morvasaaty/AppalachianTrail-LD-Hikers-Blogs-and-Weather-20-years huggingface dataset:
Date: 2008-08-01
From: Hanover, NH

To: some really pretty field
Miles today: 13.5

After an easy hike over rolling hills,after 13 miles on beautifully maintained trails,after walking though field after field of purples, whites, yellows, and pinks,after splitting an afternoon ice-cream with Hank at a general store located directly on the trail,after wandering in woods where old chimneys, stone foundations, wood stoves, rock walls and other ruins from the past peaked like hidden treasures from beneath the trees,after feeding a pony (grass from the other side of the fence always tastes better),after meeting nice northbounder after nice northbounder,we stopped early so we could enjoy the world¢s greatest stealth spot. Rolling blue mountains in the distance, gentle green mountains across a pasture worthy of a Watteau painting, there ¢ at that perfect spot ¢ an angel of a trail maintainer had mowed a tenting spot between two apple trees. Our dinner of hot pesto pasta and mint tea was enhanced by conversation with our friend and fellow southbounder, Doug. Far off in the distance, we heard the chiming of church bells. As we discussed how perfect the day had been ¢ at that moment- a red hot-air balloon lifted up from behind the hills and floated into the twilight.
Date: 2008-08-02
From: some really pretty field

To: The Lookout
Miles today: 15.1

The ending was a surprise, especially considering how picturesque and pleasant the day had begun.We awoke at sunrise. As the sky faded into pink, we ate the powdered dougnuts Hank had packed from town. They weren¢t even squished.The woods were enchanting in the fog. They gave way to beautiful pastures layered by the morning mist. Following the advice of a nice fellow we met yesterday we visited the appropriately named Cloudland Farm. We picked fresh raspberries from the garden, petted their sweet farm dog, lay in their hammock, photographed their cows, their horses, their pigs, and ate a second breakfast of organic cinnamon ice-cream and locally made soda. It was an excellent morning, and still the day continued to improve. We hiked through countryside worthy of a series of postcards ¢ cute farm houses, rolling hills, big fields, etc. We skirted pastures tinted lavender from the blooming bee balm. Indigo buntings sang their hearts out atop the same giant sugar maples that shaded our path from the bright sun in the blue sky.After our morning of happiness, just at lunch time, we crossed a road with a sign and an arrow above the alluring word ¢pie.¢ So, we follow it a short distances and come upon another farm. We sit on the front porch drinking locally made treats, the most delightful of the delights was a homemade blueberry pie.Oh how happy I was¢¦until the climb to Wintturi. A seemingly gentle, but in actuality, grueling up for miles. The puffy morning clouds became thunderstorms which poured on us. I do the math and realize that we cannot make it to our destination. There was not enough time. I do more math and realize we were only 468 miles in 42 days. That meant that there were 1707 miles of trail left to go. That¢s so far. That¢s so far. Mud splashed repetitively on my legs. The forest closed in on me. Briars ripped across my knees. My heavy feet slipped in the muck. I called for an early water break and freaked out to Hank over the map, over miles. He blinked at me: I had finally lost it.Alternate ending.Being an astute individual, Hank quickly realizes I am likely suffering a crash from too much sugar ¢ donuts, soda, ice-cream, pie. What was I thinking?! He helped me calm down, and we planned to hike only as far as we felt comfortable for the rest of the day. We talked about movies as we walked.At the perfect time, we come across the Lookout ¢ a privately owned cabin with a killer view. It was open to all hikers, but we had the whole place to ourselves. We read, we ate a hot healthy dinner, and then curled up into our sleeping bags inside four walls and under a roof to protect us from the reoccurring rainstorms.I was blessed to end the day as cozy and happy as it began.
Date: 2008-08-03
From: The Lookout

To: Killington
Miles today: 14.2

The day hiker gave the directions to Vermont Highway 100 just as I had asked. Then she looked at me directly, narrowed her eyes, and added, ¢It¢s right next to Gifford State Park. They have bathrooms ¢ with running water.¢Yikes! Did I smell so bad? I mean, I just bathed last night¢¦albeit from a puddle on a rock. I guess hiking all day makes one stinky.Last week, I mailed home a pair of socks. Dad said they smelled so terrible that he threw them away immediately. I felt bad: ¢Hey, Dad. Thanks for helping us with the our AT trip. Here is a pair of stinky socks for all your trouble.¢ The funny thing was that they were freshly laundered!The day hiker¢s comments circled round and round in my head as the sweat poured down my chest from the heat and humidity. The constant rain rehydrated the mud for which Vermont trails are famous. Already, my two day old shoes look and smell as rotten as my old boots.When we came into Killington to pick up our mail drop we also booked a night at a motel.I do not care for town days. They make me fidgety. I much prefer being in the woods, being on the trail.¢¦But, I can take a hint. I took two showers this evening.Forty-something days into this adventure, I am happy to know that, even as I lay in between clean sheets freshly showered with a full tummy, I would still rather be hiking.
Date: 2008-08-04
From: Killington

