route 84.  In spite of this, one gets a nice, 
cloistered feeling due to the thick stand of trees and shrubs surrounding the 
area.  Truly remarkable, really.

Friday
I awakened to the sound of crinkling metal.  Amazing how loud a whisperlight 
wind screen can be in the unfolding!  I showed Buck the garage just a ways 
from the shelter.  (It's used as an overflow area, or for hikers who want 
some "space" away from the shelter, I guess.  It's scheduled to be torn down 
soon.  "Torn down" is a misnomer - smashed down is more like it for this huge 
concrete block structure!  It's gonna take a lot of sledge hammers to get 
this baby down - we're all saving up our frustrations for that time when we 
all get to swing away!)  I breakfasted on an ice cream sandwich and a bagel, 
along with a fresh, brewed cup of coffee -- thanks to Walter.  (He's a 
Culinary Institute of America-graduated chef, don'tchaknow.  'Guess it was 
too late to ask for a change of section so I could hike along with my own 
personal chef, eh?  Drat.)

The rest of the group awakened and went about their mornings, preparing to 
leave.  I don't think Slowburn was in a hurry.  (Later I learned that he'd 
slept past noon!)  As I was packing up the car, who should show but Joe, the 
caretaker!  NN had mentioned the night before how much he had been hoping to 
see Joe again.  They'd met during NN's '98 hike and NN had really enjoyed 
talking with him.  I was sorry to inform him that Joe was ill with Lyme 
Disease and was not making rounds these days, so this was a wonderful 
surprise!  We all chatted for awhile, took some photos, and shared some hugs 
and then it was time for NN to shove off.  His destination today was Graymoor 
Friary.  He left -- a light step and a light heart, face smiling.  I'd met 
Nimblewill Nomad on his 100th day of his Odyssey 2000 hike.  What a thrill 
for me! Walt and I tried to get out too, but were blocked in by Joe's car, so 
we were there a bit longer - talking Trail.

When we finally got our wheels rolling, we were already 20 minutes late for 
our rendezvous with Mama Lipton and Flatlander.  The plan: leave my car at 
Route 55, continue (in Buck's car) to Cornwall Bridge where Mama Lipton, 
Flatlander, and I would head to our starting point at Falls Village.  Buck 
would head back to RPH for his start.  True to my screen name, I got us lost. 
 Twice.  I recognized Flatlander right away.  They'd waited 50 minutes for 
us!  Hugs all around!  Even for our "new best friend" whom they'd met and 
befriended as they waited for us.  Walt treated us to cups of steaming coffee 
and we chatted awhile longer before heading out.  We weren't able to recruit 
our new friend for HATT hike, but I think she may consider a little hike on 
the AT sometime in the future!  

At the picnic area near the Falls Village Bridge we met none other than 
Norman and Nancy Sills, who'd be hiking on day one with Mama Lipton and 
Flatlander.  This is turning out to be quite the celebrity weekend!  It was 
only just past 11 AM, but we'd chatted, photo'd and shaken hands.  The HATT 
hike had begun for us.  We headed off in our respective directions.

Mine began with a comfortable roadwalk along the Housatonic, passing the 
Power Company.  I say comfortable, it was only after many stops to adjust my 
pack that it became comfortable.  My platypus was leaking something fierce 
and my pack was riding oddly.  After some adjustments, I was finally truly 
comfortable and just entering the woods at the newly constructed ACC Trail - 
providing handicap access to the Trail.  As I entered the cool shade of the 
forest, I immediately started to relax and breathe freely.  All the stressors 
of the past week, all the frenzy and excitement of meeting NN and reuniting 
with friends, starting the HATT hike all started to peel away.  I was hiking. 
 I was living.  This was great!  I'm really, really "Ready!" 

This is an interesting trail section.  It consists of several loops 
alternately connecting and sharing the AT.  All along the way are benches 
constructed of split logs.  Overviews and 'learning stations" are bordered by 
tree trunks to prevent wheelchairs from rolling away.  My guess is that 
they're designed so that sight-impaired people will be able to stay on the 
trail or in the confines of the view area, as well.  It's definitely graded 
for wheelchair accessibility, but so well designed as to feel "natural" and 
very pleasant indeed.   While wide enough to permit a wheelchair to pass, 
it's really not excessively wide at all.  Kudos to the designers - may the 
Trail here be enjoyed by one and all.

My plan was to pay attention to my watch, so that I could "mark" the official 
start of HATT at 12 noon.  I was lost in the moment and enjoying the walk, 
when I noticed that it was 12:17!  Belated "happy thoughts" to all those mad 
HATT'ers out there!"  Throughout the hike during the next 3 days, my thoughts 
turned to individuals whom I have met, or met in spirit.  I always think of 
past thruhikers when I hike the AT.  "Earl Shaffer walked here," "I'll bet 
Sloetoe liked this spot!"-- usually a steep climb, and I surmise that he'd 
love the challenge of it.  It's a real kick to share in this community.   

