“Sharpie-Scrawled Soliloquy”

AT Day 88

Miles Today: 23.38

AT Mile: 1604.1

(Just North of Vermont Border [tent])

This may sound silly, and perhaps it is, but three days ago there was a piece of graffiti scrawled in sharpie on the inside of a privy door, and it read: Remember you are on vacation. You’re supposed to be having fun.

I wish the message could have come from a more magnificent source instead of the inside of a shitter door, but that’s also life on this trail. Inspiration comes when it comes, and the most important moments are rarely “placed” where you might think they should be.

I spent some time with that shitter-sharpie-scrawling over the last few days, and thought about how many miles I’ve spent genuinely not having fun out here. That’s not at all to lose track of how many I have enjoyed, but it occurs to me that a reminder was due for me to think about what I’m “supposed” to be doing out here and compare that with what I have been doing.

Last night a text came in from Specs–the hiker who I took acid with on day 9 of the trail and who I hiked with intermittently there for a while. He was the first person I really shared any miles with on the AT.

He told me that he was much farther back than I expected him to be by now–almost 400 miles south of here. He said that he’d taken two weeks off trail to stay with a friend, and that he was feeling burned out from hiking, although those might not have been his exact words. I told him that I understood the feeling. Not that I feel burned out in this hike, but that it’s hard to be in the bliss of it all the time. To the contrary, most of the time is spent in pretty deep challenge; hiking this trail is not f*cking easy! But the bliss points are sweeter on account of those steep grades, so in a way I welcome it. Still, even if you *really* like hiking, it’s hard to enjoy every step of it for twenty-two hundred miles. Sometimes it has to suck.

Plinko and I shared stories about our low points at the start of the AT. We both had a time within the first three weeks where we “hated this trail,” as Plinko put it. But not in that we actually hate the trail, but in that we had our moment of hating it. Somehow that too is an important part of this hike though. And I’ve spent some time with this thought too–there’s something fundamentally important about this trail absolutely sucking ass sometimes. I guess the trick is to find serenity in those moments and soak up the ever-fleeting moments of bliss.

—

We got to trail early today, but not before several of the other tents at the Father Tom Campsite were already packed and out for the day. I was surprised to see how early people were starting the hike today.

It made more sense once we were to trail though. The temps were high today and the humidity was significantly higher than yesterday. Hemlock pointed out something that I had not noticed until yesterday–that the rocks actually start to accumulate moisture when the humidity reaches a certain point. It’s like they’re sweating, sometimes just as much as me.

There were the temps, and then there was the elevation profile. All through today it was a big up in the morning, that broke over 3,200 feet for the first time in several states, then back down into the lowlands. Then back up to where we’re camped tonight.

I guess this is Vermont…

The people are different here too.

Yesterday at the food store this wild lady came up to us and asked, *very* aggressively, “Where you from?” And Hemlock said Connecticut. “Noice!” She replied. Then proceeded to ask Plinko where he’s from, followed by another “Noice!” And of course asked me where I was from, and emphasized the “Noice!” Even heavier.

I asked where she was from and she said somewhere around there. I tried to mimic her and said, “Nice!” She seemed to appreciate my rapport.

After we parted ways, Plinko said “Welcome to New England.” I took it to be a good thing.

—

We thought we were going to have most of the day hiking with Hemlock today, but his wife arrived to pick him up earlier than we’d expected and so we parted ways at the top of Mount Gray Lock. She brought drinks and snacks, so we all spent around an hour together before Plinko and I went back to trail. I think that no matter where we separated it was going to be hard to say goodbye. But I’ve found a way to avoid saying goodbye by always leaving on something like “Will see you again soon,” whether it’s likely to be true or not.

In Hemlock and Rachael’s case, I hope that it is soon. Hemlock’s never been to the Grand Canyon, and I’m trying to talk him into planning a trip out that direction in October to hike and see the State. It’s likely that if Boots and I are still dancing at that point, she’ll be there visiting for my birthday at the end of the month as well. It would be good to have the four of us together again and have more time than we felt like we could find during the stay at Hemlock’s last weekend.

—

It’s just the two of us now–Plinko and myself. We do well together though, and we both acknowledged this afternoon that we could very likely finish this trail together. It’s been something I’ve considered a few times before now, but today was the first time that either of us said it aloud.

During our second climb this afternoon, we pulled aside to a set of campsites just south of the MA/VT border. The heat and humidity and climbing was too much all together. Our clothes were all completely soaked through, and I couldn’t take anymore. I told Plinko I was pulling off to the campsites, and he asked if I meant for a break or to camp. I told him that I didn’t know but that I needed to take a break. There was a sign that said Campfires Permitted, and although the heat of a fire didn’t sound pleasant at all, it gave me some hope to think that it could drive the bugs away. Today it’s not only been mosquitoes but little black gnats as well. They’re insidious little fuckers! Swarming so thick that I had a few fly up my nostrils and into my sinus this afternoon. They also bite.

We couldn’t find anywhere to camp, but struck up a conversation with another hiker we’d met earlier in the day. She’s out here on a section with her daughter and her friend but she’d hiked the whole trail in 1993. We talked a bit about her first thru hike and how things have changed on trail since then while I tried unsuccessfully to build a fire to keep the bugs away. After five minutes I gave up and Tired-Dogs picked up where I left it. She managed to get it lit within two minutes. Testament to how rarely I have a fire on trail.

—

I’ve got some pain that’s developed in the back of my left knee. It’s either part of my hamstring or my popliteous. Either way, it’s been bothering me for around a week. I keep meaning to make note of it but have been forgetting when I’m writing these because it doesn’t hurt when I’m laying down or sitting down to write. So go figure.

I don’t think that it’s anything that’s going to take me off trail, but it has been persistent enough for long enough that I feel like it’s worth noting to see how it develops with time.

Very tired as I finish this up tonight.

Last night I had an extremely vivid Kafkaesque nightmare about being accused of murdering someone I went to school with. No idea where the dream came from, as I haven’t heard or even thought about this person in at least ten years, and nothing in the dream seemed to make sense. But it scared the hell out of me and it felt so real. I remember thinking, as they arrested me, that I might not be able to finish hiking the AT this season if I get found guilty of having done it.

I mentioned it to Plinko and he suggested that it might have come from taking Melatonin last night. He can’t take the stuff because it gives him night terrors. I told him I don’t know, but if there was a connection I might stop taking it.

Haven’t taken any melatonin tonight but I’m so tired that I’m literally dozing off here between finishing words and writing the end of this sentence. Holy hell. I wish I could do more to get it all on the page before it’s gone, but I’m grateful to get at least what I can as I have.

Wormwood.