morvasaaty/AppalachianTrail-LD-Hikers-Blogs-and-Weather-20-years huggingface dataset:
Date: 2010-05-25
From: Minerva-Hinchey Shelter

To: Back Home Again Hostel (Rutland, VT)
Miles today: 20.0

Today took me up and over Mount Killington on a beautiful trail cloaked in hemlocks and firs. The sun was brutal, but not in the shade of the forest. I was almost sure I had giardia, and my abs cramped and I stopped to relieve myself all the way up. I didn't eat but a couple granola bars until walking down to the VT 4 highway. I waved a bus down and jumped on. Rutland at last!I slept for most of the 20-minute bus ride, but entering the city I awoke. Beautiful old stone churches graced almost every corner, and, on this Friday afternoon, people walked and rode bikes on the sidewalk. It was an enlivening scene. I envied the town life.I got off the bus and walked over to the Back Home Again Cafe, where I was greeted by an enthusiastic bearded man. He led me upstairs to the hostel and I opened my mail-drop. The contents were: 4 days of food, the Spot GPS, a cell phone + charger, an iPod charger, a camera + USB cord, a pair of Nike shoes, and 2 loaves of homemade banana bread. I grabbed a foil-wrapped loaf and went down to the cafe. I stared at it for a while--I'd been looking forward to this moment for a long time--then peeled back the foil. Inside, mold covered the bread. "Oh well. Just looking at it is enough," I said to "H", the bearded owner who'd sat down next to me. He jumped up and grabbed a muffin at the counter. "Take this. It's not Mom's, but it was baked this morning."I got a Reuben and a beer from next door and made some phone calls on the street--Rawlz, Diesel, Seth, Wesley, Corey, Mom & Dad. Suddenly, I was surrounded by four bearded men with ponytails. "Wanna come to our gathering?" "If I can get my Reuben in a to-go box," I replied. I got in the car with them The Twelve Tribes is a denomination of Christianity that practices many Amish-like customs with a hippie attitude, and a small community of them owned and operated the Back Home Again Cafe. Men wear beards, women wear dresses, and multiple families all live under the same roof, and, honestly, that's the only real difference between us and them. They took me back to their homes--they'd bought up a small cluster of old houses less than a mile from the cafe--and witnessed their 'gathering'. Everyone stood in a circle quietly. In this informal setting, some shared spiritual revelation and others recounted a enlightening experiences from that day--for example: "It was a sunny day and I was listening to a woman complain to her husband on the cell phone, and it hit me how much we worry ourselves about what's not the present." They sang a song and let me go. I went to the library and read up on giardia, and a strange man approached me as I munched on my Reuben outside. "This town is bad, man. Watch out at night," he said.It was getting late and I walked to Wal-Mart. I bought a bar of dark chocolate and a gatorade, then walked over to the movie theater. The guy at the counter wouldn't charge me for a ticket, so I just walked in kind of confused. Shrek was boring, and when I woke up the theater was all black and the movie over. I walked back to the hostel and went to sleep.
Date: 2010-05-26
From: Back Home Again Hostel (Rutland, VT)

To: Stony Brook Shelter
Miles today: 10.0
Weather: clear sky

Today was my half-zero day in Rutland, and here's what I did: I got up early and packed my pack, received an early breakfast of 3 eggs, toast, and granola with milk, then did three hours of work-for-stay. In the kitchen I peeled bananas, cored tomatoes, sliced peppers, washed dishes, and mopped/swept the floor. I was actually pretty enjoyable because I got to talk to H, the quirky manager.After the work-for-stay, H ordered me a free smoothie and I walked over to the movie theater to see Robin Hood! I was so excited, and got a pint of Ben & Jerry's for the occassion. As I expected the movie was AWESOME, and I thought about it all that evening as I walked in the woods to the Stony Brook Shelter to meet the Georgia Boys. On the 10-mile march, I hung up my old boots on a large birch tree next to a huge boulder by a lake. In case I ever go back to Rutland, I'll come for them. It wasn't hard leaving Rutland, but it wasn't easy either. The folks there were so kind and the town itself so pretty and lively. Something tells me I'm going to always regret leaving places like Rutland before even getting to know them. At any rate, in the dark I trudged into the Stony Brook Shelter and hit the sack. Back in the woods again...
Date: 2010-05-27
From: Stony Brook Shelter

