Date: 2015-06-24
From: Self-made stealth campsite near smelly pond

To: Unionville, NY
Miles today: 16.0
Weather: broken clouds

So... I don't think I was supposed to camp next to that pond last night. Although AWOL's guide listed camping there, there were definitely not any campsites there. I passed Mashipacong Shelter, where the AT takes a bizarre turn. I went the wrong way, which must be a common mistake, because there is actually a sign reading "THIS IS NOT THE A.T.". I redirected myself after asking the shelter dwellers, "Where IS the A.T.?!". It kind of took a sharp curve and headed directly behind the shelter.AND THEN I crossed Deckertown Turnpike, where there was a sign saying that you're only supposed to camp near shelters. Oops... Welcome to the land of inconvenient camping, Red Panda. No water and too many rocks in Pennsylvania, now this!Anyway my illegal campsite turned out to be an excellent spot. My bear bag survived intact, as did I. It was surprisingly crisp and chilly when I woke up, but it turned into a hot, sunny afternoon as I hiked. I was glad to get up and early to beat the heat.I still love hiking in the morning. I was so pumped this morning, if felt like my mind was thinking and my body was hiking even more intensely than usual. That itch, that bug, the desire to hike, is so strong sometimes.I crossed into High Point State Park and could see the memorial tower in the distance, looming above the world like an obelisk of doom. It was SO AWESOME. The guidebook says "Green-blazed trail 0.3W to 220' tower atop highest point in NJ", which didn't make it sound that great. But when I SAW it?! I knew I had to climb it. I NEEDED to climb it. I didn't care that I had to get off the trail, I was going for it.And it was soooo worth that 0.3 uphill climb. I climbed up all 291 stairs (ALSO WORTH IT) to the top and peered out the little windows, all fogged with condensation, and for a few minutes, I was the highest person in all of New Jersey. Another cool place visited, another tall tower climbed.I passed a group of Boy Scouts and their leaders, who asked if I was thru-hiking, and when I had started. A boy named James gave me a CLIF bar. My heart melted yet again. "We're teaching them about trail magic," one of the troop leaders explained, and told me how they had both given (by paying for a hiker's meal) and received (chocolate milk) trail magic. Kudos to those guys for doing a great job raising their kids.They also showed me a great picture they took of Scott Jurek, which made me a little disappointed that I missed him yesterday. But at least I got to see the picture.Then I passed a couple of teenage boys with fishing rods in their hands, heading south past me to a pond. It strangely reminded me that it's SUMMER. (By the way, the 21st, the first day of summer, was Hike Naked Day, which I opted not to participate in). I spend all day hiking and end up forgetting about other summer activities. It made me a little sad, thinking of all the things I am missing out on... biking and kayaking, swimming (although I have had a couple of good on-trail swims), cookouts and picnics with family and friends...The trail is worth sacrificing all of these things for a year, of course. Especially since an awesome trail magic picnic is still in the works!Today, the trail seemed even more like home than before. It was like walking through Goshen. Rolling hayfields reminded me of my grandparents' farmland, boardwalks through swamps reminded me of White Memorial and the swamp down the road. And the forest... the sparse understory and dry leaves crackling underfoot, the stonewalls marking ancient property lines and field boundaries... the forest reminded me of home, of the magic that drew me out here in the first place.Sometimes I realize how much of a miracle it is that my hike has been so successful. One time, Chris and I were talking about how, on the first day at Springer Mountain, you could kind of pick out the people you knew weren't going to last very long.And Chris talked about how totally, stupidly, ridiculously unprepared some people are. They have never been backpacking, never tried out their gear.And I had to admit, I have never REALLY been backpacking before. I was a little ashamed to tell him that. I was totally rolling the dice by coming out here without much practical experience. How did I know I wouldn't hate backpacking from the first day? It was totally possible that I would summit Springer and be totally ready to go back home.At the same time, I'm not a TOTAL idiot. I researched nonstop for months. I read trail journals while I walked on the treadmill, researched gear while watching Downton Abbey with mom and Dan, and sent Trail Mentor Alexa dozens of emails asking oblivious questions. I did everything I knew how to do to prepare myself. I think I drove Dan a little crazy with my AT obsession. One time I heard him say to my mom, "Always the AT!". (Sorry, Dan. Thanks for being my super-supportive pizza fairy).Despite my extensive research and prep, I was still a little worried. Long day hikes and research are no substitute for actual backpacking experience. Just because I enjoyed hiking and loved the IDEA of hiking the trail, that didn't mean that I would love it in practice. I told friends and family repeatedly, "Don't let me quit. Don't let me give up. Not unless I have a really good reason.".But of course, I loved