This time, I was especially "tuned in" to everyone.  I marveled at how some 
things got me to thinking of folks.  I leaned up once to kiss a blaze.  
('Couldn't.  Be real!  I'm 5'2!")  I kissed my hand and touched a blaze, and 
thought of Felix.  He'd do that, I thought.  Whenever I passed pine or 
cypress, I thought of GMC - now why is that, I wonder?  As I hiked, the song 
that kept running through my head today was, "Diamonds are a Girl's Best 
Friend."  Quite a disturbing song - especially when the only lyrics I knew 
were: "...quite continental.  Diamonds are a girl's best friend."  Try 
singing those lines over and over all daylong!  Curses!  Why'd I let myself 
watch that Marilyn Monroe special the other night!?

I thought of Spur when I heard birds.  I was really into the moment.  Hiking 
and enjoying the sights, sounds, smells - the feel of the tread under my 
feet, the feel of being in the woods, on the Trail.  I came to a second 
roadwalk section, where coming close to a railroad track, one can see a sign 
posted for hikers: "Fast Track closed."  This had been a little eatery much 
enjoyed by hikers of the past.  Oh well.  Passing near the high school, the 
Trail has been rerouted back into the woods off the road again.  The Trail 
does a virtual U-turn here.  My thoughts were, "there'd better be a decent 
pay-off for this re-lo or this is just pointless.  Trust, people, trust.  As 
I rounded a corner shortly after, I came upon a most idyllic pond -- just in 
time to see a blue heron flying gracefully and silently over the water and 
out of view.  Wow!  It was so serene!  I did not want to budge from this 
spot.  It was so peaceful and beautiful.   The graded shades of green amongst 
all the trees, their delicate leaves reflected in the dark, still surface of 
the water - verdant and fragrant.  All around the pond were delightful, 
moss-covered rocks and fallen tree trunks - it was an artist's paradise!  But 
I had to move on and did so reluctantly. 

Next I came to a corn field, mountain crests off in the distance behind it!  
Lovely!  Arrest me now.  I stole a husk of corn and ate it right on the spot. 
 (I took it from the back, where it wouldn't be seen and I packed out the 
now-empty cob.  Am I somewhat redeemed?  I'll tell you the answer.  No.  Read 
on.)

Crossing a road and getting back to the entryway to the woods and climbing 
slightly, the Trail contains an odd sight.  A stile.  Right in the center of 
the Trail.  It passes over a rather ordinary-looking pile of rocks.  What?!  
There's got to be a story here, folks.  I puzzled over this one.  I took a 
photo and then I moved on.  Hiking now with earnest, I was really enjoying 
myself.  The Trail in the whole CT section is marvelously constructed and 
very well maintained.  Truly delightful walking.  I love the feel of good 
tread underfoot, interesting sights, pure heaven....  Suddenly, the reverie 
was broken by the sound of squealing tires and roaring engines. (This 
persisted for hours.  My "punishment" for my theft of the corn cob, I 
wondered?  At times it was so loud as to be completely impossible to tune it 
out.  I was dismayed to discover I'd developed a headache.)  I hiked faster 
and harder, seeking to get out of the reach of the intrusive noise.  

After a while I reached Belter Campsites.  I stopped in to see what it offers 
and to take some photos.  All the campsites in CT are of the same ilk.  A 
spattering of sites - approximately 150 feet in from the Trail, spaced 
somewhat apart, one from the other; the water source, a nearby creek.  I like 
them better than most shelters, I decide.  I decide that I'm going to bypass 
the mosquito-ridden Cedar Swamp shelter tonight and shoot for the campsite 
just beyond it.  It'll be great to get a few more miles in early in the 
weekend.

At the end of one gentle, rock-strewn ascent, I met two young women, from 
Trinity College, out enjoying the weekend before having to head back to 
school.  As they sat at the overview enjoying their lunch, we chatted a 
little.  They commented on my super pace, which they couldn't help but 
notice.  Deliver me from this noise, I tell them.  They sadly inform me that 
it'll be with me for quite some time, still.  <Shudder>  We chat a while, 
before I move on.  This time, I'm actually running down the trail.  Man, I 
love being in the woods!!!  Remind me to tell you - my pack at the beginning 
of this hike (without food and water) was only 15.5 lbs!  Not bad, eh, 
Kahley?!

'Came upon three people at a HangGlider ramp overlooking a beautifully scenic 
valley.  They were former college pals out for the weekend, heading back for 
a Labor Day picnic.  From this vantage point, I could see the origin of that 
disturbing noise: a racetrack just below.  The mountains all around seem to 
amplify and funnel the sounds up to the Trail.  As lovely as the view was and 
as interesting as these three were, I had to move on.  This noise was 
relentlessly distrubing my enjoyment of being in the woods today.  I had to 
find respite from this noise.  This group had started at Hoyt Road.  (This 
was the 3rd group I'd met to do the same.  This one had been out for the 4th 
of 5 days.  The others had started 2 and 3 days ago, respectively.  Hmmm.  I 
began to wonder if this hike is going to be a bit more challenging than I'd 
been aware?  Time to push off.)  I did so with a vengeance.  

