Date: 2003-07-25
From: Stratton Pond Shelter

To: VT 11/30
Miles today: 10.6

Once again, it rained all night. One day, I am going to go back and count all the journal entries where the word "rain" shows up.Against expectation, it cleared in the morning, but left wet foliage and sloppy, muddy going in its wake. "Am I in Cambodia?" said Nuke, splashily hiking up behind me.I am rather stiff today. Yesterday, hiking in the rain, I'd stepped on the smooth board of one of the bog bridges. Whooooops! I went hydroplaning on one leg, unable to put the landing gear down. I'd skidded and fallen heavily off the bridge in the duff on my right side. Well, nothing broken and at least it wasn't muddy. But I feel it today.At one point, the Trail becomes a tangle of downed trees. About 2 dozen have been knocked over, torn up by the roots or splintered partway up. Their leaves are still on and relatively fresh. Are these the remnants of the small tornado Cosmo told me about? I shudder to think what it might be like hiking during such a powerful wind storm.Trying to limbo under one limb, I slip and fall again. This time, it's muddy on landing. Lovely! Well, I'll get a shower in town today.For old times sake, I revisit Prospect Rock, with it's windy views of Manchester. We camped here last year. I remembered the scene, clouds skimming the far mountaintops.At Spruce Peak shelter, I leave a final note for Chief and Notes, telling them my plans. I will hike only 11 or so miles today, to town, then get a room, dawdle, and hike just three miles up to Bromley Peak warming hut. "Light that methane generator of a backside," I urge Chief. I can't go any slower than a 7-mile average over two days!At the road, I get a hitch within five minutes from Sabine, a friendly French girl who cooks at one of the fancy local inns. She drove me to the post office and then to Suttons, my motel option. But that was full. All the other motels were full too - there was a five-week series of hunter-jumper horse shows in town. Aaargh! Sabine was now late for work, and had to drop me somewhere. I now had a armload of packages as well as my backpack. She gave me her number and bade me to call if I ran out of options. That was awfully nice.She dropped me off at an outfitters, as they sometimes knew of private citizens who took hikers in. No dice.I DID get my new shoes in the mail though, and wanted to send my old ones home. Why, I'm not sure. I also had to remail my drift box forward. So I lumbered back to a small post office extension on my sore feet, in the blazing sun, arms full, in sugar deficit, sticky, hot, unshowered, unhoused, feeling pretty unloved and grumped out at this point. Yes, life was not meeting my expectations again. Ha! So much for remaining untroubled by external circumstances. Sometimes someone being nice to you can turn things right around.A woman about my age walked up to me as I was sitting on the hot pavement outside the post office. "Do you need a ride back to the Trailhead?" she asked.Well, the last thing I needed right then was a ride back to the Trail. I hadn't even had my coffee yet! But it wasn't her fault, she was just going out of her way to be nice."Thanks," I said. "I've just gotten IN to town and need to find a room. But that was very kind of you.""We own a bed and breakfast about six miles out of town," she said. Six miles doesn't sound like much - unless you're afoot with sore feet and multiple town chores to manage. I demurred, saying I had lots to do in town. Besides, I thought, resort area B&Bs are too rich for a thru-hiker's blood."Well," she said, taking her leave, "here's my number if you change your mind. We'll offer you the thru-hiker rate, and we'll be in town tonight, so can shuttle you in after you've done your chores." Anne, I read, of Alpenrose Inn. Well! I could have been hardly less inviting to this Trail angel, and she still was offering aid.After mailing my packages, I ate a huge Cobb salad at a very expensive deli, and chased it with a liverwurst sandwich and coffee. My mood lifted as the sky darkened. I was outside at an umbrella-ed table. Just like that, it began to rain buckets. Reluctant to go trudging out in the downpour in my brand, new, clean, virgin shoes, I sat there huddled in my rain gear for about 15 minutes. Then, just like that, the skies cleared to blue. Time for dessert. I walked down to Bagel Works, a bakery that made yummy sandwiches. A heavy young gal behind the counter ignored me pointedly, though I was the only one in the place. As I had time to kill, I thought it would be an interesting experiment to see how long it would take for her to acknowledge me. After about five minutes, she turned to me and asked sullenly "Can I help you?" No eye contact.I asked a question about the berry smoothie, and then, hoping to cajole a smile out of her, asked "Are you having a bad day?" "Yes," she answered sulkily. "I'm here all alone and no one is here to help me," though the shop was empty of customers and someone was preparing sandwiches in the back.She added, possibly hoping to discourage yet another burdensome order requiring her attention: "Your smoothie will take at least ten minutes."Ha! You just can't buy service like that anymore!On the other hand, I had been the unhappy one just a hour earlier. I remembered what a little kindness had done for my black mood."Well, hey" I replied, still hoping to coax forth a smile, "Bad days suck. But I'm an innocent woman!" I clasped my hands over heart in a dramatic fashion.It fell flat. No smile. Not a twinkle of humor in those eyes. Somebody else here who needed a long hike. The next 15 minutes were a clamor of chair banging and aggressive table wiping."Well, " I tried again, as I paid her, "I sure hope your day improves." I wasn't being snotty either, I meant it this time. It's like being in prison, being so unhappy. I know."Oh, she said, "it won't." The smoothie, by the way, was very weak - Ha! A $3.50 lesson in minding my own.So there I am sitting in the bagel shop sunshine, updating this journal, and the unhappy shop girl has just come up and offered me my choice of bagged bread loaves - french or multigrain. For free. "We're just going to throw them out," she said. I select a crusty french, for it's ability to stand up to "pack crush," then manage to make eye contact as I thank her heartily. Did I see a hint of a glimmer there in the depths of that flat affect? I believe I did. You just never know.After a lovely time at EMS, where they watched my pack while I finished town chores, I bought more Aqua Mira water treatment, then hung out at McDonald's until my ride came.David, innkeeper of Alpenrose and husband of my Trail angel Anne, stuffed me and my pack into the car while son Kierdan introduced his 11-year old sister Aeran. I couldn't believe the poise of these kids. And direct eye contact.Aeran pumped me about the AT. "I am going to do it one day when I'm older," she declared. I turned to look at her."That's terrific!" I tell her. You could tell, this wasn't just idle kid talk. She had a genuine interest.The Alpenrose Inn was lovely, with a huge stone hearth, quilts on the beds and incredible mattresses. After a hot shower, I quickly fall fast asleep in this homey, hospitable family's inn.Not where I'd planned to end up my day. Better than that. You just never know.