One problem with doing all 2100 miles of the A.T. via day trips and section hikes is that it is easy to miss a few miles here and there. If the trail consists of points A-B-C-D, and hiking is easy to arrange between points A & B and between points C & D, then it is almost inevitable that the miles between point B & C will be forgotten. That is what I found for the 21.5 miles between the Warwick Turnpike near Wawayanda State Park and Highway 17 near Southfields. The latter was where I got to during my hike of 2011 July
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/entr...on-of-insanity
and the former was where Shuttle dropped me off during a few day-hikes between there and High Point State Park. Doing that amount of mileage can be done either by (1) two days of day hikes, with Shuttle dropping me off and picking me up each day, (2) innumerable day hikes of my driving there, hiking up to some point and then doubling back, (3) hiking between two spots where mass transit is easily used, or (4) some combo of these. (1) is difficult to arrange during the school year, and (2) would be hard to do at about five miles per visit.

Which means option (3). I've used the commuter train from Harriman Station along Highway 17 before, but it requires arrival at the station before 4 pm -- that's the latest one can ride the train all the way into Philly. Since the last part of the hike involves coming down "Agony Grind," I had a feeling I should give myself a lot more flexibility on arrival times. A little bit of searching found that I could instead use the Coach USA bus from Southfields,
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/entr...Transportation
which has a bus leaving for the NY Port Authority Bus Terminal as late as 9:43 pm. Would I want to arrive in NYC at 11 pm, meaning I would not get back to Philly till the middle of the night? No -- but it's nice to know I COULD if I was severely delayed on my hike down to Southfields.

Further digging allowed to find I could ride a NJTransit Bus to Greenwood Lake (GWL)
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/show...t=#post1471036
making for a 15 miles hike between the top of the Village Vista Trail (VVT) to Highway 17. The rest of the mileage, I figured, could be handled by two "hike up and hike back" treks.

The latter two hikes were relatively easy. I did the first as a kind of "scoping out" the town of GWL; followed by a hike up the VVT, then south to Prospect Rock, and finally return to GWL. The second part was completed yesterday: a hike from Warwick Turnpike, north to and past the NY-NJ State Line (getting my obligatory photo), then to Prospect Rock, and finally return. For both trips, I chose days with almost ideal hiking conditions: cool, clear days with sunshine and a light breeze. No surprise, I got some pretty nice views on both days.

The two-day, one night hike between the VVT and Highway 17 SHOULD have been just as easy, even if it meant coming down Agony Grind. Because cheap bus tickets between Philly and NYC must be bought seven days in advance, I couldn't just wait till the last minute to make my trip. However, I figured I could check the ten-day forecast for GWL and know when I could get two consecutive days of clear weather. It was on that basis that I chose May 7 and 8 for this trip -- good weather was predicted for both days.

As the days got closer, the weather forecasts for May 8 became wetter and wetter. Unfortunately, because the cheapest Greyhound tickets are unchangeable (that's why you can get them for $10 each way), I had little choice but to make the trek on those days. I figured that I needed to learn how to handle hiking in the rain eventually, as waiting for two weeks (I'll eventually make hikes of that length) of cool temps but no rain was going to be a bit unrealistic. Also, I concluded that a two-day hike would be ideal for such a predicament, as it would be over after one bad day. So I decided to go.

This was my also first trip since I got my smart phone (NOTE: for those who hate hearing people talking about electronic gear, or even gear in general, please skip this paragraph). The ONLY reason I got even a cell phone was to contact Shuttle each day on the Trail, lest she worry about me. The original cell phone could not hold a charge after only one two or three phone calls, so I knew I had to get something new. I also wanted a combo cell phone and camera, simply because I didn't want the weight of a camera around my neck. My choice was the Droid Razr M, which not only had this combo, but could go a long time between recharging. I should mention that I long ago chose Verizon as my carrier simply because they are known for having "bars" even in remote locations. Thus, I am learning how many useful things I can do with this relatively small and simple piece of equipment: store maps (in jpg format) and trail notes (in text) from books; gets news, weather, sports, and finance reports at (just about) any time; have music and books (in Kindle format) available at any time; show off photos I've taken many years ago; find businesses in trail towns or at road junctions; and get located on the Trail to within a few meters. The latter is particularly nice for sending progress notes back to Shuttle -- I can rapidly e-mail my location (she can look it up on an online map) and add a few words of update. This works it a lot better than leaving a phone message along the lines of, "I just passed Highway 100, which is also known as Hog Creek Road, and is fairly close to I-78." I hate to admit it, but I love using all these features -- and my apologies in advance to all the people who'll have to endure (and already have) my doing so.

The trip to NYPA Terminal went fine, as did locating an outlet for my smart-phone near a wi-fi hotspot. For the curious, this is in the corner next to the bowling alley. I intentionally had nothing to drink while there, as I knew I would be on a NJTransit bus for over 90 minutes with no chance for a bathroom break. Again, I got to GWL with no problem, walked up the VVT to the Trail, and headed north. Got to the Wildcat Shelter well before dark, and had my first problem (sort of): there were six other people hoping to sleep there this night. This early in the year, I thought the place would be near-empty, but I was wrong. Yes, the guide says that this shelter will sleep eight, but getting even seven under the roof was problematic. We just re-arranged ourselves as best we could, and somehow got us all to fit. As usual, my first day(s) left with no appetite or hunger, so I had almost nothing to eat during the entire two days.

Since the Shortline Bus I wanted to catch at Southfields arrives there at 6:16 pm, I decided I need to leave Wildcat Shelter as early as possible. This means at 6 am, meaning waking at 5 am. Amazingly, I awoke at 4:52 and had little trouble getting ready to go. Almost as soon as I left, and just as predicted, it began to rain -- and it never really stopped the rest of the day. Since I knew this would most likely happen, I was ready with my Goretex{R} jacket, wool sweater, wool socks, and water resistant boots. Yet, despite all this readiness, I kept getting wet -- worst of all, within my boots. It only took a couple of hours before my socks were soaked, and I could hear the sloshing of the water at every step. Blisters? No -- I long ago learned to use inner sock liners under my main socks. But it wasn't terribly comfortable to feel water "gooshing" around in my boots with every step. Normally when I get wet clothes, I stop at the first granite bald, and use the sun to dry them out. As the rain never really and the sun never came out, this was not an option. I just for a small break in the rain, and wrung out the water as best I could. This never really made much difference -- each time, in less than an hour, the socks were as wet as before.

Rain not only soaks your socks, it makes dirt on the trail into mushy mud, and rocks to become far more slippery. Because of that, my speed, particularly while on climbing on rocks, went down quite a bit. Amazingly, I only slipped once, and then suffered more hurt to my pride (I was specifically trying to be extra careful) than to my body. Not having poles didn't help, but I will soon replace the bargain-basement ones I broke last year.

My topo map showed a significant elevation drop just before the Trail got to Highway 17, and the area had the name "Agony Grind." Thus, I can't say I was unprepared for going down this part of the Trail.
http://whiteblaze.net/forum/vbg/show...earchid=223095

Being prepared, however, doesn't make it much easier to go down this area while water is still coming down (it was just mist by this point). I gave absolute priority to safety over speed, making me glad I left at just after the crack of dawn. Somehow I managed to get down without major incident, and felt a true sense of accomplishment at getting through what (I suppose) is one of the toughest parts of the Trail below the Whites.

The 1.6 miles walk to Southfields led to a abandoned, grey store where I waited for the Shortline Bus, trying to get into some halfway dry clothes while under an awning. Once again, I had to force myself to eat something for lunch / dinner, and was too tired to walk to the Valero for anything to warm up with. Despite the paranoia I noted in my link above, the bus came by just fifteen minutes late, and got me to the NYPA Terminal in a much relaxed state. Greyhound and Septa easily got me to Upper Darby, and Shuttle got me home. I felt as if I'd passed a major test.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shakedown_%28testing%29
states "A shakedown is a period of testing or a trial journey undergone by a ship, aircraft or other craft and its crew before being declared operational."
That pretty much describes the purpose of my three-day, two-night backpack last week. during which I tested my "take-along" list, my equipment, and (most importantly) mySELF for ability to handle backpacking in 2013. I'm happy to report that this test left me shaken, but not down.

The mileage was the typical (for me, anyway) ten miles or so a day; and thus 34 miles of Trail miles from Ashby Gap to Harpers Ferry (HF, note that there is no apostrophe). It worked out well enough for me to spend my first night here
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/show...rry&highlight=
then ride the HostelHiker Shuttle to Ashby, and then return. My original plan was to complete a much larger part I had not yet hiked -- Thorton Gap back to HF -- but commitments to others made this untenable. I'll just leave Thorton to Ashby for another day. The link above gives all I have to share about the HI Hostel in HF. The shuttle driver for this service was right on time, but actually had trouble finding the AT at US Highway 50!

However, by 9:30 am I was on my way north and, due to predictions of days of cool, dry weather, I felt the hike should be no problem.
For those now laughing at me -- Yes, I had read about The Roller Coaster; No, I did not anticipate how enervating it would be. It was a simple case of "jes' walking" up and down, up and down, repeat.

This early in the season, the trail was almost deserted -- I saw about ten people total, and (unlike two years ago) I was only passed twice!!
Water is presently abundant all along the trail, and the facilities I passed by are all in good shape. This includes the Sam Moore Shelter, where I slept alone the first night.
[Note that neither of these photos are mine]
http://whiteblaze.net/forum/vbg/showimage.php?i=24264
Didn't sleep well (nothing new!) particularly when the thunderstorm came through. Thankfully, I was in a shelter and the clothes I had washed that night were under the picnic pavilion roof.
http://whiteblaze.net/forum/vbg/showimage.php?i=7433
Despite my hopes, I "slept in" till 6 am, and took way too long to get ready to hit the trail.