To: the ÃÂÃÂ¢ÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂsecretÃÂÃÂ¢ÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂ SwanÃÂÃÂ¢ÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂs Song Shelter
Miles today: 15.3

The greens were outstanding ¢ hundreds of shades layered atop of each other.The green mountains, or, en fran§ais, les monts verts ? Vermont.A base layer of the bold green of moss topped with a thick bright green fern understory covered by the forest green needles of evergreens. The tree trunks themselves were obscured by the sea foam green of lichens.Kermit would have been well camouflaged.I, however, was colored grey-brown ¢ completely covered in mud from the slipping slide that is the trail.
Date: 2008-08-05
From: the ÃÂÃÂ¢ÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂsecretÃÂÃÂ¢ÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂ SwanÃÂÃÂ¢ÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂs Song Shelter

To: Little Rock Pond Tenting Area
Miles today: 18.0

Today, good things came in groups.Group one ¢ AT celebrationsWalk half a mile. Enjoy ice cold trail magic coca-colas. Yum. Walk half a mile. Step onto the highway that marks our 500th mile! Walk half a mile. Take the final picture to fill our 2GB card.Group two ¢ CairnsThey were more than just cairns. They were a rock sculpture garden. They were the effort of many, and Hank and I both added our piece.   It was as if we were all apprentices of artist Andy Goldsworthy. Rocks stacked upon rocks in ways that seems to defy gravity. They balanced on trees and ran atop boulders like the plates of a stegosaurus. It was something to behold.Group three ¢ GrouseIt was close to dusk when we flushed the covey. A dozen plus ruffed grouse shot up in a flurry of feathers and then were gone. I imagine the intent was to startle and confuse their predators. We were not predators, but the effect was the same.
Date: 2008-08-06
From: Little Rock Pond Tenting Area

To: Green Mountain house
Miles today: 19.8
Weather: light rain

Since it had not been raining those first waking moments, we thought we would just wait for it to pass. We lay snuggled in our sleeping bags listening to the droplets hit the tent. They pounded on the fabric causing a delicate mist to spray through the walls. I was unnerved that, just as I thought it could rain no harder, the downpour increased exponentially. An hour and a half later, we decided to pack up anyway. I stuffed a very wet tent into my backpack.The water level from the pond had risen such that it swallows the trail in places. The trail itself was a mini-river of sorts fed by the many impromptu streams that burped and bubbled up from the mountain side. Real streams were torrents. They stampeded white with rapids.Creating all this chaos was the rain, constant terrible Noah-worthy rain.We took a brief reprieve from the ridiculous weather to eat lunch in a shelter. We shivered from the cold as the iciness crept into our fingers. The rain poured on. When it showed no sign of stopping, we set out again, up Peru Peak. Then, POW! Downpour turned to thunderstorm. A lightening bolt struck and its thunder sounded simultaneously. We looked at each other. POP! Lightening struck closer than I have ever been to lightening before. My hair stood on end. My joints felt weird. Whether these sensations were from fear or an electrical charger did not matter. We were scared.We threw our hiking poles a.k.a. lightening rods into the woods and ran back to the shelter. You know how your cat flashes past you to hide under the bed during a storm? We raced that fast. Had there been a bed, I would have hidden under it.After a long, long while the lightening had ceased and the thunder became more distant. The rain lightened. The thunder never ceased, even when the sky turned blue and the sun came out. I guess the weather figured we¢d had enough, but still wanted to reminded us just who¢s boss.The trails were a watery disaster. I threw out my no-walking-in-water-above-the-ankles rule I made in the morning and instead just tried not to slosh in anything above the knee. I did not always succeed.
Date: 2008-08-07
From: Green Mountain house

