Date: 2011-06-15
From: (79) Pochuck Mountain Shelter

To: (80) The Big Day, William Brien Memorial Shelter
Miles today: 43.2

My alarm woke me at 3am and I was packed and out by 3:30 (Ramon Noodles for breakfast, got to set myself up for success¢¦). Yesterday I had marked in my book all of the water sources that ought to be pure and clean, so I felt well prepared to do a 53.5 mile day despite the rarity of water. Without a doubt my big day had begun.Right out the door I had to climb a steep and rocky mountain in the dark, and then I hit the edge of an enormous swamp. A wooden dock snaked its way through acres of the area¢s putrid contents, but I became soaked anyway because of the tall dew covered grass that brushed against me on either side. The grass became thick and tall; it swallowed me, chewed me up, and spit me out the other side a miserable mess. Angry at the poor start to my day, I took out my sleeping pad and used it as a shield against what was left of the grass. I was wet, freezing, and feeling half-hearted. A rocky climb led me out of the swamp, and the rising sun began to warm my chilled body. I waited until most of the dew had dried up, and then I changed my soaking wet socks for dry ones while sitting on a rock overlooking a vast valley. I was out of water and thirsty, but I knew I could go much farther so I did not worry (Its not like I can conjure water out of thin air anyway, unless I want to squeeze the sweat from my socks).My hike became a series of stone outcrops and climbs, as I hiked along a rocky ridge. The trail often went up a limestone bald only to go back down, but though I could have easily walked around such places I instead chose to go to the top and hit every white blaze. I dug in my poles and pushed down with my arms with all my strength to try and save my legs during these climbs. My ¢The Bell Jar¢ audio book played in my ears (I hated the book because as the hours passed it became like a fist punching me in the brain), and the sun beat down on my arms. At the top of a mountain I crossed the border into New York; another state down. I sweated like crazy, and became horribly thirsty as I had somehow hiked past the water source shown in my book. I ended up hiking 12 miles on a liter of water until I filled up at a shelter. I was exhausted, and pretty much blew off the other hikers while I slowly filled my bottle in a puddle of a stream, and then a liter of reserve water. Legs wobbling, I continued on (the guys at the shelter had never met me, but recognized ¢Lemur¢ as the guy who hikes ¢big days¢).I drank my liter of water, and then switched to my reserve liter. I arrived at a water cache of several 5 gallon water jugs left for hikers, but they were all empty. I started rationing my remaining water. My audio book ended and I ripped the buds out of my ears in disgust; an entire book in a day. Meanwhile, the trail took a turn for the worst as I hit mountain after mountain of boulder covered ridges. My exhausted body screamed out as I dragged myself up the climbs, some containing wooden ladders as aids and others offering a blue blazed ¢easy way¢. I only took the white blazed ¢hard way¢, and at one point had to throw my poles to the top of a rock face so that my hands would be free to scale it (See Picture).        Around mile 35 I entered a hopelessly weary state. My muscles began to cramp and stiffen; my head ached with a dehydration induced throbbing. I pressed on, desperate for water, only to find yet another water cache had been emptied bone dry by hikers in front of me. I cried out in agony, and pushed myself on. At last I made it to the next shelter, only to find that its spring had dried up. I continued on, more for the sake of water than my big day, which had been pushed into the back of my head. It grew dark again, slowing the pace of my broken body even more. I was dependent on my poles to keep myself standing. I passed water, but the stuff was black and smelled nasty. I was so messed up I never even considered boiling it; the thought never crossed my mind. I arrived at my second to last shelter at 9pm to discover that its spring had dried up too. My situation was desperate. I had hiked a total of 18 miles without water, the last few miles of which had taken several hours (I could no longer walk faster than a mile per hour). To make things worse, the next shelter down the trail was not listed in my book as having a water source, so moving on would not help. With my abused body and limited visibility in the dark, I concluded that it was not possible to finish my 53.5 miles within a 24 hour time frame, especially without water. After a long struggle I admitted my defeat, and accepted my 43.2 miles in 17.5 hours as ¢good enough considering...¢ I lied down in the shelter writhing in pain as my muscles tightened and cramped; there was a burning pain in my throat, and my head pulsed sharply. I sobbed and moaned in the dark.A nice man named Earl Grey took pity on me. He came out of his tent to where I was lying and gave me a liter of his water. I drank half of it (gratefully), and it was enough to allow me to fall asleep.I had been saved by a man named after Tea.