Date: 2009-08-02
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Miles today: 0.0

   So, the low point on the trail. There it was. It was basically July 31, August 1, August 2, and August 3. It was kind of sprinkling on us as we left town, and I really just couldn't stomach any more. I sat down on a bench in front of a Talbot's or something and I started crying. Matt was at a loss, he just didn't know what to do with me. I got it together and we walked perhaps another half mile to the co-op, where we had lunch before leaving town. The rain had stopped by this time and I thought that I would be okay.    We walked through the drenched ballfields and started back to the trail. I really can't describe the saturation level of the woods at that point. Rainfall in NH (and probably the rest of the Northeast) for July was TRIPLE what it normally was. So even when the rain stopped, water was everywhere. The mountainsides were like continuous waterfalls end to end. You sunk 6 inches into the trail with every footstep. There was no absorbing anymore. It was humid, too, so all the rock we had to walk across remained wet. So I fell alot. I got sucked into the mud. I really hated it and I wasn't having fun anymore.    The walk out of Hanover has you go across many roads, and at every road crossing I would throw my pack down and contemplate going back to Hanover and getting off the trail. It was the best bailout option we had. Matt and I went back and forth, and I finally said, "Look, I hate everything about hiking right now and I don't think I can take anymore, but don't let me get off the trail." So he agreed. I thought long and hard about going home, and I figured that I would not actually feel better in the long run about getting off. I would probably feel awful about it, just as bad as I did on the trail, so I wouldn't be accomplishing anything. At the same time I was trying to mentally steel myself for another month of nonstop rain and misery. I mean, it hadn't stopped raining on us since March, why would it stop now?    So we slowly and painfully made our way to the shelter and set up the tent on a puddle. So that was one thing. The last straw for me was my water filter. It had been acting up starting in Mass, and I sent it off for repairs. I got it back in Rutland. MSR did NO work on it whatsoever, they just replaced the pump, which actually wasn't the problem. So I went through all this crap just to not have the problem with my filter fixed. Also, I went and threw away a pretty new filter, thinking that that was the problem, when it wasn't the case. So when I went to filter that night it wouldn't work and I was SO MAD. And I also felt pretty helpless about it because I had done all that I could do, and was back in the woods again, and my filter wouldn't work, and the water source wasn't a spring, it was a stream, so I had to treat my water. I started freaking out and Matt came over, took the filter away from me, and told me to go lay down and that he would just take care of it. I still don't know what he jerry rigged but he got it to work--temporarily--a few weeks later I threw the whole thing away.    The next day we woke up and did our normal chores, and the rain started as soon as we got back onto the AT. I started crying, again. I just couldn't take anymore. Matt said, "Okay, this is your last chance. If you want to get off, we can go back to town today. But after this we're not turning around or getting off." I stood there, thinking, for literally 5 minutes. Then I just took a deep breath and said that we should stay on.    It rained steadily from about noon on that day. There were steep, rocky mountains to climb, but it was better than slopping through the mud. We got to Smart's Mountain Cabin early, at maybe 2 o'clock. It was early enough, and the shelter mousy enough, to make me want to move on. So we walked down the mountain, nonstop to Hexacuba. The side trail is 0.3 miles long, and we made our way there. The shelter was only half full, and had an oddly subdued group of people in it. Even though we got there only at 5:30 pm, we were the last to arrive and do our chores. Everyone else was already laying down in their sleeping bags and only occasionally breaking the silence to talk. It was that kind of day. We set upon getting our stuff done, and that was one of the only times that I can remember when we were up messing with our stuff, reading, journaling, etc, when everyone else was done for the day. I think the rest of the shelter was asleep by 7:30. Crazy. I was relieved beyond words to be set up somewhere dry, to have my feet in dry socks, laying down with dinner and chores done, only having to read my book for awhile. For some time that was my favorite part of the day--when it was over.