The Longest Summer:

An account of the Appalachian Trail.

My cell buzzed on the table, next to an obnoxiously large carabiner-turned-keyholder that said, in words too small to read, “For Mountaineering Use Only” as if the stocky red and gray 'biner with an extra clip on the back didn’t get the message across. I let the buzzing go on long enough to manifest a raised eyebrow on a neatly-suited businessman at the next table before I lazily reached up and clicked on my Bluetooth. I was in a crowded cafe in the “Little Italy” section of San Diego, watching the tourists go by while I enjoyed a double espresso. I hate it when people call it “eX-spresso.” It’s one thing when a person does something incorrectly because it’s complicated, like finding a cure for impotence for instance. It’s another thing altogether when they mess up something as simple as a word that they see printed everywhere. People have become so lazy, they don’t even see the letter “s” in the beginning of the word. They just slide right past it like that thing from Carnegie-Mellon University where all the words are misspelled but you can read it anyway as long as the first and last letters are correct.

“EX-spresso” people are just one of the many things that bother me on a daily basis. Another is when people use the word “irregardless,” when they mean to say, simply, “regardless.” A testimony to the limp-wristed “sheeple” we Americans have become, some weasel at Websters Dictionary included “irregardless” in the dictionary as an alternate for “regardless,” capitulating to the illiterate and imprecise. I discovered this once while trying to express my displeasure to someone when there was a dictionary nearby. God knows, we wouldn’t want someone to learn from their mistakes.

I’m disgusted at Webster as I answer the phone,

Sup Mickey?

My youngest brother Michael is probably the only 21 year old male in this word that I enjoy speaking with on a regular basis and he sounds excited.

I thought of an adventure!

Earlier this year, Michael came out from Philly and spent his last “underage” summer with me in San Diego. We started a habit of “adventures” by going to Tijuana while he was here because he was too young to get into the clubs in the US where I earn my living as a Jazz singer. The real adventure for me that summer was trying to find a way to entertain him that didn’t involve places he couldn’t go. I probably could have slipped him in to most places. I’ve worked with most of the bouncers and club owners in town; but, I felt like that would have been a violation of the trust that I enjoy from their acquaintance; besides, I enjoyed the challenge. He certainly piqued my interest with his opening line.

Whaddaya got?

The Appalachian Trail…

I thought for a moment of the miles and miles I’d hiked with our Scoutmaster Father and Grandfather and the rest of Huntingdon Valley Troop 208. Rainy days and nights, painfully slogging along the rock piles of Eastern Pennsylvania with a vintage BSA backpack and bulky boots, were somehow forgotten in the romantic notion of the legendary footpath that stretches from Maine to Georgia. I figured he wanted to do a few of the sections that our other brother Doug and I had hiked since he was too young to come along when we did it as teenagers.

Sure Bro, we can do that. We can do Sunfish Pond or Wind Gap when I come home this summer. Maybe we can get Doug to come along.

I wasn’t quite aware of the enormity of his plan:

No man, the WHOLE THING!

The whole trail? disbelief

Yeah man, I read about it in school last week.

My thinker kicked into gear: It hadn’t even occurred to me to do the whole trail. Sure, I had thought about it as a kid, just grabbin’ a pack and starting in Georgia; walking all the way to Maine; through the woods and the mountains like some kind of Thoreau Brothers. The WHOLE TRAIL? What was that, like a thousand miles or something? Two thousand miles? I thought about it for a minute. Maybe I could swing it. I wondered how long it would take… Was he serious?

Let me do some research Mikey, I might be able to take off for a couple of months.

I think we need like six months.

SIX MONTHS? I thought. It can’t take that long. How the hell do people do it? Take off for six months? Nah, we could get it done quicker than that. I was a Marine wasn’t I? I had to get online as soon as possible. My laptop was in the car. He lit a fire in my imagination and suddenly I reclaimed a forgotten dream with the force of ten sledgehammers.

Our adventures were like that; spontaneously catapulting from impossible to mandatory in the space of a few blinding moments of irrational speculation and inaccurate calculation.

As far as I was concerned, we were going; and Doug was coming with us.


(for the rest of this story, please start at the bottom of this blog:)

Acceptance: Time to go home

Acceptance: Time to go home

Hiker’s Paradise, Gorham NH to Dad’s House in Philly

I woke up thinking I might try to get a ride back up to the top of Mt Washington but it looked like it was going to be too much of a pain in the rear. I called my Dad while eating the “hiker special” to discuss options. He surprised me, saying he could be there in 10 hours, so I gave in and said, “OK, come and Get me. I’m ready to come home.”

This trip has by far been the hardest achievement I’ve ever attempted in my life. I knew when I began that it would be rough; but, I really had no idea what I was in for. It goes without saying that I experienced a truly unique adventure. I have met diverse and deliberate people who treat the trail with respect and awe. I walked a thousand miles, up mountains and through valleys of mud-slick rocks and roots and streets through both rural communities, remote wilderness and heavily populated National Parks in the last three months. I faced the surety of defeat almost from the beginning of my trip, knowing I would not be able to realize my dream and complete the entire trail; striving regardless, even when my brothers left me for reasons that angered and saddened me at the time. I spent an unhealthy amount of time in constant dialogue with myself and became even more acquainted with character flaws and attributes I was already familiar with. I’m not sure if this even served a purpose. Self Knowledge seems so trivial in the bigger scheme of life. It seems to only obscure God’s Will which I admit is still unfathomable to me; although, I hope my travails will serve us both in the future. I am beginning to know nothing. I gained a level of fitness that I am both proud of and fearful to lose. I know it will be hard to motivate myself to maintain a regimen that will keep my physical being in this kind of shape and I will surely lament its decline. Acceptance. My body is damaged and broken in places and probably will be for months before I can use my legs and feet normally again. I’ll need surgery to fix my hernia and my financial situation is dire. I’m not really worried though. I have spent the last few years in a program that emphasizes Acceptance and I have grown in unbelievable ways. Despite the peace I feel from accepting that my trail is at its end for this year, I cannot ignore the visceral feelings of guilt, loss and unease at not having gone further or longer. I catch myself glancing upward at the surrounding mountains as if I might grab my pack and do another twenty miles; continue on and tell my family I’m going further. I know the next year’s thoughts will be full of deliberation concerning completion and or closure on this Appalachian Trail. For the fifteenth time this morning, I resign myself to go down to the Laundromat and scrub my clothing and gear so that it won’t contaminate Mike’s car when they come to pick me up. I wish they were here already. I continue to glance at the mountains I have left to climb, alternating between humility and resentment. I have learned that you cannot feel both at the same time; however, they can relentlessly switch back and forth; some kind of emotional strobe light, flickering jitters in my soul. Ahhhhhh Acceptance… When will you come?

David AKA "Mister F. Gentle Spirit"
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Friends in High places

Friends in High places
Crawford Notch to Mitzpah Hut: 7 miles

It didn’t rain last night and I was so happy I got up early. The pad worked well and I had a great rest. It turned out that Shawn and Sage were in the campsite across from me and they invited me to coffee. We talked for a good while until I felt the tug of the trail and I had to get out of there and pack up all my stuff. The two of them were very cool. It was refreshing to see Dad and daughter having that kind of report and getting along so well.
I got up to the store and one of the guys gave me a ride out to the trailhead. The climb was tough up Webster Cliffs to Mt. Webster. It was ping-ponging back and forth from sun to rain and I kept changing my wardrobe to match, finally I resigned to just keep all my raingear on and to hell with it. I am glad I did. Last night when I was taking a shower I was checking out my hernia and it looks like it’s getting worse. The climb up this mountain was not helping things. There were many times I had to just climb up over rock faces or throw my poles down and scramble over wet boulders. Knowing I have the hernia was making me climb cautiously and that was dropping my progress to about one mile an hour. I ran into some cool people and took the opportunity to rest and talk.
Eventually I got to the Mitzpah Hut. I was intending to go another 5 miles to the Lakes of the Clouds Hut just before Mt. Washngton but I was beat up and dripping when I got there. They let me do a Work-For-Stay even though I was an hour early. I took it. At the rate I was traveling, it would take me 5 hours to get the 5 miles to Lakes of the Clouds and than it would be almost dark and I would have to stay in a dank basement there (or so I heard). Mitzpah was the Mitzvah for me! The “Croo” there was very cool.
I washed dishes again and the Lasagne was really good. They do everything vegetarian here because you can’t put meat in the compost. They really take their conservation seriously up here. Everything is considered and all green technologies are used. It’s very interesting to see how easy it is once you get it going to be “low impact.” The weather is rumored to improve; but, I’ll believe that when I see it. I did get glimpse of the half-moon as I fell asleep on one of the dining room tables. The clouds were moving very fast; however, and soon it was gone; appearing occasionally in the night through the mist and rain.

