Date: 2013-08-23
From: Tigger's Tree House, Etna-Hanover Center Rd

To: Dowd's Country Inn, Lyme, NH
Miles today: 11.7

Last night, I slept like a pile of rocks. A cool front moved in overnight. I curled into my bright red sheets and slept until I couldn't sleep anymore. I headed inside and turned on the little one cup coffee pot. Karen had left two bras on the counter for me to try. I tried on one, and it fit perfectly. I had hoped to get out early, but Karen and I visited and laughed big belly laughs. The kind that leave you a little light-headed afterwards. I told her I was going to pick up a new pair of boots this after new and offered her my current ones. They are great boots, virtually new, but they just don't fit me well. So we could swap, a bra for a pair of boots. I didn't get back on the trail until 9 a.m. Oh well. As long as I get to Glencliff, NH by Sunday evening (I need to pick up a mail drop first thing on Monday morning), I'll be fine. The air was noticeably cooler and a light morning haze hung in the air and filtered through the trees. The ground is covered in fat, round acorns. I know the deer are happy about that. Pine cones are shredded and relieved of their nuts as well, which leaves me to believe that the squirrels and chipmunks aren't going hungry either. There is also a huge variety of mushrooms; it makes me wish I was more knowledgeable about fungi. Not to eat, but just to know. Some look like clusters of roasted marshmallows. Others like tiny bright red pointy elf-ish hats on short white stems. Some look like taupe breast with nipples on top. Some look like bright orange oyster shells climbing to the sides of tree trunks. And that's just a small sample. The bright orange newts are also out en masse. Some are fat and look pregnant. Or maybe they are just bloated. Who knows. The trail climbed up to the top of Moose Mountain. There were two lady hikers taking a break up top. Their names were Leilei and Rainy, and they were accompanied by their dog, Darby. We talked about the trail, and they gave me some great pointers about the Whites. Don't skim on the clothes. They sent me on my way with a granola bar and well-wishes. The trail stayed under the cover of trees as it climbed up and down. I found one break in the trees, so I decided to stop and have lunch. There were trees as far as I could see. I crossed a road and followed along a smooth, pine straw path. I crossed a marshy area and kept my eyes peeled for moose. I've seen a lot of pressed down grass and animal-made paths winding through the grasses. It could have been made by a deer, but I'd like to think it was a moose. I saw twisted, rusty remnants of a maple syrup sugar shack. It made me think of the sugar houses in upstate New York. Tom and I had spent an entire day one weekend talking with some maple syrup folks. We walked away with two gallons of the stuff. There was a steep climb up towards Holt's Ledge. The side of the hill fell sharply down a few hundred feet. The mountains across the way were growing ever taller; their tops covered in gray, sharp barren rocks. Over the shoulder of the nearest mountain I saw an even taller, sharper more intimidating mountain peeking around, almost like the boogey-man. Uh-oh. It wouldn't be long now. I trotted down the hill to the road to Lyme. I was running later than I had planned. There were no cars headed towards town, so I collapsed my hiking poles, strapped them to my pack and started walking. Only two cars passed in the first mile. The first didn't slow down, but instead it eased into the other lane; either to give me more room or to communicate that it had no intention of stopping for me. Luckily, the second one stopped. Al was driving a big, new-for-him white truck with a truck bed full of big, metal-studded snow tires. He said that I didn't look to be the ax-murdering type, so he decided to stop. I always find this amusing. He dropped me outside the Lyme post office, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out how to get in. There were only two doors. One led to a bank, the other led to Stella's Italian Market and Restaurant. I walked back into the parking lot to get a good look at the front of the building. It did, in fact, say in big black letters "POST OFFICE LYME, NH." I walked into Stella's. There were food displays and coolers to the left, a table of epicurean foods in the middle, and a deli and counter of baked-goods to the right. But there was no post office. I walked up to the deli counter, and they nice guy behind the counter asked what I would like. I asked where I might find the post office. He said that it was in the building, but he wasn't sure how to get to it. Really? He asked his manager, and she said to follow her. I followed her through the restaurant, past the bar and through the emergency exit at the back of the room. I walked into a small hallway and was immediately met with the smell of plant fertilizer. There was a door to my left that opened to a hardware store/garden center. Straight in front of me was a doorway to the post office. This was the Mary Poppin's carpet bag of buildings. The nice postman said that he had no record of packages for me. I called the Lyme Center post office in hopes that they were sent there. The nice lady said there were no packages for me there either, but she gave me a few different lodging options. Hitch back to the trail and stealth camp, or contact the B&B in town. I looked at my watch. It was almost 4 o'clock. Trying to hitch back and forth to the trail didn't sound too appealing, so I called the B&B- Dowd's Country Inn. They told me that there was a wedding going on, but they had one room left. I got a hiker rate of $100. It was expensive, but my parents and Tom's parents had sent me a some "mad money" in my last mail drop. It seemed like the perfect splurge. The room was gorgeous. I drew up a hot bath and gave myself a good scrub. I wandered down to the country store and then over to Stella's for dinner. It was hoping with diners. I found a chair at the bar and pulled out my journal. The manager said I had the look of an AT hiker, and I confirmed his suspicions. The lady next to me overheard my conversation with the manager and asked if I had a place to sleep; she had an extra room in her house as her daughter had just gone off to college. I was welcome to stay there. I thanked her, but said that I was set up at the B&B next door. Lyme is a pretty well-heeled village, so I was humbled by the out-pouring of hospitality. A guy came and took the empty seat next to me. We talked all through dinner. He'd just completed the Race Across America (RAM) the year before, and his team had won the "60 and above" category. We must have talked for three hours. It was well past my bedtime, and it wasn't until we were walking out of the restaurant that we exchanged names. This AT experience continues to surprise me with its twists and turns. When I woke up this morning in "the Tank" and belly-laughed with Karen, I would have never dreamed that I would have finished my day with a fine dinner and lengthy discussion with Don about the conversational superiority of Luddites. The AT continues to surprise.