August 16 Thistle Shelter VT 1733 Miles
It rained last night and I stuffed the wet tent in my bag and left at 7:30, wanting to get to Hanover, NH before nightfall.
There were two 3 mile long ascending hills and I was feeling good, after eating a few peanut butter and honey tortillas and drinking copious amount of H2O--but not pushing it. In fact after my last event, that might be my motto for the rest of this hike--Not Pushing It.
About eight miles into this 16 mile day, I run into slender Grinder and chubby RV, a couple of sixty-something guys that I saw at the shelter last night.
They were about to eat lunch at a footbridge in a marsh. I told them of the pie lady who ran a store about .5 miles away. They were onto it.
We landed at the country store about 15 minutes later and waited a bit for it to open. Grinder looked tense while his buddy, RV, spoke on and on about running a store like this one.
Arriving in a van, the owner brought in a couple dozen pies, small and large and freshly baked.
Yes, they were good. I ate a blueberry/cherry pie that was finger lickin good and was tempted to go back for more but I had to move on up a mountain. I did pack out some of her cherry muffins though.
Then, about 12 miles into our hike Grinder suddenly takes off while I am peeing and I don't see him for the rest of the day. His month-long hiking buddy, RV, walked with me after that and worried and fretted about why his buddy, Grinder, took off so suddenly and why he left him behind and where Grinder was going to camp. Grinder hadn't ever done anything like this before RV tells me.
Maybe Grinder wanted alone time I said. Or he though that my peeing off the trail was too uncouth.
Naw, he said, Grinder pisses every other hour. Now his shits are different matter all together.
By the time I got to the shelter, I was ready to relax. Grinder wasn't at the shelter when I got there and so I watched RV scurry down the trail, a portly anxious Squire looking for his wayward Don Quixote.
August 17 Catholic Church Hanover, NH 1749 Miles
I left the shelter early the next morning. I was looking forward to reaching New Hampshire, not only a new state, but one of the most challenging hiking states on the AT.
I walked a few miles before coming across a couple who had met and fallen in love on the trail. There are a few of those about. She was English and I had a good time asking questions about English food. She described all the food they eat at Christmas, including turkey, fish, and different kinds of puddings.
Hikers talk a lot about food and I was hungry by the time we arrived at the AT house, a house by a river, that a couple has made into a home of trail magic. We crossed the small bridge and went up to the porch where Linda, the homeowner, had made cookies, pies and muffins, and soft drinks that we devoured.
We spent about an hour on the porch talking with Linda and then her husband and grandson came in from the creek with a trout on a line. He was one proud 10 year old.
Then I went to the little country library and blogged some until the library closed at 12:30.
Then I walked down the street and got back on the trail, walking towards the Dartmouth College town of Hanover, New Hampshire.
After seven miles I came out onto Elm Street in Vermont, then walked a mile down to a hwy and another 2 miles along a a traffic-jammed street into Hanover, New Hampshire. The bakery was closed so I went to an Irish bar, changed clothes in the bathroom, and drank ale and had a burger, talking to the locals.
Then Canadian Que came in and we decided to Uber it down to the Catholic Church where a hostel put up hikers for a donation. Once there, I put my bag on a mattress on the floor, put my clothes in the laundry and went to the local grocery for sandwich food, Gatorade and chocolate milk. I also resupplied for three days in the woods.
Came back and all the young people were watching the newest Harry Potter saga on TV in the living room. Amazing how popular it is with the twenty-somethings. I guess it is comforting, like watching reruns of Gilligan's Island or The Rifleman would be with me.
I went to the basement and played the church organ a bit and then hit the sack. It had been a long day.
August 18 Church Hanover, NH 1749 Miles
I had planned on leaving this morning but it was pouring and it continued to pour all day. I talked with the energetic priest who ran the hostel/church in the kitchen as she was typing out a novel for a male gay publishing company. She said there was quite a market in uplifting gay literature that had a sense of morality to it.
I thought, well, I am definitely in New Hampshire and not in the Southern Bible Belt.
I helped put together some bunks down in the basement, chopped some kindling, and read some of the church books in the library. Then I hit the sack, the mattress.
August 19 Tenting , NH 1766 Miles
I slack packed with three young people out of Hanover and into the mountains. The couple was a little uptight and arrogant for my tastes so I left the group behind and walked on my own, enjoying a nice Pooh-bear day.
I ran across a thru-hiker who said he was ready for the trip to be over. And I had to agree that we had reached a point where things started to mush together: the hostels, the shelters, the woods and hills, the views. I had begun thinking of home life too.
But I still liked walking even though my toes were going numb, perhaps a good thing, not feeling them throb all night.
After 17 miles, I saw our packs by the side of the road where the shuttle guy had left them. We went a mile or two and down to a stream where we found some flat spots to tent.
The three wanted to slack pack 23 miles tomorrow. I told them that I was going to break it up into two days and walk with my full pack and for them to leave in the morning without me.
August 20 Hexacuba Shelter, NH 1776 Miles
I slept until nine and when I woke up the three hikers were gone.
I walked ten miles of a nice clear day with sme nice hills to Hexacuba Shelter, the only hexagon-shaped shelter on the trail.
There I met a guy who was hiking for a week and we got into a discussion of alcoholism and family dysfunction.
I lay in my bag and fell asleep on the poor guy and when I awoke I met a guy named Whistler who had his bag unpacked and freezer bags scattered about. He was 70 years old, lean and seriously factual.
He was an obsessive. I could tell the way he got into the minute details of the trail, and I kind of related to that--the obsessive part, but not the details of the trail. Overthinking the difficult parts of the trail is tiring to me. If it seems difficult and I'm tired, I just take a rest break and recoup until I'm ready to tackle it. I plan on where I'm going just a few nights out.
He seemed like a nice guy. Maybe I would like hiking with Whistler.
August 21 Hiker Welcome, NH 1791 Miles
Whistler is a good hiker. He reminds me of Momentum who was also a quick agile hiker that I had to keep up with.
We walked about ten miles and came across the famous Omelet Man on the trail with a tarp in the trees overhanging his stove and tables. He makes omelets for hikers, asking hikers how many eggs they want in their omelet. I asked for four and he gave me five.
The record eaten there is 30 eggs. The omelets are filed with cheese, peppers, onions, and ham. They were fantastic, especially after walking with a heavy pack over hills for ten miles. He also had muffins and mango juice in jugs.
He refused money or a donation. He was out there six hours a day, six days a week, all through hiker season.
It's not about me, he said, it's about you hikers--you are doing all the work. This is about you, not me.
A beautiful person really. Amazing really.
Whistler stopped early and I walked into Glencliff, NH to zero at the The Hiker's Welcome and to prepare for the famous White Mountain range, the most challenging and breathtaking mountains on the AT.
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