David AKA "Mister F. Gentle Spirit"
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Frozen Underwear

Galehead Hut to Crawford Notch General Store and Campground

It was still raining when I woke up. The mist pervaded everything and I hadn’t slept very soundly due to the sound of the wind-generated electrical harnesser thing on the roof that moaned and whined all night with the gusts that came up the valley. The “Croo” got breakfast together and the regular folks ate breakfast while we thru-hikers sat over in the corner like hungry dogs waiting for a scrap from their master. This is the way it goes at the huts so I guess it’s cool, at least, we knew it would be thins way so there’s not much to complain about. At least we’re not paying $89 to stay there for the night. We do work-for-stay (WFS) at the huts but technically there are only two slots at each hut for Thru-Hikers and so invariable there are many more than two Thru-Hikers coming through, looking for WFS and sometimes we get turned away and have to hike on to the next hut or camp out in the woods; which they discourage due to the fragility of the alpine environment. It’s a hypocritical situation and it all has to deal with money. The Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC) runs the section of the Appalachian Trail that goes through the White Mountains. Basically you have no choice but to stay at one of their facilities be it a campground or a “Hut” which is actually more like a chalet and costs about a hundred bucks a night to stay there. They charge to stay in the campsites too although for Thru-Hikers it’s only $8-12. If you get to a “hut” at the right time, you c an get WFS and do dishes, sweep, scrub the oven or clean out the freezer for your stay and for dinner and breakfast. Of course, the normal guests are served first and they want you to go sit outside or disappear while they eat, like peasants or something. The thing is, the “Day Hikers” all want to talk to you and hear about what it’s like to be a Thru-Hiker so sometimes your WFS can involve giving a presentation to the group after dinner. Most of the people who come here are very well-to-do and I guess the AMC figures they don’t want to be bothered by a bunch of rough-and-tumble, smelly Thru-Hikers. We’ve known it would be like this but the fact that the AMC offers no alternatives for Thru-Hikers gets us a little pissed off and there we were, over in the corner; at least they didn’t make us sit outside in the freezing rain. That would have been pretty rough at 7AM and I have heard of it happening to a lot of Thru-Hikers. After the gentry were served, we got to eat all of the leftovers; basically, Pancakes. I’m just glad I got to sleep in a building last night rather than some dilapidated shelter. The temperature has been going down to the low 40s with a wind chill factor in the low 30s. Add to that the rain and hail and you’ve got yourself a hell of a night in the wilderness. After breakfast I did some journaling and everyone was marveling over the computer. That always seems to happen. Most of the Thru-Hikers I know are used to it by now. I was hoping the skies would clear up but it didn’t look probable. Eventually I got my wet clothes back on and got ready to head out. There’s something very harrowing about putting on cold, wet underwear that really bothers me. Obviously it the same underwear as the day before; but, that part doesn’t phase me anymore. I’ve been doing that for three months now. You generate a lot of heat out there once you start hiking and if you are like me, you hate to stop and take off your pack once you are going so you try o wear the clothes that you would want to be wearing once you are all hot and exerting yourself. The problem with that is that you put on clothing that doesn’t keep you warm until you’re climbing a hill and as soon as you stop, you start getting cold again. The constant rain we’ve been subjected to makes it so that nothing ever gets dry so not only it is it skimpy, but it’s wet and REALLY COLD when you put it on. Bitter cold, wet underwear is one hell of a shock in the morning; more effective than the strongest cup of coffee. I got out on the trail later than most but managed to pass almost all of the day hikers before the next hut where I was treated a hot cup of $3 “bottomless” soup. I threw in a packet of tuna to up my protein. The sun had come out and I ran into some of the younger day hikers and sat at the table with them while we discussed life and they gave me pieces of their bread. It was cool and I hated to split but I had to get down to Crawford Notch and hitch in to a place to stay. I had no idea where I would go and thankfully the trail down was easy. When I got to the road, there was a hostel 3 miles to the left and a hostel three miles to the right. I stuck my thumb out to both directions of traffic and let the fates decide which one I would go to. A day hiker who was passing by picked me up and took me to the right: The Crawford Notch General Store and Campground. The place was full of Thru-Hikers so I had to rent a campsite and pitch my tent. I hope it doesn’t rain. The folks there were very accommodating and I got a shower and did my laundry; although I was up ‘til about midnight getting it done. While I was in the General Store picking up some Ben and Jerry’s and some Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups I met Shawn and Sage. Sage was a cute little girl accompanied by her Dad Shawn who had taken her fishing that say and she caught a rather large “Native” trout. She was extremely excited about that and I was struck by how cool that was. They brought their catch in to show us. I guess I have never seen a Native Trout before; but, they have a bright orange underbelly and to hear Sage tell it, they put up a darn good fight. I set up my hammock in the dark and got to try out the Big Agnes inflatable pad that I modified for the hammock.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Steeper than it Looks

This is much more steep than it looks

Kinsman Notch to Franconia Notch: 17 Miles

A couple of people were going out to Kinsman Notch so I got ready and got a ride with them. “Dutch” is a girl from PA who is taking a break from the trail and does some shuttling for hikers here at an incredibly reasonable cost. She swung by the post office so I could pick up a package and then took us out to Kinsman’s Notch. I went north and the other two; Songbird and ? continued SoBo and I headed North for another rough climb. The climb out of Kinsman’s notch would have been horrible with a full pack and I was damn glad to be slack packing. The second climb was really tough and I have to say it made Albert Mountain look like something you would give your kids to play with from McDonalds. The weather was nearly identical to when I did Albert Mountain and it was another day of grueling, painful climbs punctuated by a magnificent view, completely obscured by fog and mist and rain. I actually like the way it looks up at these treeless peaks with nothing but fog drifting over the scrub; however, for taking pictures or sharing it with anyone, it doesn’t do any good at all. There’s a unique solitude up there when you are hemmed in by cold, blowing mist and I really enjoy it; however, I always feel like I’m missing an opportunity to film a great vista for people back home. The day was very hard due to the terrain and mud. At one point I put my foot in mud up over my knee and missed smashing my kneecap on a big log by a millimeter. Needless to say I wasn’t too happy about that. There were several high-altitude ponds and the sun came out a few times so that you could see the surrounding mountains; but, nothing that presented a good picture. During the roughest climb, part of it followed alongside another series of waterfalls and I was glad to be going up it this time so I could enjoy the rushing stream and waterfalls without risking my life on a precarious descent; still, the climb was technical and difficult. I’ve heard that this particular stretch I’m in is the toughest on the trail and I hope they are right.

I got to see my first AMC hut today and although it was impressive, I hardly think it’s worth the 80 bucks it would cost to stay there if I wasn’t a thru-hiker. Maybe the other ones will be better. I got a bowl of soup there for a dollar and that was cool. Just before the hut I ran into Mike, Snake Charmer, Shelter Monkey, Dust In The Wind, and a few other hikers I had been running into for the last week or so. We all hung out at the hut for a minute and then I took off. I wanted to get to the road and get in so I could go to McDonalds. They have one in Lincoln and I was really dying for a Double Quarter-Pounder and Fries. I’m getting too skinny!

