morvasaaty/AppalachianTrail-LD-Hikers-Blogs-and-Weather-20-years huggingface dataset:
Date: 2011-04-01
From: Springer Mountain

To: Gooch Gap
Miles today: 15.1
Weather: clear sky

Gooch GapBrrr, it was cold last night! I was glad I had my 10 degree bag -- my platypus water bottle was mostly ice in the morning. I slept quite well in the shelter, despite the cacophony of snoring, in part thanks to the near sleepless night before.This morning I stopped in on Spruce Shelter and got to meet Kinnickinic, who was one of the first people to sign my Trail Journals guest book. She recognized me by my yellow jacket from my Trail Journals picture and I recognized her because there aren't a lot of other women in their seventies on the trail. We each tried to re-light her stove using old matches that somebody had left behind, but neither of us had much luck. Kinnickinic did mention a women matching Danimal's description of the gun-dropper who camped nearby instead of joining them at the shelter last night. She kept to herself until they were able to lure her out into being social. Girl frightened by too many worried stories by her mother, or fugitive murderess on the run? The plot thickens...The hills and the trail are beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way compared to the movie star elegance of some of the west coast trails. It makes it a bit more challenging to take landscape photography, but it is beautiful country to hike through.* * *Tonight I'm at Gooch Shelter, which is filling up. With ten miles until the next shelter, there will likely be at least a few disappointed people later on tonight. When I got here there was a crowd around the picnic table listening wide eyed to Oompa, a tall, charismatic Dutch hiker who did 1500 miles of a SoBo hike last year. When I return with water, Oompa is finishing a story involving a gun and how fast news travels on the trail. I ask him if he was referring to the dropped gun, and then I have to tell the story to explain. The girl Kinnickinic mentioned, who turns out to be a tiny redheaded hiker by the name of Trilobite, had been at the table a few minutes earlier. When she returns, everyone stares at her until I finally blurt out, "Are you packing heat?" She looks horrified, and then I have to explain everything again. She's actually a big pacifist she assures us, and is not armed. But for the next hour people make jokes about being afraid of redheaded hiker girls and the deterrent value of a well spread story.We're sitting around the fire, and all captivated by Eric's attempt to cook Spam on a rock. When he drops a piece removing it from the fire he shrugs and pops it in his mouth. Soon he is passing out extra Spam Singles packets and the fire is full of rocks and Spam.The sense of instant trail camaraderie at the two shelters I've been to is amazing. There's a sense of common purpose, and of isolation from the rest of the world. After an hour around the campfire, the outside world seems less and less real, and it becomes hard to imagine why anyone would want to be anywhere else.
Date: 2011-04-03
From: Whitley Gap Shelter

To: Blue Mountain Shelter
Miles today: 11.8
Weather: clear sky

I wake up slightly later without the shelter stirrings to rouse me, but still get to watch the sun rise from my sleeping bag. I hike back up the blue blaze trail (which, according to Trail Math do not count toward the daily mileage) and get back on the AT. I meet Two Thirty, a former dentist (what time is it when you get a tooth ache?) turning sixty and Oops, who is finishing up his second thru hike. Oops is carrying a big tripod on the outside of his pack, and I discover to my awe and delight that he is thru hiking with a 4 x 5 film camera of his own design. We stand around talking photography for 15 minutes and I convince him to set up his camera to show it off.Oops had been moving at a similar speed just ahead of me, so we start hiking together, and hike and chat all morning. There's nothing like talking to make the miles fly by.I walk with my rain jacket on to keep the sun off while trying to ration my remaining sunscreen. The rain jacket is surprisingly breathable, but in the hot sun I'm still sweltering. Oops and I meet Balance and Why Not from Boston and Balance is kind enough to let me use some of her sunscreen. Taking my jacket off feels glorious.Oops and I stop for lunch by a stream and after Oops lets me hike ahead, but my right knee has started to feel sore so I pull into the nearest shelter, less than a mile away, and call it a day. Stopping so early when I still have plenty of energy is disappointing, but the looming specter of injury convinces me to stay put. Oops, with his steady pace and refined routine will likely be miles ahead by tonight. I hope that I will see him again before he finishes his section.Trilobite (aka Packing Heat) shows up shortly after, having made great time from Neel's Gap that morning. We sit around the shelter watching in amusement as a weekend hiker shepherding two young boys proudly brags about his new WalMart gear.
Date: 2011-04-14
From: Spence Field Shelter