Got to Bears Den Shelter by mid-afternoon of the second day, with hopes of a trash can to dump my food containers, along with litter I'd found along the way. Was QUITE disappointed to see a sign requiring that visitors had to pack out what they had packed in! I also hoped to at least look at the hiker room, but found its door had a number lock requiring a certain amount of mileage from the AT Guide -- which I didn't have. However, memory and logic allowed me to reduce the possible number combinations to a mere ten, and (amazingly!) my first guess was the right one! I won't tell the code (the caretakers may change it), but all you need is a list of mileages along the AT to unlock the door.
Inside featured couches, books, a log book, a PC with internet, and (O joy!) a trash can. As best as I could tell, any day hiker who can unlock the door can use any of these at no cost; if I'm wrong, I apologize.

FINALLY left the Roller Coaster a few miles short of the Blackburn Trail Center, where I spent my second night.
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/show...45#post1463845
This night alone was so quiet that I literally heard my heart beat as I drifted off to sleep. Since I had gotten to sleep before 9 pm, and had organized my stuff much better, I had hopes for an early departure on day three.

Despite a good rest, I still did not awake till 6 am, but at least I got going more quickly. Problem is, it was over 14 miles to my car, and I usually lose energy after ten miles of walking. MUCH worse, the expected sunshine simply wasn't there. Fog, rain, and wind were with me the entire hike -- the first time I've ever walked though the former two*. VERY fortunately, I had a rain poncho I always carry no matter what weather is predicted. It's a cheap poncho, but it did its job. Hiking in fog ruined my views, but I never had trouble staying on the trail.

What helped QUITE a bit was the fact that this part of the AT was (relatively) quite flat and had few rocks -- terrain I can really make speed over. When I got to the border sign for Harpers Ferry National Historic Site, I felt like I was (almost literally) "out of the woods." Amazingly, it was AFTER this point that the trail became its most rocky, and going downhill to the Highway 340 Bridge was by far the slowest part of this day. Still, crossing this bridge, then turning right onto Shenandoah Street, into town, allowed me to relax a bit.

Note my info on getting from the AT up to the HI-Hostel -- it was a bit disconcerting. Fortunately, I had arrived by late afternoon, and had no trouble driving back to Upper Darby. Despite my concern that a first hike would find me out of shape and badly equipped, I did fine: not a single scrape or even an insect bite. Best of all, there was absolutely no pain in my right knee -- it would seem that a winter of watching what causes stress -- and avoiding those actions! -- had paid off. As soon as I get more days without encumbrances, and can work out logistics, I'll be hitting the Trail again.


* Those who have followed my blogs are well aware that, after hiking, I have encountered more rain that I would prefer. However, I've never walked during rain.

> [Upper Goose Ponds Cabin] was a a place I didn't want to leave -- which may explain the next part of the story.

I'm sure both of the people who actually read my journal entries have experienced paroxysms of anguish, waiting to hear what's "the next part of the story."
It's actually pretty straightforward. On a day when I wanted to (again) get another early start to the day, I zipped off from UGPC with a burst of energy, both arms swinging along as they were both unencumbered by anything.
If you're now saying, "Unencumbered by ANYTHING? What about your poles?" -- then you've figured out what "the next part" was. After getting a mile from UGPC, I realized that I LEFT MY POLE back at the cabin -- after telling myself half a dozen times not to do so! I had no choice but to turn around and redo that entire stretch. Basically, I wasn't on The Trail till about 9:30 am.

Fortunately, my map showed I had only ten miles to walk till I would be at Shaker Campsite (SC). UNfortunately for my worry wart mind, there were no signs stating the distance to the SC, despite distances to the Mount Wilcox Shelters appearing at each road crossing. When I noted that my map was showing that the A.T. used to go by Shaker Pond, I began to wonder if that's where the campsite used to be, and if there even would be a campsite where I thought it would be -- amazing the worries an over-active brain can come up. My conclusion was that, if the camp site turned out to be on the old trail, I'd simply camp where I thought SC would be.

Other than this worry, this day's hike would have been ordinary had it not been for three incidents on the Tyringham Cobble Trail
http://www.thetrustees.org/assets/do...-Trail-Map.pdf
1) As I climbed the cobble, I heard a group of people coming my way. Then I saw the dog (as ALWAYS with dog owners on The Trail, the dog was not leashed as required by law), then I saw that it was a group of day hikers -- and then I saw the goats. Yes, GOATS being herded along the A.T.! I stated that I don't often see such animals while backpacking, then noticed that the the last one obviously had the same lack of familiarity with me. This old goat simply froze on the trail, refused to walk by me despite calls from the herders, and basically acted like an -- well, a stubborn animal.. It finally noted an "opening," ran off the trail around me, and joined the other two of its friends.
2) While approaching the first overlook (remember, I'm going south, so my "first" overlook will be looking down on Jerusalem Road), I began to hear church bells. Figuring I hadn't just been hit by lightning, I went to the overlook to try to discern what I could be hearing. Apparently the Union Church of Tyringham
http://www.summerthemovie.com/wp-con...ch-310x150.jpg
was playing hymns from its bell tower. Live or Memorex{R}? I couldn't tell.
I wanted SO badly to get a video of the beautiful music adding to the lovely, sunset view at the town -- but this was the first hike on which I chose not to carry my camera! Having decided that there are already enough photos of overlooks, trees, lakes, and creeks along the A.T., and that nothing I could photograph would be of any interest to anyone, I simply left it at home. I'm now left with a beautiful memory, and a resolve to return to the Cobble Trail on another clear day.
3) At the second overlook, I didn't get any music, but I did get a glorious panorama. For the second time in ten minutes, and for only the second time during my last four short section hikes, I wished I had a camera to record a real view. Instead I got ANOTHER reason to return to the Cobble Trail on a clear day.

Back to my worries over whether Shaker Camp is even where I expected it to be. It wasn't until I was within half a mile of that location, that I ran into somebody I thought to ask, "Is the camp site nearby?" "Oh, yea; you're practically there." And, sure enough, there I was.
What I SHOULD have done is note that this camp site is listed on the AMC's official URL,
http://amcberkshire.org/at/campsites
which obviously means it's most definitely still on The Trail.
The camp itself is pretty tight, as I wasn't sure where I was going to camp without being almost on top of someone else. Fortunately, I found a tent site that met my needs, and was pleased to discover that the other campers were just as desirous of quiet and privacy as I am. Once again, I was too tired to cook a meal and just munched a snack before going to sleep. And I should note that my idea of permethrin on my camps socks worked perfectly, as I managed to avoid any bits on my feet or ankles.

I woke up the next morning with no appetite for even oatmeal, so I just headed off after having a quick cup of moderately hot coffee.

This day featured a LOT of downhill walking, sometimes at a steepness that un-nerved me.
At least I got the joy of watching some father-son bonding on the trail. The dad was videotaping his son going underneath a bridge, while the son was humming the "Indiana Jone" Theme Music.
http://mp3skull.com/mp3/john_william...nes_theme.html
[Click the 'Play' Link]
I noted to the boy that I don't get to meet Indiana Jones very much, and he replied that he was imagining that the bridge was collapsing as he was going under it. A minute later it occurred to me that I should have (instead) greeted the son with, "Dr. Jones. Again we see there is nothing you can possess which I cannot take away." If the kid had responded, "Too bad they don't know you like *I* do, Belloq.", I'd have responded, "Perhaps you could tell them yourself -- IF you spoke Hovitos."

When I got to Benedict Pond (the campground is still closed despite their URL stating that construction will be done on June 30), I got a typical reminder of why I try not to hike north on The Trail. A group of about five Girls Scouts (with adult escorts) spoke of the 100 mile hike they were doing -- and I couldn't help but remind myself that I can barely do a forty mile backpack! They also asked what my longest hiking day has been, and I truthfully said twelve miles. "I've done a fourteen mile day!", one of them responded -- only increasing my embarrassment. It's bad enough to watch people half my age -- and twenty years older than I -- fly past me, but it's REALLY a letdown to know someone ONE-FIFTH my age can out-hike me!

I got to Highway 23, just east of Great Barrington, well before sunset, and decided to head on to Lake Buel Road (LBR). When I came to a gravel road as I headed south, I had no idea if this was LBR or not. There was no sign, my topo map didn't indicate any road of any kind prior to LBR, and I didn't even know if the road I wanted was paved or gravel -- so I just presumed this WAS Lake Buel Road. Turns out this gravel road is a driveway into a private resort between Highway 23 and LBR, but which comes out at Lake Buel Road in about a quarter mile. Since I was now on the road I wanted to be on, I just headed for the East Mountain Retreat Center.
http://www.eastretreat.org/
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/show...Retreat-Center
Spent a pleasant evening conversing with Stone Kicker, once again had no appetite for food, and got a great night's sleep.

Headed into Great Barrington to grab some non-trail food. The 24-hour Cumberland Farms is just south of the intersection of Highway 23 and Highway 41 (ie, where US Highway crosses the Housatonic River), and is a perfect place for such a stop. Mainly because they don't mind someone hanging around for two hours (as I did), eating in their parking lot and using their bathroom.
The Peter Pan Bus stops right in front of the Visitor Center, which is south of City Hall and right in front of the Days Inn. The VC has brochures, AC, and a bathroom -- but is only open from 10 am to 4 pm, and is closed all day Tuesday.
Note that you can buy your Peter Pan ticket online before you depart (don't forget to PRINT IT), and you then get absolute priority on boarding -- I won't deny it was kind of fun to jump to the front of the line. Wait till you board the bus to buy your ticket, and you may have to get off in Waterbury to do so.

The rides from Barrington to the NYC Port Authority, then to Philly, and finally to Upper Darby (via subway) was pretty uneventful despite both buses being completely full.

No surprise -- Shuttle and I are already planning my next trail trip.

The sport of golf has been described as, "A pleasant walk occasionally interrupted by a swing of a piece of metal."* My backpacking walk last week -- a measly forty miles from Dalton south to Highway 23 near Great Barrington -- can best be described as, "A pleasant walk occasionally interrupted by mosquitoes, blisters, scrapes, lack of water, heat, humidity, unfounded fears, and frightened goats." Indeed, I can only say that, if every hike were like these days, I might actually enjoy doing the A.T.

