Date: 2003-07-13
From: Cheshire, MA

To: MA Hywy 2, N. Adam, MA
Miles today: 14.0

Today, we go over Mt. Greylock, our first big climb since early Virginia.I wonder if I can remember how to do it. We've been spoiled the last 700 miles or so, forgotten the trail can stand us on our ear when it has a mind to.I'd gotten a letter from Julie's Day Care Center near here - they have been following my Trail journal and the children had hoped to say hello as I passed through town and right by their playground. They especially liked the stories about bears and rattlesnakes, Julie tells me. Alas, I am passing through on a weekend, and miss the connection.The kids had painstakingly written cards and letters for me, left on the AT message board beside their playground. But a recent rain had destroyed their artwork. I leave a note for the children on the AT message board, duct-taped and tucked in next to the sign warning about black bears. I hope they find it. Itchyfoot himself donated the duct tape.In case it blows off, here's a TJ message: "Hi, kids of Miss Julie's! Thanks for your hard work on the cards and notes. It means a lot. Maybe some of you will hike the Appalachian Trail someday. If I can do it, so can you! It's a beautiful world out there. Happy Trails!"We all walk out of the lovely town of Cheshire, past the famous "cheese monument." Itchy, me and Not So Helpless (Alli) start hiking together. Blue Jay is driving the car around to the North Adams side, and will hike up the steep side southbound, and meet us on the top at the lovely stone Bascom Lodge.We climb and climb, at a comfortable pace, Alli and I chattering away about this and that. It was great to talk and hike with another woman. There are mostly guys out here, and while I enjoy that, a balance is appreciated. Itchy pulled ahead of all this buzzing female energy, and we let him travel. We all caught up at Mark Noepel shelter part way up Greylock's flank. After a snack and the register read, Itchy gets itchy, and moves along to the top."Porcupine alert!" warns a sign there. "Don't let the picnic table touch the shelter floor - porkies are entering and chewing up the shelter."I've been advised to start putting my shoes inside my tent, as the porkies will chew them for the salt.We ARE turning seriously northward. There has been a strong ecosystem shift in the last few days and now, as we climb up Greylock, I once again begin to see the springy, rooty black loams and brown pine-needled trail, all atop cracked rock. It reminds me of scenes from Clingman's Dome and the Long Trail.And the smell! The balsam and spruce combine to make a peaty, fresh scent that invigorates like nothing else. Sharp and clean. It's beyond Christmas - it's the entire holiday.Near the summit, we pass a tiny sub-alpine pond, a dilapidated little cabin on far side. The reflection of the weathered wood in the water was breath-taking. Just the sort of place a person would want to escape to. The AT pulled away, but I knew there had to be a path to this cabin, so Alli and I scouted around. Sure enough, we found the brush-covered trailhead and walked down to the weathered cottage, hardly bigger than a toolshed. Green frogs clucked in the pond, the chill air blew, stirring the tree tops. Our fair skies had greyed up.Just a snap latch on the cabin door, so we walked in and watched the pond through the 8-paned window, glass long gone. Peaceful. A hiker could crash here in a storm.I enjoyed our side trip. It would have taken some convincing to get ItchyFoot to go along, if he even would. But Alli is as much a lollygagging adventuress as I. She is also hiking very strongly for a complete novice up this significant climb.Finally near the finish of the hike to the summit, we run into Reils, a hiker from CT. He's out on a training run for an upcoming trip to the Maine AT. We top a rise in the grey, raw wind and spot the rustic Bascom Lodge. At nearly 3,500 feet, Greylock is Massachusetts's highest point, and like a lot of states, they put an even taller man-made structure on top of that. It's visually attractive though, a stone war memorial with a blue bubble of glass on top. We meet Itchy, who has been patting his foot for an hour, and eat ice cream, which is what ANY self-respecting hiker does upon summitting. A friendly fellow comes up to me and asks my name, tells me he's been following the online journal. Turns out John Halamka is a trauma surgeon by training and a dean of Harvard Medical school in Boston. His trail name is Wireless. He introduces his young daughter, trailname American Girl. I am very impressed that she has hiked up here on her young legs.Wireless is impressed by the timing. He made the reservations for Greylock 3 months ago, and though he had a fleeting thought, never believed our paths would cross.He also met Detective Friday in his attempts to determine my whereabouts. He'd read about the dislocated finger, and offered to examine it. He pronounced the vascularization good, and released the patient back onto the mountainside.Then he does a truly nice- and unnerving - thing. He gives me his card and tells me if I need anything - anything medical, a referral, anything - to give him a call.What does it mean when the universe hands you a well-connected trauma surgeon's card? I believe I will pin the thing to my lapel through the Whites, with a note: "In case of emergency, please call..."Blue Jay meets us, and we head down the steep slopes after sandwiches and coffee on top. On the descent, we meet Nancy, who was also following the journal. The heart and energy it gives you, to know people are getting a kick out of your adventure.Alli gets a little shaky on the descent, but she's done awesomely, if I can invent an adverb. After some peanuts and electrolytes, she feels better. It is a HUGE accomplishment to do the 14-mile Greylock stretch "cold." We high-five her accomplishment.We hit up a Friendly's immediately upon arrival. Barbecued chicken, corn, mashed potatoes, onion rings and a two-scoop fudge sundae for dessert...urp! Blue Jay and Itchy are getting along famously. I am glad of this, because Itchy can be a little, uh, reserved with newcomers. And BJ and Itchy are even more Opposites than me and Itchy. Itchy is enjoying playing the role of the Curmudgeon, I think. And Blue Jay enjoys egging him on to the role. The waitress stops by to ask: "Is everything all right?""Yes, very good," says Itchy. "But it's early yet." I notice, however, Itchy is a good tipper.Blue Jay and Alli insist on taking us home for showers, laundry and lodging. Little did we know we would be kidnapped back two states, to New York!Actually, the farm is right near the MA border, so we are not too far from the actual Trail. It just sounded alarming to hear it. ...no...! not back to NY....!On the farm, we meet Shorty the miniature horse, and also a friendly little Jerusalem donkey. The donkey's little upper lip stretched out to a point and quivered when I scratched the base of his chest. When Itchy scratched him, I got out my camera. I had in mind an amusing caption... use your imagination. Itchy-the-banker took the idea even further and pointed his backside to the camera.....rimshot, please... The guy is really coming out of his shell!Shorty the mini had been abused and was wary of folks touching him. So I had some fun in the setting sun "horse whispering" the little bugger, until he would let me scratch him while he ate his hay. Very peaceful project.Once inside, we take showers. Itchy is pushing to get laundry done, so I take everything out of my pockets and lay the contents on a price-shopper-type newspaper. Blue Jay puts on some CDs - music! - and lets me on the internet to check my journal. My photo guy, Ken, has some new pictures up - check them out. Beautifully collaged. Thanks, Ken! For Trail bars, Alli makes homemade Halvah. It is incredible!!! SERIOUS hiker food. Besides the sesame seed, she uses raw honey for sweetness, and powdered milk to set it up. AWESOME! If she sends me the recipe, I will post it here. Dense, packed with protein and carbs, with the honey as a preservative, this food of the gods deserves a spot in any hiker's foodbag.The final bit of spoiling I get from these two is a night's sleep on a waterbed. Can you say "Goodnight, Irene?"