The trailhead at Franconia Notch was confusing. I ended up walking about a mile in the wrong direction down the Highway and then I came all the way back to find I hadn’t been walking in the wrong direction technically; however I wasn’t on the AT, so I redid that part and got a ride in with Mike. We were all soaked and Mike is a section hiker who had his car there. Thank God! We would have been walking a long time if he hadn’t been there.
Back at the hostel I got a shower and went to McDonalds, grocery and pharmacy. Tomorrow I need to get a new shoelace and mail a bunch of stuff back to Doug If I can get all of that done early enough I’m going to get back in to the Whites for the remainder, probably another week. The climb back in is going to be rough. The next hundred and fifty miles is supposed to be both harrowing and beautiful. Let’s hope the weather allows me to enjoy the views and my hernia doesn’t interfere with my endurance.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Moosilauke in the Rain

Hikers Welcome Hostel to Kinsman Notch then Chet’s House: 10 miles

I spent the morning finishing up an email update and sent that out so I didn’t get out on the trail until about 11 or later. I can’t remember. I had to ford Jeffers Brook and that meant taking off my shoes. The water was about knee-deep and I wore my Crocs to get across. While putting my shoes back on I was marauded by a gand of street wise Mosquitoes. They knew where to bite me without me being able to get them or see them until it was too late. I got the boots on and picked up the pace. They stayed vigilant until I got some elevation. The climb was rough but I had psyched myself up for it so it wasn;t too bad. That only works once in a while. After it works once or twice you start to expect that it will work and then of course it doesn’t. This is why I’m not a pro athelete. I can’t figure out how to trick myself every time yet.

I passed a ton of day hikers on the way up; lots of kids from local camps. The weather cleared up nicely but by the time I got to the top is got all fogged in and cold again. I met some cool people and was talking to them and so by the time I got up there the sun had gone and I was alone at the summit. It was very surreal as the mist drifted across and all you could see was shadowy cairns through the mist. I caught some of it on tape and then I kept on. I had a short day in miles but I knew that the final section was a scary downhill even when it’s not raining, and as I got closer, the thunder got closer and the rain began to fall.

I dropped by the Beaver Brook shelter and ran into two people who told me the climb down was going to be really tough. I only had a mile and a half to get to the road but they said it was taking people two hours to go that far. I found out they were not exaggerating. It took me over an hour just to do a mile of the section. It was crazy. There were weird wooden blocks drilled with Rebar into the side of igneous rock flows that looked almost like they were there at the time of the original lava flow. Sometimes I see the stone work people have done to make these trails passable and I can’t believe the tings that people have accomplished. Other times I wonder if anyone has done anything at all. The climb down was treacherous and frustrating. The rain made everything tougher and believe me this descent would have been tough enough on dry rocks. For a long time the trail joined a long series of cascades and it was absolutely awesome to climb down the rocks with this huge series of waterfalls alongside you. It was distracting though and the last thing you need in a place like that is distractions. I had to keep telling myself to concentrate. I fell down about four times but I’ve learned to take the little falls without trying to save myself. When you try to save yourself, that’s when you get in trouble. Wild recoveries only put you in more perilous positions and so I’ve figured out to just take the unbalanced fall and drop onto my pack instead of flailing and trying some wild recovery.

I eventually made it to the road and there were hardly any cars going toward Lincoln. It was something like a ten mile walk too. I had walked about two miles and only four cars and one motorcycle had passed in almost forty minutes. Things were not looking goods and then this Forerunner that was going the other direction put on his signal and pulled over and asked me if I was a thru-hiker. It turns out this guy and his buddy were going to be doing trial magic up at Kinsman Notch this weekend and he had some time to kill so he decided to pick me up and take me in to town. His trail name was “Gold Thumb” and he was returning the magic he had been given in the past. We got in to town and found out where the hostel was and dropped off stuff and went back out. I eventually got dinner and he dropped me back off at the hostel. Chet’s Place is great. A bunch of people where there. I found out that the night before he had a record 31 people all staying there. Tonight there weren’t so many and I got a spot so I wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor. I decided I would slackpack the next section north from Kinsman Notch to Franconia Notch and settled in to get some sleep.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Hikers Welcome Hostel

Hexacube Shelter to Hiker’s Welcome Hostel, Glenclliff NH: 15 Miles

I got up very early. I was actually the first one up. I find that this happens a lot when I’m about to go into a town. I’m a sucker for town. Actually, I won’t even go into town but I’ll get a shower and laundry and be able to sleep on a bed; that is, if I’m not up all night doing my internet stuff and blogging. Since it’s currently 2:26 AM and I’m still typing I guess we both already know the answer to that one. The trail was as muddy as ever and although it didn’t rain, I heard it was going to rain later tonight so I wanted to get in to town early and secure a space for myself at the hostel. I also thought I might be able to get there in time to pick up the stuff Doug sent to me. I met a lot of Southbounders today and I made good time. I got to the road and it looked like it was going to be a close call to get to the post office before closing but the hostel was loaded up with people. I found an available couch and dropped some gear there to lay claim to it. I was standing there in my underwear and apparently I offended Phat Chap, the guy who runs the hostel here and drives people all over the place. I bonded with im later but I was a little put off thathe suggested I put on a pair of pants. I’ve been grumpy lately and I’m not the only one. In fact, I’m more sick of people’s attitudes out here than I am of the rain. I keep running into all these sensitive people and they are pissing me off. It’s annoying when you’re at these hostels with people that can’t lighten up. Phat Chap took us in to the grocery store and I picked up a resupply and got some steak to cook for dinner. Some people had cooked up a hug feast and eventually we had a big campfire. I was up all night trying to get stuff together from the gear that Doug sent me and update all of my blogs. The weather is not looking good. It looks like sever weather out here every day until next Friday. That’s 10 more days of rain. Some of the rivers are too very high and have to be waded through. It’s actually kind of dangerous and it started raining again a few hours ago. I’m really sick of the rain and I’m having serious thoughts of getting off the trail.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

New Hampshire is Melting!

Someone is hiking in Bare Feet?

Moose Mountain Shelter to Hexacube Shelter

I slept on the hard floor of the shelter again. Doug is sending me his sleeping pad and I can’t wait. With all of this rain I have been using the shelters instead of getting my hammock all wet and having to break it down and carry a wet tent for days. Last night while I was hanging my bear bag I got the line stuck way up in a tree and I had to climb up there on this wet, mossy tree that I wasn’t sure could actually hold my weight. I was a little worried about the hernia but I couldn’t lose my bear line and I tried everything to get it down. The rock I tied to the line got miraculously stuck in a fork of branches. I couldn’t believe it except that it was just another thing to make the day a little worse. I managed to get up there and get it down but it was treacherous going. I think I popped a stitch or two but I’ll be alright. I tossed and turned a little on the cold, hard floor but I’m getting used to it. Rain was splattering on the shelter roof all night and it sounded like someone dropping pebbles on a tin roof. That surely didn’t help anyone sleep. I got up and ate all of my Pop-Tarts and got on the trail by 10 or so. The climb was treacherous as usual. The skies kept threatening; but, it never really rained. It got sunny for a second or two and then it kept getting colder and colder. I thought Vermont was bad, it has nothing on New Hampshire in terms of mud and muck. Sometimes I can’t believe it; the trail is horrible. You find yourself foolishly trying to balance on these slippery, wobbling logs that are in the middle of deep mud fields or foolishly trying to skirt them by walking on the crumbling sides of the trail that have you inevitably sliding right back in to the deep bogs. This has been the case for a month but now the bogs last for hundreds and hundreds of yards and you just can’t escape getting mud all over everything. The climb up to Smarts Mountain was rough. There was a cool looking fire tower up there though and I wanted to get some good views on film since it wasn’t all foggy for a change. IT was windy and cold up top but the fire tower’s windows were intact and it was cool to be up there with the wind howling and views of all the surrounding mountains. I was thinking of calling it a day at the Fire Warden’s Cabin but it was only like 10 miles when I got there and saw a whole bunch of girl scouts or explorers or something. They were taking up the whole cabin and I was standing there in my soaking wet underwear when it occurred to me that it probably would be prudent for Mister F. Gentle Spirit to sleep elsewhere tonight. I had planned on making the next shelter anyway but I was damn hungry and out of water but I singed the register and kept moving. It was going to be a good haul to the shelter and I was starting to chafe pretty badly. It was another five miles and I was seriously thinking of going Au Naturale but I was worried about running in to more girl scouts. We weren’t in Vermont anymore. By the time I got to the Hexacube Shelter, I was seriously chafed in my nether regions; another side effect of being wet for 48 hours straight. Site, Bandai, Newt, Butters, Hard Rock and some SoBos were there but it was a huge shelter. I spent a while getting washed up and applying a ton of Neosporin to the affected locations and cooked dinner in the dark. I felt sick for a little while and I thought I might pass out for a minute. I lay down for a minute before I resumed eating my Ramen and Salmon. I am almost totally out of food and I have a good hike ahead tomorrow. It’s going to be a rough one. I’m going to have to eat a lot of blueberries or something. I’m even out of GORP which NEVER happens. At least I’ll be really light tomorrow and I’ll be able to move quickly up the hills. The next section after tomorrow is going to be very rough. Mount Moosilauke is a 3800 foot climb which then goes back down to 1900 feet in only 9 miles. This will be the first test to see if I can handle a tough climb with the hernia.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

