Date: 2003-06-23
From: Delaware Water Gap

To: NJ campsite-near Blue Mountain Lakes Rd
Miles today: 17.8

I'm at Delaware Water Gap, PA, sitting on the stone steps of The Church of the Mountain in the SUNSHINE, its steeple bell tolling out the late hour of 10:30 am. I had to wait for the post office to open at 8:30 - much more PO business than I anticipated. Itchy Foot is long gone, and Commander-In-Chief has pulled out. Notes and Carry are taking a zero day - Carry has been doing thru-hiker miles, right out of the box, an incredible feat and, wisely, Notes doesn't want to push her.My "morning" started in the middle of the night, in the top bunk of the friendly church hostel, where I pelted my companions below with my assorted belongings all night - a book, a sandal, my headlamp, a water bottle. Hey, there were no "stuff" stoppers.When my bladder filled to the bursting AND I finally lost my pillow to the dark depths below, I figured I had to do it - find a way to navigate my stiff body down the ladderless top bunk to the pack-cluttered floor below - without waking my bunkmates, or breaking a limb. Mine or theirs. I slithered over the bunk edge like a snake without grace, tentatively feeling for a toehold - nothing! Nothing!There I dangled, on my belly, unhappy bladder smushed against the edge screaming "Hey lady, you're PRESSING on me!," feet flailing blindly into space, finding no purchase... The bladder started making seriously dire threats which I have learned to TAKE seriously, so I took a leap of faith and... crashed to the floor. Nothing damaged but my pride and the peaceful sleep of my companions. I hate top bunks. Hate them. People over 30 should be forbidden from sleeping in them.Itchy and Cindy woke me early, and we went for breakfast with Gizmo, the ridge runner. We took full advantage of the diner's post cards to send notes to Ben, telling him we missed him.I took full advantage of the hostel shower too, and lathered my hair well. The hostel offered free shampoo, a rarity. CinC says it will be a week before we can shower and do laundry, and a hot, sweaty week is predicted. Bring it on, I say. Enough of this unnatural rain. My friend Cricket tells me the animals are pairing up back home.We are entering New Jersey, home of swamps, mosquitos and habituated, pesky bears. NJ laws prohibit bear hunting, and the bruins have come to regard backpackers as friendly sherpas bearing food. We are warned to make noise if approached, and hang our food well, including all strongly-scented items such as toothpaste and gum.Okay, I admit it - habituated bears psyche me out.Hmmm, upon consideration, maybe I shouldn't have washed my hair in all that Tropical Coconut shampoo...WEll, enough of this shiftless lollygagging. The SUN is out, by gaw. I have PA to put behind me and do 17.5 miles to a firetower and a tentsite. Later, campers... New Jersey is calling my name.----------Okay, I'm on the Trail I've decided that since the SUN is out, I will keep my pocketmail close today.I've crossed the Delaware River just like George Washington, well not exactly like George Washington, I walked across and it wasn't Christmas Day. No sooner did I get over the water than my xeroxed guidebook page fell out of my pocket, just as an air blast from a passing truck wafted it down into the muddy drink.Sigh. Once again, for today at least, I am flying blind. It is kismet.NJ is surprisingly lovely. Also just as rocky as PA so far, without the dire, dramatic cliff-hanging rock jumbles. Just lots of ankle-yanking, foot-hammering little pointy, jagged, callous-puncturing ones. How come no one tells you this?Lots of running rivulets too, from the saturated land. These I have so far avoided. Good! My shoes are still wet, and smell bad. Maybe today's hot sun will help their stench and damp.For some reason I cannot fathom, I have the nasty little song "I'm a Little Teapot" stuck in my head and it is driving me mad. It has that marching, lockstep rhythm too. I've heard others complain of repetitive songs taking root in their heads, but this has never happened to me before. Maybe I am just running out of thoughts to think."