Date: 2014-07-02
From: Delaware Water Gap

To: Congdon Shelter, VT
Miles today: 313.2
Weather: light rain

First off, please accept my apology for failing to keep my Trail Journal updated. When I increased my mileage I let some things slip, and this journal is definitely one of them. Now that I've reached New England I can't help but feel I've reached the crux of my thru-hike attempt, and I've resolved to do a better job from here on out! To catch you up, since my last entry I've hiked through New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts. I found New York and Connecticut to be more difficult than expected, and I loved Massachusetts. I think I ate my way across the state! I particularly enjoyed Great Barrington and Lenox, which I visited while neroing at Jess Treat's hostel in Sheffield (a must-stay, fellow thrus).I've been largely injury free but my foot condition (Trench Foot, first acquired in Pennsylvania) has become chronic and presents whenever my feet are damp for any period of time. Due to much trial and error I'm managing it okay (two pairs of shoes, talcum powder, skin balm, bandages, and an elaborate rest break regimen), but I live in fear of anything beyond one day of rain. I'm still moving though, it could always be worse.This day was pretty darn bad, though. I awoke in a comfortable bed at the Bascom Lodge atop Mt Graylock and knew that I'd have to leave that cozy CCC-built inn for a day that promised rain, the first of three. That alone was enough to torpedo my morale, as I knew three days of rain would cause my Trench Foot to flare up badly. The longer I've been on trail the harder I've found it to leave comfort for discomfort, and today was a prime example.The trail delivered a long descent from the lovely summit of Mt Graylock to a road walk through a residential area on the border between Williamstown and North Adams, MA. The weather was hot and extremely humid, and I was running low on water when I stumbled across a hose and a bench (shaded!) some good Samaritan had placed specifically for thru-hikers. It was a lifesaver, as the climb back up to elevation was long and extremely steep.When I reached Seth Warner Shelter the skies began to darken and I heard thunder in the distance. I filtered some water, consulted my guide book, read the shelter log, and generally tried to wait out the approaching weather. After about an hour I realized that I needed to either press on or spend the night there, and I just couldn't stomach the thought of a 13-ish mile day. So off I went, and no more than ten minutes out from the shelter it began to rain torrentially. I was soaked instantly, and my shoes and pack, the former protected by Gore-Tex and the latter by a pack cover, followed shortly thereafter. The next seven miles took me over Consultation Peak via a trail that resembled a waterfall or mud pit, or both. The rocks and roots were slippery and the mud boot-sucking. My glasses were all but opaque thanks to rivulets of water and fogging, and the strap on my faithful trekking pole broke when I slipped on a muddy log and placed my full weight on the pole to prevent a fall. In short, it was utter misery, and all I could manage when I pulled into Congdon Shelter was to hold my head in my hands and try not to lose it.Here's a little bit of unvarnished truth for you. Some moments--okay, a lot of moments--on the AT have been almost unbearably miserable for me. I have cried, cursed, and had complete meltdowns on a number of occasions, and while we thru-hikers don't openly discuss it I suspect I'm not alone. I pray nearly every day for the wherewithal to persevere, and this experience is meaningful (at least for me) precisely because of that struggle.But I wasn't appreciating the constructive side of misery, I just peeled off my wet clothes, tried to dry what I could (knowing the humidity would prevent it), ate dinner, and crawl into my damp sleeping bag to listen to some tunes and try not to think of having to do it all over again the following day.