Date: 2003-07-03
From: Telephone Pioneers Shelter

To: Kent, CT
Miles today: 21.7

The sun rose as a red ball. I awake to happy news. We're only three miles to hot coffee! We are in the Land of the Delis!Nobody says "closed for renovation," either.ReBob,, Slats and I hike out together, past the enormous Dover oak, said to be the largest tree on the Trail. Its girth is immense. I had pictured it as lord of a meadow, but no, it sits right beside a road.We have our eyes fixed on that deli. Shortly, we cross some train tracks -it's a train stop, right on the AT. We walk on down for ham-and-egg-on-a-toasted-sesame-bagel and hot coffee, and coffee cake. I pour an OJ into my water bottle. On the way back, I get an instant hitch from a Trail maintainer. We'd hid our packs amongst some rocks at the side of the tracks that turn out to be pocketed with last year's cockleburrs. I am picking theindividual barbs out of my hipbelt and and itching the whole day.On to Wiley shelter, I need water. It has a well, a rare thing. But the well has tested positive for e.coli bacteria, it turns out. Treat, boil and filter?I tell you, though water has been abundant in NJ and NY this year, it'snothing you'd choose to drink. The streams are often brown as dark tea,and foamy. Rivers warn of eating the fish from them. Scarce are the icy,clear springs of the South.Luckily, good-hearted folks continue to set out jugs of water at Trailheads, just as they did during last year's drought. This is what we mainly use, when possible. Slats and I are chugging on to the 10-Mile Lean-to, another name for shelter. There is a mile left of New York, and then we are in Connecticut - New England proper! Can you believe it? I have walked to New England. Slats and I high-five in the new state.Slatts left to sleep at Ten Mile River shelter, and I trudged on through a lovely, NC-esque evergreen forest, the tall shady cathedral welcome in this heat. The Trail wound along the rocky Ten Mile River, which reminded me of a Vermont river, only not as clean.NY Assessment - Beautiful, but unexpectedly hard. Plenty of water, but little you would want to drink. I must say, the water in NY has been a disappointment. NY is a gas, but I wouldn't want to live there.I climbed in the heat of the day up the thousand-foot climb of Schaghticoke Mountain. About 5 pm, I stopped on Indian Rocks, and took a break, napping on the stone. The breezes were starting to cool, and the views were lovely. Thus starts my favorite time of the day to hike.I had to make tracks, though, because I was heading for Kent, CT and the company of ItchyFoot's family. They had invited me to zero with them over the 4th of July holiday. This was very welcome, as I felt a deep need for rest.But there was this little problem of the mountains in the way. Just as I thought I would see the descent to Kent, another mountain stood before me. The long, rocky ascents were taking a toll on my weary back - a point right at the lumbo-sacral region felt quite fatigued. That must be the spot the drive to climb comes from. Each time I'd spot another long ascent, my shoulders would sag. I was pretty done in by the time I slid down what turned out to be the final descent. I still had to hitch to Kent, though it was after 8 pm.But wait, who is that? There is ItchyFoot and his son Derrick, waiting for me in a dark green BMW convertible. I swear, I almost rub my eyes! It was a happy sight.As my clothes are soaked with sweat, I nearly go hypothermic in the back, but I put on my raingear and they soon put the top up. Back in Terryville, their lovely town and home, I meet Lupe, Itchy's wife, and Brandi, Derrick's wife. I am fed, bathed and laundered. Aaaaaaah...