Two days before my departure, I did a home test of my "cooking" skills by making a "add packet to two cups of boiling water and stir as it boils for seven minutes" dinner, using only my cat stove. I had no trouble doing this cooking outdoors, but I made an unfortunate discovery -- mosquitoes LOVE to attack my feet and ankles when I leave them unguarded. I thus realized why these areas had the most annoying bites both during my last hike and this test -- I generally just take off my boots and socks to give my feet some rest, basically advertising to bugs, "Fresh meat!"
My solution was to create a pair of socks specifically for evenings after I stop for the night, spray them with permethrin, and mark these socks as my "evening socks." Once again, Shuttle was able to offer her skill as a seamstress, creating green markers for my socks.

Getting from Philly to NYC is ridiculously easy, particularly if you can plan your exact departure time for Greyhound Express. Getting to the Berkshires is also easy, as this is one of the few rural areas in the U.S. with an adequate system of mass transit. After examining a lot of options, I decided to spend a night in Pittsfield, take the first (ie, 6 am) bus to Dalton, and begin my hike as early as possible.
Although budget accommodations in Pittsfield are not easy to find, I did locate a place less than a mile from the bus depot for less $100 a night. I got in a little after 10 pm and prepared for a 5 am wake-up.
I was dumbfounded to find, however, that my room did not have a radio-alarm. Fortunately, Shuttle not only provides driving and "benefits" for me, but she's also good for a wake up call. I thus had no trouble leaving the motel by 5:20 and getting back to the bus depot well before 6 am. I wasn't sure what would be the cost of a local bus ride to Dalton -- the system charges $1.25 "per town" -- but the bus drivers were all quite helpful. I even got dropped off exactly where I wanted to be -- the Cumberland Farms just west of the junction of Highways 8 and 9. After a quick microwaved breakfast, I was on The Trail.

My daily goals continue to be for wimps -- about ten miles each day, always ending at a designated camp site. Problem is, the two sites south of Dalton are (respectively) about three and twelve miles away. If I could make October Mountain Shelter, the rest of the trip would be fairly easy. But, for a wimp like me, twelve miles would be the LONGEST hike I'd ever done with a backpack -- and I invariably start to fall apart at about ten miles. Fortunately, (1) I got a fairly early start, (2) the only really hard part was right at the start, and (3) weather was not too bad. I got to the shelter with minimal difficulty, although that last hundred yards seemed like a mile (it always does for me -- and I keep "seeing" the shelter at every turn).
The shelter had (1) two other guys who used tents instead of staying under the shelter, (2) their dogs, who were staying in the shelter, and (3) a large group of tent campers in the group area. Because quiet and privacy are VERY important to me, I decided to camp as far from the group area as I could. And, although I was tempted to tell this group to keep it quiet, I'm glad I DIDN'T -- it turns out they were volunteer trail workers, making the trail in the area as good as it was. If you were there on July 31st, my apologies for my nasty thoughts!

It is becoming a habit that I have no appetite while backpacking on The Trail, so I just had a bagel for dinner. I slept better than usual, and had my typical oatmeal breakfast before a (relatively) early start. Since I only had ten miles to go for the day, I had no troubles beyond the usual heat, humidity, and tired feet.

I'm happy to report that, once again, walking The Trail actually made my right knee feel BETTER as the day went on. Maybe I'm strengthening the muscles that need to be stronger, maybe movement is what keeps the MCL limber, maybe anything. I only know that my knee feels BETTER after I backpack than after I sit in front of a computer for too long. Because I'm slowly learning what causes pain, and what avoids pain; my instances of pain are becoming rarer.

The day ended, well before dark, at a place I have to recommend for all hikers -- Upper Goose Ponds Cabin. Enclosed dorms (ie, no buzzing insects as you sleep), mattresses instead of wood to sleep on, washing facilities, a fireplace to dry clothes over, a lake on which you can enjoy swimming, canoeing, or fishing, and (best of all, imho) pancakes for breakfast! It was a a place I didn't want to leave -- which may explain the next part of the story.

* For the curious, the original quote was simply, "Golf is a good walk spoiled." The exact origin of this quote has been lost in the mists of time -- but it most definitely was NOT originated by an American humorist.
http://quoteinvestigator.com/2010/05/28/golf-good-walk/

Last year, during another heat wave in Connecticut, I did a short section through the area.
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/entr...-could-be-done
(BTW, sorry I typed "could" instead of "couldn't" -- if I could edit blog titles, I would).
This time, however, for four days and 42 miles, I did REAL back-packing.
Which is why, whenever I met a NOBO (I went south) who asked me, "How ya' doing?", I answered, "I'm surviving."

Shuttle dropped me off, mid-day on Sunday July 15, at Highway 112 near Lakeville. It was hot and sticky, and a good chance of rain. But isn't that part of the fun?
Within two hours I had my only accident -- I slipped on a rock, reached out for anything to grab, and ended up with a six cm cut on my right wrist. Not a BAD cut, but one I could not ignore. Spent about twenty minutes getting out my first aid gear, tearing open the envelopes with the clean wipes, wrapping some gauze around the wrist, and basically trying not to add to my (already growing) misery.
My first time with back-packing in rain was not an added problem -- since I was already covered in water from sweat, water from another source actually turned out to be pleasant.
One other positive surprise: having sprayed permethrin on the brim of my sun hat, I found that keeping the brim near the back of my head meant less insect buzzing in my ears.

As is typical for me, I was moving less than a mile an hour. It was after 4 pm when I saw that I had walked the four miles to Sharon Mountain Road, so I asked a NOBO how far to the next shelter. After his "Just an hour" reply, I figured I might get "up to" a mile an hour, and do the four miles to Caesar Brook Campsite before dark. Besides, I thought, the rain had let up a bit.
As I trudged to Pine Swamp Brook Shelter, I decided the following: if I got there before 5:30, I would make a dash for CB; after 6 pm, I'd stop there; between those two times, and I'd see what the weather looked like. It was 5:55 as I arrived, it was still cloudy, and (this was the deciding factor) I was tired. So I just settled into the Pine Swamp Shelter for the night.
This, it turned out, was my BEST EVER decision on the A.T. Within ten minutes of arrival, the rain re-started. Pretty soon it was coming down REALLY hard, and, through the night, it came down in buckets. Meanwhile I under was a roof the whole time.
Bugs were still a problem. Despite not needing a cover for warmth, and not wanting to get my sweat on the inside of my sleeping bag, I HAD to crawl into the bag just to get away from bites. I simply put my hat over my face and made the best of it.

The next morning, as I hiked that part of the trail I would have hiked had I continued on to Caesar Brook, I grew increasingly dumb-founded at what a blessing it was for me to have stopped for the night. Continuing on to CB would have meant walking on some pretty difficult (for me, anyway) parts of the Trail, during a thunderstorm, and certainly in a few hours of darkness. I kept looking at where I would have stopped if I had made ANOTHER bone-headed choice. Even in daylight and no rain, it was five hours to walk the 3.5 miles to CB -- meaning a 10 pm arrival even if I had left Pine Swamp by 5 pm!
By the afternoon; the heat, humidity, bugs, lack of breeze (probably the worst aspect), and just plain boredom had reduced this walk to putting one foot in front of another. The only mental exercise was when to stop for a drink -- and, when stopping, whether to worry more about changing out socks wet from sweat, making certain I had no ticks on my legs, cleaning off the dirt and sweat from my body, applying more DEET, or putting sun screen to my bare arms. The reason I didn't do the former was because all three of my under-socks were getting wet, and none were drying out. It was hard to do the second task when I couldn't tell whether those little black dots were bugs or just pieces of dirt. Cleaning off the dirt meant I was also removing the sun and insect protection I was trying to maintain. And ANY stop would make it harder to make any kind of progress to the camp site I was hoping for.
I was tempted to stop at the Silver Hill Campsite: pump water, a sink for cleaning, shelter if it started to rain, and even a bench with a view. But I decided I could go on to Stony Brook Camp.
It was thus a blessing that the Trail goes along the Housatonic River for several miles. Even *I* can travel over a mile an hour on level dirt. I arrived at camp well before dark, set up my tent, went inside to get away from the bugs, and got everything ready for the night. I even managed to hang out some washed clothes for drying.

Awoke to find that almost nothing I had hung had fully dried -- too high a humidity for anything to lose dampness. For a poly-pro undershirt, no problem; for under-socks, big problem. I simply chose the least wet of the three I had, and started off.
I resolved this day to get to the Schaghticoke Mountain Campsite -- almost eleven miles, more than I've done on the Trail in one day, even on a day hike.
The day went fairly well, even if it was a repeat of yesterday. I was able to find a place to dry some clothes -- rocks in the sun, branches to hang stuff on if any breeze appeared, and shade nearby to keep from drying myself out. Spent about an hour FINALLY getting my socks dry.

As I got to Mount Algo, word kept coming from NOBO's -- "No water at Schaghticoke." Despite the warnings, I decided to plod along and just carry enough water to get by.
And this is the word I want to make clear to anyone doing Connecticut in the next month or so -- get water WHEREVER you can, as most streams, creeks, and springs have definitely dried up.
Maybe another warning: the pronunciation of 'Schaghticoke' isn't "shag-ti-coke" (like I kept saying), it's "skat-i-cook."

Once again, I got to the camp just at dusk, and thus had little trouble setting up camp in my typical exhausted manner. I even found a few pools of dirty, stagnant water -- no problem if you have a pump filter!
Sorry I got so close this night, neighbor, but I was REALLY tired and the spot we shared was the only one I had the energy to get to!