To: Stratton Mountain
Miles today: 12.1

We were hiking at our fastest pace ever and loving ever minute. The well maintained trail allowed for long, easy strides. Our consistent breaks, often at scenic overlooks with names like Prospect Rock, served to energize us. It was a good thing too, because our goal for the day was ambitious and we'd gotten a late start.I am pleased that we left at all. The Green Mountan House may be the most spectacular hostel on the trail. It was difficult to leave. There have been several hostels that have been standouts - the motherly comfort of Shaw's in Monson and the inspiring friendliness of Chet's in Lincoln. The Green Mountain House had every amenity I wanted and more. We were not the only ones dragging our feet this morning.But! We are hikers, and hikers hike, so I happily returned to the trail. We hiked in the sunshine. We powered past the last shelter for a dozen miles, as we were confident we could make it across Stratton Mountain before nightfall.And so we could have...had not a thunderstorm pinned us a mile below the summit. We tried to wait it out, but the storm seemed stuck on top of the mountain. It canceled our climb; we were going nowhere.We did our best to find a stealth spot, but I think playgrounds have slides with gentler slopes. The tent set up was not exactly optimal. Let's just say that if the Big Bad Wolf were here, he would not need to huff and puff. A simple sneeze could collapse our shelter.Oh! Of course, the moment that the sleeping bags were in the tent the thunderstorn moved on - just barely too late for us to keep moving.
Date: 2008-08-08
From: Stratton Mountain

To: Bennington, VT
Miles today: 28.0
Weather: light rain

Hurry up pizza deliveryman! I need a slice so that I can toast to this - our highest mileage day.We were on fire. The miles disappeared under our feet. It was effortless - the hiking equivalent of a runner's high.Fear not! We still stopped to smell the proverbial roses. We ate breakfast in a firetower to watch the sunrise. We enjoyed an hour long lunch at a shelter with a killer view. We played around split rock. The woods were beautiful and we soaked in every moment.We caught a hitch with the first passing car. (knock, knock) Now, now that the pizza has arrived, it means we stepped off the trail and were in town, showered and fed within an hour. Oh! and The Bourne Ultimatium has just started on the tv.Cheers for a great day.
Date: 2008-08-09
From: Bennington, VT

To: beaver pond
Miles today: 8.5

My weakness for prettiness stopped our hiking an hour early. It was an established stealth spot too lovely to hike past - a clearing under hardwoods by a beaver pond. The water sounded softly as it poured over the dam. Stars multiplied as the sky shifted into twilight. The resident beaver swam a branch through the lily pads and added it to the dam.We were in a happy place.
Date: 2008-08-10
From: beaver pond

To: North Adams
Miles today: 9.9

It was our earliest wake up so far. In the darkness, we packed up camp to a chorus of bullfrogs and were out hiking by four a.m.. We walked quietly, but we still must have disturbed the beaver, for we heard it splash from its lodge into the water as we passed.We used headlamps to light our way. The blackness and shadows of the woods gave it a sort of quiet mystery.After a bit, we hiked into a grassy powerline corridor. We turned off our headlamps so that we could enjoy the city lights from the valleys below and the sparkling stars overhead. The eastern corner of the sky showed the first purple glimpse of dawn.We clicked on our headlamps and continued on, only to be immediately interrupted by the loud crashing of a large animal the moment we stepped back into the woods. A moose! We practically ran into a moose! We retreated back to the field and ate breakfast to give the moose time to leave. It didn't. When we returned to the trail we could hear it and just how very close it was to us.Hank caught a glimpse of it - two eyes shining back at him from the dark, two eyes shifting back and forth as if agitated.Since taking on a stubborn, irritated moose was not a task we felt we could handle well in the dark, we returned again to the field to wait for daylight.We crawled into our sleeping bags and watched the sky fade into morning. The air was cool, but we were cozy and snuggled deep inside the down fluffiness of our bags. I dozed in and out of dreaming. The sky was a shifting mosaic of color. It changed every time I opened my eyes: gold and indigo, brilliant orange and pink, bold bright blue. When we returned to the woods, the moose was gone.
Date: 2008-08-11
From: North Adams

To: Dalton, MA
Miles today: 23.3
Weather: light rain

Hank and I huddled close together. The hard rain poured down our knees and ran down our backs. We kept each other warm as we cuddled under a tree, held hostage below the summit by another thunderstorm. It was cold, wet, and miserable. Yet, even as we shivered I knew that the closeness we were experiencing was going to be one of my favorite moments.
Date: 2008-08-12
From: Dalton, MA