New Hampshire: River of Mud

This was the trail

Newton’s House to Moose Mountain Shelter: 11 Miles

It looked like the rain might hold off. Newton made some espresso and I started packing while we discussed lots of musical things with Beau in the kitchen. Beau is a drummer and he’s young but cooler than anyone I’ve met at his age. I was getting the itch and had to get out of there today. I some little toast and peanut butter at Newton’s; basically, I skipped breakfast and got on the trail sometime around 10 or 11; which was easy because the trail was just outside of Newton’s door. The Trail goes right through the center of Hanover and I would have to say that Hanover is the nicest town that the trail actually goes through. The trail was a river that trickled some places and flowed two inches deep in others. The muck and mud was constant except where there was a running stream so it often made sense to just walk in the stream rather than the soft mud on the sides. Someone had tied a climbing rope in one section but they had it wrapped around a tree at the top so it was no use for going up. Maybe it was for SoBos who had to go down that crazy, slippery boulder. I ran into a bunch of guys, Grizzly, Site, Bandai and Newt. Before I even got a mile in the woods it started pouring again so I rushed to the Velvet Rocks Shelter to wait it out. Grizzly was there with his Martin Guitar and he played a little. Some other folks showed up and we had a conversation on sexism and political correctness. I hate talking about that stuff but it’s so hard not to chime in. The rain eventually let up and I rushed out to try to get to the next shelter before it rained again. I ran into my old friend ATV again and we talked for a while but I eventually took off so I could get to the shelter before the rain. There were a lot of people there and I decided to stay in the shelter because it was raining again. I’m so damn sick of rain. I heard on the news that this has been the heaviest rain in July on record for Vermont and that probably means New Hampshire too; it figures. I hung my bear bag and got to bed fairly early. I’m going to get up early and blog in the morning before I get on the trail. I need to catch up about four days. I hope it’s not to crappy tomorrow but I know it will be. The rain is depressing as well as a hazard. It’s really tough to stay motivated when you can’t get warm, your feet are always wet and even when your spirits would have been uplifted by some of these spectacular views, you are hemmed in with fog so you get a great view of the mist and rain for at least five feet. Slipping through ankle-deep mud for miles on end is a frustrating way to decrease your mileage potential; which never helps. The forecast looks like rain for the next week as well. My knee hurts and I can’t maintain enough mileage in this terrain. I spent a good mile or two cursing God today. Then I got wise and thanked him for making me tougher. I hope that works…

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Ivy League Wanderings

Dartmouth: 0 miles

Got up on the couch and Augie Doggie was sniffin around and growlin at us so I made friends and then brushed my teeth. The girls were cool for letting us stay and we thanked them. I went to Lou’s to get some breakfast and everyone was bustling around and the food was great. I stayed there for hours and talked to so many people my teeth were falling out. Actually that’s not true but it sounded good. I had to go to West Lebanon to pick up some more HDV tapes for the camera because they didn’t have any in Hanover. It was a public transportation situation. The public transport here is totally free and that was really surprising. I got a ride to the Best Buy from a cool girl I met on the bus whose husband works for the Appalachian Trail Council. You gotta love the camaraderie surrounding the trail. I got back to town and set up the command center at the DOC so I could blog and stuff. Shelter Monkey showed up with her pal whose name I keep forgetting to ask. They decided to get a hotel and they split. I sat at the DOC and typed blogs for hours. I got some dinner at Molly’s and I wasn’t really impressed with the particular pizza I ordered. It was some weird, new pizza and it had a strange combination of toppings. The bartenders and waitresses were cool though and they were asking some questions about the trail. The manager allowed me to put my pack in her office which was very cool. The place was packed but I wasn’t feelin’ my kind of vibe so I split and went over to Babba’s place; India Queen. India Queen is a hookah bar and Indian Restaurant which has Samosas. I love samosas ever since I first had them in Africa back in 2000. Delicious meat and Lamb Samosas are like an Indian Version of the Philadelphia Steak Sandwich; just like Carne Asada Burritos are the San Diego version of the Philly Cheesesteak. I ordered a couple of Samosas and ran into Paul from the night before. A very cool couple invited me to stay at their table and we talked about the trail a lot. I’m having trouble remembering their names since I’m typing about four days later right now. They finally split and I ended up talking with a bunch of people that kept showing up until I finally met these two cool cats Newton and Paul. Newton is a professor here in Dartmouth and specializes in Electronic Music. Paul is a Philosophy Professor at another college but they were roommates back in their college days. We had a lot to talk about; music and Philosophy. Before I knew it, it was raining and it was 2AM. Newton asked me if I needed a place to crash and I accepted his offer. It seems we knew a few of the same Musicians on the West Coast. His place was very cool and he really hooked me up with sheets and a futon mattress and comforters when I could have just slept on the tile floor in my sleeping bag. He also had a washer and dryer; which really comes in handy at a time like this. I was in heaven. The window was open and I could hear the torrential downpour rage and I wasn’t experiencing it from a tent for a change. Bliss, sweet bliss! I slept like the dead.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Dartmouth Outing Club

Jammin' at Panarchy

Happy Hill Shelter to Hanover: 6 miles

It was raining when I awoke. I had no urge to rush out of the shelter. The rain held off all night until the morning. I actually got out of bed uncharacteristically early at 7AM and packed up pretty early; however, I ended up BSing all morning and didn’t get out of there until 9 or so. It was going to be a short one into town and I figured I wouldn’t go anywhere. I was very interested to see what Dartmouth is like and this would be the nicest town I would pass through on the trail yet. After a few miles I got out on some roads and it was road hiking from then on in. Several miles of road gets kind of boring and I eventually crossed the river into Hanover. The town is beautiful. The campus is clean and there are tons of students here since they have a requirement that their third year students spend a summer session here. The campus is so well groomed I feel like a dirty interloper, eyes wide open for a lodging opportunity and trying not of obviously ogle the beautiful female student body(s). Man I feel like a dirty, old man all of a sudden. It must be the beard. Summer is a great place for Dartmouth to be and I’m glad we coincide at this moment. I looked around and easily identified the thru-hikers among the clean bodies and intellectuals. Dartmouth has an awesome organization called the Dartmouth Outing Club (DOC) and they have maintained the trails around here for a long time. One of the halls is open to Thru-hikers to drop in and get a bathroom and drop the packs but it’s tough to find lodging here. I had a long chat with Sam and he hipped me to the haps ion the town. Tomorrow they are doing this 50 mile marathon Hike to Mt. Moosilauke where they hike for 24 hours and 54 miles. CRAZY! I tried to sign up but it’s a lottery and only 30 peeps can do it so I was out of luck. That’s alright; I have to pick up a mail drop in a town before Mt Moose anyway. I’m probably going to Zero here tomorrow. During the week, the Phi Tau house offers hikers a place to stay but when I got down there they informed me that Thursday through Saturday, they don’t do it. I wasn’t sure what to do at this point but I came back to the DOC and dropped my pack and went tooling around, looking for a place to crash. If all else fails I’ll sleep at the soccer field where they allow tenting. I ran into this cat Billy and a few other guys: Butters, Rock Steady, etc. I went down to get free pizza at Ramuntos. They offer a free slice to Thru-hikers who sign the log. IT started raining again and I figured I was going to need to hook up with someone cool and crash at their pad so I flew back to the DOC, picked up my pack and headed down to the India Queen, a local hookah bar and restaurant. I met some cool peeps; Rachel, Ed, Peter and Paul who invited me to hang with them and smoke the hookah. Tomorrow is my one year anniversary of quitting smoking. I don’t miss it at all so I figured what the hell. I hit the hookah a couple of times and we talked about tattoos and the trail until they split and I went to find food. I roamed around and ended up in some place called 5 Olde Nugget Alley Bar. I got some skins and Billy came in and told me he found a place to sleep. Eventually I went back with him and we met a bunch of girls living in this huge place that used to be a frat house. It was interesting and after much guitar playing and general tomfoolery, they went to bed and we crashed on the couches.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Holdin’ it in

Which one should I water?

