morvasaaty/AppalachianTrail-LD-Hikers-Blogs-and-Weather-20-years huggingface dataset:
Date: 2020-07-25
From: US 522 (Front Royal)

To: Rod Hollow Shelter
Miles today: 23.3
Weather: few clouds

Lisa and Scott at Mountain Home whipped me up a breakfast of eggs, fruit, OJ, coffee, toast, and homemade pear jam and black raspberry jam. There were several couples staying as well, one of which left before dawn to take a hot-air balloon ride over the Virginia countryside. I was in no hurry and didn't leave until nearly 11. The sun was high and it was already hot. The trail climbed mildly past the fenced-in Smithsonian Biological Preserve. Some rocks today but mostly nice trail. A couple of hot field crossings. The green tunnel makes such a difference. Ripe raspberries along the trail were an occasional distraction. Around ten miles in I reached a sunny back road that led nearly a mile to a country store. It was so hot all I could think about was a cold drink from their fridge. But when I saw the long hot exposed asphalt walk I just kept going north. I would be more comfortable staying in the green tunnel than walking two miles in the sun for cold drinks. By the time I made it back any benefit would be lost, and any drinks I carried out would no longer be cold. Better to find a cold stream.That was a microcosm of the bigger internal debate I grappled with all day. Should I pick up the pace and try to catch up with the bubble that is supposedly ahead of me, or just keep hiking my own hike and smell the roses? There are times I'd like to see some familiar faces, but at what cost? Ultimately today's humidity made the decision for me. Ten miles is draining, let alone thirty.At Manassas Gap shelter I caught up with a thruhiker named Smoky Bear, a grizzled construction foreman. He's had a few run-ins with bears recently, including a momma on Pass Mountain in Shenandoah who bluff charged him three times. Her cubs were up a tree alongside the trail. I think this is the guy some hikers had mentioned to me yesterday morning, though he too is behind the bubble.Had lunch at Manassas with a middle-aged North Carolina couple out dayhiking. The wife grew up in California and says she can't explain why but she's fascinated by the AT and visits it whenever she can. Loves Max Patch.The trail crossed a wildlife management area, then Sky Meadows state park, before crossing US 50 and winding up to Rod Hollow shelter. Most of this stretch is hemmed in by thick vegetation and has rocky footing. Not the kind of trail anyone seeks out. I often wonder why some forest has an open and inviting understory while other stretches are so overgrown. It doesn't seem to be anything obvious like the elevation, proximity to water, mix of trees, or amount of sun coming through the canopy. Some of this overgrowth may simply be out-of-control invasive species. A good fire may be needed to rejuvenate some of these areas.Rod Hollow shelter was empty. No surprise - I was breaking webs to get here. It is Saturday, though, but no weekenders. Not that I'm complaining. There's a cold piped spring with delicious water and the forest sounds quickly lulled me to sleep.
Date: 2020-08-01
From: US 11 (Carlisle)