To: Double Spring Gap Shelter
Miles today: 13.5
Weather: overcast clouds

(In which I make friends with deer)When I wake just before sunrise the two hikers are, amazingly, still sleeping. Thinking of McStompsalot, I carefully carry all of my gear well outside of camp to pack up.I hike into and out of the sunrise as I climb up and down the high rolling hills, and stop for breakfast near the top of Thunderhead Mountain at an overlook with views looking far down into the valleys, the low morning sun bringing out the shape of each of the mountains below me.The girl next door of the earlier trail has been transformed, as though returning from studying abroad, with stunning beauty and style. (To be followed, perhaps, by the fading middle age beauty of Virgina, and the fearsome, weathered elegance of the Whites.)* * *Unlike yesterday, today I have to work for every mile. The work is satisfying, but I slow to a crawl on the downhills and the shelters seem like they're twice the stated mileage apart. I only see a few people on the trail, and after the night with the sleeping beauties I miss the social experiences of the earlier trail.Late in the afternoon, when it seems like the last shelter is long overdue, I hear rustling in the woods and stop to listen. 10 or 15 feet off the trail three deer have stopped nibbling grass to watch me. I take off my pack and take out my camera as quietly as I can. I stand still on the trail with my camera ready, and after a few minutes the deer go back to grazing. They're too far off to get a shot with my wide angle lens, so I stand still, hoping that they will come to me. After a while, I hear some commotion and two new deer, one chasing the other, arrive on the scene. The one deer seems to be the herder, and intimidates the other into movement.When I shift my weight all five deer turn to me and freeze, looking like rowdy children waiting to see if they will get in trouble. After twenty minutes of watching the deer, which always stay just out of camera range, I finally pack up my gear and say goodbye to my new four-legged friends. The shelter, as it turns out, really is around the next bend, and I am glad to rest. Tomorrow: Clingman's Dome, the highest point on the trail.
Date: 2011-04-18
From: Groundhog Creek Shelter

To: Deer Park Mountain Shelter
Miles today: 23.0
Weather: scattered clouds

(In which I enjoy Max Patch and reach a new state of consciousness)On the way down Snowbird to the shelter I see a familiar hat hanging on a tree. I recognize it as Where-in-the-Blazes', who is a day ahead of me, and pop it in my pack. After sharing 'Blazes and Hebgb's breakfast, I am eager for a chance to repay their kindness and hope that I can eventually catch up to return the hat.When I reach the shelter around sunset it is full and there are already tents and hammocks set up in most of the sites nearby. I grab one of the remaining flat areas and set up my tent before it gets too dark. At the shelter I meet Mule and Shiver, from Germany. Mule, carrying a 40D, is along with Pixel one of the two other thru-hikers I've met with an SLR camera. Like all of the other German hikers I've met on the trail, Mule and Shiver have seen the popular recent German documentary about the AT. I hear rumors that Robert Redford is moving forward on his long planned Hollywood adaptation of A Walk in the Woods, and wonder how such a film would affect life on the AT.I get moving early, despite having to take down the tent, and am lured ahead by the image of Max Patch, perhaps the most famous bald mountain on the trail, with a rolling grassy summit. When I finally reach it, it lives up to all of the fevered speculation and then some. I stop for a leisurely brunch -- the meal that follows breakfast and morning snack, and precedes pre-lunch snack and lunch -- and sit appreciating the spectacular view. Only when the wind at the summit finally chills me do I sit up off of the grass and get moving again.My beard has grown to the point where it is an impediment to eating, and so as I hike I trim my mustache by biting the hairs that can reach my teeth. It is slow, tedious business, but one of the few things other than thinking that I can do while hiking, so I am in no rush.I see almost nobody all day, just a single thru-hiker in the morning and a handful of dayhikers in the afternoon. As I walk alone in the woods, my mind begins to drift into a new mental state. Hiking seems neither particularly easy nor hard, just something I do, an activity unquestioned if not yet unconscious. Time seems to stretch out, but I hike neither hurried nor plodding, and have no reason to wish time to speed up or slow down. As I hike I sing made-up songs aloud to myself for hours on end, varying and repeating verses to match the seemingly endless near-repetition of the trail. I sing, as I hike, not out of boredom so much as habit, and it feels not unpleasant to have something continuous to be doing.When I finally reach the last shelter I am not tired or relieved, but it feels good to stop. Two middle-aged thru-hikers, quiet and relaxed, are the only other occupants, and I am able to hold on to some of the calm, unhurried feeling of hiking as I go about my evening routine, eating, writing and unpacking. Tomorrow I will reach Hot Springs, where they have shoes, diners and showers, but in the lingering trance of hiking, tomorrow seems irrelevantly far away.
Date: 2011-04-30
From: 0.5 miles before Saunders Shelter