Vermont Route 12 to Happy Hill Shelter: 17 Miles

I got up and went down to another fabulous breakfast. I’m finally going to get the heck out of here. Shelter Monkey and her friend were going to join me on the ride and slack back. Tom came by and was very patient, waiting for me to pack my gear. I wish I would have done it the night before. The girls were already packed and had their stuff downstairs. If history is any indication, I should have known better than to rush when packing. That’s when I am most vulnerable to forgetful mishaps and today was no exception. We got on the road; Tom is a Retired Army Lt Col and we had a lot to talk about. He drives a ton of hikers out to slack pack and he’s got a trail name like “Never Sleeps” or something like that, I can’t remember what it is. I got on the trail and it w3as later than I had wanted but I figured I would go far. The day was pretty nice and although rain was threatening, it never really manifested. The report said it would rain tonight so I figured I would just crash in the shelter. Passing through West Hartford, I stopped in the village store and signed the register and ate dinner. That way I wouldn’t have to cook up at the shelter because it looked like it was going to be late when I got there. I had some hot dogs and ice cream and filled my water bottle at their hose. As soon as I got on the trail I tasted the water and realized I had made a big mistake. It tasted horrible. I hadn’t let the water drain out of the hose and it tasted like it had been sitting in there for a long time. I dumped it all out cause it was a big hill I was climbing and I’d be damned if I was going to carry crappy water all the way up a big hill. Eventually I got to nice stream where I ran into two other thru-hikers bedding down for the night. I had about another hour to go so I got a liter of water and headed out. I got there after dark and there were a bunch of SoBos there. I got to bed fairly early and didn’t have a chance to blog. I jokingly complained because there was no picnic table to sit at and they seemed surprised, “Picnic Table?” I’m assuming that this means there won’t be any more picnic tables up north. Blogging at night will be that much tougher. Rain is expected…

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Back Home Again Again

Back Home Again Again
Back Home Again Café

I got up and decided to stay another day here because I couldn’t get a hold of Tom to drive me out to the Trailhead on Vermont Route 12. I rested and took care of some business. I wanted to get out today but I went and saw a movie instead. I saw the worst movie I have ever seen in my life. Don’t go to see Step Brothers. You will wish you spent two hours grinding salt in your eyes instead. I got back to the hostel and did some more work. I went to a meeting, ate dinner and ended up talking to Shelter Monkey for a few hours before bed. I really need to pack but I guess I’ll do it in the morning. Tom is going to pick me up at 8:30 and I’ll be on my way to Hanover.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

White River Junction Veterans’ Hospital

Back Home Again Café/Hostel

I got up and went down for breakfast which was breakfast burritos that were very good despite the fact that it’s the East Coast. Someone around here must have spent time in California. I needed a ride to the VA hospital to get my Hernia looked at and to figure out what my next step was. Should I go back to Philly and get the operation there so I could recoup at a place where I had full amenities? Should I get the operation here since there are less people around here I could probably get the operation sooner and then I could either fly home or recoup at the hostel and then maybe get back on the trail? Maybe I should just fly back to San Diego and get in line for an operation there so I could start working again and making money. Four months with no income has left me in a pretty tough predicament financially. I have gigs coming in so I’ll be fine once I start working but I’d have to lay low for a few weeks until that happens; not to mention the price of gas is so horrible that I probably would have to walk everywhere so I might as well stay on the trail. I did some work here at the hostel to earn my keep and I caught up on blogs. I talked to Yohanan and Ranan and they said they would take me out to the VA after the lunchtime rush. We didn’t get out til 3:30 and I figured they would be closed. White River Junction is about an hour away by car and Indy came with me since he’s going to catch a bus back to Boston and get off the trail. It sucks when money runs out. It de-motivates you. You figure, “What’s the use in doing big miles today? I’m not going to make it to the finish anyway.” I hope he can finish it next year. I hope I can finish it next year. At the hospital they were waiting for me. For some reason my records were messed up and it says I don’t have Combat Status History which is BS so I talked to the guy and I’ll have to get that fixed when I get back to San Diego where I have my records. I’ll have to get all that updated. The wait was pretty short (compared to San Diego) and I was seen within an hour. The doc was a woman and I was thinking, “this is the first time in a long time I’m going to have my pants down in front of a woman. I hope nothing weird happens.” Well, that’s not exactly what I was thinking but you know the deal. I managed to keep things under control (probably because I was afraid of the pain she might inflict on me during the examination). She said I definitely had a hernia although it wasn’t an emergency to fix it. I asked the big question, “Can I stay on the trail?” She looked t me for a minute and then said, “let me see if I can get surgery down here to take a look at it.” It turns out she was a hiker and knowing I was a Marine she called surgery to get them to tell me their opinion. The guy came down and did the examination and actually said that many people live a regular life without getting the surgery; however, climbing the White Mountains of New Hampshire is far from a regular life and he recommended that I not strain it and get the surgery when I could. He didn’t say NOT to hike The Whites. I was really listening too. The conversation went a little like this:

Doctor: You have a hernia but it’s not an emergency. You can get it fixed sometime in the future.
Me: I’m climbing the AT
Doctor: What’s that?
Me: I’m hiking over 2000 miles through the mountains with a backpack
Doctor: That’s insane. Really?
Me: Yeah; but what I really want to know is, can I keep going? I only have 400 miles left; but, it’s really the toughest terrain coming up. The White Mountains are very strenuous.
Doctor: Ummmmmm
Me: If I’m climbing and moving my legs would that make me more susceptible than doing something like bench presses?
Doctor: No, any strain will cause it to pop out. The position of your legs shouldn’t make a difference. Right now it’s popping right back in on its own once you relax your abdomen.
Me: If it pops out and stays out, should I just push it back in?
Doctor: Yes
Me: What if it doesn’t go back in.
Doctor: Go to a hospital. Immediately.
Me: Can I keep Hiking.
Doctor: Ummmmmm
Me: I mean, I’ve hiked a hundred miles since I noticed it.
Doctor: You should try to avoid straining it.
Me: OK sounds good!

I’m going to keep hiking for a while and see how it goes. Ranan came and picked me up after I gorged myself at the China Moon Buffet next to the Vermont Bus Station in White River Junction. These guys are unbelievable in their accommodational behavior. He drove an hour back just to pick me up and take me back to the hostel. I’m going to have to come back here for sure. I was in the bus station and looking at all the destinations and I kept thinking how easy it would be to just jump on a bus and go to Boston and fly back to Philly or San Diego and just chill out. I’m having trouble distinguishing the right voice to listen to here. I don’t want to bail out if I could have done it. I don’t want to do it as a matter of pride or Machismo. I want to keep going if this is nothing to really worry about; otherwise, I’ll be lamenting my decision until I come back and finish it. It will be hard to get back to New Hampshire to finish it. To be honest, the odds are probably slim that I finish the rest of this trail. I feel like I should get it while I can and knock out The Whites and as far as I can go into Maine. This is such a hard decision. I guess I’ll have to sleep on it. It talked to my Mom and she’s obviously against me continuing on and she brought up a good point. If I strangulate it in the wilderness I could die. If I blow it out I could mess up my ski season and I wouldn’t be able to teach this year. I just got my Level 2 PSIA and I was really looking forward to teaching this year up in Tahoe. Leave it to Mom to find the one leverage point that could undermine my recklessness. She’s a darn smart one, my Mom. I think I’ll hike to Hanover (23 miles) with my full pack and see how I feel. My knee has been really bothering me and if that is acting up too, I may just pack it in for the year.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Killington Peak and Cafe

Killington Trail Sign

Slackpack US Rt 4 to VT Rt 103: 18 miles

I got up early and got breakfast before I headed out on the shuttle with Papa Bear and the Preacher Boys. They were going north from US 4 and I was going south. I took my time and ran into a bunch of people I knew. I finally ran into Indy again, he had stayed at the Shelter right at Killington. When I was a Junior in High School, I saved up a bunch of money to go on my school ski trip and I got grounded for staying home “sick” two days before the trip. After my Mom put her foot down, I decided I was going to go anyway and my Mom flipped out and we had a major confrontation involving police and sirens and fireworks and a few Kung-Fu moves. Needless to say, my Jedi Master Mother prevailed and I never made it to Killington (a situation I have lamented for almost twenty years. Well, I finally made it to Killington, Mom, and it took me months to walk here. I hope you’re happy! I summitted Mt. Killington from a very steep side trail. For just a few moments, the clouds broke, the sun came out and I got a few good shots of the surrounding countryside. I walked the ridge to the gondola and had a burger at the café. The guide book says it has prices to match the altitude and although it wasn’t as bad as some places I’ve been, it was steep and delicious.