To: Finerty Pond
Miles today: 15.9

The terrific pain in my heel woke me at 12:37 a.m. It throbbed in terrible sequence with my heartbeat. The single worst pain I have felt on the trail - all from a blister smaller than a dime. A blister not even there two days ago.In the Hans Christian Andersen telling of the Little Mermaid he writes that when the mermaid becomes human every stride is like a hundred knives in her toes and every step is like a thousand needles in her feet. I feel her pain. I could think of nothing but how badly I hurt.Eventually, it drove me to tears, which woke up poor sleeping Hank. He fetched ice from the lobby to help relieve the swelling. I appreciated that we gave in to the magnetic pull of the town. Though, admittedly, this was not exactly how I had envisioned my stay.
Date: 2008-08-13
From: campsite

To: Great Barrington
Miles today: 23.8
Weather: few clouds

Massachusetts woods are beautifully gentle, almost garden-like. Everyday feels like a day hike. Wide walking paths roll up and over mild mountains. Broad wooden bridges traverse picturesque streams.A woman in sandals and her finely groomed poodle hike opposite us. Later we encounter a father followed by his blond curly haired toddler.As we passed, the toddler asked, "Where are you going?" He places the inflection on the "you.""Georgia," I say, but he does not understand. It is an abstract destination to me as well. To be honest, I rarely think of it. I just hike.
Date: 2008-08-15
From: Great Barrington

To: Ravine Brook Campsite
Miles today: 12.8

At two o'clock we called a Mulligan. There had just been too much craziness.There was...the unsuccessful attempt at a night hike,the stressing over maps and miles to organize getting our Kent mail drop before the post office closed for the weekend,many phone calls to Kent revealed that all lodging was booked due to a weddingOh no! We lost our stove. Whatever will we eat? More pouring over maps to figure out how to get a new one.Oh wait! It was in the pack all along.Could we hike beyond Kent and taxi back? (mountain top internet search, call, conversation) $85! No way.Oh wait! We can arrive in Kent whenever we would like - our mail drop was at the outfitters.ARRRRRGH!Then, ever so brilliantly, Hank called a Mulligan.We walked among blueberry bushes on the cliffs of Race Mountain. We enjoyed the grand views of the small farms and rolling mountains. We thought no more about the craziness of the morning.
Date: 2008-08-16
From: Ravine Brook Campsite

To: Conn 4
Miles today: 29.1

THE Connecticut Challenge is hiking the 52 Connecticut AT miles in a 24 hour midnight to midnight period. Ummm, yeah. A very impressive feat indeed for those who are able.OUR Connecticut Challenge was to see how far we could hike in 12 hours. Turns out we could hike 25 miles.And what fun they were! We sat atop a hundred and forty year old monument on Connecticut's tallest mountain. A friendly couple on Lion's Head told us the names and stories of all we could see in the distance. We watched kayakers run through their gates in the Housatonic. We ate lunch in a caf© with informative, super friendly Northbounders. We enjoyed the sounds of cicadas. In the evening, Hank called time. We were proud to have gone so far while having such fun.We could not stop since Conneticut does not allow stealthing and continued to the nearest road where we stayed in a well earned hotel room.It was a hard day, but fun. Now Hank is talking about tackling THE Connecticut Challenge, but sans pack and with running shoes.
Date: 2008-08-17
From: Conn 4

To: Mount Algo lean-to
Miles today: 21.4

We are trying something new today: hike into town for our mail drop and a meal, then hike OUT of town to save money and gain trail miles. It is tougher than I expected. Small town Kent, Connecticut must have some sort of ordinance mandating that each business/residence exhibit a certain amount of cuteness. We walked past picket fences, past neighbors sharing a laugh over coffee as their small dogs played together under caf© tables, and past little old men aiding petite old ladies across the street.As I sit waiting for my garden deluxe pizza, I watch the monarchs pause from their migration to sip nectar from the lilies in a garden of colorful blooms.I know that just two blocks down the street a shower, a bed with sheets, and a television showing the Olympics which will replay tonight just who is the world's fastest 100 m female sprinter are all vacant, just waiting for me.The town even played to my weakness - books. I love buying books. So does Hank. Several summers ago, at the height of our craziness, we realized we spent more money per week on books than we did on groceries. We've since gotten better, but Kent was having a book sale. A giant incredible book sale, as if they were liquidating their library. Tables and tables and tables of well organized, excellent quality hardback books. Heavy, heavy hardback books. I resisted. Yet, all at once, I was unexpectedly homesick, much missing my ridiculously over-sized personal library. A library a thousand miles away. (sigh).
Date: 2008-08-18
From: Mount Algo lean-to

