Date: 2015-08-01
From: Finerty Pond 

To: Tom Lavardi's-Dalton
Miles today: 16.0
Weather: clear sky

Around 4 am, a ferocious thunderstorm blew through. Lightning lit up my tent and thunder rocked me to my core. As usual, I crossed my hands over my chest, coffin style. Because I wasn't freaked out enough. It was close-very close. It went on for about an hour, but it never rained.About 6 am, D.No called my name and dropped my food-bag by my vestibule. I had fallen into a drooling deep sleep after being awake in the night, and I jumped at the sound of his voice. I got out of my tent and the first thing I saw was a no camping sign on the tree 2 feet from my tent. Oops. Since it was almost dark when we got there the night before and we set up quick to get out of the clutches of the little flying vampires, we didn't see it. Plus, it looked like a campsite. It even had a fire ring.We hiked out at 7am, and were treated to the sight of Finerty Pond. It was as still as though it were a snapshot. The light created a dramatic silhouette of the trees in front of it. I stopped and stared, feeling small and plain in the presence of such beauty and serenity. We hiked next to the beautiful pond/lake for a while and I felt sad when we parted ways.Our short term goal was the famous "Cookie Lady". D.No's meds had been forwarded there. The trail was pretty easy, smooth. The light was beautiful this morning. It shone through the breaks in the trees like spotlights, as if Mother Nature was was highlighting her creations. Look at this fern she said, and this rock, and this lichen. It was a wondrous show and never once did those spots shine on us. We are only bit players in her grand production.When I got to the Cookie Ladies place, I found an older man in the backyard hanging a tent on one of those square laundry hanging things. He asked me to help and I did. I told him I would like to buy an ice cream. He went into his house and came back with a little plastic basket lined with a colorful cloth napkin. In the basket was a Klondike Bar and two homemade oatmeal cookies. It was $1.25. I felt like it was not enough money and I gave him another dollar, so he brought me a can of lemonade too. His house was on a beautiful piece of land, flat and expansive in the back, and covered with blueberry patches on the side. Apple trees and a dilapidated small house occupied the front yard. He chatted with us while our phones charged. He is a pilot and sometimes lands his plane in his backyard, but apparently keeps it at a hangar up the road. We never met the Cookie Lady, but we enjoyed her husband, Roy, and we loved her delicious cookies. I believe I will relish the memories of the people we meet on this trail for the rest of my life.We hiked away, 10 miles to go until we reached Dalton. It rained hard for about and hour, but we were somewhat protected by the heavy canopy. The trail got muddy though. The trail began to climb, got rocky again for a while, then smoothed out. We passed a parade of southbound hikers, some friendly and chatty, but many of them so serious and focused, arms working those poles, hiking like the wind. Was I ever like that? I don't remember me at 500 miles. Now I am more of wide eyed spectator, marveling at everything, moseying along, not quite as serious as I was.We hiked with more determination as we got within a couple of miles of town. We wanted to pitch our tent at the famous trail angel Tom Lavardi's house, but we feared the younger and faster gang behind us passing us in the homestretch and taking all of the spots. We made it to town and walked past beautiful homes on manicured lawns. Tom's house was on this street and it seemed odd that we would be able to camp in this fancy neighborhood.Tom was outside when we got there, and he explained the rules. Most important- be quiet. He would throw anyone out who could not control their noise level. He was serious about this and trying hard to preserve this special privilege for hikers, but it was crystal clear that the burden of that would be on us- as it absolutely should be. In his yard, about 5 tents were there, and we whispered and respected his wishes.We went to eat at a place named Jacobs. Great Reuben! I stopped for ice cream at Sweet Peas on the way back. What a terrific little shop! Very friendly owner too. There was a sign in the bathroom politely asking people not to bathe in the sink. Hikers leave a big footprint on these little businesses. As a business owner, I wonder how I would handle the influx of hiker business mixed with reality of hiker smells and practices. We are definitely a mixed bag. I give these little businesses a lot of credit for putting up with us and especially if they are kind and friendly. The tattoo shop next door had a sign that said: NO HIKERS PLEASE.By the By the time I got back, there were 20 tents in the yard-maybe more. Recalc, Tiger Mike and gang were here. Love those guys! I pick up my boots in the morning and I have wrapped all of my hopes and dreams in the thought those ankle hugging gortex saviors.