To: Thomas Knob Shelter
Miles today: 19.1
Weather: clear sky

(In which I enter the Grayson Highlands but don't see any ponies)In the morning I am glad to find that my knee and feet are doing fine after yesterday's 35 mile day. When I start hiking I realize that, while not sore, all of me is tired. I hike slowly, and when the sun grows higher and hotter, I slow down even more.I stop for a long lunch at the second shelter, and I meet Tippy-Toes when she shows up after me. She mentions Jay before I do, and I am shocked when she says, "Isn't he great?" I learn that, while the vast majority of hikers are in the anti-Jay camp (for reasons I find easy to understand), he has a few loyal supporters whom he treats more kindly. Tippy-Toes finds Jay a riot for his eccentricity, and has stayed on his good side by never asking him any questions.Another anonymous one of his supporters has written a long shelter journal entry that, while not directly referencing him, derides other hikers for their lack of understanding and compassion for those who struggle to fit in. I contemplate this viewpoint, but decide that, while the AT is a place for tolerance, that does not extend to the type of aggressively anti-social, disruptive and threatening behavior that Jay exhibits. While I have no doubt now that he has Asperger's, or something else on the Autism spectrum, I don't think that excuses the way he has seemed to consistently mistreat those around him on the trail, and I write a rebuttal in the shelter journal laying out this point of view.The day gets hotter and includes a long climb up Mt. Rogers, the highest peak in Virginia. The trail itself bypasses the summit, which is accessible by a 0.5 mile side trail. I intend to take it, but by the time I get to the last shelter I am exhausted, more drained than I have been yet on the trail by far. I don't regret leaving Damascus but I miss not taking a zero, and will see how tired I am in the morning before deciding what to do about this.
Date: 2011-05-26
From: VA-WV border, 5.8 miles past Sam Moore Shelter

To: The Towns Inn, Harpers Ferry
Miles today: 17.6
Weather: clear sky

(In which I reach Harpers Ferry, the psychological half-way point of the trail)I leave by 7am, hoping to make the eighteen miles to town before the post office closes at 4pm. It's another hot, humid day, and pretty soon I'm sweating again, even though the sun has barely crested the horizon.Moosehead, who stayed at the hostel a few miles back, catches up. He's hiking quite a bit faster than me, but I speed up to match his pace and have someone to hike with. Moosehead and Buffalo are two of the hikers I've seen most often over the past two weeks. They usually hike faster than me, but tend to hike shorter days, and we've leap-frogged each other numerous times. This is the first time I've hiked with either, and I find that I can match the fast pace without much difficulty, though with even more sweat.The fast pace gets us in to Harpers Ferry by 1:30pm, long before I had planned. We walk the 0.2 miles off trail to the ATC headquarters and get our pictures taken. Moosehead, walking in to the building first, is thru-hiker 200 to pass through the headquarters this year, and I am number 201. At the ATC I meet Wild Rain and Calf, two hikers I've been just behind for weeks. In person Wild Rain is a friendly southern girl, cheerful and upbeat, in sharp contrast with her despondent journal entries. As usual, the town stop has created a hiker bubble in which I meet a collection of other new hikers as well.At the post office I pick up another armful of packages. On the trail one's social sphere shrinks down to the few dozen people nearby on the trail, and I'm touched once again to recall that my friends and family are thinking of me.Moosehead, Buffalo and The Professor have reserved a suite in the nearby hotel, and since they are still looking for a fourth person, so I join them. For the same price of a bunk, we get our own floor with four beds and a private lounge. We spend the afternoon and evening hanging around the hotel, first sitting at the patio, meeting hikers as they stop by and chat, and then upstairs in our lounge. Jukebox has a private room downstairs and comes up to join the lounging.It is the most relaxing kind of town stop, mostly involving sitting for hours on end, a luxury so rarely afforded on the trail itself. When we finally head to bed, I am more content than I have been in days, and feel like I have reconnected with the broader social experience of the trail.
Date: 2011-06-25
From: High Point Inn

