Saturday, July 5, 2008

Drunk Skunk and a Broken Back




Mt Algo Lean-to to Kent to Stewart Hollow Brook Lean-to. 8 miles

It rained like a mother last night again. My tent was great though and nothing got wet. There was a lot of tree cover but still there was a thundering cacophony on my rain fly. I got up early and tried to beat everyone in to the town. I didn’t want to miss any washer and dryer spaces on account of lassitude on my part. I caught up with Jukebox and Wet Sox and we all walked to the Laundromat. It was great, I washed up a little in the bathroom and rinsed my stuff out before I threw it in the washer. I also washed my sleeping bag. They had showers but you had to purchase a one day pass to the local gym sort of thing. Oh well. The outfitter had nothing I could use. I almost wish I had skipped Kent and just gone ahead and gotten to Salisbury. I had a great burger at Carolee’s restaurant and blogged a little but I couldn’t get online to post it. If you need anything in the town of Kent, you had better find Carolee. She’s got the Restaurant, she owns the Laundromat, the Curves fitness center and she’s also the Ambulance Driver. When I settle down in a small town, whatever happens, I want to be the ambulance driver. I got to see her do all of those things in one day. I saw her at the Laundromat, got a me4mbership from her at the shower, saw her when I got a burger and then as I was trying to make a call on the cell phone on my way out of town, the ambulance came screaming past and I was about to yell out an expletive to the driver when I saw that it was Carolee! I smiled and waved and got my 2 ounces of fuel at the outfitter. That outfitter was EXPENSIVE and didn’t really have practical stuff for a thru-hiker. Just weekend camper stuff and the really expensive camping attire. You know, fashionable stuff from Patagonia and North Face and stuff that looks great in the mall and on your speed walking trek around the neighbors’ windows but as far as thru-hiking, they didn’t have much I could use, except for fuel. The guy was nice enough though. I wish they had pack hooks outside though. That would have been nice. I look for them everywhere now: a place to hang my stinky pack. I ended up having to hustle out of town after they closed the restaurant where I was typing. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late! I had 7 miles to go to the next shelter and that doesn’t count the half a mile out of town to the trail. I didn’t manage to get out of town until about 5 something and the trail was rough in the beginning. Eventually it leveled out and followed the Housatonic River for a while. I ran into a skunk that was having some serious equilibrium problems. I thought maybe he had been bitten by a rattlesnake or ate a funky mushroom or maybe had some of those brain worms or something. Regardless; I was concerned for my olfactorial well-being and so I filmed it from a distance and scooted past when I could. The skunk was falling all over the place and sleeping and whatever. There was a good climb up to Caleb’s Mountain and shortly thereafter was a horrible descent from a place called St John’s Ledges. I’m so glad I didn’t have to climb UP that bastard. It was unbelievable! I was Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing the Halleluiah Chorus glad that I was going DOWN that bastard. The world was still damp from all the rain and it was very hard to maintain footing on the wet leaves and slick, mossy rocks. It was like some sick, twisted, rock staircase that took longer to go down than it would to go up. My pack shifted sickeningly as I went from foot to foot down the treacherous pointy rocks, slipping and reaching out for trees and stopping to figure out how I would navigate the next five-foot section. Near the bottom, it happened. I fell, and it was a bad one. I was on this smooth rock that was about the size of a Lincoln Continental on a 30 degree slant. Suddenly I started to slide. It wasn’t one of those kind of slip a little slides, it was an accelerating oh shit slide. I saw that there was about a five foot drop at the end and I prepared myself for the drop by promptly falling flat on my ass. This didn’t stop the acceleration like I thought it would, rather, just put me a little closer to the ground. I launched off the end and my feet hit the ground. My original idea was to stop; however, the hill and my boots had other plans. I launched out over the hill and bounded frantically from foot to foot, screaming as I landed each time. Like a beginner skier in a dense mogul field, I avoided disaster about five times before I realized I was inexorably heading toward a large tree. I couldn’t stop, in fact, I just kept falling faster down the hill. The pack was too heavy and I knew I was going to have to ditch or get smashed eventually by a tree or a rock or worse, tumble over the next rock field that was coming up. I took a dive in the least rocky section I accidentally saw and tumbled with a roar as I came to stop in a cascade of exploding dirt, leaves and rubble. The pack was on top of me and I was having trouble breathing. For a moment, even the chipmunks were silent in anticipation. I took a few breaths and contemplated my fate for a moment. Strangely enough, I heard a distant voice inquire, “Are you hurt? Do you need help?” I replied that I didn’t really know yet but I thought I was OK. I seemed to have all my parts and they seemed to be working in roughly the same way as they did before the fall. I had to get up though. My back felt funny and the pack was kind of holding me down, not to mention I was still on a steep slope, held aloft by the large divot my body made when I went down. I felt like an asteroid come to Earth, only more embarrassed. I wonder if asteroids would be embarrassed to land on earth instead of continuing on their way and hurtling through space? I let that thought go. It was tough to lift myself with the pack on and not go hurtling down the slope some more but I managed to get up with flotsam and jetsam all over my body. I did a little inventory and seemed to be ok except for a small raspberry on my left knee. My back seemed sore too. I hoped I didn’t break a rib and I shakily continued down. This Rock-Climber guy came up to me out of nowhere and asked about my welfare. He said they had some first aid stuff and I told him I thought I would be OK. He followed me down for a while and then disappeared off some side trail. As I walked my back began to ache more and more and I started to worry about it. Will the injuries never end? I got in to the camp late and it was dark. The blazes along the river were sporadic and sometimes non-existent. I backtracked a few times just to find out I was on the right trail in the first place. They need to get some more paint out here in Connecticut. Cat and her Dad, Zeke were at the shelter with Shakedown Cruise and Jukebox and Wet Sox. There were two young guys from Texas there too, just camping and stuff. I set up in the dark and ate some ramen and tuna. I hope to get some sleep and I hope when I wake up, my back isn’t worse. We’ll see

David AKA “Mister Gentle Spirit”
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