Date: 2004-08-27
From: Thistle Hill Shelter, VT

To: Green to Granite
Miles today: 14.6

At last, a day of easier hiking. The terrain was less steep and my feet were often stepping on soft pine needles. The forest was open. My hiking pace was fast, similar to the pace I set in the mid Atlantic states.In the morning I passed through the tiny town of West Hartford, VT, where I stopped at a general store¢the only store¢and ordered an omelet for breakfast. After that, I bought some ice cream and devoured it while sitting on the front porch. Ordinarily, I would not include ice cream with a breakfast, but I am always hungry on this journey and seeking infusions of calories.As I walked through this tiny town, passing motorists waved at me and I waved back. In rural New England, motorists and pedestrians often wave at each other.The trail was easy but the temperatures were hot and humid. Another problem was an absence of water sources. Accordingly, I cut back on my consumption of water and was parched with thirst.In the woods, I came upon a cooler; it was situated beside the trail. Inside the cooler were empty cans of soft drinks. I started to close the lid and did a double take. One of the cans was unopened! I unshouldered my backpack and placed my camera upon it. I focused the camera, activated the self timer, and took a photo of myself drinking some lemon & lime soda. A register in the cooler identified the person behind this latest act of generosity, or trail magic. I penned a note to Godiva and thanked her for the cooler of drinks, describing it as a font of generosity.The trail led me through a second town in Vermont; this one was Norwich. I walked down a road that started out rural and became suburban as it neared a main road. The homes on this road were gorgeous. SUV's and Mercedes were parked in the driveways. I waved at the passing motorists; they did not wave back.I wondered if there is a connection between the wealth of a community and the friendliness of the people. Everyone back in West Hartford, a town of simple homes, waved to me. Why don't people in Norwich, a wealthy community, do the same? Or is my economic comparison unfair? Norwich is a much larger town than West Hartford. Perhaps it is population and not income that determines how friendly a community can be.On the edge of Norwich, a beat up pickup truck was waiting at a traffic light. Two bare-chested men were sitting in the front seat. I walked in front of the vehicle. They gave me a thumbs up.The driver shouted, "How ya doing?"I raised my walking stick and shouted, "Another state on the way to Maine." In front of me, a stone's throw away, was a bridge spanning the Connecticut River, the border separating Vermont and New Hampshire.The driver shouted back, "Do you need anything?" I thanked him for the offer of assistance but declined to accept it. What mattered at the moment was leaving Vermont, nicknamed the Green Mountain State, and entering New Hampshire, called the Granite State.Somewhere along this journey, I knelt down and offered a prayer of thanks after crossing from one state to another. Since then, I have made this prayer a habit at borders. Today, I crossed the river, entered Hanover, New Hampshire, and stepped behind a fence where I was concealed from view. There, I briefly knelt down and offered a prayer to God, thanking him for a safe passage through Vermont.In Hanover, I went to the Post Office and picked up my drift box. Lots of hikers were gathered in front of the building. There was Dingle, T-Bott, Still Frank, D-Bone, Munchkin, Rider, Chris and Ellie. (I have probably misspelled some of these names). All of these hikers are from this new cluster of people I am getting to know. I chatted with them and moved on to run errands.The driving economic force of this town is Dartmouth University. I walked over to the building on the campus which houses the Dartmouth Outing Club. The club provides hikers with free internet access and information about the town. There, I checked my email.I rode a bus to the outskirts of the town where I have booked a room for two nights at a motel. The time has come to give my body a rest. Since Pennsylvania, I have taken only one day off from hiking.I spent several hours this evening planning the logistics of the upcoming trek across the White Mountains, considered the most challenging stretch of the Appalachian Trail.Oh yeah, I also enjoyed a hot shower and washed my clothes at the laundry room here. My clothes were so filthy that it was necessary to wash them twice.Tomorrow, there will be more errands to run. Will I find the time to relax?