Date: 2004-08-19
From: Melville Nauheim Shelter, VT

To: Hunger Pangs
Miles today: 17.4

This morning, a hiker at the picnic table by the shelter offered me some homemade cookies. I accepted his offer. He opened up a plastic bag and reached for some cookies that were broken into chunks. At that moment, I regretted having accepted his offer. I have avoided eating any foods that other people have handled. A research study revealed that the primary reason people get sick with giardia types of illnesses is eating food after having not washed one's hands thoroughly following a visit to an outhouse. Because I had already accepted this person's offer, I ate one of his cookies. I hope he follows proper sanitary habits.I ate a paltry breakfast to conserve my dwindling food supply. My intention was to resupply tomorrow at Stratton Mountain, where a gondola would take me down to a ski village open during the summer. In the meantime, I would ration my food consumption.On the trail I met a southbound hiker named Rocks; he said we had previously met on the trail. I told him that since he was a southbounder and I was hiking north, it was impossible for us to have met. Then he told me that he had been hiking north in Virginia and had "flipped" at some point along the way. Now he was hiking south from Maine. He said that we had camped in a shelter with the hiker, Slowtrain. I felt a tad embarrassed that he remembered me but I had not remembered him.I stopped for lunch at a shelter near the summit of Glastenbury Mountain. As I prepared to eat, I observed a note written on a message board; it stated that the gondola on Stratton Mountain was operating only on weekends. This was bad news for me. I had been depending on that gondola to get down that mountain tomorrow, a Friday, for the purposes of resupply. I reduced the size of my lunch as I pondered my options.In the meantime, the wind picked up and a cold rain began to fall. The shelter was situated at over 3,540 feet in elevation. I put on my rain gear, something I had not done in a long time. I usually walk in the rain with only an umbrella. But the rain up here was colder than I had encountered down in the South.The combination of the bad news and the rainfall left me feeling bummed out. I hit the trail with 812 miles to go to another shelter.The rain let up when the trail lead me to a lower elevation. As the afternoon wore on, I struggled to maintain a steady hiking pace. Wet rocks and mud hindered my progress. It was a lack of energy that slowed me down the most. The last three meals that I had eaten had been reduced in size. The lack of calories was affecting my energy. I was dragging on the uphills.It was late in the day, just as the rain came back, when I arrived at the Story Spring Shelter.I am sharing the shelter with five other hikers and a dog. I have no desire to string up my hammock in the rain. One of the hikers is a young man fresh out of the Marines. He is thru hiking southbound. His face is clean shaven, unlike most thru hikers. When he speaks to me, his sentences contain the word, "sir." My dwindling food supply weighs on my mind. I have remaining what would normally be food for 112 meals. Where and when will I resupply?I have three options:1. Hike twenty-one miles to Route 30, then hitch into Manchester Center. This distance is probably too far for a single day of hiking given the wet trail conditions and my lack of strength due to food rationing.2. Hike down a ski slope from the summit of Stratton Mountain, buy food, and hike back up. This option would mean lots of hard hiking off of the Appalachian Trail. And there is a possibility the ski village at the bottom might not be open because the gondola will not be operating.3. Hike 18 miles to Spruce Peak Shelter. On the following morning, hike three miles to Route 30 and hitch into Manchester. This will mean that tomorrow, I would be hiking and camping again with little food.I don't know what option to choose. I will sleep on the decision.When I sleep in a shelter, I lay down with my head at the back. Most people prefer laying with their head at the front. Above me, my food bag¢actually a stuff sack¢is hanging on a string and tuna can contraption. The tuna can stops a mouse from getting down the string and into the sack. My backpack hangs from a couple of nails protruding from a beam on the ceiling. There are some lines of parachute chord strung across the entrance of the shelter. My damp hiking clothes, bandana, and muddy shoes are hanging on these lines. I am composing this journal entry as I sit with my back against the rear wall of the shelter. Everyone else is sleeping. The time has come to turn off my headlamp, plunge the shelter into darkness, and go to sleep. But a final task remains. I must stand up and rummage through my backpack for a pair of earplugs. Somebody in the other side of this shelter is snoring. The earplugs and a hat that I am wearing will muffle the sound of the snores. The ear plugs are buried inside a plastic zip lock bag. I hate handling plastic bags when other people are sleeping; those bags make a crinkling sound that is annoying. But listening to snoring in a shelter is also annoying, and it lasts longer.