Date: 2003-08-13
From: Lost Pond Shelter

To: Wallingford, VT.
Miles today: 11.1

This morning it occurs to me that people who only have to turn on the tap in order to get drinking water, don't really know how good they have it. As I trudge down the slope to the babbling brook to pump another 2 liters of water through my "Pur Water Filter", this thought flits thru my mind again and again, and some days again! Everytime I pump water, it takes about 20 minutes to stop, get out the pump and Platypus Water Bladder, find a place to sit and then to actually pump 2 liters of drinkable water from a wide assortment of bug-and-slime-infested water sources.In New York state, I swear, one place looked and smelled like sewage and was brown, too. Some days I have to pump water 3 times, depending on how hot and/or hard it is. People who have clear, clean water coming out of faucets have no idea how wonderful that convenience really is. (At least, that's what I think as I trudge back up the hill with the latest 2-liters worth). It's a nice day, but hot again. No hard ups, no tough downs. Just a stroll along the creek and then past Little Rock Pond. Just an average day, until I saw "him". The naked guy. The visor on my "Dallas Fire Dept." ballcap was pulled down and I was picking my way along the Trail, when all of a sudden some "Teeny-weenie" guy wearing glasses, a ballcap, hiking shoes and a smile suddenly appears in front of me. He's just a little guy, and as I pass, he looks up and up and up, and falls down in the middle of the path. (He must have tripped over a rock while he stared up at the giant towering over him.) I never even blink. No "hi", no nothing. And all of a sudden, he's gone. Was it a dream? Takes all kinds. I don't know whether I should have made some nasty remark, or kudo's for doing what I have only dreamed of doing. Like I said. All kinds. Nothing else interesting happens until I get to Wallingford, VT. I come out on the road and 2 guys offer me a ride into town. Great! They drop me off at a small Deli and Mkt. right down the street from Munson House Bed and Breakfast. It's the only place to stay in the entire community. Now, Wingfoot's "Thru Hiker Book" says to call this place for rates, but I show up on the front porch and ring the bell. Big Surprise!!! The lady at the front door tells me (on Wednesday afternoon) the rates are $140.00 a nite. My jaw liked to have hit the floor!! I stand there for just a second with my mouth open. "Lady" I tell her, "I've walked over 1,700 miles and that's $40.00 more than any other place I've hiked past." "Well, if you don't want to pay it, go somewhere else" she says and closes the door in my face. Hmmmm...not too much room to negotiate HERE I think. Well, RATS! This wasn't in the plan at all and it's already getting late...wonder what "Alternate Plan B" might be? (Assuming I had one). Can't stand here on the porch with my mouth open. I hike back to the grocery store. (They, at least, were nice there.) "Oh yes," says the lady behind the deli counter. "We knew they were real pricy down there." I tell her, "Well, thanks for letting me find out for myself. Are there any other places to stay around here?" "No, that's the only one," she tells me. And then, the hook..."You might want to hitchhike about 7 miles down the road to the Cold Mountain Motel if you just want an inexpensive, clean room". In 45 minutes, I'm settled in for the nite. The place is decidedly low-end. The Indian guy running the place agrees with everything I say, and obviously understands less than half of it. He agrees to shuttle me back to the A.T. in the morning, "Oh yes, no problem" he tells me.