To: Duncannon
Miles today: 17.6

Walked out of the Cumberland Valley this morning through pastures and over fence stiles. Passed a trailhead on Sherwood Drive with 24 cars. Wuh oh. It's Saturday. Dayhiker alert! Sure enough, I passed a few dozen people in the next two miles as the trail wound its way up Blue Mountain.Like yesterday, my leg bothered me more starting out, causing me to limp, but felt stronger after a few hours. Uphills again were little problem but downhills were uncomfortable. By late in the day I was walking over rocky trail with no discomfort, other than the still-healing skinned knee.AWOL states uncharacteristically that the several miles leading to Duncannon are "very rocky". I don't believe it labels any other section of trail that way. There were plenty of rocks, but I wouldn't say it was worse than Rocky Mountain a couple days back, let alone parts of Maryland or Virginia. The trail runs directly through Duncannon. At the first convenience store I met a pair of young thruhikers, Trotsky and Hot Pants, first thruhikers I've seen in 150 miles. Trotsky's dad lives in Boiling Springs and they've been staying there for four nights while hiking the area (but not slackpacking, they hastened to add). They've fallen behind a bubble of hikers they think are 60 miles ahead.I walked out of town to Mutzabaugh's market to resupply. I had maybe a day's worth of food, but haven't had to dig into it much over the deli run of the last few days. From here to Port Clinton the trail stays far from towns. Undecided about whether to stay in town or hike up Peters Mountain to the next shelter, I stopped by the outfitter, Kind of Outdoorsy, which runs a hostel. I figured if it was open I'd stay, if not I'd hike on. The store was closed. Next door some men were tearing out the floor of an empty storefront. One of them came out and asked if I was looking for the hostel. Decision made, I nodded. The guy was not the owner, but a New York refugee helping with construction in return for board in a nearby building. The owner, a retail executive from DC, had grown up here and has purchased most of the block. He's turning it into a hiker center, outfitter and cafe, as his own contractor, commuting from DC on weekends. Which would be great for thruhikers, given the deterioration of the Doyle and the paucity of good hostels in Pennsylvania.Mike, another construction helper who is taking a break from thruhiking for a couple of weeks of free boarding, told me they were going for a swim in the Susquehanna. I wasn't aware that was possible, or even advisable, given the industrial legacy of the river valley. So I headed over and found the access through a tunnel under the rail trestle. There a small stony beach with a fire ring offered easy entry to the river. I waded in for a dip. The water was surprisingly warm. Not quite like jumping in an alpine lake, but when in the middle of Pennsylvania on an August day you take what you can get.Started raining in the evening. Guess my non-decision decision to stay in town paid off.
Date: 2020-08-02
From: Duncannon

To: Tentsite at mile 1172.5
Miles today: 22.9
Weather: clear sky

I couldn't get breakfast at the cafe in Duncannon because they're cash only (and my ATM card is expired), so I settled for microwavable sausage biscuits at the convenience store. And chugging a half gallon of OJ. Which seems to work for me. I left the hostel at Kind of Outdoorsy around 10 and walked a couple of miles through Duncannon's residential area and over the Clark's Ferry Bridge to the north side of the Susquehanna. It was ungodly humid as I climbed a thousand feet or so to the ridge. I was sweating bullets in minutes and my clothes were drenched not long after. A light rain came and went with little effect.A young guy was hiking down from the shelter with a soft guitar case slung over his shoulder. Yes, it really held a guitar. He said he had spent three days in the woods to get away from alcohol. And from civilization in general. When he'd been homeless at one point he had done a lot of hiking. I felt sorry for the guy. He didn't seem to look forward to much back in civilization. Even the air conditioning is too cold for him. Anyway, it made me appreciate all the loved ones I have outside of my hiking life.The trail was, from my point anyway, a bit monotonous today. Mostly followed Peters Mountain ridge, then crossed over to similar ridges on Sharp and Stony Mountains. It was generally rocky or stony, though it did in places pass huge hillsides full of boulders, staying clear on nice dirt trail. So the trail builders have some mercy. I remember dayhiking a portion of this back in April. Back then I didn't know if or when I'd be thruhiking this year, and it had been pleasant just to be out in the woods for awhile. It was a lot less humid then too.I rested at Peters Mountain Shelter. A clutch of butterflies were swarming the wildflowers nearby and I spent some time photographing them (more at the linked Instagram account). Often there'd be two or even three on the same plant.Water is scarce in this stretch. There's a good piped spring north of route 325, and a creek just south of the road (hikers usually prefer springs to creeks for taste and safety). Both are 18 miles from town. Other than that the sources are dry, or a long way down the ridge from a shelter. As I tend to shun the latter, I walked the 18 miles before filling up. Chugging that half gallon of OJ was a good idea.The sun was dipping low and I was worn out so I stopped at a tentsite a few miles north and miles short of the Rausch Gap shelter. No water here, of course, but I had cameled up at the piped spring so I'll be fine until morning. The ground is rooty and rocky so I'm thankful for my inflatable pad.
Date: 2020-08-25
From: US 9 (Fort Montgomery)