To: Telephone Pioneer shelter
Miles today: 22.4
Weather: scattered clouds

Connecticut put on a show for us in its last ten miles. Thirty-two newts bid us farewell. A ruffed grouse stretched out its neck to peak at Hank before bursting into flight. Our first deer since Vermont bounded down the mountain side. A family of turkeys exploded into flight and gobbled when we wandered into their afternoon nap. Connecticut may not have many miles, but they are fun miles to hike.I reckon they did not think they could follow their neighbor's farewell performance; New York opened poorly. The trail was thick with poison ivy. It grew in mass atop the ground. Vines grew up trees to send out branches to swipe our arms and faces. Beyond the ivy, invasives choked the forest. These were the first ugly woods I had encountered on this hike.Fortunately, first impressions are not always correct. As we hiked farther, the forest became prettier. Nice, pretty hardwoods with mighty oaks and giant sugar maples.We walked on fallen leaves. Occasionally, acorns rained down in the distance. Could the end of summer be so close at hand?
Date: 2008-08-19
From: Telephone Pioneer shelter

To: Canopus Lake
Miles today: 22.4
Weather: moderate rain

Among the days many treats (pints of Ben & Jerry's, trail magic girl scout cookies, 32 NY newts) were deer. Good ol' white-tail deer.Until two days ago we had only seen two on this trip: one crossing the road in Maine and another eating apples in a Vermont front lawn. This morning we had hardly hiked an hour before we turned to see three bounding off into the woods. Their tails were held high in alarm as they disappeared behind New York's big grey boulders.I called to the second group we encountered. They all turned when I bleated. Their oversized ears turned towards us. They stared at us with big brown eyes and tried to figure out just what we were.Hank found this cool, so I suggested he try the next one. A few hours later a five point buck lept across the trail. Meekly a first but then stronger, Hank let out a few "baa"s. Sure enough, the deer stopped and turned. We were both pleased.Now I'll have to teach Hank my barred owl and my alligator. That pretty much exhausts the list of animals I can imitate.
Date: 2008-08-20
From: Canopus Lake

To: Hwy 301
Miles today: 1.1

I am better, now that I am collapsed in a bed with a proper potty a doorway away. An amazing trail magician found us at the post office, fed us, toured us about town so we could resupply, and then drove us to our hotel. Before...well, before I was doing poorly.Last night, Hank was not feeling well, so we quit hiking a bit early. It was a pretty little spot to throw a tent: below grand boulders, beside a sparkling lake complete with beaver lodge. Hank napped while I set up camp. Then he sat unhappily under a tree until he threw up. He continued doing so all evening. The moon rose up over the lake. We crawled into the tent and I petted Hank so he could rest. As I slipped into sleep myself, I heard the beaver splash into the water.Then...oh my gosh! I scrambled out of the tent as I rushed to vomit myself. This induced Hank to do the same. There we were on all fours on the forest floor vomiting to the light of the moon.This was Hank's final go. He spent the rest of the night/morning snoring/groaning in his sleeping bag. I was not so fortunate and spent the remainder of my time desperately trying to unzip our tent for the repeat performances. My body could not figure out out of which side it would rather be sick, so it used both - sometimes simultaneously. The mosquitoes took advantage of my weak state.Late in the morning, as I crouched on hands and knees, my britches around my ankles, tears running from my eyes, mucus dripping from my nose, grossness pouring from my mouth, for the first time of the trip, I really, truly wanted to go home.
Date: 2008-08-21
From: Hwy 301

To: Fort Montgomery, NY
Miles today: 0.0

It was an expensive sandwich. Our best guess at what caused our illness: food poisoning from a chicken sandwich. When we bought it two days ago it was $5.95. Little did we know that the fine print included two expensive taxi rides and three nights in a pricey hotel. At least we are feeling better.I had to use up the zero mileage day I had been saving for my birthday next week. Who wants to spend their town day celebrating when they can take it early to lie sick in bed? Blah.We've placed a ban on all visits to remaining NY delis. Silly, I know, but if you'd had our illness and its related expenses you'd want to irrationally lash out at something too!