To: Next to a road (Pomfret, VT)
Miles today: 16.0

I needed it, so today I lounged in the shelter while everyone else moved on. For nearly two hours I dozed in perfect silence, read Call of the Wild, and walked about the clearing. Eventually I hit the dusty trail, but my pace was slow all day. I just couldn't get "into it," and stopped again and again to sit on stumps and eat. By dusk, I hadn't even covered 20 miles! I didn't want to hike in the dark (and couldn't tolerate the overly-talkative fellow in the shelter), so I laid out my sleeping bag on the trail and fell asleep. The next morning I planned to rise before 6 and catch up with the Georgia Boys in the next shelter. I had dreams of alligators...
Date: 2010-05-28
From: Next to a road (Pomfret, VT)

To: Bob Boon's Home
Miles today: 21.0

What a day! I really do want to go into detail and tell the world the story of how Bob Boon took us in, but I just can't here. I just had time to update a couple entires and I've got to hit the trail again...coming soon!
Date: 2010-05-29
From: Bob Boon's Home

To: Bob Boon's Home (Hanover, NH)
Miles today: 18.0
Weather: few clouds

Accepting charity is always a tricky thing to on and off the trail. My mantra is always "Just say yes; they're offering it for a reason," but the Georgia boys take a more shy and reserved approach. For example, when I'm sitting in the kitchen at Bob Boon's house and Bob says, "Help yourself to anything in the fridge," I have no qualms with pouring myself a glass of OJ; contrarily, the Georgia boys would take the offer as an empty formality and sit still. I can't say which is the best approach--one must be virtuous and the other not--but as I accumulate encounters with 'Trail Magic' I'm beginning to see myself as a sly beggar, a beggar with instincts trained to exploit the kindhearted. In a word, the trail has turned me into a dirty hobo with an insatiable appetite for mooching.
Date: 2010-05-30
From: Bob Boon's Home (Hanover, NH)

To: Hikers Welcome Hostel
Miles today: 25.0
Weather: broken clouds

It was Sunday, and after enjoying Bob's breakfast (bacon-and-egg biscuts, doughnuts, bananas, and OJ), Bob drove us to the trail. We left his care and hit the trail, aiming for a shelter 9 miles away (Reckless had spent all night in the ER, so we shortened the day). I took my time like I do sometimes, taking long and frequent breaks to snack, nap, or just stare at the sky. I enjoyed an especially long lunch at the foot of the fire tower on Smarts Mtn., and the Georgia Boys went on far ahead. At the 9-mile shelter (Hexacube), I left a note and kept walking. "Onto Glen Cliffs for the night (signed) UF," it read. And that I did, stopping at another shelter halfway to convince Sore Foot to accompany me into the night. Sore Foot and I marched on a difficult night-hike marked only by nearly stumbling over a porcipine. We arrived at 11:20 pm at the Hikers Welcome Hostel. I ate a poptart and drank a soda before bed (as dinner I'd skipped), and took a deep breath for Moosilauke the following day.
Date: 2010-05-31
From: Hikers Welcome Hostel

To: Lonesome Lakes Hut
Miles today: 23.0

Hey everyone! Sorry for the belated entries, but here's the next installment in Uncle Frank's trek to Maine...My feet were sore so I lounged the next morning at the Hikers Welcome Hostel, watching the news over coffee and chatting with the hostelliers. At 10:45, I hit the trail up Mt. Moosilauke (the hurdle of the infamous White Mountains) on fuel of 3 poptarts and 3 cups of coffee to match. In shelter sitting at the foot of Moosilauke, I found an old baseball to carry to Mt. Washington. Up the backside of Moosilauke I flew, stopping only once to provide isopropyl and medical tape for a lady who took a nasty spill on the rocks. Soon I was on top, standing in awe by the sign (Mt. Moosilauke 4802 ft). Here was the most beautiful thing I'd witnessed for 1,900 miles. I laughed like a lunatic, holding back the yips and yells that would've come out HAD so many day-hikers not shared the summit. I ate some sunflower seeds, a woman took my photo, and I tip-toed down the steep backside of the mountain. A beautiful stream cascaded down parallel to the trail, emitting a sweet-smelling mist. I ascented the next hurdle (name?), and the next, and encountered a memorably-painful three miles leading up to the Lonesome Lakes Hut. I'd covered 23 miles, a suprising feat given the terrain. The summits here are steep, unforgiving, leg-burning and calorie-sapping monsters, and their peaks demand a high-fee of pain for their spectacular views.It was dark when I knocked on the hut at Lonesome Lakes. Yellow light glowed inside, and I could soo several croo-members playing cards. One opened and I asked for some shelter in exchange for labor. Yes, they had some work-for-stay, so I entered and kicked off my shoes as the hutmaster gave me a huge can of cold beans with a spoon in it. A perfect dinner. I walked down to the lake for a bath. The night was clear and starry. The water was cool and black. I stripped down and flushed the sweat, blood, spider-webs and dead blackflies off my body. It felt so good to be clean. I walked back to the bunkhouse and collapsed into bed. An perfect end to an perfect day.
Date: 2010-06-01
From: Lonesome Lakes Hut

