Date: 2003-07-01
From: Greymoor Friary

To: RPH Cabin Shelter
Miles today: 18.8

Welcome to July 1, the start of my fifth month on the AT.I slept late. I must have needed it. I haven't slept past 7 am in a long time. But this younger crowd sleeps in some, then hikes fast to make the same miles as I do.Swift Sandal has joined the company of the Five Alive since PA. He gets up earlier, then waits patiently until one of them is ready to hike out. I guess that's an oxymoron, isn't it, "waiting patiently." One is either waiting, or patient. Sandal is patient. It's a blessed trait to be around. What's the rush?The blue sky is cloudless and the sun beams down today, even in the long green tunnel. I hike alone, enjoying the peace of making my own schedule again. Not that it wasn't always mine to make, I chose to partner up. I just like the contrasts. Life is change, right? Why not ride the various currents with a "Yee-HAW!"?One thing that is changing is my legs. I like that. It took them awhile to muscle up. I have a new little muscle on the insides of my knees -I rarely wear my knee braces anymore. My favorite muscle in one I've never seen before. Between my shin bone and the bulk of my calves, on the inside, is a long, thin stripe of muscle that is starting to pop out. I wonder what that does? Clearly, I've been needing it...I ate my lunch alone, in the shady breeze of a rocky hilltop. I was no sooner peeling the egg I'd hard-boiled in Curtis' NYC kitchen than a burly fellow with a definite thru-hiker look appeared. Allow me to digress here a bit. Thru-hikers just have this "look". Lean, muscled, tattered, hungry and DEFINITELY hairy. The hiker Mud told me last night that he, too, went to NYC for the day. "And I was noticing how there are no beards anywhere in The City," he recounted. "As I'm thinking this, two guys with beards walk by, and I say 'Are you guys thru-hikers?' Turned out, they were!" Of the millions of folks in NY, what are the odds of three thru-hikers finding each other?Anyway, this hiker is going south, The Wrong Way, and I tease him about it. His name was Bear Bait, and he is doing a NY/NJ flip-flop, meaning he got dropped off at the CT border and is walking south to DWG on the PA border."That way you get to see everyone," I observe.I was to met my friend Skeeter, another AT-L hiking list buddy, at NY 301. Those darn hills just kept getting in the way! I wasn't making my times. Luckily, Skeeter is a thru-hiker from '92, and it was second nature to just start walking southbound on the Trail. He found me within 15 minutes, and handed me a Gator-Ade. Thru-hikers KNOW!He stuffed me and my newly Fabreezed pack into the car and drove me into the charming riverside town of Cold Springs, NY. We ate ice cream immediately upon arrival, then walked down to the Hudson to view West Point from across the river.Soon, it was time to eat. Skeeter thought he knew a great pub to eat at, but it turned out to be "closed for renovations." It was reopening under new management. It was now the Sante Fe Cafe, and the permits were not yet in order. We must have looked mighty disappointed - "I just walked 1400 miles," I might have wailed - because the handsome owner then said "In that case, come in, tonight you are my guests." And so we were! He took us into the kitchen to meet Johnny, the cook, who asked if we wanted steak or pasta. He served us both anyway. Since Skeeter is largely vegetarian, I got to eat his steak too! Bonanza!He suggested we go across the street to buy beer. So there we were, sitting at a prime sidewalk table, in a cafe with no liquor license, drinking Coronas with lime, eating in a cafe that isn't open yet.Great food: a huge bowl of guacamole, a green salad, of course steaks, bowl of rice, big bowl of pasta... Urp!"If I'd known you were coming I'd have baked a cake... " said the manager, our personal server.They would take no money, even the "first dollar" we tried to give them.Skeeter was great fun, filling me in on the states ahead, and even the John Muir Trail, which I might do next fall (relax, brother, it's only 3 weeks.) Skeeter then drove me back to the Trailhead. It was now, ah, er... 7:30 pm, and I had 7 more miles to hike. That's 3 1/2 hours, or 11 pm... "Better take your headlamp." he said. To help me out, he took my pack forward to RPH cabin, a shelter you can drive to. We bought some jugs of water, since the well was rusty and poor there. We threw in the leftover beer and some GatorAde, our gift to the hikers at RPH. I took my camera (hard to replace), a water bottle, my guidebook page and a light. As I am starting out, Just Greg at the Trailhead gives me the report on the trail ahead.The first hour wasn't bad, but for the next two hours I am walking in total darkness. It's spooky, I must say. I've night-hiked with friends for hours, night-hiked alone for up to 20 minutes, night-hiking in a good moon, but this was extended solo "dark" hiking.Mostly I was afraid of getting lost without any gear with which to crash. The Trail was very hard to follow over rock in broad daylight sometimes, and almost impossible at night. The blazes were sometimes so very faint that they were hard to distinguish in full light.Also, I could hear large things crashing away through the brush in the dark at my approach. I tried to visualize all the deer that I'd seen, but all my mind could conjure up was a sow bear and her cubs. My mind just wouldn't shut up.I crested Shenandoah Mt. just as the night receded to a pale orange rim in the west, a sliver moon hanging on the horizon and a star or planet beside it. That tiny bit of light was heartening before plunging back into the forest blackness.Miraculously, I found the trail, though several times I had to backtrack to check myself. Here's how it happened, and it's still a head-shaker to me.I have been teaching the very physical art of horseback riding dressage, to be specific - for decades. I have come to trust "body knowledge" - the wisdom that comes from repetition, that is before thought. When I needed to walk, my feet - faithful feet! - put their workhorse shoulders into the harness and just...started...walking. After 1400 miles on the AT, they had learned a thing or two about path-walking.I watched in amazement as they led me around a tree, then a turn, then another turn. My headlamp was too weak to define the ground, only point to it. Truly, my feet led me down the garden path.Of course my mind tried to second-guess, but when I went back to check on blazes, the feet were always right. In three hours time, they led me right to RPH Cabin.Let's hear it for The Feet...clap, clap, clap! My pack was hanging right on the back door, thank you Skeeter. I was aware I've been burning the candle at both ends, and I needed rest. Tomorrow would be a big day too, pushing on to be in Kent by the 4th of July. I had my food hung and tent set up by 10:50 pm. By 11, this hiker was in Dreamland.