Up and over Sharon Mountain.  Noise persists.  But lots of water!  Fear not 
about ever running out of water in this section of CT.  Even in the driest of 
summers, it's unlikely that all of these many streams and creeks will be dry. 
  Up and over Easter Rock.  (Careful finding those southbound blazes here - 
they're not easy to locate.)  Noise was still there.   Aghhh, the humanity!  
Straight ahead lay Sharon Mountain Road, where I crossed and continued at a 
good clip.  Up and over and into the woods again.  Ah.  It was finally silent 
again.  Oh, bliss.

I didn't write it in my notes, so I'm not sure at precisely which creek 
crossing it occurred, but as I crossed over the slippery rock, my left foot 
slipped and I wound up post-holing my entire leg in a deep crevice.  Although 
the water was cold, my real angst was about injury.  Fortunately I'd been 
taking careful, small steps and experienced no torquing.  I was able to 
calmly and deliberately free my leg.  Nary a scratch, even though my entire 
leg had been wedged.

Just before 4 PM I reached the Cedar Swamp lean-to.  The water source is a 
considerable distance away from the shelter.  I headed downstream and 
splashed myself with water.  It'd been hot and humid all day; rain clouds 
moving in and out all day.  I decided that what I really needed was a good 
bath.  I splashed with vigor and felt much refreshed.  Upstream again, I 
filled my water bags.  Hot today.  I decided to cook a meal here, so I can 
hike until dark and not have to worry about getting enough water for the 
task, later.  Hint.  Never, ever get an esbit tablet wet.  I opted instead to 
make a cup of cocoa.  'Ate an orange and a bagel.  Get the heavy foods eaten 
first, that was the plan. 

I flipped through the shelter log.  I noticed an entry by Hokie Flash and was 
impressed by it.  Not only is he "fast" - hiking northbound at an average of 
24 miles a day, even in the Whites -- he's quite a philosopher, it seems.  In 
this entry (made some time ago), he talked about how difficult it is to 
accept change, but how necessary.  He used the example of believing you've 
got the best, darn stove around and how difficult it is to let go of such an 
idea even when you've clearly outgrown it, it's no longer serving your needs, 
or it's just, plain wrong.  Very profound.

I cleaned up and moved on.  I was feeling good.  Happy that it was only 5:15 
and that I wasn't planning to stop for the day.  'Wanted to fit in all the 
hiking and enjoyment that I could this day.  I hiked onward, finding 
excellent views, in spite of the haze.  Continuing on, I descended a rocky 
section that is reminiscent of Harriman's Lemon Squeezer.  One finds creek 
crossing after creek crossing, complete with bridges of various types or rock 
stepping stones, all along this section.  I love being near water.  'Guess 
it's the aquatics in me ('was a swim coach) or maybe my Danish heritage?  
Surrounded on three sides by sea and ocean, and scads and scads of fjords and 
lakes all over the place.  Primordial survival instincts?  Who knows?  I just 
really, really love being around water.  'Love the sight, the smell, the 
sound, the feel of the air when water is nearby.  Even the smallest trickle 
of a stream gets this reaction from me.  Bonus on this day is the chance to 
birdbath frequently.  It was such a morale booster to be "clean" and 
refreshed, as hot and humid as it was.

Be careful what you wish for.  It started to rain.  As I pulled out my brand, 
new sil packcover ('been to Ramsey Outdoor Sports, lately?  It's just down 
the road from Campmor and its prices are not to be beaten!), I abruptly 
realized that I hadn't "tried it on" my pack yet.  Can you say, "plan ahead?" 
 Oh boy.  I tried it out.  Perfect fit.  Couldn't have been better.  The gods 
were being truly too kind to me.  I hiked on, enjoying the light rain falling 
on me, confident that my pack contents were staying dry.  I hiked on swiftly, 
wanting to make it to the Caesar Campsites by dark.  As warm as it was now, I 
was fearful of getting chilled as the sun crept downward in the sky.  Right 
now, it was more mist than rain, but that could change, I knew.

More creeks.  No campsites in sight.  Crossed a logging road, but no signs.  
I was not about to go up any roads only to have to turn back again having 
found nothing.  I hiked on.  I vowed that by 7:30 I was pitching my tent - no 
matter what.  I hiked on and just after crossing another creek, noticed a 
flat spot up along a little crest to the right above the Trail.  It was the 
perfect stealth spot, so I pitched my tent and voila, in 5 minutes I was 
cozily inside.  It was 7:33 PM.  The sky opened up and the rain came down 
with force moments after I was in my tent.  Lightening flashed and thunder 
serenaded me all night long.  Except for some sections of the seams that I'd 
neglected to seam seal, the tent did an admirable job of keeping me bite free 
and dry.  It was a cheap Welty biker tent.  I substituted my two hiking poles 
for the single shock-corded version provided with the tent.  By guying down 
the poles, I'd managed to fashion a very sturdy, light-weight shelter.  (It 
weighed only 1 lb. 13 oz.)  I drifted off to sleep tonight with happy 
thoughts, completely at peace with the world.  I'm truly blessed, of this I 
was completely aware.

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