Date: 2017-07-29
From: Congden Camp lean to

To: Mt Greylock
Miles today: 20.3
Weather: heavy intensity rain

It's not often that I get going before 7am, and when I do it's usually to do with food. And I was eating within seconds of leaving the lean to. Unfortunately I was eating spiders, since the privilege of being the first on the trail each day is to break through the spider webs that industrious but ill-located arachnids build across the path of the AT.It took nearly an hour for a nobo to appear, heralding the end of my spider buffet. He was glad to hear the way was clear all the way to Congden Camp but apologised for only having walked for 40 minutes or so since his stealth campsite. Fortunately others were also heading north by then and by the time I'd reached where he'd camped, other nobos were on the trail, allowing me instead to concentrate on a different prospective meal: half-price Papa John's pizza.I'm not even entirely sure why Papa John's Pizza is such a drawcard, since there's a high chance that it'll be the same old standard bland corporate pizza purveyed by a gazillion similar franchises. The half price thing isn't exactly essential either, since I'm not just another cash-strapped hiker.I was mulling over these points on the hike -- which, spoiler alert, proved no more muddy than most of the rest of the trail -- when some nobos approached. When I asked if they'd availed themselves of the pizza deal, they said there was trail magic at the school in North Adams, entailing burgers, sodas, fruit and... Papa John's pizzas."Free is better than half price," one of them quipped. And the school was right on trail, saving the half-mile each way side trip.After scaling a few small hills to make it to the Vermont-Massachusetts border and the official southern terminus of the Long Trail, I wrote a brief message in the register, adding: "Nobos: want to make a sobo laugh? Just complain about the mud of Vermont."Massachusetts introduced itself by having a few muddy patches that were otherwise indistinguishable from the "Vermud" variety, but that abruptly changed after less than a mile when the terrain turned steep and rocky -- a notable contrast to Vermont's rolling hills. These rocks turned rather more treacherous when the trail plunged down through a steep tallus slope of TV- sized rocks."No wonder there's no mud in Massachusetts," I thought to myself. "It's hidden under all these boulders."But in time the slope and difficulty moderated, causing a corresponding increase in speed, and I cantered down to the spread-out township.More nobos advised of the ongoing trail magic at the school and soon I was making my way across the grassy field to where a group of hikers and clean, city-dressed people were mulling around.It turned out I'd chanced upon the Brigadoon of North Adams trail magic. As an awareness-raising initiative for the AT, the last Saturday of July was used to have a family hike on a local trail and then, for four hours, a grill-up was held for anyone who passed.Usually these kinds of events are held by former hikers looking for a way to repay their karmic debt from the help they'd received. But this one was organised by Josh, a non-hiker who serves on the city council and wants to promote North Adams and to reduce any feelings of friction or lack of understanding between the locals and these strange smelly hikers who traipse through their town during the summer months.He was the one who'd organised the Papa John's pizza deal for hikers, by negotiating with the franchisee, and he also had set up a scheme at his house, close to where nobos enter North Adams, with bicycles available for free for hikers to use to get around the spread-out town when resupplying.Did I mention the food? There was stacks of it, including the bland corporate pizza, but the packs of fresh fruit received my full attention. Josh had been worried about ordering too much, still not yet fully adjusted to the locust-like traits of those who had walked between 600 and 1500 miles to get to this point.The meal wound down around 3pm, and it took half an hour of digesting before I could even contemplate putting my pack back on. Once I did, I was among the first to leave, and also one of only two sobos.Fuelled, as expected, by pizza, my goal was the top of Mt Greylock, the supposed final mountain for 500 miles. It was also home to a war memorial and a lodge built as a work project in the depression. The latter had a bunkroom for AT hikers, including the prospect of breakfast.The ascent was made more memorable by seeing a day hiker above who tried in vain to outpace my climbing abilities with a full pack. It turned out to be Jim, one of those who'd attended the trail magic but who I hadn't spoken to. He was a triple crowner who'd managed to complete all three of the main long trails via section hiking.He made for good company, as we discussed his various adventures, the local hiking scene and topics as diverse as the bastardisation of terms like trail magic, which originally referred to acts of incredible on-trail serendipity but now just referred to coolers of cold sodas or feeds such as the one we'd just enjoyed at the school.Halfway to the summit, he headed back down to his car while I continued on a good but steep path along the summit ridge to the top of Mt Greylock, where I found myself surrounded by the kind of rotund tourists who'd driven up here.The same timing that provided trail magic, a midsummer Saturday, worked against my plan to stay at the lodge's bunkroom. A wedding party from Boston, I was informed, had booked the entire lodge.That was fine, since there were plenty of places to stealth-camp nearby. And I'd already confirmed that the lodge would be serving breakfast from 8am. Win!Life is good.AT fact of the day: Another sobo rocked up about half an hour after me. Simon was a young German guy who'd started on July 1 -- IE, nearly a month after me -- and has caught me up, having seen my entries in the hut registers getting nearer to his own. His goal is to be done in 100 days.