Date: 2004-08-19
From: Route 7, Great Barrington, MA

To: Wilcox North Lean-to
Miles today: 13.5

Up early to stretch, shower (boy, I love hot water and flush toilets these days!), and then head across the street to Friendly¢s for breakfast while reading 30+ pgs. of faxes from the office. By the time I finished making phone calls and hitting the Price Chopper for wheat wraps and cheese, it was already noon. ¢Scorch¢ was waiting patiently, and within moments of reaching the road, she had us a ride. Remarkable thumb on that girl!As we started across the field toward the Berkshires that lay on the other side of the Housatonic River, I knew it was ¢one of those days.¢ I¢m sure you know what I mean- some days you¢ve got it, and some days you don¢t. This was one of those days when I just ain¢t got it. My legs felt like lead. My quads were aching just at the sight of the mountains ahead, and we were still on the flatlands. Another way to put it as I learned from one of the shelter logs down in Maryland, ¢we were still where the trail had prairied out.¢ With each passing minute, ¢Scorch¢ got further and further ahead of me, as I worked up a heavy sweat in the humid summer¢s air. It took me 3 hours and 20 minutes to get to the first shelter, which was 6.4 miles along our route. When I arrived, ¢Scorch¢ was getting ready to leave, having arrived there quite a bit before me. At this rate, I wasn¢t going to make it to the intended shelter destination until after dark. This was unacceptable to me, so after she left I downed a couple of late afternoon sardine and cheese burritos, drank a liter of peach iced tea, and then had a little heart-to-heart with myself. You know, an attitude re-alignment session, a pep talk, as ass kicking, and an inspirational and highly motivational speech all rolled into one. Once I had that out of my system, I saddled up and knocked out the next 6.4 miles in just a little over two hours ¢ a vast improvement, I should say.About a mile from the shelter though, I slammed on the brakes and stood mesmerized for a good 20 minutes by the beauty of the scene with which the AT presented me. Just off the trail to the left was one of the most pristine beaver ponds I have ever seen, either in person or on the Nature Channel. Across from me and just below the setting sun was a rock wall topped with ferns and mosses. Between the rocks and me, at a distance of about 100 yards was a pond, in the center of which was a beaver house, that stood five or six feet high,. To my left I could see the top of the dam that created this pond, the water of which was so clear you automatically looked through it to the grasses and leaves and rocks and stumps that constituted its bottom. To the right, a large marsh had been created, and within it an entirely new ecosystem supporting untold numbers of varieties and new generations of water, mud, grass and tree dwellers. As I stood there, I saw the proud creator of this water habitat make his evening rounds through my monocular. The beaver moved so slowly it did not leave a wake, and I thought I could see a smile of pleasure on its face as it surveyed its home and dam and surrounding pond (Such a peaceful, natural moment of grace). I finally dragged myself away, got to the Wilcox North shelter that was empty except for ¢Scorch¢ and a few thousand bugs and mosquitoes. I had a quick dinner, a little conversation, did some journaling, and now to repay these old bones, have settled down for a good night¢s sleep.