To: Lake Canopus Beach
Miles today: 20.9
Weather: scattered clouds

Recharged by air conditioning and copious amounts of Italian food at Bear Mountain Bridge Motel, I was driven back to trail by Grandpa's son to the Bear Mountain Inn. I hung out til the zoo opened at 10:30 and followed the white blazes through. The bear cage, the lowest point in the AT at just 124 feet, had no bears but was full of vultures. Hmm.Hiked over the Hudson, a truly grand river, on the Bear Mountain Bridge. It was completed in 1924, one year after the first section of the AT was built here. A few easy miles followed over to route 9, where someone has written on a blank trail sign "This is a good sign". Considering there's a deli just beyond it, I agree.Outside at the picnic tables I met Bolt for the second time. He's a NYC carpenter who builds scaffolding for skyscrapers, and is going northbound from the Mason-Dixon line. He was waiting for his girlfriend to pick him up for a couple days off trail, but he hasn't seen any other northbounders for a very long time and wanted to hike with me for a few miles. I appreciated the company. He's pretty pessimistic on the city's future. From his point of view all the people who can leave are leaving and never coming back. I'm skeptical. People have thought New York was down and out before but it's always come back. And medically it's already gone through its epidemic. Why people would run off to areas in earlier stages of the curve I don't know. Bolt got off at a back road an hour or so later to wait for his girlfriend, but I passed more hikers. Such as a southbounder named Trash Mango or Tango who started July 1st.I was dragging again by mid-afternoon. Still lots of rocks and ups and downs. Doesn't seem much easier than south of the Hudson. Nearing my destination of Lake Canopus the trail followed an old mining road. It was so level it cut through and along the side of the hill and spanned gulleys over a crib wall. It's a good model for the rest of the New York AT!But it didn't last long . The last two miles around Lake Canopus were very rough. It finally emptied me on the beach at the north end. It was empty, parking lot closed for the night. As I wandered up to the complex looking for water a woman called out to me. She was a southbounder named Gravity, thruhiking with her fourteen-year-old son Dr. Duck. He tweaked his knee so they've been going slower lately. They were tenting in a grassy area away from the beach.I pitched the tent on the beach by the boat dock where the shore protrudes into the lake, surrounded on three sides by water. The quarter moon was rising over the lake providing all the illumination I needed. I had some of the calzone I'd over-ordered last night and packed out. Surprisingly the cheese held up very well encased in the dough shell.
Date: 2020-08-29
From: Water St (Falls Village)

