Date: 2009-08-16
From: Mt Algo Lean To

To: Caesar Brook Campsite
Miles today: 13.9
Weather: broken clouds

I woke at 2am with a hint of a headache and not feeling quite so clever concerning last night¢s libations. It had been a good night ¢ a most unexpected but welcome surprise. By 7am I was feeling fine again but apparently Jeff could not say the same. He had been vomiting. He discounted the drink and felt it could be psychosomatic; his body¢s last desperate attempt to maintain its source of nicotine by torpedoing this trip. He still intended to go on though and so I wished him luck with his endeavours, although privately thinking that the odds were stacked against him. However, from what little I know he may just be the sort of man to prove me wring ¢ I hope so.The shelter was only a mile from the town of Kent and the first order of the day was a quick in and out to gorge on snacks and to resupply. Although Salisbury was only 2 or 3 days away I decided to buy 4 days of food, enough to see me through to Great Barrington where I next planned to stay in a hotel. Besides 4 days is just easier ¢ one pack of 8 tortillas, one pack of 4 pop tarts, one pack of 4 fruit cups ¢ that sort of thing. I ended up with 9 candy bars. I kidded myself it was 2 a day and one spare but Salisbury¢s presence would undoubtedly mean it would be more like 4 a day with one spare if I was lucky. I knew I would still get bits and bobs when I arrived in Salisbury but I could easily carry this little lot and it meant I should be more that well supplied. It would all be eaten that¢s for sure.Back on the Trail at 10am it was hot. Still somewhat fragile from yesterday¢s bug wars, and certainly in no mood to relive them, I kept my jacket on, slowed down my pace and just about managed to avoid overheating.   I was glad of the rest at St Johns Ledges. Remarkably bug free they had also attracted Country Roads (a SOBO) and Four Winds (an alumni of both AT and PCT). I enjoyed the view and the company and the kind offer from Four Winds to help myself to a soda or two from a cooler in his truck which was parked at the next road crossing.Suitably hydrated and with another bottle tucked away in my pack for later, I had a nice long, flat walk by a biggish river. I had plenty time, although it would be a late finish, so I found a nice flat slab of rock by the banks. It didn¢t clear the water by much and so the river lapped around my feet as I sat and read a chapter or two of my cowboy book.It¢s a funny thing, finding such a lovely place, being lucky enough to be here, to have nowhere else to rush to, to have time to do as you will and then apparently choosing to transport yourself off to some other fantasy world created in a novel, to turn my back on Appalachia and instead spend time in the canyons and mesas of the Wild West. Sometimes I have wondered it this is ¢wrong¢, if I am squandering what I have travelled to see, but it¢s more than seeing, it¢s being. If I am to read a book, what better place? If I am to be in a peaceful calm place then why not spend that time in the idle pleasures I enjoy? I still smell the air, hear the river and the birds when I close the book and look up, what better sight to greet me?I drank that second soda at Stewart Hollow Lean To and continued on over Silver Hill. In Connecticut it seems we have some hills again and although not statistically very intimidating I could definitely feel a step change from New Jersey and New York. It was steep and it was hot but I couldn¢t deny that it felt good. The afternoon was almost over as I dropped down to rest by Guinea Brook and then began to climb once more as the Trail followed the banks of Hatch Brook which was exactly what you would picture when you think of a typical mountain stream. At the top I wandered up to a look out and, although I was keen to reach the campsite and call it a day, I also needed to rest. The rest won and I killed two birds with one stone by using the time to have dinner (tortillas with spam and come mandarin oranges in gel).It had been a good day but the final miles gave me some cause for concern as I seemed to be developing a troublesome irritation or as I preferred to call it my ¢raw right rump¢. It was really rather painful. While I didn¢t have far to go and in the short term I could cushion it from the rubbing and bumping of my pack I was concerned about tomorrow, the day after and the day after that. If the pack was causing the problems and given that I had to walk, and indeed that I had to walk with my pack, than I could only see my raw right rump getting more and more raw until it became intolerable. It also crossed my mind that it could be my trousers. It was now a week since they had been washed and during that time they had been more or less constantly damp (from rain or sweat). Maybe that was the problem ¢ dirt, grime, germs, salt. I agonised. The easiest thing for me to do would be to try clean clothes until Great Barrington, 3 days away. This was definitely a least bad solution though as it meant shorts and t-shirts and all I could think of was the mosquitoes. One way of another it might be a very painful 3 days. The one saving grace was, I suppose, that by and large sleeping on my front would save my derriere and further abrasion tonight. I hope so.