[at-l] Jan Day 11 part 2

[kahley@ptd.net (kahley)]

About 3:30 PM, we shucked out of the rustic Inn at the Long
Trail, with its slab tables, twig furniture, rock cliff wall and
40-year-old Irish pub.   It was like saying good-bye to an old
friend. (Be sure to turn in your key, class of '03, it's a $40
charge to your credit card if'n ya don't...)

As we started up the trailhead, I swear someone put 5-pound
river rocks in my pack. Surely this six days of food I carried
  wouldn't weigh me down so cruelly, smashing my poor, a
bused feet flat.   We groaned and bitched our way to Maine
Junction -the cross roads! Here an amiable couple took our
  picture. I stared hard at the place where the AT split off to
the east toward the steep and rugged Whites, and felt The
Tug. Next year, I hope to make it this far.

The now-solo Long Trail immediately looked different, overgrown
as it was with itchy nettles and a yellow flower I speculate might be
Jerusalem artichoke, or maybe beggar's tickweed, if they have
that up here. I took a picture to help me ID it later. The LT is lonelier
too. No one else chanced by our whole afternoon trek.

We hit Tucker Johnson shelter, aired out our feet, did a spot damage
assessment and decided we could keep chugging another 3.6 miles
to Rolston Rest shelter.   We just realized we did five miles on our zero day.

"That's the part I like," said Clyde. "the 'don't-HAVE-to' part."

I agree. Such is the power of the mind.

It is buggy here, mosquitos. The water source is an icy blast, mountain
cold, a charming pool with a tiny waterfall pouring down a large mossy rock.
I sit on another rock, soaking my hot, sore feet, typing this. For some
reason, the mosquitos are worse at the shelter. A squirrel joins me at
the pool,then bounces off. I am in heaven at this magical little watering
hole, with its deep, frigid, clear pool.

I want to see the Perseid meteor shower, and tonite/early tomorrow
  morning is the peak. I don't want to sleep in a buggy shelter, but if
I use my hammock, the trees block the view. For the first time, I set
my hammock up on the ground, as a bivy. It seems like it will work
out just fine. The mesh will shed the bugs. I leave the tarp off.
Test drive of Net Bivy One feels comfy, though I may try to tighten
the ridgeline.. Morning will tell that tale in full.

The registers speak of bear and moose sightings. Maybe we will
see something soon. The register also contains a poem that expresses
perfectly the way things looked at Maine Junction.  I'll quote it here,
though you already know it. But it's worth hearing again, eh?
It's so much easier to be mushy in the woods. Why is that?
"Two roads diverged
in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler,
Long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth,
Then, took the other
just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that for passing there
Had worn them really about the same
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step has trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day
Yet knowing how way leads onto way
I doubted if I should ever come back."
(though I sure hope I do! -Jan)
"The Road Not Taken"
Robert Frost
Good night. On to the shooting stars.