Wednesday July 18 was a lot like the previous two days -- hot, muggy, no breeze -- again making the day little beyond deciding when to drink, how to dry my socks, and whether to apply soap, DEET, or sunscreen to my skin. I handled a few minutes of profuse sweating with a liter of filtered water.
Tried out a loose, very thin cotton shirt to see if that would be better than poly-pro in the heat. Let me say it: the Earth is round, and synthetics are better than cotton.

It was while approaching Ten-Mile River Shelter that the fun REALLY started. Storms had been predicted for this day, and all the signs were there: wind, dark clouds, turbulence, and thunder. I got my rain coat ready for a downpour -- after which the Sun came out. Even though it took me a few minutes to find the shelter (if walking south, you get to the group camping site first), I arrived literally without a drop of rain on me.

One funny thing about that group site -- as you walk into it, you see a privy behind a sign stating "Pack out everything you pack in." As much as I value LNT, I couldn't accept THAT rule for a privy!

Spent an hour at the shelter, drying off clothes and counting the seconds between lightning and thunder (three seconds was the least). With the initial downpour, I did the "Shawshank Redemption" Bit:
http://www.imdb.com/media/rm2250080256/tt0111161

The storm seemed to break about 4 pm, and I resolved to walk the last three miles to Wiley Shelter. Despite that meaning going over a hill, my topo map indicated a fairly easy climb up and down. What REALLY sped me along, however, was the lightning flash at the top! Literally, right at the sign telling me I was at the highest point of the hill, I saw a flash -- and didn't even have time to begin counting before I heard the thunder! Top of mountain, lightning closing in, me wearing a metal frame -- NOT the combination I wanted! The extra incentive to get off the hill allowed me to reach Wiley before dark. Spent the night needing the rain cover over me.

The rain stopped long enough on Thursday July 19 for me to dry off my tent (but not too many of my clothes) and head for Pawling. I started later than usual, turned back after realizing my walking stick was still at the camp, got turned around at a poorly marked spot, and heard many warnings of downed trees. Some of the latter were barely a problem -- just needed to walk around. Two were some of the most difficult obstacles I've come across -- couldn't walk around them, under them, or over them -- and could barely go through them.

FINALLY left the woods where the Trail goes through a cow pasture -- a walking hazard not mentioned in trail books! Got to Highway 22-55 at about 2 pm. Problem is, the next train to NYC would be at 2:45, and there was no way I was going to get into town in 45 minutes. Worse, the next train to NYC after that wouldn't be till 4:45, meaning I wasn't going to arrive in Philly till 10:30 pm! Sure enough, I got into Pawling at 3 pm, and started counting all the ways I could have gotten there fifteen minutes sooner. But, bottom line, I had done a 41 mile hike -- my longest ever -- and was now in a cool shade where I could take my shoes off and relax. The commuter train rides from Pawling to NYC to Trenton to Philly to Upper Darby went without trouble. Got back home at the time I had expected; and enjoyed a huge meal, my first shower in days, a flush toilet, air conditioning, a comfy bed, and Shuttle by my side.

My thanks to all who helped me, gave me warnings, and (most of all) didn't laugh at me to my face. As you can guess, I'm already planning my next section hike.

Willie Nelson sang, "Just can't wait to get on the road again," -- which describes how I felt a week ago.
Gene Autrey sang, "Back in the saddle again. Ridin' the range once more, toting my old 44, where you sleep out every night" -- which PARTIALLY describes my sense of accomplishment.
I'm just not aware of any song that celebrates the joy of being out on the trail after too long of an absence, but any such song would describe my feelings perfectly.
And last week was my first real opportunity to do some major AT hiking since my knee surgery of May 8th. Doc said I had to wait "a month" before attempting any back-packing, and social responsibilities made it difficult for me to find a week during which I could head off for e a trip that would be long enough to be worth the trouble.

I decided to look for any area that I hadn't hiked before, that didn't have any major elevation changes (particularly uphill), had a terminus accessible by public transport (couldn't ask Shuttle to waste too much time driving me around), and from which I could easily get away if I had miscalculated my recovery. The area around Carlisle PA fit the bill perfectly, as I could walk the part south of Highway 944 while spending a couple days at a motel on U.S. Highway 11, and I could get to the latter by Amtrak and city bus. Not till I got well south of Boiling Springs would I hit any type of elevation change, and even that would be relatively minimal. When I saw that there would be a week with nothing scheduled and almost no chance of storms, I decided, "This is it!"
The only potential problem was the prediction of heat indices over 100 F for every day of hiking. However, I had handled such heat before, and figured I was ready again.

My first test -- a three-hour, seven-mile loop that had enough roads and flat farmland to permit to go pretty fast -- ended with me being worried. Specifically, my legs hurt. Normally I just expect such pain as part of walking for the first time in weeks, but, when your WHOLE POINT of walking is to see if you've recovered, you become REALLY sensitive to any amount of discomfort. Because this walk was so easy, I was able to complete it and get back to the motel, but pain and worry left me with a night of less than optimal sleep.

The next walk had a similar level of hiking difficulty -- a loop of about seven miles in a few hours -- but the heat index was MUCH more of a problem. When I faced this last year
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/entr...-could-be-done
I was able to keep relatively cool by soaking my hat and shirt sleeves. This time it didn't work -- the water simply did not evaporate from either of them! The linen shirt I love to wear while hiking is usually comfortable in any kind of weather; today it was like having towels drenched in warm water wrapped around my arms. My clothes weren't cooling me off, they were simply adding weight!
Lesson learned: get a hat and some shirts that are made of VERY thin material.
Other lesson learned: be willing to take enough breaks to keep your body together and your socks dry. I normally go hours almost non-stop, taking more breaks works better!

The MAIN news, however, was that my pain was LESS than it was yesterday. It would appear that my leg joints and muscles, instead of being damaged, were getting stronger. And I needed that, because the NEXT part of my trip was to involve an actual pack on my back!

Those who saw me last year in New York had every right to wonder why I was so burdened down with stuff in my pack. The simple fact was that I was using gear designed for car camping, not back-packing. My sleeping bag, tent, cooking items, and fuel canister were, plain and simple, too big. So this year I jettisoned all of them and substituted lighter versions of each. I'm happy to report it helped.
I was also able to find convertible pants made of cotton at (of all places) a Kohl's Department Store. There are a dozen places to get such pants made of nylon, but I find that material WAY too hot to wear, and the pants inevitably get tears after only a few trips. Being able to switch from full length while walking through high grass and shorts while in the woods -- and feeling comfortable in both circumstances -- also helped me along.

What helped me beat the heat was a simple strategy -- start walking before dawn! I'm not usually on the move at five in the morning, but I did not want to face another day like the one yesterday.
I made very good time (by my standards, which means horrible speeds for real back-packers), arriving at Boiling Springs at 10:30, when my plan was to arrive by noon! Spent over two hours enjoying the shade at the ATC Office, getting a cool soda, taking a shower at the pool (cost is now $2), and drying out my clothes there. This worked because the pool employees were kind enough to let my sit in the shade while my clothes hung on a picnic table in the warm sun. I must have made an interesting sight wearing backpacker clothes, surrounded by people wearing only bathing gear.

Just south of Boiling Springs is a campground about which everybody warns is next to railroad tracks. At the speed I was making -- again, a good speed for me, a lousy one for everyone else -- I decided to instead head for Kennedy Shelter. This meant my first climb with a backpack since my knee operation. Even though it was only 500 feet, I am happy to say the pain was pretty much gone by this day. I got there with plenty of daylight left, and two people already set up for the night. Which, for me, means sleeping just outside the shelter. As I'll mention again, I just can't sleep in these if there is even one other person there. Nothing personal, fellow hikers, I just have a LARGE need for privacy.

As I came to realize last year, back-packing actually kills the appetite for the first few days, and this stay was no exception. After a bagel and a small OJ for breakfast and nothing for lunch, I ate a bagel and a meat slice for dinner -- then hit the sack. Because of the heat I didn't need to crawl into the sleeping bag, so I just used it for a large pillow.

Just like last year, the humid heat kept me from fully putting a top on my tent. And, just like last year, it began to rain the night I did so.
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/entr...-the-Year-quot
But this year I had the sense to put the rain cover on the bottom half of my tent. In a matter of seconds after hearing the first drops, I was ready for any kind of storm. I was NOT going to have a repeat!

The rest of the hike -- Kennedy Shelter to Highway 34 -- was pretty uneventful, just a matter of minor up and downs. The Maze was a pain as far as following the blazes, but doing so is part of the "experience." I just kept telling myself what we ALL keep telling ourselves: if we wanted an easy path, we wouldn't be doing this in the first place!
Shuttle, who drove all the way from Philly and back, solely to get me home, arrived at the pickup point about fifteen minutes after I did, and I relaxed the rest of the day.

Was this a strenuous hike? No -- but that was the IDEA. When your only thought is, "Will my knee hold up to this?", you return to the trail with something EASY. Next one will be a little more of a challenge.

Once again, this post has nothing to do with hiking, only the knee surgery I had to have done in order to get back on the trail. Not interested in my recovery? Fine.

ANYWAY, today I had the follow-up visit with the surgeon. His analysis and my experience were perfectly in sync -- the post-surgery recovery had gone better than typical, and I was now ready for ALMOST all the activities I have avoided this spring.
Doc noted that I was wise to get the surgery as soon as a problem was noted, as the damage to my MCL was neither severe not extensive.

I noted the following good signs:
1) I did not need to take any of the prescription pain medicine.
2) Indeed, I didn't even need to take any acetaminophen (the generic name for Tylenol{R}).
3) Not only did I feel better each morning after a good rest, I actually felt better each evening after a day of moving around.
4) Within a couple minutes of taking off the knee brace, I was bending that knee without any pain. Muscle stiffness due to non-movement, yes. But no pain.
5) By last Monday morning I noted that I was walking briskly and normally (ie, no trace of limping) without any pain at all -- for the first time in well over a month.
6) I mowed our lawn and trimmed our hedges without a wince of pain. Plain and simple, the knee is as good as ever.