...I'm a little teapot, short and stout..Here is my handle, here is my spout...When you tip me over..."Perhaps I should not be lollygagging here by the shores of Sunfish Pond, a small glacial lake that reminds me of the moraine country of my Wisconsin childhood (did you know there is an Ice Age Trail there? Hmmm...). It is billed as one of the seven natural wonders of New Jersey, and is a registered landmark, being the southernmost glacial pond.It is overfull and, as the AT goes right along its banks, that means the AT is a marsh for much of it's length. Still, it is hard to complain; I am sitting on a rock in the SUN by a glacial mountain pond. How bad can that be? Also, from where I sit, there are exactly 888.8 miles left in my AT trek. Not that that's significant. I just liked the look of all those 8s stacked beside each other.I climb alone today, up to a rocky bald, a ridgeline with gorgeous views, rather Scottish. How come no one talks about how pretty NJ is? Is it a real dump further along? True, the mosquitos have gotten worse.Descending, I spy an amazing bird, one I have never seen even in a picture. It's the size of a robin - I thought it WAS one when backlit, but where the robin is orange this bird was crayon yellow. Primary yellow. Tropical yellow, and it's back was black. The yellow kind of streaked into the black, unlike a robin's demarcation.I hope my bird people - you know who you are - will get on the stick and give me some hints on what to check out in the next bird book I get my hands on (usually at an outfitters).Guide-bookless, I ask a Scout about his map. I take note of upcoming features: Rattlesnake Spring, Rattlesnake Swamp, Rattlesnake Mountain, Rattlesnake Ridge... so, New Jersey, what's your point?I find the red-and-white fire tower and climb it, as is my wont. But it's locked up top. I don't see Itchy and Cindy, so I keep walking down to Rattlesnake Spring, as I need water. As I return to the Trail, I spy Itchy waiting at a campsite down the road.I join him, but we can't figure out where Cindy has gotten to, as she was ahead of me.It is a nice campsite, but it's only 4:30 pm, so I propose a plan. It's been 13 miles, not 17. Let's eat here, then walk on another 4 miles. We'll leave our cooking smells behind. We do, and B-Roc joins us.We pass a beaver dam, and then another Vermont-looking pond with a beaver lodge in the middle. The breeze is blowing the bugs away, the air is dry, the sun has that certain golden slant it takes about early evening. We see a box turtle laying her eggs, backside buried in the mud. As we track the pond's shore, the tree frogs start a chuckling duet with the pond frogs. No screeching peepers here, rather a melodious clucking floating across the still water, point and counterpoint, very beautiful. It got under my skin.A bit further on, in a clearing, we notice the blueberries are starting ripen. We carefully pluck off the terminal berries, the only ones yet ripe. It's slow going, but a hiker needs her fruits and vegetables on the AT.We comment on what excellent hiking it is at this time of evening. The humidity is low, the sun is not hot, the animals start to show themselves. B-Roc charges on, but Itchy and I see a parade of animals. We are traveling in a stalled development, a subdivision that the ATC bought after the roads were bulldozed but before any further improvements went in. It is a peaceful neighborhood, overlooking a lake, and the animals appreciated that grassy, ridge road.First, a young porcupine waddles across the Trail. As it spots us, it puts up its quills and starts clucking low in its throat. I got quite close and snap a few pictures as it waddles northbound. A thru-hiking porkie! It was really cute. We spot a few deer, then I put my hand out to stop Itchy. Skunk, dead ahead. But what a skunk! Gorgeous coat. This one is more white than black, very unusual coloring for me. Are there varieties? color phases? We saw it before it saw us, and it ducked when it did. Then it trundled off the Trail, as I did my best to capture it on film yet not induce it to spray me.We camel up at a water pump near a YMCA camp, then hook up with B-Roc. We start searching for a campsite about 8:30 pm. We've actually done a tad more mileage than planned, 17.8 - bonus miles!What a wholly pleasant evening, with a nature show thrown in. How does it get any better than this?