Date: 2013-08-03
From: Russ & Tanya's House, Fall's Village, CT

To: Campsite near Laurel Ridge Campsite
Miles today: 16.8

It was short night. Like a 5 1/2 hr kind of short night. My alarm went off, and all I could do was whimper. Russ had to work that morning, so he had to get me back out to the trail before. We stopped at Dunk'n Donuts and grabbed some breakfast sandwiches. He took me back to the trailhead, and we took a photo together. Hopefully it won't be 5 years before I see him again. I hefted my pack on, and it felt sooooo heavy. That's the worst thing about zero days and resupplies. Your pack jumps at least 10 lbs. The trail passed by the Great Falls, the second largest/highest waterfalls in the US after Niagara Falls. Nothing against the Great Falls, but there's a significant leap between them and Niagara Falls. But I walked out to the edge and took some photos. There were some empty Coors Light cans strewn about. It's unfortunately. I wasn't willing to pack them out, so they'll be there for the next hiker that passes through I passed up and over Mt. Prospect without much notice. Then I got to Rand's View. I sat down on a stump and took almost an hour to absorb all its beauty. It was a wide open field that looked across to the bread-loaf shaped mountains. They were tall and dropped off suddenly. There seemed to be layers of them, and the overcast morning haze just accentuated each layer. I ate my second breakfast and some cherries. A hiker in a kilt emerged from the woods. I called out to him, so as not to surprise him. His name was Eric, and he was hilarious! He had me in stitches. I passed by the Giant's Thumb soon after. It was a large stone monolith that looked like a good old fashion Aggie Gig'em. Whoop!I passed through some beautiful wild-flower filled pastures and several difference types of forests. That's one thing that still surprises me out here, how quickly the forest changes moods. It makes me think of how big cities have their various neighborhoods that have their own ethnic and cultural identities. So, too, does the forest. But the transition is so smooth and seamless that sometimes I don't notice. Hemlock to hardwood, open to dense, wet and marshy to dry and powdery, stone to dirt. I got to the top of Lions Head. There was a nice vista. Another hiker was sitting on a rock, ankle crossed across his knee. I said, "Hello, how are you?" He turned to look at me through is dark-rimmed glasses. His face scrunched up to size me up. "Hi" was all he said, and then he turned back to the view. Okie, dokey, I thought. I kept going. The mountain and woods were crawling with hikers. It seemed that the villages and cities had empty of their citizens and released them into the wilds. I passed Brassie Brook shelter, and at least 15 passed me over a 4 minute time frame. They were all headed for the shelter. Looks like I would camping.I passed the 1500 mile mark, woohoo! so I stopped to take a few photos to commemorate the occasion. I hiked up Bear Mountain and stood atop the stone viewing platform. There was practically a 360 degree view. I could see Massachusetts. I was almost there. But first, Connecticut had to (please forgive me this one) bitch-slap me one more time. There was a big, steep, rocky, slide-on-my-bum-a-couple-of-times, half-mile down hill. Seriously, Connecticut? Seriously? Yes, this state definitely had a mean-streak. As soon as I hit the Massachusetts border, it started to drizzle. I didn't care. I was in state #11. Yeah! Massachusetts welcomed me with a beautiful river side hike. A fast-moving creek cut through the grey, moss covered stones. The evening's sun cut through the trees. Sharp, grey stones that looked like broken ogres' teeth served as stepping stones alongside the water's edge. What a welcome surprise. Too bad my knees and feet were shot. I talked to a ridge runner at Sage's Ravine. It would have been a great place to camp, but I wanted to get a bit farther. So I pushed on to Laurel Ridge Campsite. It was full to the brim. I could hear people laughing and talking. I was greeted by another ridge-runner, Jim. He walked me to the different tenting areas, but they were pretty packed. He directed me down to another campsite. It was under restoration and typically closed, but that seemed like my best option. I pitched my tent, and Jim said he was going out the cliffs a little ways down the trail to watch the sunset, and he invited me to join him. I got myself settled and then walked over. I was so glad I did. The sun was actually setting behind us, but the spectacular light show was happening right before our eyes. The hills looked like they were wearing powdery pink clown's wig. Wisps of clouds filled the crevices of valleys. What a great ending to a day.