But I had to ask about the REAL reason I went through the trouble and expense of the surgery: could I resume back-packing on the Appalachian Trail?
Not for a month, he advised. And only if I started slowly, being careful not to try too much too soon. Which is both what I (1) fully intended to do and (2) normally do anyway.

Doc said I did not need any further follow-up unless I experienced a resumption of the pain. So I guess I'm my own doctor now.

In a few weeks I'll do an overnight camping trip -- NO HIKING -- to ensure I haven't lost my zest for the outdoors. If that goes okay, I'll return to the Trail as soon as practical.

Disclaimer: this blog has nothing to do with hiking, but only the surgery I had to have if I wanted to continue to do so. Feel free to ignore if you have no interest in that.

Although ANY arthroscopic knee surgery is something a White Blazer wants to avoid, the one I had today went about as well as anyone could expect.

The lead-in to the surgery did NOT leave me impressed. The pre-operation sheet said that (1) I should make an appointment with my primary physician and (2) I would get a call from the hospital's pre-op office to set up an appointment with them. I called the ortho-doc's office to find out the purpose of my appointment with my family doc; the former replied that they would send that info to my doc.
I had little problem making an appointment with the latter. When I got there, the conversation went:
Doc - "So what are we here for today?"
Me - "Didn't you get a message from my surgeon?"
Doc - "Let me check your portfolio. Nope -- all we got was a fax saying that you needed a pre-op for surgery; there was nothing specified about what that involved."
My family doc then did a general checkup, just like I had gotten a month ago. That took about ten minutes, and then I was told I should hang around -- they were in contact with my ortho-surgeon. After about fifteen minutes of waiting, they noted that they had gotten the info they wanted. All I needed was an EKG (just like the one I had gotten less than a month ago) and some blood work.
The next day I got a call from the pre-op office, noting that (just as was promised) I should make an appointment with them. Then the pre-op office noted that I had just gotten a pre-op exam from my family doctor.
"Does this mean I won't need one with you?"
"Let me check."
Within an hour they confirmed that I didn't need to also meet with them.
In other words, my ortho-surgeon had to be reminded to tell my family doc what tests to run, and also failed to make clear that I only needed to have one appointment instead of the two they mentioned. This wasn't a case of the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing, this was the left hand not knowing what the LEFT hand is doing.

So now I was ready for the big day.

Shuttle was kind enough to wake up at 4:30 am, so that I could get to check-in by 5:30, so I could be ready for surgery at 6:30. Check-in was no problem, as I had a good idea what to do and not to do before surgery. The only un-nerving request was to remove my wedding ring -- in 29 years of marriage (as of May 21), I've never removed it for more than a few seconds. But health takes precedence over symbolism, so (after a little skin cream) off it came.

The surgeon requested spinal anesthesia instead of general -- I'd like to think because spinal has smaller odds of side effects, but possibly because it takes less time to get the patient sedated. After the anaesthesiologist (yes, that's how it's spelled) stuck the needle in my hand (where it's a lot easier for him to make dosage adjustments), he explained what would happen. Spinals, he explained, allowed the patient to be alert doing surgery, and even observe the work.
"I have no interest at all at watching that," I said.
"Lot of people say that, yet they still end up watching intently."

His last words I recall were, "This chemical I'm now giving you won't knock you out, but it will make you REALLY happy. In five minutes you won't remember a thing."
The next thing I remember was the nurse in recovery asking me if I wanted some juice.

I was surprised I was allowed to eat anything, just out of surgery, but the nurses explained that recovery from spinal anesthesia-
1) had fewer side effects than general.
2) took longer than general.
3) involved a few hours of the feet and the pelvis SLOWLY regaining a sense of feeling.
I loosened up my surgical gown to confirm that both those parts were quite numb. More on that later.

"So when do I get to leave?" I asked.
"Not until you walk on your own, as well as urinate." More on that later.

Shuttle was with me very soon, letting me know that she followed my progress like someone at an airport could get status on a flight. She got to speak with the surgeon right after he was done, and the doc stated that the surgery had gone quite well. The meniscus had been repaired, and all the damage had been cleared out. So now it was just a matter of waiting for my being able to do two simple things. More on that later.

Shuttle and the recovery nurses were more patient than I was as time wore on, providing me with drinks, snacks, and reading material.
One would think that consuming the former would assist in one of the tasks I needed to perform. Unfortunately, pelvic numbness makes that task problematic. So I just kept waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

After a couple hours I thought I had enough feeling in my feet to at least get from the bed to the chair. Unfortunately, being able to feel my ankles doesn't mean I have feeling in my feet. Within a few seconds it was obvious that I had to go back to the recovery bed -- and waiting.

Not wanting to repeat my mistake, I decided to check the feeling in my heels before any attempt to stand. When I had good feeling, I asked to be moved to the chair. I stood up with no problem, sat down, had my foot raised -- and promptly had my first attack of nausea. And vertigo. And heavy sweating. Shuttle reminded me these are all symptoms of a heart attack -- not what I needed to hear! Fortunately, all three symptoms disappeared in a couple minutes.

Which means I had only one task to take care of. Pelvis numbness made this difficult -- so I waited. And waited.

I speculate that I actually had a full bladder, but that my numbness made me unable to notice that. My muscles were holding it in, but (again) I couldn't feel the stress. As time wore on, I kept get more and more out of sorts, but couldn't understand why.

As the pelvis numbness wore off, it became more and more obvious that I HAD to get to the bathroom. I asked for help from the nurse, who gladly assisted me there -- even as I was dizzy and bent over due to muscle aches in my lower abdomen.

But, despite my numbness, I accomplished my task!! Literally, within a minute, my entire malaise had vanished. I can only speculate that the relaxation of my pelvis muscles allowed the rest of my body to unwind. Within five minutes I had my street clothes back on and was ready to go.

Shuttle got me home with little trouble, and immediately e-mailed family and friends. This is now a more full description.

I'm happy to report that I have no pain in my knee, only stiffness -- no surprise after having an immobilizer on the leg, that must remain there for two days. When I have any more to report, I'll continue to post here.

Here two photos of me in the recovery room: soon after I awoke from there, and right before I left.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/pr77x/7...in/photostream
http://www.flickr.com/photos/pr77x/7...in/photostream

2012 was going to be a year when I did more section hiking than in previous years. The simple fact is that I can not continue to hike a mere 100 miles or so on the AT each year -- which has been my average over the last five years or so -- and have any hope of completing all 2100 miles. At age 58, the math and physiology are pretty simple. Thus, Shuttle and I looked forward to a significant increase in both (1) backpacking treks in the manner of
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/entr...on-of-insanity
and (2) assisted hiking along the lines of
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/entr...es-in-Maryland

After my warm-up hike of
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/entr...m-up-quot-hike
I felt I was ready.

The problem is, my statement in that latter blog -- "I feel good that I had no significant body aches or angina during the walk" -- was quite premature. The simple fact is that I DID have some pain in my right knee, on the inside part. I ascribed it to the combination of holding down the gas pedal while driving, followed by some hiking. I had felt stiffness in this area before -- can't say if it was weeks, months, or even years -- but never to the point that it was a bother to walk. This time was different.

When I did some hiking on the Horse Shoe Trail a couple weeks later, the pain in the exact same place was unmistakable and impossible to ignore for a hiker. I mentioned the pain to my primary care doctor during my bi-annual checkup, and he did a little twisting and stretching of the knee.
"Does that hurt?"
"No"
"Does that hurt?"
"No"
"Aarrghhhhh!!"
"I guess THAT hurts?"

The doc wrote a prescription to see an orthopedic specialist with the notation, "Torn MCL(?)"
Having followed sports injuries for decades, I knew "torn MCL" was not good.

Okay, I need to see an orthopedic specialist. As I do not typically have access to a car, I wanted a trustworthy doctor that I could get to via a minimal amount of mass transit. After a couple of hours of online searching, I found a doc whose office is right on a nearby bus route, and who has been doing orthopedic surgery for decades. I had no trouble getting an appointment within a few days.

As is typical for meeting a new doctor, I spent more time filling out paper-work as I did with the doctor. Although many people would be bothered by a doctor who spent no time getting to know their patients on a personal level, that's actually the type of health care professional I prefer. I described my symptoms, and he even guessed one before I said it. Specifically, that driving a car causes the most pain. He did a little bit of twisting, predicting the exact results even before he started. He thus concluded that the initial guess of torn MCL was correct. In medical billing terminology it's called a '713.3' . The ortho-doc also noted that he couldn't say how badly the miniscus was torn without an MRI of the knee. He thus gave me a referral for this procedure.

The hospital with which he is affiliated has this device, and (apparently) the hospital is familiar with these problems. When I called to make an appointment, the conversation went:
"What type of MRI do you need?"
"I don't know -- the doctor just said to get an MRI on my right knee."
"What's written on the prescription?"
"I know this is stereotypical, but I'm having a problem reading it. The only thing I can see clearly is 713.3"
"Oh, a torn miniscus. We know what to do."

I was surprised to be able to get an appointment on a Saturday, which worked just fine. I wasn't happy with the parking arrangements for this hospital, but I was able to work around them. Amongst the problems I had was having to park in the back of the place and then walk all the way to the front. When you're getting a procedure because it hurts to walk, this is not an optimal arrangement!

I actually learned about the physics of MRI when I was in college 35 years ago, so I understood that the procedure uses very strong magnets. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by the questions prior to the procedure -- "Have you ever received a gunshot wound?" -- but I was amazed at the number of things they have to watch out for.

The technician was quite helpful with a procedure that requires that you remain almost completely still for about thirty minutes. I was prepared for that, I was NOT prepared for the incredible noise level of the machine. It was like being in a boiler factory, with all sorts of bizarre noises all around me. I should also mention that this procedure can be VERY un-nerving for those with claustrophobia. There were five sets of picture-taking, each taking about four minutes, and I was out in about thirty minutes.