To: Galehead Hut
Miles today: 16.0
Weather: moderate rain

After making beds and organizing a food pantry, I bagged some granola/Lucky Charms and took a nap. By 11:00 (another late start), I was packed and on the trail. To Galehead Hut I marched, and the weather was nasty. Rain drizzled and poured, and winds blew hard. On the famed Franconia Ridge the views were all white-out (a minor disappointment). It was cold, windy, and wet above the tree-line, and I was miserable. I couldn't wait to get off the ridge and down to the forest. As I trudged I thought about the two-faced nature of this well-known ridge. It was either a maiden or a monster, either a cold and cloud-covered forced-march or a balmy cake-walk with spectacular views. The difference was a single day. Down at Galehead Hut, the croo served me warm soup and homemade pizza. I chatted with a very pretty girl (yea, that's a big deal). I couldn't believe the hospitality, and I fell asleep that night thinking, "I could get used to this." A perfect end to a not-perfect day.
Date: 2010-06-02
From: Galehead Hut

To: Lakes of the Clouds Hut
Miles today: 26.0
Weather: few clouds

"Redemption?": That was the first word out of my mouth that morning, spoken as I peered out of the window into beaming morning light. Believe it or not, the rain had moved out overnight and all clouds were gone. I layed out my wet gear in the sunlight to dry, and sat down at a set table for a croo-served breakfast of coffee and hot oatmeal with brown sugar, walnuts, strawberries, raisins, and apples. "No Brains", a warm-hearted section-hiker on his second-to-last leg, shared my complete awe of croo's degree of hospitality. We took turns singing praise to the croo, trying to convey gratitude that they would never understand in full. I scarfed down the breakfast and walked out to forage sticks to the compost, washed some dishes, and threw my pack on. It was 8:45, and off I marched to Lakes of the Clouds Hut, 26 miles away.The sun was beaming and each peak, one after another, grew higher and grander and more majestic than the last, until I was standing at sunset on Mt. Franklin. I stopped then, looking out as the heavens lay opened before me. It brought tears to my eyes, this most perfectly-beautiful place in the world. There's something about windy peaks that strikes a chord deep in the soul of man. Why can't a dense green forest strike it too? Perhaps, it's the feeling of nakedness of a mountaintop, where it's too high for those wordly distractions to grow. There it's pure, like life was meant to be. Up on those high-alpine peaks, perhaps we "haunted by the echoes of Eden."I descended down to the Lakes of the Clouds Hut, posted at the foot of Mt. Washington, the infamous jewel of the White Mountains crown. It was balmy and clear out, but ominous clouds engulfed the mountain, covering the peak from view.
Date: 2010-06-03
From: Lakes of the Clouds Hut

To: Hikers Paradise Hostel (Gorham, NH)
Miles today: 13.5
Weather: fog

The next morning I awoke in The Dungeon, where the Lakes of th Clouds croo had put me up for the night. Just to give you an idea of what 'The Dungeon' implied, I'll simply say that the place was damper and smellier than my feet. Forecasts said the rain would blow over by 8am, so I awoke about that time. Dense fog cloaked the mountain and reduced visibility to zero, but the rains held off. Considering the ornery temperment of Mt. Washington, I decided weather was good enough to climb. So, I drank a protein shake and hit the trail at 7:45.The ascent was just as perilous as I expected. Visibility was near-zero, allowing just enough room to see from one mound of rocks to the next. All else was cloud. Wind speeds picked up as the rock mounds led up and up and up, soon strong enough to blow me off the trail. The terrain was 100% rocks. No vegetation dared grow. After 30 minutes of climbing I made out the shape of a mighty tower. I passed the tower, passed some buildings, and finally I was standing on the summit of Mount Washington, the high-point of AT-traversing past North Carolina. It snapped a photo and went inside the lodge (that's right, one of east-coast mountaineering's most covetted peaks has a yuppie LODGE on top, complete with Snickers, Sodas, and Hot Dogs...all of which I purchased). I hung out in the lodge for several hours, journaling and eating junk food in the warmth. At about noon I descending, taking a 7-mile short-cut around Mt.Adams, J.Q. Adams, and Madison because of the weather. It was a nasty day at the home of the worst weather in America, and I was eager to get down into the valley. At about 3pm, I arrived at Pinkham's Notch and hitched into Gorham. There, I got a bunk at the hostel and picked up a maildrop from home. Oh, Mom's muffins...
Date: 2010-06-04
From: Hikers Paradise Hostel (Gorham, NH)