Despite the imptroved weather, the trail condition is horrible. Mud, muck and streams are what make up the trail and when you’re on the rocks or roots, they are so slippery it feels like you’re Scooby Doo, trying to run from the swamp Monster on a frozen lake; legs going every which way while you frantically try to maintain an upright position and not stab yourself with your trekking poles. The only thing missing is the slide-whistle sound effect and marimba tinkling footsteps as you jangle down the slope from wet root to moss covered rock. I also ran into ATV after I came down from Killington and we talked for a while with another hiker who was doing the Long Trail which goes from the Massachusetts/Vermont border to Canada and utilizes the same trail as the AT for the first hundred or so miles before the AT turns east and heads to New Hampshire. I got out to the road around 1730 and for the first time since I have started this trail, I went 18 miles without refilling water or changing my socks. It was great. I didn’t even eat any of the food that I brought since I had that burger at lunch. I got changed into Hitchhiking Clothes and started down the road, thumb out and smile beaming.

It took forever to get a ride. I finally got one from this nice guy after I had walked about two miles. He wasn’t going all the way in though and he dropped me off at the town’s edge. The next time I hitch I’m going to ask about that first. It was terrible; I had to walk SO FAR to get downtown. No one gives you a ride when you are in the city area. You have to be outside on the highway to get a ride. Next time I’m going to have the guys stop just outside the city and I’ll get another hitch from outside from someone going all the way to where I’m going. If I was a normal hitchhiker I wouldn’t mind; but, when you’ve already done 20 miles on the day, walking on pavement another four is depressing as hell. I finally broke down and called a cab. I had her drop me off a block away from the hostel though. It wouldn’t be dignified to show up in a cab. I’d probably get made fun of; but, I wasn’t walking another mile in this town. I got in and the town was D.E.A.D. No one was there. I took a shower and got cleaned up for dinner. I ended up at the “Two Shea’s” pub down the street watching Boston Kick the tar out of the Yankees. I got to bed early, tomorrow someone would be taking me to the hospital.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Rainforest tap dancing on the slippery roots

ATV on Bromley Mtn

Green Mountain House to Peru Peak Shelter: 10 Miles

We got up later than we said we would and then me and ATV went to breakfast at this AWESOME place: “Up For Breakfast” in Manchester Center, VT. We got the “Hiker’s Special” and it was definitely filling. Vermont has some bad-ass maple syrup, I must say. It must be all the rain. We walked to the other side of town and couldn’t get a hitch. I finally found a place I thought would work for sure, right next to a parking lot and a convenience store. Someone had to be going out of town and could give us a ride! Nope! We stood there forever. I ran into the store to pull some money and after getting a hundred bucks I found out I have $3.83 in my account. Let’s see how far that gets me! Finally this awesome couple gave us a ride. They have lived in Manchester all their lives and they give hikers rides all the time. I can’t remember their names right now but I hope they will email me and tell me so I can put them in. I have a picture of them by their truck in case you’re wandering just who they hell those people are standing g next to the truck. As a matter of fact, you can probably guess that if anyone is driving or standing next to a vehicle in a picture, they gave us a ride and should be held in the highest of regards. As soon as we got on the trail there was magic. A group of schoolchildren and their teacher drop off sodas and sandwiches at the trailhead. It’s an awesome thing to do, too bad me and ATV were still overloaded from the “hiker’s special” to do anything about it. There was a camera there too but it was out of film so I took a picture for them in case you’re wondering what the hell is that guy doing with a can of orange soda? I threw the orange soda in my pack for later and headed up the hill to Bromley Ski Resort. We could see Stratton Mountain from one of the vistas although it was soon to be obscured by clouds as we would be enveloped once again by rain and thunder. Vermont is starting to really irritate me with all of this rain and mud and muck and slippery roots and rocks. I’ve done my share of Charlie Chaplins and a full-on Buster Keaton over some of the rocks on my way to Peru Peak Shelter. Before I get to that; nearing the top of Bromley, we came to this clearing that looked kind of weird and overgrown. I couldn’t figure out what it was until I saw the pipes and nozzles. We were on a ski slope! It was only a beginner ski slope but it felt like a Black Diamond with a 60-pound pack. We got to the top and we had been on the “Run Around” slope of Bromley Mountain. I took some video at the observation deck and I got a shot in a ski lift. Then I hauled Pack for Peru Peak and I haven’t seen ATV since. He said he was going to take a leak and then that was it. All of the trails here are full of mud and muck and vain attempts to stay out of it. Every few yards there is a huge mud puddle or mucky, leafy mud that sinks in to your ankle if you aren’t careful. When I got to the Peru Peak shelter, I needed to rinse off my legs something fierce. The gaiters worked as advertised and my socks were clean! Snickers was there with Pack Animal and another guy who was doing the Long Trail as well as Drew, a guy who had passed me earlier that day. The rain had been on and off all day and I was wet; but not too wet. I got set up for the night. The water came from a fast moving brook right next to the shelter which means MOSQUITOES! I left the Orange Soda in the stream so I could give it to ATV later. I decided to sleep in the shelter, even though it was going to hurt, I didn’t feel like finding a couple of trees and the rain was going to pour tonight so I laid down my meager pad and resigned to suffer on the hard, wooden floor. ATV never showed and after a little guitar music, I went to bed early.

David AKA “Mister Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Zero in Vermont

Green Mountain House Hostel

In an effort to minimize my casualty rate and to keep the trails safe from my tumbling body, I have decided to wait out the rain at this fabulous hostel which has only been open for a week by Jeff Taussig and his Wife, Regina. They have set up an entire house for just hikers and have a kitchen, internet and movies (all about Long Distance Hiking of course). Jeff has section hiked the AT and is doing the Pacific Crest Trail now. The house is very clean with laundry and a shower and I am most impressed. Croc Hunter has decided to stay here another day too so we can go see The Dark Night I have also opted to use this day to buy new socks and a pair of Gaiters which I have been waiting to find for hundreds of miles. I was laying down and I coughed and I felt something strange in my nether region. I’m hoping it’s not a hernia but I think it might be; at least, it feels like what the doctors are always looking for when they tell you to turn your head and cough. I’ll just walk it off, it’ll be fine.

(Later)

We ran into a few other Hikers at the movies and I got all of my shopping done. SOCKS ARE DARN EXPENSIVE! Pun intended. I tried to sew up the holes in my socks but it just wasn’t good enough. Some of the holes were too big and then once they got too close to the fire when I was drying them and they got all crispy so they fell apart. I saw these Smartwool Trekking socks with extra padding and I decided they might increase my distance so I went for it. For a while there I was wearing apair of socks that someone left behind at a shelter that only had holes in the heels where I already have titanium skin from old calluses so I wasn’t worried about it. I brought back a rib-eye and cooked it up. I haven’t cooked a real dinner in along time. It was delicious. Just as I was settling down, ATV showed his face. I thought he was way ahead of me and he thought I was way ahead of him. I guess that’s how it goes. It was getting boring just sitting around and watching Jim Rome bust on Michelle Wie and Brett Favre so I got on the Internet and investigated some methods of healing my knee and just how dangerous is that tea-stained water I’ve been drinking out of ponds and marshes? Some guy fed me a load of crap that Chocolate Milk would hinder my healing and I had to look that up too.
I knew I needed to get back out on the trail. Later on three SOBOs showed up, Mango, Greta and this other guy I can’t remember his name. They were from PA and we were familiar with each others’ habitats of youth. Mango was originally from Venezuela but went to Penn State so we got along just fine. His girlfriend Greta had spectacular legs; maybe the best I’ve seen on the trail yet, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He’d lost 30 lbs and would get them back I’m sure before he came looking for me! We became good pals and I’m going to ry to look them up when I get finished up in Maine. Maybe I’ll section with them in PA if the time is right and I don’t have to be back in SD. We all want to do the PCT though so maybe that will work out. I didn’t get to bed until 0230 and ATV was still downstairs repairing his thermarest.