To: St. Thomas Episcopal Church, Vernon NJ
Miles today: 20.7

(In which I walk through the swamps of New Jersey)Mike drives us back to the trail at seven, but is too tired to regale us with tales of his far fetched escapades. Craig, Henryk, Captain Planet, Humpty Dumpty and I hike together through the morning, and it's the largest caravan I've been in for a while. The trail winds its way into and out of swamps, and my socks, so recently clean, become soaked within minutes and stay that way.We spray ourselves with Off! until all of our exposed skin glistens with the sheen of deet, but even this is far from a perfect deterrent against the battalions of swamp grown mosquitoes. The state of New Jersey seems to consist entirely of standing swamp water, and we are walking through it at the height of mosquito season after several days of rain. Every few minutes we hit another particularly shoe sucking patch of mud or swarm of mosquitoes, and we shout curses at the state New Jersey throughout the day. It's possible that under other circumstances New Jersey might be something more pleasant than a muddy, bug ridden hell hole, but with no views or interesting terrain, I rather doubt it.My feet, tender from the previous two days of walking in wet shoes and socks, rub painfully with every step. I consider changing into dry socks midday, but decide not to bother when Capt. Planet changes his and then has to wade through three inches of water shortly after.The silver lining of the day is that twenty miles of swamp walking takes us to a road where we can hitch into Vernon, NJ, where the Episcopal church runs a hostel for hikers. I'm grateful for back-to-back town stops to ease me back into the trail after the disastrous first full day in Jersey. At the hostel I shower -- I'm covered in mud, despite having showered yesterday -- and wash my clothes again to remove the day's salty sweat.Living in Massachusetts, some 210 miles north of here, I have entered the threshold where home is in sight, and the closer I get the more my anticipation grows. I'm looking forward to seeing family, sleeping in my own bed, and being able to use my own computer to finally post more pictures. From there it's a trifling 620 miles to Katahdin, and really, how hard could that be?
Date: 2011-06-27
From: Wildcat Shelter

To: Fingerboard Shelter
Miles today: 14.3
Weather: overcast clouds

(In which I am very tired)Continuing yesterday's trend, New York's terrain is more interesting than Jersey's, offering more climbs and more views. Though none of the ups and downs are very long, many are steep, and a couple hours of short ups and down are similarly difficult to one large, steep mountain. I use my hands to pull myself up at least once every half hour, and by midday I've used my hands for climbing more in New York than the entire rest of the trail.By lunch I'm exhausted. I feel like I haven't slept in days, and I would like to take a nap -- what would be my first on the trail -- but can't find a flat space to lay down. Even though the morning's hiking has not been easy, my exhaustion seems out of proportion to the difficulty, especially considering that I have gotten a full night's sleep and hiked only a moderate distance the day before. I make a point to eat plenty of food, drink plenty of water and take regular breaks, but nothing seems to help much. It occurs to me that lack of energy is one of the symptoms of Lyme disease, and I think of Lemur, who is temporarily off the trail from Lyme. But since I don't have a fever or bull's eye rash, mere exhaustion seems insufficient evidence to suggest an infection.Towards the end of the day I take a long break at a lake 0.1 off trail, and though there is no place to lay down here either, I nearly fall asleep sitting up with my head on my knees. Walking back to the trail I miss the turn off and continue for half a mile on the dirt road before I am sure I have missed it. Even once I find the trail again I feel dazed and disoriented, and can't remember the mileage markers or trail features no matter how often I check the guide.When I finally reach the shelter, less than fifteen miles for the day, I have less energy than I did after any of my big mileage days. I set up my tent (no three-walled shelters for me while I am still in mosquito territory), pre-hang my bear bag and then sit down for dinner. I chat with Buckeye Flash while I eat, and it occurs to me that hiking alone all day likely contributed to my low energy level, though it hardly seems enough to be responsible for all of it. Sherpa (the girl) has also had an exhausting day, but since she has also gotten a cold, she is able to chalk her lack of energy up to this. After an hour of eating, sitting and talking I begin to feel better, and by the time it is evening, I feel nearly back to normal.Having arranged to stay at my aunt's apartment in New York City for the fourth of July weekend, I now have a break to look forward to before I reach home in Massachusetts, and after today, I am glad to only have a few more days of hiking before I can rest.
Date: 2011-07-03
From: Diana's Apartment, New York City, Day 2