The technician gave me a compact disk with the complete set of photos. I looked at them as soon as I got home, but, as far as being anything I could understand, they may as well have been driving directions written in Chinese.

The orthopedic doctor phoned early in the week and stated that the MRI's confirmed the initial diagnosis.
"Can you live with the pain?", he asked; and I noted (quite truthfully) that I could work around it IF I was going to sit around my house for the rest of my life. Then I noted that I had plans to do hundreds of miles of hiking this year and in the years to come. We thus agreed that out-patient, arthroscopic surgery would be my only option. My knee would have to be immobilized for 48 hours after the surgery, followed by a few weeks of physical therapy. He felt confident I could make a full enough recovery to permit continued hiking.

The surgery is now scheduled for early morning May 9th. There will be the usual pre-surgery work, but I expect nothing to be problematic.
The last time I had surgery was an appendectomy in 1970, so this is a experience I don't have a lot of experience with. I hope it will be another 42 years before I'm put under the knife.

Details will follow as they occur.

But the weather was perfect, and I wanted to ensure that (1) my equipment was still present, operating, and organized; (2) my body was still operating; and (3) I hadn't lost my zest. Happy to report everything went well.

Safest way to test all equipment is to do an easy overnight -- park at a trail head reasonably close to a shelter, hike there, spend the night, and return. Nothing fancy or strenuous, but that's the POINT. If something fails to work, or you forgot to pack something, or you forgot a lesson you SHOULD have learned; then the worst thing to happen is that you spend an uncomfortable night.
For example, on one of the first of such hikes, I forgot the hose for my water filter, and thus had to get by with 32 ounces of water. Fun? No. Allowed me to make a BIG mistake with minor consequences? Yes.

As usual, I simply looked at the guide book with the question, "Where have not yet hiked, but would easily be able to do so over one night?" I noted that I have not done the section from Pennsylvania Highway 850 north to Duncannon, and that halfway between the two is Cove Mountain Shelter (formerly named for Thelma Marks). It looked pretty straightforward to simply hike the 4.9 miles from PA-850 to the shelter, settle down, hike (without the pack) to Hawk Rock Overlook, return to the shelter, and then return to PA-850. There would be some elevation gain, but not a lot, and certainly no scrambling up or down a rock slope.

Had no trouble getting from Philly to the parking area on PA 850, and the trail is easy to follow. NOTE THE VERB in this infinitive! I said, "follow;" not "walk on." As anyone experienced with Pennsylvania hiking can attest, just north of PA-850 is where the Keystone State's AT-nickname as "Rocksylvania" begins. These photos

http://whiteblaze.net/forum/vbg/show...mageuser=13863
http://whiteblaze.net/forum/vbg/show...mageuser=13863

give some idea of what your feet will be going against on this section.

When planning to stop at any shelter, you naturally keep looking for a blue-blazed trail. If, like me, you get REALLY excited at finally seeing blue blazes; be aware that NOBOs will see such a trail BEFORE the one that actually goes to Cove Mountain Shelter. This blue-blazed trail goes "west," steeply downhill, and has no signage. It is not mentioned in the Thru-Hikers Companion, but another book says it "leads steeply down to a Duncannon Water Co. service road." The trail to the shelter has very good signage, and goes "east."

The Cove Mountain Shelter -- actually, the entire Trail on this day -- was completely empty. For me this was a blessing, as even one other person ruins the isolation that I so enjoy on the Trail. So, for the first time in many stays, I slept within a shelter even though I had a tent. I had read about the porcupine that is literally eating the shelter to pieces, so took extra care to keep food outside.

Blogs from last year noted my discovery of a peculiarity of the first few days of back-packing -- your appetite actually goes way DOWN. Knowing this, I took very little food for my dinner, doing quite well with only a cup of "add hot water and stir" noodles. There being no wind this evening, I tried out the Super Cat stove
http://jwbasecamp.com/Articles/Super...Super_Cat7.htm
that I had made just a month ago. It worked FAR better than my pop-can stove, and I have thus decided to use the Cat from now on.
Fully aware that the Super Cat has problems in windy conditions, my brain, for the rest of the hike, went through ideas for building wind screens.

With no tent to set up, dinner done just before dusk, and no reading material (the trail log book had been ravished by the local critters); I decided to end the day with a call to "Shuttle;" and hit the hay (well, actually wood) about 8 pm. My sleep that night was probably the best I've ever gotten within a shelter, despite hearing the porcupine continuing its feasting on the shelter.

It wasn't the bird calls that woke me up, it was the construction site down below. But this combination allowed me to get an early start of breakfast, re-packing, leaving the backpack at the shelter, and taking a walk to Hawk Rock. I got some pretty good photos while there

http://whiteblaze.net/forum/vbg/show...mageuser=13863
(sorry about the double posting!!)
http://whiteblaze.net/forum/vbg/show...mageuser=13863

as well as one from the pipeline corridor at the Cove Mountain crest
http://whiteblaze.net/forum/vbg/show...mageuser=13863

No problem returning to the parking area and then driving home. After a winter of minimal walking, my body COULD have been in better shape. But, for someone celebrating his 58th birthday in less than three weeks, I feel good that I had no significant body aches or angina during the walk. As always, I only set records for SLOWEST hiker on the trail -- a real come-down for someone who used to take pride in the briskness of his walking pace -- but, at this point, I'll take whatever speed I can handle. 2012 will continue my slow assault on the miles.

Continued a series of day hikes, each about ten miles, this time in Maryland and the southern part of Pennsylvania.

As we have done many times, my "Free Shuttle Service With Benefits" would drop me off at one trail head and pick me up at the end of my hike. This has become far easier since we got cell phones, which we got ONLY because I needed a way to communicate (call for help?) while on The Trail. She would then go off and spend her money at thrift stores, buying items worth $50 for about a dollar. Or doing crafts. Or reading a book. I would just make an estimate of my arrival time and ask her to have her phone turned on after that time. When I reached the end, I would just give her a call.

The first time we tried this, we BOTH wondered about the other person: "Is my spouse REALLY enjoying this situation, or just going along to be nice?" Turns out we BOTH love this -- I because I can do a lot of miles without a lot of pain, she because she can do what she loves to do without worrying that I'm bored.

Other than my post about fire safety, all of these hikes were un-eventful. The daily haze made the overlooks pretty mediocre, and my only "meaningful" animal encounter was a one-second glance at a deer running away. That was the only wild animal I saw that was larger than a squirrel. Dogs, whose owners almost invariably refused to keep on a leash (as required by law), don't count in this tabulation.

The one on-going problem was one I do NOT want to repeat, and it occurred before I left. Apparently, during some yard work I did at my home without wearing socks (hey, I was in a hurry!), dozens of chiggers got on my feet and ate some of my skin. I COULD have easily avoided the problem
http://mdc.mo.gov/discover-nature/av...pests/chiggers
and DEFINITELY should have handled their bites better -- I do NOT recommend rubbing the skin till it becomes raw from this action! Fortunately, cortisone cream and warm baths allowed me to complete my hikes with a minimum of distress. Ironically, it was only AFTER my hike was done, when I got back to our lodging, that the itching would flair up.

Water was found only at designated sites (ie, no dribbling streams), so I was careful to fill up my small bottle with water, that I had filtered, at each such place. Since the day began and ended with a good meal, I didn't need even snacks along the way. In fact, I continued to note that hours of hiking actually reduced my appetite quite a bit -- some evenings I almost had to force myself to eat dinner. Maybe when I do some REAL back-packing, I'll "discover" the sense of gnawing hunger that real back-packers experience.

Permit me to commend the Maryland Department of Natural Resources for the free hot water, electrical outlets, and showers at the backpackers camp site at Dahlgrens near U.S. Highway 40A. It was a VERY refreshing stop on a day when I was getting a bit sweaty.

The MDNR also puts out a booklet extolling a visit to the "South Mountain Recreation Area," and includes excellent maps and info on the state lands upon which the A.T. runs. Page 3 of this guide notes that Annapolis Rock is a "Moderate" hike, 4.4 miles round-trip, that ends with "a view of Greenbriar Lake and Cumberland Valley." I happened to be hiking that area on a Saturday with excellent weather, and should have guessed that people would take their advice and go there. Came across more than one family who were obviously new to the A.T., and I was more than happy to share my "expertise" about mileage and how to hike safely.

Bottom line is that I got in 44 miles in five days, with minimal difficulty. Even though I'll never do a thru-hike, I will (God willing) get all 2000 miles under my belt.

And, for any sane person, they probably would have been right.

BTW, who are the "they" who keep saying, "It couldn't be done"? Are they the same people who say things, for which people say, "You know what they say..."

Anyway, what was attempted -- successfully! -- was a hike on the A.T. during last week's heat wave.

Okay, it was a series of day hikes, during which I carried little more than water and a filter to get more water.
And I used my free shuttle service to get to and from trail heads.
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/show...ht=#post961344
And I slept each night at this room
http://www.innatironmasters.com/inde...r=Rooms&Room=1
eating a breakfast buffet each morning and eating here
http://www.freewebs.com/mizzaspizza/
each night.
And it wasn't exactly a difficult part of the trail -- in northwest Connecticut, from Sages Ravine to the intersection of Highway 7 and Highway 112.

Nevertheless, it was twenty miles or so of hiking, during days when the heat index went well over 100 F -- and weathercasters were constantly telling people to "Stay indoors and avoid strenuous activity."

Repeating the fun that I noted in the link above, my wife and I went to Lakeville, Connecticut. She dropped me off at the trail each morning, then each of us did what we enjoy -- me, hiking on the A.T.; her, relaxing in rural America. At the end of my hiking, I'd call her and she'd pick me up. By ending up in Salisbury each day, my wait was never more than a few minutes.

And I constantly used an old trick for staying cool -- drenching my shirt and hat with water (doesn't need to be filtered, so any clear stream will do) so that it's external water that's evaporating off my body, not sweat. Think of it as a portable air conditioner. It does require a hat and long-sleeved shirt, but I always wear those anyway.