David AKA “Mister Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
hotos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
ideos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Torrential Downpour

Jeff, underexposed

Story Spring Shelter to Green Mountain House, Manchester Center VT: 22 Miles

Right now I am completely waxed. I did 22 miles today in the Green Mountains, not to mention the last four or five was in the POURING rain, on muddy mountain rocks and pregnant streams. I really wanted to get in to this city; Manchester Center, Vermont, for two reasons: One, I’m completely out of food except for a ramen packet and some coffee and pepper. Two, so I could pick up gaiters at the Mountain Goat outfitter they have here. It’s the only place in hundreds of miles that has the gaiters I want, the OR Flex-Tex Gaiters. Oh mama, are they sweet! Hopefully they will keep the sweat out of my boots a little so I don’t have to wring my socks out every four miles on tough days. Even if they help a little and I only have to wring my socks out every ten miles, it will help me out tremendously. My feet take the hardest beating once the socks get wet because they lose all their padding properties and my skin gets pruney and vulnerable to blisters and other weird conditions when they stay wet all day (or several days when it’s really rainy). Last night it rained a little but I didn’t notice. It looked like it was going to be a really good day. “Perfectly Overcast” I like to call it. No rain but not sunny enough to overheat you. I got out of camp early at around 0920. The Scarlet 7 (-5) had left just before me. Beanie was getting off for his family vacation (to Maine of all places) and his family was picking him up at the next road. Soon it would be The Scarlet 7 (-6) AKA Croc Hunter, or Vince. I’ll probably hike with him a bunch till he gets off at the end of the month. I got down to the road and Beanie was just about to leave. I got to meet his family and then I headed up the trail toward Mt. Stratton. Croc Hunter is faster than me so he’ll catch me. We talked about doing 22 miles today in order to make it to the next major highway and then hitching in to Manchester Center but it looked like there were only hotels to stay at and they were all expensive. Ahead of me was an 1800 foot climb to Mt. Stratton, a popular ski resort in the winter, it had an observation tower on top and I psyched myself up for the climb. Croc Hunter passed me on the way up and it was tough but I finally got up there. There was a Caretaker, Jean, staying in this cool little white hut. I had to wring out my socks and underwear when I got to the top. Since Vermont doesn’t have a nudity law, I just did it right there. Croc Hunter was up in the tower but I don’t think he was looking. He was trying to get service since it was the highest point anywhere around. After I climbed the tower and got some footage of haze and barely discernable mountains, I came down and all of a sudden people started showing up like crazy. There was this huge family from Atlanta and all these young girls and I was pretty glad they hadn’t come up about fifteen minutes earlier while I was standing there on a big rock, naked except for my untied boots, wringing out my underwear and socks. Now that would have been a moment! Anyway, I shamelessly promoted the website and moved on. I had a big day and the caretaker said there were huge storms on the way and flash flood warnings for the whole area. I had to get down there before the storms hit and night fell or I was never going to hitch a ride into Manchester Center. Croc hunter mentioned he might go with me but only if we could find a hostel. There was a shelter 3 miles before the road. We would meet there and figure it out then. I got to Stratton Pond and decided to jump in for a dip. It definitely smelled like a pond but I didn’t care. It felt good to rinse off the sweat and leaf particles and mud and whatever else was all over me. As I was getting ready to go, these three kids showed up. I can’t remember their trail names except for the one without a trail name who was Sean or Shawn or Shaun or whatever. He didn’t have one of those text bubbles over his head when he spoke so I couldn’t tell. They hipped me to a fabulous place that has just opened up: The Green Mountain House, a hostel that was super cool. They gave me a business card for the place and I called when I got service and made a reservation for me and Vince in case he wanted to go. I would have to catch him though, he’s fast. If he gets to the shelter to far ahead of me he’ll have time to eat and unpack and he won’t want to go. It looked like it might be dark before I got to the road which makes it hard to hitch. I started to haul ass. I had to wring my socks again and I opted for totally new ones which were fresh and dry. As I was trying to get to the shelter the ominous thunder and lightning began to play its game with me. I knew it was going to be close and I didn’t want to stop to get my raingear on cause I sweat a lot more with it on; however if I made it to the shelter before the downpour, I could keep my socks relatively dry and then don the gear for the final three miles in the downpour. I didn’t make it. The sky kept teasing me with sprinkles and thunder off in the distance. It never seemed to be in front of me though so I kept going. I wasn’t sure how far it actually was to the shelter but then it got so dark that I should have turned on my headlamp. Suddenly the rain started to really pour and I was getting soaked. I tried to hustle but it’s tough when everything is all slippery. I saw the sign for the shelter and didn’t realize it was still several hundred yards downhill. I ran down the path but I was still getting soaked. My socks still seemed semi dry though and when I got to the shelter, Croc Hunter and Greenwood were there. They though I was coming in for the night but I really wanted to make that hostel. I told Croc Hunter about it but I know he was reluctant. Eventually he broke down and got packed back up. We left during a lull that we hoped was going to be a long one. It wasn’t. As we were gong down the first hill he said, “Just for the record, I think this is a dumb idea, but what the hell, I could use some more adventure.” The trail was very wet, very muddy and not at flat as the map led us to believe. He cruised way up ahead of me and it got pretty dark again. I finally made it to the road and I was really worn out. Just as we crossed the road this Minivan was coming at us and I just threw my thumb out there as a joke and the guy pulled right over and picked us up. It was AWESOME! His name was Brian and he was from Jamaica. I thought he had stolen the car ‘cause he didn’t know how to open the back hatch or unlock any door; but at that moment, I could care less who or what he was. He was giving us a ride in the rain and he was alright by me. In fact, if they asked me to go to court to speak of his character, I’d have to fly all the way back here to do it. “Your Honor, that man is a saint and I don’t care how many bodies I was sitting on in the cargo area when he drove me into town!” For a moment I thought it was going to be a Great Adventure and then we got to the McDonalds and he wouldn’t even take a sandwich for his trouble; not even a shake! I, on the other hand, had two Double Quarter Pounders with Cheese, Large Fries, a 32oz Orange Juice and a 20oz coffee. Paul Newman does McDonalds Coffee, man! I calculated the total calories and it was 2470! Yeah man, I needed it. Jeff picked us up to take us the hostel and when I got there I weighed myself: 155 lbs I haven’t weighed 155 since I was 20! This Hostel is the nicest place I’ve stayed yet on the trail. It’s a very nice house and I can’t wait to drop into that fabulous bed!

