Date: 2004-07-26
From: Vernon N.J.

To: Wildcat Shelter
Miles today: 17.3
Weather: scattered clouds

Start Vernon New JerseyDestination Wildcat Shelter Trail Dog is a slave driver. He woke Spincycle and me up at 6:00 to go eat breakfast with him. I can't even think about food that early in the morning! I ordered a Belgian Waffle with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. I managed to get half of it down. We went back to the church and packed up our stuff and headed out. The three of us walk down to the main traffic light in town and try to look pathetic enough for someone to give us a ride. It is funny how people will avert their eyes when you are standing on a street corner trying to get a ride. You see, I know I am a fine upstanding citizen, not a mass murderer, drug addict or anything. I have a family, kids, and grandkids. Just because I look homeless....But these people driving past do not know anything about me, and because of that they can drive by and not give me a second thought. How many times do I do that when my path crosses with someone else¢s? Someone who looks different or acts different. I guess in some ways it is a judgment call. The little hiker bandana strikes again when a young girl in a jeep coming out of Burger King rolls her window down and asks where we need a ride to. Only two miles up the road is our reply. She says, ¢hop in." That is easier said than done. For some reason the people who have been willing to give us rides have really small vehicles. It takes some tight maneuvering and breath holding but we all manage to squeeze into her car. Spincycle has this huge long hiking stick and it is in the front floor board, and then reaches all the way into the back seat, coming to rest against my neck. I think of what the headlines would read if there was an accident, ¢Woman hiker skewered by hiking pole¢. I shudder and try to think pleasent thoughts as this tiny vehicle goes around curves at ridiculous speeds. Finally, as we pass our trail sign, she slams on brakes and we come to a sliding stop. I breathe a sigh of releif. I want to tell her that it is dangerous to pick up hitch hikers unless they have backpacks on and it is more dangerous to drive fast. Instead I tell her thanks for the ride. By the time I make the 900 foot climb up Wayawanda Mountain, my pulse is nearly back to normal. This is the highest point of the trail in New York, or New Jersey. Whichever state this is in. The trail follows the boundary of the two states here for awhile. I am supposed to meet the guys for lunch at the first shelter, but when I get there, no one is there. I take my boots off, fix lunch and read the shelter register. Water today has become an issue. There are several streams, but the water is rust colored and has an odor. The silt makes it hard to filter, but I do the best I can. By early afternoon there is a most promising looking stream. So promising in fact, that I take off my boots, put my camp shoes on and wade out into the stream to a nice partially submerged rock. It makes a wonderful place to eat a candy bar, drink water and cool my feet. Several times today at road crossings there has been jugs of water for the hikers. It is a much appreciated bit if magic. The afternoon begins to drag on as I drag myself up and over Bearfort Mountain. It is a lot of rock climbing, some bouldering, and ridge walking all thrown in together. A day hiker tells me of a vulture¢s nest just ahead with mama and two babies. I spend an hour trying to find the nest with no luck. How I wish my husband were here. He has a knack for finding hard to see things like a vultures nest hidden in some rocks. I find mama vulture sitting on a limb. I take off my pack and hiked around trying to find the nest but still no luck. I give up, disappointed that I will not have a picture of baby vultures for my scrapbook. At the bottom of one of the rock faces the trail goes up, there is a wooden ladder. This is the only way one could get up the face of the rock. It seems to me that whoever built the ladder did not take into account that some hikers would be short. I needed at least two more rungs to get over the ledge. Instead I grabbed for minute handholds and precariously inched my way up. I come to a flat rock that is the border of New Jersey and New York. I have made it through yet another state. Hooray!! Just when I think I cannot go another mile some day hikers tell me of an ice cream store two miles ahead. For some reason that makes my feet much more willing to go on and soon I am rewarded with a large chocolate milk shake. I pull out the zip lock bag of leftover spinach alfredo and eat supper. I still have two miles to go to get to the shelter. Someone gives us a bag of apples and I stuff them into my pack to take up to the shelter to give away. There is one more climb and one more section of rocks to hike over, but pretty soon I am at the shelter and setting up my tent. Calamity has beaten me here, and is more than willing to take some of the apples off of my hands, as are some of the other hikers.   I crawl into my green cocoon, exhausted, and not looking forward to a twenty mile day tomorrow. The forecast is calling for rain and flash floods tomorrow. Whatever rocks we have on the trail will be slippery as boiled okra.Total miles 17.3