The first day was a test of my ability to hike in heat, with the only challenge being a hike up Prospect Mountain.
The hike could hardly have started more easily -- this section of the A.T. is either on roads OR is the part specifically designed for wheel-chair accessibility. Although I never did notice the "small, vine-covered building past the transformer" at the hydro-electric plant (which had the faucet I wanted), my filter allowed me to get the water I needed. Although the water flow over the Great Falls of the Housatonic was pretty weak, this fact did allow me to walk through the middle of the falls area.
I should mention that the water at each stream was quite adequate for supply.

When I started up Prospect Mountain, I knew this was going to be the one difficult part of the day. But I was well hydrated, stocked with water, and having no trouble handling the heat. Then, about three quarters of the way up this hill, I made an amazingly stupid mistake.
It's no crime to get three meters off the trail before you realize that this isn't where the trail goes. And I consider it an act of charity to add a couple of sticks along this part of the trail, hoping to help the next people to not repeat my minor mistake. I am still dumbfounded, however, that I then immediately began going DOWN the hill; and that I didn't notice that I had turned around till I had cost myself an hour of hiking time.
Actually, I DID quickly notice that I was going downhill, but fooled myself into thinking that I reached the crest. Why I did that, when I (1) could see I had not reached the top and (2) had a topo map showing that the top of this hill was flat for quite a while, is beyond me.
I also noticed that I was passing things going down that I recalled seeing when I was going up. Again, I just fooled myself into thinking that the walk down had the same stuff as the walk up. I stubbornly refused to admit I had made a mistake, just not wanting to climb back up the hill. Not until I reached a log where I had taken a break did I finally come to reality. A bit of an ego blow, but at least I was now back on track. Problem is, I DID have to go up the hill again.

Prospect Mountain has several overlooks that would be great on a crisp, clear day. Unfortunately, this was a hot, hazy day; so I didn't even bother to take any photos from these vantage points.
The slope on the north side of PM was incredibly steep, even going down to U.S. Highway 44. I could hear the cars clearly, so I knew I was close. But they were still a couple hundred meters below, and it seemed almost STRAIGHT down below. It was quite a relief to actually get to this road.
While walking parallel to Highway 44, there as a scene I wanted to get a photo of, but decided not to. It was a field of bright wild-flowers, with the steep slope of PM in the background. Why not take the photo? Because it would have meant walking through a field of high grass -- and I've already had my case of Lyme Disease, thank you! It then occurred to me that attacks from ticks certainly kill more Americans than those from black bears -- in other words, I'd rather go into an area where I might meet a black bear than into one with ticks. Always compare the risks!

The walk from Highway 44 to Highway 41 was unusual because (1) half of it was on pavement and (2) a lot of the rest was through an open field -- neither of which you want on a hot, sunny day! But I arrived little the worse for wear.

Because I had done so well on this first day, I felt confident that I could handle the hike over Bear Mountain, just south of the border between Connecticut and Massachusetts. The question was how to get to the A.T. from a parking spot. My original plan was to take the shortest route, which was the trail east from the gravel road called "Mount Washington Road" in CT and "East Road" in MA. Fortunately, I had checked out this road two days before, and found this was dirt road of questionable maintenance, barely usable by a low-clearance sedan. So I chose the alternate, longer way of hiking the Under-mountain Trail from its trail-head on Highway 41, then the Paradise Trail to the A.T. at Sages Ravine. This would mean I would have gone over three miles before I had done one step on the A.T., but this was actually less time-consuming than getting to that other trail-head, as well as a lot less risky for the driver.

The hike to Sages Ravine was uneventful, and the hike up Bear Mountain, although VERY steep, was no major difficulty. The problem came on the mountain, which had very little shade at a time when I wanted every bit I could get. So I just kept walking through the sun, stopping only to get photos at the Lion's Head. Getting down the mountain was also without major problems, and there was plenty of water to filter and re-stock my containers. When I got back to the pickup point (again at Highway 41) I actually had plenty of water to spare.

No major lessons learned on these hikes, unlike those done earlier this month. Although I'm accumulating miles VERY slowly, I am gaining the experience and judgment necessary for a real section hike later. Hope you will all want to read about it!

A saying FALSELY attributed to (at various times) a scientist of the 1900s, a humorist of the 1800s, a writer of the 1700s, and an Asian ethicist; states (something like) "Insanity is defined as trying the same experiment a second time and expecting a different result." It is with that saying in mind that I tried my second true backpacking adventure this last week. I'm glad to say I did a LOT things differently this time and (surprise!) I got a different result.

No problem getting from Philly to the NYC Port Authority Bus Terminal, and no problem taking the Short Line Bus up to Fort Montgomery.
Why there? Bear Mountain Inn had no vacancies -- so I stayed at the Holiday Inn Express about 1.5 miles north. Plenty of delis and convenience stores along this walk, as well as a couple of restaurants. The bus driver asked where I wanted to be dropped off, which made for a short walk to the motel.
The HIE is business-oriented lodging, so don't expect cheap rates. It does have free wi-fi, computer access, and hot breakfast buffet starting at 6 am; which makes a great place to splurge for a night. My room also happened to have a fridge and a micro-wave, but these aren't in every room.
Spent the late afternoon and evening visiting Fort Montgomery State Historic Site, crossing the Bear Mountain Bridge, checking out the Lake Hessian area, and seeing a snake on the Trail.

The free AYCE breakfast, along with ice in my water container, made for a good start to the day. And I needed both. Lake Hessian is at an elevation of 220 feet, the top of Bear Mountain (Perkins Tower) is at 1340 feet, and this climb is done in 1.8 miles. The work done to make these hundreds of steps is EXCELLENT, making the climb a matter of knee strength instead of balance.
The online map of Bear Mountain State Park trails
http://nysparks.state.ny.us/parks/at...inTrailMap.pdf
shows toilets at Perkins Tower, so I felt confident that meant water faucets. As I got closer to the top, my water bottle long since empty, my main source of strength was "At least I'll get water once I make the top." Should have read the trail guide book stating, quite clearly, "No water available at the summit." The toilets in this map, alas, are porta-johns; so I had to pay the high vending prices for sodas. Since the heat index was predicted to hit over 100 F today, I'm glad I did this in the morning.
Walked down (again, on excellent steps) to Seven Lakes Drive (610 feet) and then had to cross a fast flowing brook. The official blaze said to turn right, but someone had added an alternate blaze to the left with the note "Bridge Out. Cross Here." Neither crossing was particularly easy, and I considered just wading in my sandals. But I did make it across, right where the bridge used to be -- it's now about twenty feet further downstream. At least I had no problem finding water to filter to re-fill my water container!
The Trail then begins it climb to the top of West Mountain (about 1280 feet) where it meets the blue-blazed Tip-Thorne Trail. Saw two adult turkeys and about a dozen chicks as I to to the top. This climb, in the afternoon of a day with heat index near 100, left me with less than eight ounces of water as I began the trek to West Mountain Shelter (WMS), for which the trail guide book says, "No water available." As I walked the 0.6 mile trail to WMS, a kind soul asked, "Would you like some blueberries?" as he showed his son how to enjoy this fruit, just now ripening in the wild. "What I really need is water!" (I was NOT Yogi-ing, just stating a fact), after which he kindly gave me another four ounces from his bottle. Five minutes later I found a puddle flowing with all the water I really needed for that night and the next morning -- HALLELUJAH! Despite a warning not to drink the water even AFTER it had been filtered, I was not going to try to survive on eight ounces for the next ten hours or so.

Shared the camping area with a women (never even caught her trail name) with a lot of experience about the area, as she said she comes to this shelter a lot. Upon seeing her setting up tinder to boil a cup of water, I offered my alcohol pop-can stove as an alternative -- less than five minutes later she had her noodles. In a result that still puzzles me, I had no hunger or appetite for food, so I just skipped a hot meal. However, I found that Fizzies (yes, you CAN still buy these!) do make for a pleasant way to enjoy flavored, carbonated water in the wild.
I wanted to know if I needed a bear bag that night (not a lot of useful trees if these WERE necessary, so I was hoping I didn't need one), so I figured the experience of my fellow camper would help. So how do I start the conversation to ask about this? "This is going to sound a hundred times than I intend it, but 'You come here often?'" She said bears weren't a problem, so I just "mouse-bagged" my food, which was all wrapped in metal foil anyway.

It wasn't modesty that made me not stay in the shelter with her, but the simple fact that I can't sleep in them, for various reasons. THIS Tuesday I slept a LOT better than two weeks ago (see previous blog entry).

I awoke to a sunrise view of the Hudson Valley, all the way to the skyscrapers of New York City, 35 miles away. This page
http://www.whiteblaze.net/forum/memb...863-GoldenBear
has these photos and others I've taken over the last three weeks. It's one of the things I live for as I hike! The extra walking to WMS is worth EVERY step.

Had no trouble finding water along the trail, long before I reached Beechy Bottom Brook -- my original plan for water when I thought I go almost twelve hours with less than eight ounces of water. Ate some wild blueberries, found a pair of lost sunglasses, almost fell when my pole slipped while going down some rocks -- in other words, a typical day. The hour or so of drizzle was actually a pleasant event, as I making extra effort to keep my shirt and hat soaked to ward off the heat.
Enjoyed an hour or so of dinner (I was FINALLY hungry!) at Tiorati Rec Area, which is free to pedestrians and features grills, tables, faucets, showers (free), and vending machines. Another kind soul gave me the hamburger he was about to throw out, so I enjoyed a far better meal than I expected.
While leaving there I made my ONE stupid mistake of this hike. Five minutes into my walk I started to smell the denatured alcohol I use in my can stove. "My fuel bottle is leaking!" I thought, but it was little simpler than that. I'd forgotten to tighten the lid! Alcohol, fortunately, evaporates rapidly and leaves no odor on fabric it gets into, so all I had to do was wipe up the ounces that had spilled. I also made certain no matches were anywhere near that pocket soaked with flammable liquid.
Made it to Fingerboard Shelter with plenty of light to spare, meeting a NOBO whose trail name is "Wicca Witch." His trail journal entry showed he was having a worse day than I was. If anyone is interested, his shoulder injury is recovering, and he still plans to complete his thru-hike. And, can you believe it -- he's from Center City Philadelphia!