David AKA “Mister Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Hiking Au Naturale

Melville Nauheim Shelter to Story Spring Shelter, 17.4 Miles

I got out of the shelter really late, even for me. I didn’t get on the trail till 1130 because I was trying something new and writing blogs in the morning instead of late at night so I don’t bother people with the typing at the shelter. On the way out I ran into some hikers that I had met at the Unionville Mayor’s house, Shadowcast and Tangent were hanging out with two guys I hadn’t met: Filadelphia Greenberg and Greenwood. I was trying to catch Indy and the climb up Glastenbury Mountain kicked my ass. I kept thinking the shelter was coming up any time now and then it just kept going UP! I nearly bonked a few times and when I finally got to the Goddard shelter, all the people that slept at the shelter with me last night were there except Indy. They hadn’t seen him either. I stopped and had some ramen and tuna. The Shadowcast and Crew came up a few minutes later. My knee was doing OK today but it has its moments when it just hurts out of nowhere so I’m taking it easy. Later I climbed the rest of the way with showers threatening and thunder clapping. All of a sudden there was this fire tower, observation deck thing. I really wanted to climb it and take some pictures, it was well above the tree line though and lightning was looming and thunder was booming so I climbed it anyway. I have always had this idea that should I ever get hit with lightning, all my hair will turn white and I will possess super powers afterward. I realize this is a fantastic improbability but so is getting struck by lightning so I climbed the tower and kept the film rolling in case it did get struck while I was there. I pressed for the next shelter. I really wanted to go 17 today because that would put me in reach of a town tomorrow. The rain was intermittent and the rocks were slippery but so far the Green Mountains are reminding me a lot of the Smokies; wet, muddy and rainy with beautiful views obscured by haze and mist and thunderstorms. I got to the Kid Gore Shelter and it was late. Shadowcast and crew were there and I decided to try for the next shelter. They thought I was crazy and they told me so. I told them nothing. They don’t understand why I carry a heavy pack. It’s one of those things. If you get it, no explanation is necessary; if you don’t, no explanation will suffice. I like that quote but I can’t remember who said it or what it was originally in reference to; however, it fits me perfectly. Speaking of which, after I left Kid Gore Shelter, I noticed that I was getting a little chafing in my nether regions and it had me worried. My knee had been bugging me a little but that seemed to go away. I really didn’t want to roll in to the next shelter with a chafing problem so I decided to just go Au Naturale until the next shelter. That’s right, I took it all off and hiked in my Birthday suit; well actually, I kept my shirt on. I didn’t want to offend anyone with my naked chest. I discovered the other day that Vermont has no Nudity Law and you can go Au Naturale any damn where you please. This fascinated me and having a practical reason, I dropped trou and headed to the next shelter. I don’t know if it specifically helped my chafing problem but it sure took my mind off of any pain or other issues I might be experiencing. It was actually quite nice. I had to wring my socks out so I put the underwear back on and they had time to dry so they were comfortable again and I was proud of myself for having the balls to do it. I think it may become a regular thing while I’m in this state. I got in to the Spring Story Shelter and to my surprise, Indy wasn’t there. I was a little confused since no one had seen him and he didn’t pass anyone. The Scarlet 7 (-5) was there though. They lost another two and now it was down to Beanie and Croc Hunter. There were two SOBOs (southbounders) there: Clemson and Sweet Tea. I took forever to get set up but I got some eats, I’m almost completely out of food, and played some Guitar and set up camp and got to bed late. I kept hearing something walking around out there and I thought it might be a Moose. Before I went to bed I saw a big rabbit and I know they have snowshoe hares here so maybe his big feet were paddin’ around all night. Whatever it was, it was freaking me out.

David AKA “Mister Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

I see Moose Turds!

Not a good place to step



Seth Warner Shelter to Melville Nauheim Shelter: 14 Miles

I got up late, as usual, which leads me to think that since it’s usual than I guess it’s not late. If I got up at the time when everyone else gets up I should probably say I got up early. Acceptance is the key my man. Normal reveille for me is about 9AM and that’s when I got up, stomach growling and hungry for Pop-Tarts and coffee. It was going to be a great day I could tell. The weather was perfect. Me and Indy got all packed up at roughly the same time and headed out around 10:30 or so. Most people I know have already done 10 miles by 10:30. Not me, I get my hiking stride around 4 or 5PM I really wish I could hike all night but I don’t have a good night-hiking headlamp. Night hiking is a little sketchy too with all the slippery rocks and the faint blazes. I could wind up in Kentucky or something. I figured I’d be down at Vermont Route 9 by about 2PM and maybe that would give Truckstop enough time to call me back. I wasn’t counting on it though. Besides it would be better if I got in some bigger miles today. The climbs were reasonable and although my pack is very heavy, probably 60lbs at least, I don’t even really feel it anymore. It has more or less become a part of my body. I passed Sucker Pond and some guy sitting there painting or rather Charcoaling it and I asked him a few questions and all I got were gestures so I figure he must have taken a vow of silence or something. He looked like a Thru-hiker though. I’ve never seen him so he’s probably SOBO (southbound) although, if he’s sitting around at every pond charcoaling and stuff, I’m probably going much faster than him and he could be a NOBO (Northbounder). Regardless, he didn’t say a word and I noticed it; pompous, vow-of-silence bastard that he was. Maybe I was interrupting him… ONWARD! I managed the climb down to VT9 without a knee-splitting incident even though I was harangued my Vermont Deer Flies constantly. There is always this low-grade buzz around your head and you know he’s just waiting to land on your hat and bite right through it. At least the Mosquitoes haven’t been a problem here. I met this guy Scottie who is a SOBO and he was saying that he discovered that the mosquitoes go about 2 miles an hour and if you go just faster than that you can outrun them. I informed him that he was traveling into 5 MPH Mosquito country and I hope his legs were ready for that. My brother’s Friend Eve called me to say that she and her boyfriend could meet me up the trail. They were very generous and were talking about driving several hours to come and meet up; but, I think that’s too far. I wouldn’t ask them to do that, maybe I’ll meet up witht hem when the trail gets much closer. Truckstop still hadn’t gotten my message by the time I hit VT9 so I pressed on to tackle the uphill to the next shelter. Later I got her message saying she was laid up at her parents in New Hampshire due to a rather gruesome sounding fall into an ocean somewhere or something like that. Maybe we’ll do Karaoke in NH.
The last time I did Karaoke was in Gatlinburg with Mad Mtn. Mike and Cubit and MacGuyver. I could stand a night of caterwauling at the drunks. I really miss that. Then climb up the hill from VT9 had me pausing a few times to Ahem, check out stuff while my heartbeat returned to double digits per minute. I got in to the Melville Nauheim Shelter around 1545 with roughly 2 hours left of daylight it was a tough decision whether or not to go the next 8 miles to the next shelter. Thunder had been booming since I came up VT9 and I thought it was going to rain any second which helped me to make my decision to stay. Some folks were already there, a couple of young guys from Minnesota, one going to MIT, a guy showed up from New Hampshire, Half-way was his trail name when he Thru-hiked a few years ago. A woman whose name I forget was in the shelter already and Indy showed up while I was getting water. Two sisters, Ratchet and Awesomoppossom, came in a little while later with their dogs, Sadie and Bosco. Dinner and a campfire ensued and Guitar playing until late. The rain held off. I was trying to journal out by my hammock when all this racket went up around me. Some kind of animal was running around just outside of headlamp and computer light and I was getting a little unnerved. All I need is to startle some Drunk Belligerent Skunk coming home from the local watering hole to ruin my night most completely. I hung up the computer and hit the hammock. Around Midnight I awoke with a startle. It was silent and then the wind blew up with a tremendous howl, the likes of which I don’t think I have ever heard. It blew through the trees like a freight train and my hammock started to bob up and down; not side to side; but up and down, which meant the trees were being pulled away from each other. Lightning and thunder started popping up everywhere like a natural Fourth of July celebration. It was almost a constant show of light through the rain fly of my hammock. Then the rain started. You could hear it coming up the mountain with the howling wind and I suddenly realized that not only were we on the highest ground in the surrounding area; but, I had tied up to a tree which had already been struck by lightning. I hadn’t really thought of it except to assess whether or not it would be good to tie up to. Since it was a big tree and still living I figured it was OK; but now, with lightning assured, I reviewed the statistics of Lightning hitting the same tall tree on a ridgeline twice and the chances seemed pretty good. I have always wanted to get struck by lightning because I have this idea that after I do, I will be blessed with some Super Powers so I just laid there and waited for it. I woke up in the morning with no apparent Super Powers and a completely unsigned tent so I guess the lightning skirted our ridge. Oh well, maybe next time. Other than the vegetation being wet it looks like it will be anice day for hiking. I think I’m going to catch a toad today and put it on my head to see if he’ll stay there and eat the deer flies. It could happen! Oh yeah, this morning while I was talking about Mt Greylock I was describing these huge turds I saw on the trail that I thought were Elk or a big deer and it turns out they were from a MOOSE! I might see a MOOSE! I can’t wait! I’m going to call him Bullwinkle and see if he laughs!

David AKA “Mister Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1