Date: 2013-07-30
From: Native Landscape and Garden Center, AT RR

To: Schaghticoke Mountain Campsite
Miles today: 15.1

I didn't sleep very well. Between the trains that came through seemingly every hour blowing their horns and shaking the ground and the cold (I woke up in the middle of the night and put on my down jacket and knee socks) and the rough ground surface, well, it made of a little less-than-restful night's sleep. Oh well. Also, the humidity had been so high that water was leaking in the sides of the tent. I hung the rainfly on the fence to dry, but that didn't work either. The employees of the garden center had already arrived, and they let us use the bathrooms and plug in our phones. I signed the hiker book and headed out. There was a bit of pasture walking, which I love. Sheep were grazing in the fields. The hike took us through the Pawling Nature Reserve. There were tall grasses that soaked my clothes and boots. There were more stone fences. My spirits were high again, and that was a relief. I was glad I didn't have to pick through the ashes of the experience to try to find any nougats of glowing embers of "positive". Nope, today's fire was roaring. The morning was awesome. The trail surface was flat and smooth. My right knee was aching a bit, and I have a few small patches of poison ivy. But no biggie. I stopped at the Wiley Shelter to dry my tent and have lunch, but I saw that I was only 1.2 miles from Connecticut. So I settled for a quick snack instead of a full meal. I wanted to make the border. I got to the border and took a photo (of course!). Then I humped it up and over Ten Mile Hill and down to Ten Mile River. I shed my clothes and went skinny dipping. It felt awesome! I washed some clothes and had lunch. No one came along. The trail followed along Ten Mile River, the water got more and more agitated and white-water-ish as I headed upstream. But I couldn't shake the feeling that Connecticut didn't really want us there. There was a fence between the trail and the river. At a designated campsite, seeming every tree had a sign tacked to it, telling you what to do and what not to do. There were side trails down to the water with signs telling you to "stay on the path." I walked down to Bulls Bridge, a covered bridge and over to a country market. I really like this "fresh", non-dehydrated meal thing I've had going on. I grabbed a sandwich for dinner and then headed back up to the trail. The trail road-walked along a paved road. A car whizzed past me with the windows down. It ran right through a deep pot-hole and bottomed out. I heard someone scream, "G*d damn it!" It made me laugh. I head up into the woods. There was a shopping bag with an empty Little Debbie box sitting beside the trail. Oh well. I got up to a view point that markets the 2/3rds completion point. I marked it, and on cue, Catnap walked up.Then the hike went to hell. The trail got rocky. It felt like someone had taken every ceramic plate out of their cabinet and smashed them up. Then they took the pieces, turned them on their edge and partially buried them on the slanted slope. That was the trail. The flat, smooth surfaces were completely avoided. The trail only seemed to pass off the most painful possibility. Short step-downs were avoided when long-step downs were available. Finally, I couldn't help myself. I jammed my poles into the ground, threw my head back and shouted, "F*CK THIS!" at the top of my lungs. It made me feel a little better, until I realized that Catnap and another section hiker, Justin, were well within earshot. Catnap came up behind me a few minutes later and asked if I was doing okay. I gave him a coy look and asked if he heard me, he just smirked and said, yes. I crossed the NY/CT for the last and official time. I knew I needed to call it a day. I was getting tired and frustrated, and my knees were hurting. I got to the Schaghticoke Mountain campsite, and there was one other tent set up. I chatted with Justin. I found out later that the actual campsite was actually .1 mile hike up the hill. Wolfspider and Flatfoot came in a little bit later and set their tents up. CT had pulled them up short as well. We were a compact little tent city. I also got an email saying that the hiking boots that I had ordered to replace my defective pair had not shipped. I was supposed to pick them up tomorrow in Kent, but they won't be there. Damn it. Let the boot-chase begin.