the trail and the journey from the first day. "You sound so happy!" my mom would say when I called her during those first days. And I was. I LOVED it. I love every amazing day. I have never wanted to quit. I have wanted to take a break and go home, sure, but never have I wanted to leave the trail for good. No day, no moment has ever been bad enough for me to think, "I want to end my hike.".So was I a bit of an idiot for throwing myself onto the trail? Sure, but I at least knew myself well enough to know I would almost certainly enjoy it, and that I'd give it my best shot.And the other day (maybe yesterday?!), Chris, Coco, Magnus and I discussed our Facebook job listings as "Appalachian Trail Thru-Hiker" and I laughed at the idea. But Chris said, "I think we are all professional hikers at this point."And you know what? I have been backpacking through the woods for nearly three months. That kind of does put me at least above the average hiker, right? Not that I would be able to talk much about gear other than my own or trails other than the AT, but I know a little. It was weird to think of myself in that way, to define myself as a hiker, a backpacker.So I am a hiker by trade now. I professionally spend 8+ hours a day stumbling through the woods, scaling rock piles, falling on my face, and drinking questionable water. What a fine profession to have, hiking. And what an amazing day to hike today was. Beautiful places, beautiful memories, beautiful weather! My New England blood thrummed in my veins as I weaved my way through the forest today, each and every ecosystem awakening some different thrill inside of me.After passing through swamp and field, I started hitting roads. Gravel roads, paved roads... signs of civilization! I picked the southernmost route into Unionville, NY and headed into town.And when I got there, the post office was closed for lunch. Bummer, right?WRONG. Because there is a general store, where I got a Powerade, and an Italian restaurant, Annabel's, where I ordered a salad and a personal pizza, splurging with the $20 Kate sent (thank you, Kate!). And they were amazing. They totally made up for the not-so-good pizza in Delaware Water Gap. I didn't even need dinner tonight (though that didn't stop me from enjoying a couple of snacks... I do have a problem...).I sat outside the General Store to charge my phone and enjoy my gorgefest (mom, don't let me eat M&Ms when I get home!). Then I picked up my box and returned to sort through my foodstuffs. A man in the store (the owner, maybe, or maybe also a town official?!) told me that if I wanted to stay in town, I could camp in the park, where there was running water, and a PortaPotty, and I would have access to the store and restaurant.My original plan was to hike into town, pick up my mail drop, and then continue on to the next shelter and stay there for the night. More miles meant north, and Connecticut is north. I explained that I was itching to get home. "But you have to stop and smell the roses." He pointed out.I sat outside, puzzling over my guidebook pages (no good camping for MILES, WHAT IS THIS?!). And the wheels in my head turned. He was right. It's the problem I always have. Learning to slow down. Also, my stomach was so full of pizza and salad and snacks, I wasn't even sure if I could make it back to the trail without barfing.So I called my mom to let her know I won't be getting quite as far north this week. In the background, Dan was asking why I sent back half a bag of M&Ms with my running shoes. "I am trying to cut back." I explained. My M&M eating has been getting out of control again. My trail mix has been thoroughly picked over. I am stuck with only nuts and craisins for the next few days. I may go through withdrawal.After my phone call, I embraced my vagabond hobo lifestyle and pitched my tent in a public park. I did fill out a permit, though (you need a permit to PICNIC here... what?!).And I spent hours laying in the grass in the park, reading my book, examining the guide, updating my mile chart, scrubbing slug slime off of my tent, and journaling.I don't even mind that I had to take my bath (by hose) in public or that the greenhouse PortaPotty has been baking in the sun all day. At least I won't have to dig a hole, right?I am living in the moment, I guess. Why not, right?! My friend bubble is already a bit broken. I am ready to meet new people (or not, and seclude myself for a while... that's okay, too). I have enjoyed a gorgeous day and rested my poor aching feet, and I still have plenty of time to spend reading more of my book.I am happy. I mean, how many people out there would LOVE to be sitting outside reading all afternoon? I am lucky to have the opportunity. I'll take it while I can.I had a short talk with Last Minute, who is also camping in the park and who stayed at the same shelter as the Aussie Legs last night (they may be in front if me now!). He told me that he isn't on the trail for the social aspect. "I totally understand." I told him.I am thankful not only for my CLIF bar gift but also for the thought behind it, and knowledge that a new generation of trail angels is in the making. I am thankful for my pizza money gift, too. I am thankful for ALL the gifts the trail has given me - I am one lucky girl.And of course, I am thankful for health and happiness, and sunshine, breezes, and shady walks. And terrifyingly tall, awesome towers.