To: Diana's Apartment, New York City, Day 3
Miles today: 0.0

(In which I continue to rest)These are the things I think about after 48 hours away from the trail:Despite its isolating aspects, hiking the AT has been in many ways been one of my most social experiences. I've met and talked with new people nearly every day, hundreds so far, and often spend hours talking and hiking with people people I have just met. By contrast, the off trail world, for all of its people, provides fewer opportunities for making meaningful connections with strangers.There is a sense of purpose in hiking that is lost as soon as you stop. On the trail I never wake up and think, "What should I do today?" and I never feel the emptiness that comes from making no progress toward any goals or ambitions. With hiking, forward progress is tangible and measurable, and the sweat and ache give a visceral sense of satisfaction for every mile hiked.Music is a wonderful thing.Tomorrow: fireworks.
Date: 2011-07-05
From: Diana's Apartment, New York City, Day 4

To: Mt. Algo Shelter
Miles today: 18.2
Weather: clear sky

(In which I return to the trail and enter Connecticut)I wake up from the alarm on my iPod at 6am. Having taken naps during the days and stayed up later and later at night, 6am is now far too early to want to get up, and for a few minutes I lay on the couch dazed by the incomprehensible horror of consciousness. In my groggy state it's hard to imagine anything better than going back to sleep, or worse than staying awake, but I manage stay awake long enough to sit up, and that's enough to get some inertia.The train takes me back to Pawling Station, where I walk the three or so miles on the road back to the trail. Back at the garden center I see a dozen or so hikers piling out of a van. I don't recognize a single one, and I feel like my three zero days have transported me to an entirely different trail. One of the hikers tells me that they're all coming from a fourth of July party thrown for hikers, and I can't help but feel like I missed out. They stop to take a group portrait and I hike on, not to see them again for the rest of the day.I cross the border into Connecticut and shortly thereafter see Checker again. Checker is glad to be out of New York, the state he had been fearing, but is still troubled by thoughts of government organizations intercepting his text messages. I am happy to see a familiar face again, and we hike together for a bit, Checker's conversation turning soon enough from his conspiracy theories to (what else) girls, proving once again that Capt. Planet and the Germans were likely right in their ranking.We walk half a mile off trail to visit a small market, and in the process walk through an old covered bridge. It's a hot day, and even having started it in town, a few hours of hiking is plenty to make the market's ice cream and cold iced tea taste delicious.The second half of the day is hillier than the first, and when the effects of four hours of sleep catch up with me I begin to regret pushing past the second shelter, but I am already committed to another 8 miles. I power through the hills to try to hasten the day's conclusion, and when Checker stops for a bathroom break, I don't see him again.By the time I reach the shelter just shy of Kent I am exhausted, and set up my tent and prehang my bear bag in a tired daze. One of the things I enjoy most about hiking is the ease with which I can fall asleep at night and wake up refreshed in the morning, but having just come from several days off I still need to adjust to the hiking schedule again.Tomorrow I'll stop by Kent, CT, continuing the grand northern tradition of having way more food stops than the south (which, considering the south's far easier hitching, is a fair enough trade).