To: Doc's front porch (Gorham, NH)
Miles today: 21.1
Weather: fog

At first light I was on my feet, as has been the case lately. I walked over to grab a muffin and Gatorade at the convenience store, then dined on my way back. It was warm out, sign of another gorgeous day in the White Mountains. I threw my pack on my back and strolled down for some caffeine stimulus before the library opened at 10 o'clock. The waitress smiled and moved excitedly about the cafe. At ten I entered the library and opened a tab for computer use at a dollar/half-hour (theft, in my opinion). At noon I grudgingly paid the clerk after almost three hours of updating trail journals and writing emails. "I bet yall make a fortune off hikers needing to use your computers," I said bitterly and left. Outside, a quick hitch to Pinkham Notch and I was on the trail.The trail was sunny and I took a nap on a couch in a ski patrol hut ontop Wildcat Mountain. Then, I descended to the Carter Notch Hut for a swim in the lake and a nature lesson from the hut's croo ("Friendly fir, spiny spruce," I learned). I had no gear, so I had to decline the hutmaster's offer for a meal and overnight stay. "I'll be back for the hut experience one day," I told him. I moved on. By evening I was back in town, devouring a foot-long sub after a hard day in the mountains. With permission, I bedded down on "Doc's" front porch as rain began to fall.
Date: 2010-06-05
From: Doc's front porch

To: Gentian Pond Shelter
Miles today: 11.8
Weather: light rain

At 4 o'clock the next morning, I bought a ham-and-egg sandwhich, a honey bun, and some OJ at the convenience store, and as I packed my gear to go, a torrential rain began to fall. I cursed under my breath (visibe in the cold air, by the way), unrolled my sleeping bag, and went back to sleep. So much for a 5 o'clock start.At 7:30, I walked over for pancakes, bacon, and eggs, hoping that huge breakfast would somehow make the rain not-so-wet. I ate heartily and enjoyed it thoroughly. I've become the skinniest food glutton you've ever seen. I loved the waitresses New York accent.It took a while to get a hitch, but soon I was at the trailhead. After a frustrating episode trying to nap in a fog of mosquitoes and blackflies, I was on the trail at noon, moving towards the Full Goose Shelter 20 miles to the north. I ambled along lazily, not really wanting to be there but not really dissatisfied either. Just bored. I ate too much and found myself hiding in a shelter 10 miles short of Full Goose. A 70 year-old fellow named Grump really irritated me by talking my ear off. "If I'm talking too much, it's because I was a minister," he said. He was still talking as I drifted off to sleep.
Date: 2010-06-06
From: Gentian Pond Shelter

To: Carlo Col Shelter
Miles today: 5.6
Weather: moderate rain

This morning, I waited. But the rain never left, and into the afternoon it still poured. I was paralyzed, I discovered, by an element not yet encountered: rain. I'd mastered snow and heat, but rain? I shuddered. Let me add also that this was not a warm summer shower; this was cold Maine rain. Hours passed quickly sitting in the shelter, sleeping and eating off and on, and soon it was 5 o'clock in the evening. At last, it was calm out. The rain had subsided. I risked it and moved on to the next shelter, only to have the rain start again. By the time I arrived at Carlo Col, I was soaked and shivering. Unfortunately, the shelter was packed like a refugee camp with AMC trainees. I told one I was going to Acadia with my family. "You're going to Acadia?!?", one exclaimed. "I'm already planning a trip on my next day off! And they have the best lobster!" I laughed and tried to bring my mind out of the cold and wet and into the future, done with the trail and with my family in Acadia.
Date: 2010-06-07
From: Carlo Col Shelter

To: The Cabin (Andover, ME)
Miles today: 14.1
Weather: few clouds

I was out of the smelly, noisy shelter early. Up the first several ridged I climbed, cursing at the wind and cold. I felt like I was right back in the Smokies. It was all clouds, but at the top of one ridge I saw the sun glowing through. Suddenly it pierced through. The clouds broke and scattered, and I was surrounded by sweet blue sky. A panoramic view of rolling green mountains and cerulean lakes filled my eyes. Redemption! Still shivering, I called home to share the news. They said Corey was in the ICU, which re-clouded my sunny day. I'd been screaming with excitement; now I was silent and subdued. It hit me hard how far I was from home, how I'd let my family go in a big way. Homesickness swelled inside. Mahoosuc Notch was tricky, but it wasn't the dangerous mile of life-threatening bouldering I expected. I just kind of hopped through like a monkey. After Mahoosuc I made my way to the next road, where Earl from "The Cabin" waited for me in his pick-up. We met and he took me back to his home. I showered, laundered my clothes, changed into a clean set, and sat down for a dinner of grilled salmon, scallops, corn-on-the-cob, baked potatoes, and red wine. It was one of those meals I'll never forget. I cooked some maple-syrup pancakes (to take on the trail the next day) with some flour and syrup I found in a shelter the day before. I watched a movie on VHS (always a treat) and went to bed past midnight. It was the most comfortable night in recent memory.
Date: 2010-06-08
From: The Cabin (Andover, ME)

