Date: 2003-08-11
From: Vernon, N.J.

To: Wawayanda Shelter
Miles today: 5.3
Weather: light rain

We zeroed in Vernon yesterday and stayed another night at the hostel at St Thomas' Church. Verity was taken to the doctor in the next town to have her bites examined. They are infected and she was given shots and various tablets to help. The doctor's consultation cost $110 which the Church paid on her behalf from its own funds. I recompensed the Church when I arrived in Vernon, but, interestingly, if I had been unable to do so, they wouldn't have demanded repayment. Trail magic comes in many different forms. The hiker hostel is run by Dave Martens, who had insisted that Verity see the doctor and took her there personally to make sure she did. At one time he was a claims manager with a Boston insurance company, but was forced to retire by a couple of serious spinal injuries resulting from accidents at work. He gets around with the aid of a couple of sticks, and drops by the hostel in the morning and in the evening to make sure things are in order. The facilities here are excellent but I suspect the lifestyle of a few hikers and the sensibilities of the local community create tensions that he has to manage carefully. 'Chafe', 'Thistle', 'Two Speeds', and I took him out to dinner last night, and he is a thoroughly nice guy. We spent much of today trying to get back on the Trail. While restocking at the A&P this morning, the heavens just opened for an hour and stopped us getting back to the hostel. We could do little but sit and watch the cascade, easily two inches of rain, and just feel grateful that we weren't out hiking in it.Frustrated by all the hanging around, I set off on my own early this afternoon, but was caught by 'Thistle' before I had even reached the NJ94 junction where I would hitch a ride. She told me 'Chafe Master' had decided not to leave today because of a diarrhoea problem. Finally, 'Thistle', 'Two Speeds' and I left around mid-afternoon, and were soon offered a rideby a local woman as she pulled out of the Burger King car park behind us. Her name was Debra and, like everyone we meet in towns, she bemoaned the wet summer we are having. Thankfully the trailhead was not menaced by the gang of cows of two days ago (I know cows move in herds, but believe you me this was a gang). Debra dropped us off, turned her car round, and drove back into town! A 900 feet climb up Wawayanda Mt. over the first mile and a half reacquanted us immediately with the sweat and pain of the AT, but at least it was staying dry. It began to rain lightly just as I came into the Wawayanda Shelter, and was followed in soon after by 'Two Speeds' and 'Thistle'. The mosquitoes are thick here and cooking supper was an ordeal. Instead of any end-of-day conversation by the shelter, we dived into the sanctuary of our tents as soon as possible. Not a good return to the Trail for my wavering colleagues. In my tent, I had almost finished my routine tick inspection (I've only found two before now) when I discovered a large adult tick on a very private part of my anatomy. She had obviously been there for some time, she was having a ball (specifically the right one), and would not let go. Eventually I prized her off using my tweezers with the loss of some blood. My first reaction had been shocked. "Woah! I've got a bloody great tick on my right testicle!" I exploded, as I called to the other two to check themselves carefully. I don't think any daughter would ever expect to hear such a thing from her father. Poor 'Thistle'. I fear that all illusions she might have about her father have been removed by this trip. Strangely, although I take great pleasure in killing every mosquito I can, I had no desire to kill the tick and just set her down outside the tent. We aren't blood brothers exactly, but I do feel we have shared something very precious.