Got a late start the next morning, figuring I didn't need to hurry to get down the mountain. Problem is, it's not uniformly down-hill, with many parts that could use some real trail work (and, yes, I'll be the first to admit I have never volunteered for doing that, so I won't complain -- just note the fact). Despite my only real stop being for water at Island Pond, I missed the first NJ Transit Train at Harriman by less than fifteen minutes -- meaning the next train wouldn't be for two hours. No water, no restroom, no working vending machine at this train stop; just a place to sit in the shade and recover from a walk I'm in no shape to have done.
While on the train back to Philly, a helpful conductor made it possible for me to make a better connection than I had originally paid for, explaining exactly what I had to do. Made the ten minute connection at Secaucus with about nine minutes to spare, but was too afraid of dawdling that I didn't grab a soda there. Figured that Trenton HAD to have working vending machines -- which they don't, at least not on the platform where one transfers to a Septa train back to Philly. By the time I got to 30th Street Train Station, I decided I was so close to home I'd just wait till then to grab my soda.
Loving wife Cheryl picked me up, following by a 64-ounce soda at the convenience store -- drank it all down in less than an hour.
As much as I love ending a day on the trail, with the satisfaction of knowing I can survive with just the stuff I carry on my back, I like ending days with Cheryl even more.

LESSONS LEARNED from last hike:
-always put the rain cover on your tent (well, duh!!).
-carry a flashlight (which, except for ONE NIGHT, I have never needed).
-get rid of stuff you don't use (I'm still finding stuff I can leave at home).
-no problem carrying hiking poles on trains. I will NEVER leave home without them!

Firstly, I did NOT have the worst trail time ever. When my short section hike was over, all I had were insect bites.
These were not mistakes of a careless newbie or lack of planning, prep, or thinking. I have (1) camped and hiked for decades, (2) day-hiked on the AT for years, and (3) done a few over-nights, to ensure I could do okay with just a pack.
Nor was this over-ambition. For my first attempt at true back-packing, I chose a trip of about 45 miles of walking over four days walking and two travel days. I also chose a time of max daylight and predictions of clear weather.
I spent hours researching every aspect, even using Google Earth{R} to look at the roads. I wrote out landmark mileages and printed topo maps.
I'm aware that minimum weight and size are key to success, and thought I'd done so. I bought a new backpacker tent, made a pop-can stove, and reduced my cooking & food to nothing fancy or heavy.

So how did an un-ambitious and well-planned hike end up featuring the worst night of my life? That's where my nomination comes from! If, as you read this, you think "What a maroon!" I won't disagree.

My choice for this hike was based on being close to Philadelphia and accessible to mass transit. Peekskill NY to Pawling NY looked ideal, as both cities are on rail lines for NYC Metro North, and I can easily get between Philly and NYC via Greyhound. Then I noted the Manitou Rail Station just north of Peekskill, less than two miles from not only the trail, but a camp ground for that first night.

And I started just fine. No problem to downtown Philly, to the NYC Port Authority, to Grand Central Terminal, to the correct door to exit at Manitou, to the campground, and to a fine camp site. When I awoke at 5:30 am Tuesday morning after a fine night's sleep, I thought everything was under control. But then I made my first blunder.
It's 12.3 miles to Dennytown Road, my planned stop, and I thought I could manage 1.5 miles per hour and arrive well before dark. Thus, I spent that morning doing a trip to Anthony's Nose, cleaning up camp litter, filtering water at a nearby creek, taking photos to assist later hikers, and properly packing everything. I now wonder if I was just trying to avoid what I had come for: hiking with a backpack. I was stunned when I saw that it was 10:45 when I left camp.
LESSON: Leave camp as soon as daylight permits doing so.
LESSON: Get enough water the night before so that you won't have to waste time doing so in the morning.

When I got to Hiway 9, I knew I wasn't keeping up the planned pace. In addition to other mistakes, I realized (too late, obviously) that I still had too much size and weight in my pack. Most particularly, my sleeping bag was not one for backpacking -- it took up half my pack volume and made it seem I was over-packed. Also, it forced me to store stuff higher than necessary, un-balancing me.
LESSON LEARNED: Buy a summer sleeping bag, since I only backpack in the summer.
LESSON LEARNED: Ditch even more stuff from the pack, which I have since done.

When I got to South Highland Road after sunset, I knew I wouldn't make the next 2.7 miles before I can no longer see the trail. I chose to do something I'd never done: camp outside a designated area. As thirst was catching up with me, I resolved to stop when I first came across water for filtering. At least the rain predicted as possible that afternoon hadn't come.

The trail flattened at a place where I could water gurgling, and I chose the most used and flat area possible as my tent site: the trail itself! Not exactly stealth camping!
I've always been able to set up a tent in pitch dark, and I'm fastidious about keeping stuff in the pack in the same place, every time. I got the water I needed, skipped dinner, and lay down to sleep. At that time I felt good about how well I handled this problem day.

I was so hot and sweaty that I just set up the inside layer of my tent, leaving the rain cover somewhere nearby. **BIG MISTAKE!**

I never sleep very well in a tent, so it was no biggie to be awoken by a jet flying overhead in the middle of the night. While lying there, I then noted double flashes of light in the night sky. I couldn't figure out what they were -- about every minute or so, I'd see a bright flash followed almost immediately by a lesser flash -- but, as I heard nothing with these flashes, I "knew" they couldn't be lightning.

Then I heard the first thunder -- and knew I was in for a rain storm. No problem, right? -- just get the rain cover and put it on top, taking as much stuff inside as you can, and wait it out. But I couldn't find the tent's rain cover! I knew I had placed it SOMEWHERE nearby, but in pitch dark that fact wasn't much help. Use your flashlight, right? -- except I don't carry a flashlight (save weight, never needed one TIL NOW)! Light a match, right? -- exactly what I tried, about fifteen times, and every match either failed to spark, blew out in less than a second, or (and only once) did no good for light. When lighting an alcohol stove that has a wind shield, cheap matches are not a problem. But, when using them as your sole light source to find something in the middle of the night, the free matches I had were not worth what I paid for them.
LESSON LEARNED: Buy a small, light flashlight for emergencies like this.
LESSON LEARNED: Buy a lighting source that, unlike matches, never fails.
IDEA I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF AT THE TIME, BUT DIDN'T: Use your cell phone as a flashlight. Even if you have no service, the display will allow you to see large objects in pitch dark.

Ever several minutes of frantic (but never panicked) attempts to get some light, I finally decided that I should just take my lumps and endure the rain. I was in a thick forest, under an insect shield, in a sleeping bag, and I had a water resistant wind breaker -- so I figured some rain could be endured.
And I was right: SOME rain could be endured, but not the gully washer that hit. I seriously doubt I got a minute of sleep the rest of the night -- which means I got only a couple hours of less than ideal sleep followed by being forced to be wide awake. Not the way I wanted my first night of backpacking to proceed!

When the sun began to lighten the sky the next morning, everything I had was wet if not soaked. My main pack of matches, such as they were, were dry (I have a dry storage container) but my backups were worthless. If the temperature had been much lower after the front came through, or if it was still raining or windy, I would have been in MAJOR danger of hypothermia -- and I knew the danger. Surprisingly, I felt quite warm upon getting up for what I figured would be not the best day of hiking, and began to get ready to go. I wrung out my sleeping bag, emptied the water in the tent, found all my equipment (including the tent rain cover, just a couple feet away), and put on the least wet clothes I had. I knew it was going to be problematic to carry a bunch of wet equipment, both weight-wise and space-wise; but my only answer to "How will I carry all this wet stuff?" was "I'll just carry it."
Fortunately, I also knew I was just over two miles from the Dennytown Road Campground I had planned to reach the previous night. "Two days of backpacking and I'll be one day behind schedule!", was my lament; but what choice did I have? I clearly couldn't hike even as fast as I thought I could, so what change was there to hike much FASTER than I had planned?

As I climbed up the hill that followed by camp "site," I began to think that I had a made a BIG mistake in thinking I could do this A.T. thing -- I just wasn't in the shape or mindset necessary for the task. After years of planning and dreaming and trial hikes and purchases, it seems like my dream was going to end on the morning of Wednesday, 2011 June 29. The combination of physical misery (wet and carrying a too-heavy load) and emotional dumps made these few hours what I hope to remain the low point of my A.T. adventures.

At the top of this hill I found EXACTLY what I was hoping for: a large bald spot of granite, directly in the sun, with a sometimes breeze. For the next three hours, I spread out my equipment either on the granite or hanging from the bushes, and got all of them pretty much dry enough to pack up and carry. I didn't want to spend the afternoon just sitting at a campground just two miles down the hill, so I borrowed a guidebook from the first hiker who passed me by (thank you, again!). I decided to continue on to Pelton Pond Campground in Fahnestock State Park, and did so with no problem. By waking up at the crack of dawn AND getting on the trail as early as possible, the rest of the backpack went without incident -- to the RPH Shelter, to the Morgan Stewart Shelter, to Pawling -- even arriving at the latter in time for the 10:49 am train, exactly as I had planned!

I write this to let people know why I didn't bore them at the shelters with this story, just telling them to look for the above title in a post here at WhiteBlaze.net. I also write to let people know that I am NOT giving up my goal; figuring that, if I can survive this stupidity, I can get through any mistake. As Elton John sings, "I'm Still Standing -- Yeh, yeh, yeh!" And I encourage others to use experiences like this as a learning tool.

To all my fellow backpackers who assisted me, took pity on me, and never added insult to injury -- Thank you!! One day you'll see me at Katahdin!