To: Bemis Mountain Lean-to
Miles today: 29.1
Weather: scattered clouds

At 5:00 AM, Earl woke me up to leave. He dropped me back at the trail by 6:30 and I was off up the first mountain. It was bitterly cold, and it became dangerously cold as I ascended. Up and up and up the trail went, following nearly a mile along the mountain's exposed rocky ridgeline to its summit. I froze up there in my t-shirt and shorts. It was the lowest moment of the trip since that snowy day on Derrick's Knob in the Smokies. It was just so damn cold. After what seemed like hours I descended back into the trees, almost incredulous as to what just happened.I caught up with the Georgia boys and hiked with them to the Bemis Mountain Lean-to. It was a hard day, but then again every day is a hard day so I had nothing to complain about. There was laughing and there was complaining, as usual. I found web-like mold in my dinner and had to throw it out (I'd found it in a hiker box from last year, so I can't say I was surprised).
Date: 2010-06-09
From: Bemis Mountain Lean-to

To: Bob's Hostel (Rangely, ME)
Miles today: 17.7

The next day was a pleasant one, down into the small town of Rangely, Maine. We passed some pretty lakes, and seeing the lapping water made me miss home. I brought my right back to sailing the Hobie with the family in the Bay. By 2:00 we were at the road, trying to hitch. We waited, thumb out, for almost two hours. I'd all but given up on humanity when an ambulance pulled over. "Hop on in!," said the paramedic. All three of us boarded for a 10-minute ride into Rangely. I was faint with hunger, and consumed a beer and small pizza in several minutes. At Bob's Hostel, I ate 6 eggs, 2 apples, 2 oranges, and blackberries. The healthiest gorge ever. I went to bed late that night, again up making pancakes for the next day's rations.
Date: 2010-06-13
From: A swamp near Pierce Pond Lean-to

To: Shaw's Boarding House
Miles today: 40.0

What a day! It was only 4 o'clock, and it was dim out. But the morning summer light was growing as it does these days, permitting an early start on the trail. Out here, I've never seen the sun so wild. It sets later and rises earlier than it does living inside, and this morning I noticed its faint glow lighting up the sky well before my 4 o'clock departure. I guess I know the sun better than I used to.At 5:45 I arrived at the Pierce Pond Shelter and took a 5-minute blue-blaze trail to Harrison¢s Camp, home to Harrison¢s infamous 12-pancake breakfast. It was still dim and the place was silent, so I walked inside and passed out on a couch. I would¢ve marched on for sake of time, but I needed this breakfast¢those 12 pancakes would get me 40 miles to Monson by that night. By 9:30 I was, at last, stuffed with sausage, eggs, and twelve blueberry, apple, and cranberry pancakes (honestly, I was surprised at the feat). I moved swiftly on to the ferry at the Kennebec River.At the river bank, loons cooed and disappeared underwater. I made a ¢skalooo¢ sound, and heard a ¢skaloo¢ back from the woods across the river. A man with a straw hat pulled a canoe from the tree-line and paddled across. ¢Hillbilly Joe¢ was his name, owing perhaps to his missing teeth. ¢Thanks for the ferry, man!¢ I exclaimed enthusiastically. ¢That¢s what I¢m here for,¢ he replied. Across the river, I kept walking.The day passed by under sunny skies. Yeah, it hurt, but I was in the mood to hike. Also, the terrain was mild at last. Nervous that darkness would fall before I arrived in Monson (I had no headlamp), the whole day I kept checking my coordinates, counting my mileage and calculating my pace.Near sunset, I stopped in a shelter to ask for a headlamp. Perhaps, I figured, I could buy one off a hiker with an extra (a fat chance, right?). Unfortunately, none of the 4 hikers had one. As I went to leave, I heard ¢wait a minute¢¦I might actually have one.¢ Believe it or not, he did! I almost kissed the guy. Back on the trail, I found two little boxes of raisins! Then a spring to fill my bottle! I knew it was just good luck but, deep down, God was looking out for me. Into the night I hiked. At mile 34, five outside Monson, I hit my limit and crashed at a shelter to rest.