To: Salisbury
Miles today: 7.3
Weather: mist

The "wall of rain" forecast turned out to be only light rain so I rose before dawn for a morning slackpack back to town. Vanessa drove me over to Falls Village where I got breakfast at Toymaker's Cafe. The Anglophile owners also run a British motorcycle parts business out of the brightly-painted cedar shake home. But they are closing the cafe after Labor Day indefinitely. A loss to thruhikers. They have been very generous letting hikers camp in their yard over the years.The rain gave a subdued feel to the village as I hiked out past the old brick power plant and over the Housatonic River on the Amesville bridge. Thunderous falls above the bridge were partially dammed, and looked like they'd be mighty inviting on a hot day. The trail climbed slowly nearly 1000 feet to Mt. Prospect, the biggest single climb since at least New Jersey, maybe Virginia. The rain and mist enveloped the forest, deepening the greens and browns. The drizzle was light enough that I was largely protected by the canopy. The air felt fresh and clean. I was glad I'd decided to hike. A few other brave souls passed - a couple of trail runners, a dog walker, even a backpacker. On the far side of the summit the trail opened to a sloping field with a long view known as Rand's View. Clouds curled around the distant hills. Shortly after, my attention was grabbed by an arresting vertical boulder known as Giant's Thumb. It stood like an ancient monolith amid the mist. Though the rock was damp, a better climber than I could no doubt have scrambled to the top. I made a couple of attempts and thought better of it.The beauty of slackpacking is going back to a dry home or hostel. It doesn't matter if you get wet or dirty, you can enjoy the experience without fretting about setting up camp or waking up to wet everything. I've slackpacked before, in the sense of dayhiking a section, but I've always carried my full pack. Part of my purist style. Today I carried only water, snacks, a poncho, and first aid. Water aside, it weighed about two pounds. I think I understand the attraction now. Looking forward to some more slackpacking opportunities up north. After passing the 1500 mile mark with a very official-looking sign (and a bunch of sticks for the current year's location), the AT emptied me onto a road leading to Salisbury. A bike trail, an old railroad right-of-way, let me get off the road and come in through the town's back door. It brought me right to LaBonne's market where I resupplied and refueled on sushi, hummus, and corned beef, and generally enjoyed perusing the high-end food selection. The afternoon was pure rest. It's been a couple of weeks since I relaxed for more than an hour during daylight. Hoping this recharges my batteries mentally and physically enough to push on through Massachusetts and Vermont.
Date: 2020-08-30
From: Salisbury

To: US 7 (Great Barrington)
Miles today: 21.4

Gorgeous day for hiking - sunny, cool, low humidity, breezy. Grabbed a massive "grinder" at LaBonne's before leaving Salisbury. Not sure what happened to the New York "wedge"?Several actual mountain climbs today, not just up and down the ridge. Plenty of dayhikers at Lion's Head, Bear, Race, and Everett mountains. Scrub pines and bedrock gave them a subalpine feel even at 2300-2600 feet. Steep ledges popped up in some of the descents. Definitely not a walk in the park.In between was tranquil and mossy Sages Ravine with its rippling creek, relatively remote from the parking lots. So remote I was able to skinny-dip in one of the swimming holes. Brisk! Would have been refreshing on a warmer day.Passed into Massachusetts leaving the ravine. A SOBO girl named Bubbles happened to hit the border at the same time. Maybe a mile later I crossed paths with more, including Wiz and Chicken John. Also a guy sectioning to NY. Said he was carrying a week of food. You're gonna pass a lot of delis, ya know!Near the top of Race Mountain were trail volunteers in climbing harnesses who had been cataloguing plants on the cliffs below the ledges. They told me the state had closed the shelters and campsites, but they were "practicing their civil disobedience" and advised I used them and their bear boxes rather than stealth camp. They've had some bear activity at a few. The trail led along a long open ledge up Race with views to the east. Found a backpacking family with young kids at the summit.Everett was a tough up and down with plenty of steep ledges to clamber down. And later another sharp descent off Mt. Bushnell where the AT leaves the Taconic range. Then an easy 4 miles through fields and woods to route 7. Passed a monument to Shay's Rebellion, a farmers' revolt against taxes imposed by the Massachusetts government in the years immediately after they had thrown off Parliament's yoke over taxes. The rebellion was quickly dispersed, but the taxes were also repealed.Despite the beautiful weather and varied hiking I wasn't feeling much drive today. A late start, compounded by frequent stops for swimming and pictures, and a slower pace meant I wouldn't reach the shelter and would need to find a (illegal) stealth spot. So I surrendered to my inner child, the one always demanding cold drinks and pizza, and hitched into Great Barrington to a motel, hoping more rest and calories would improve my outlook.
Date: 2020-09-04
From: Melville Nauheim Shelter

To: Stratton Pond Shelter
Miles today: 27.8
Weather: scattered clouds

I felt pretty lazy this morning. I was up at my usual time and hiking by 8:30 but all the eager new Long Trailers left much earlier. I caught up with three of them at a shelter having lunch. One girl with a blue ponytail has been christened Smurf. She was fretting about food. She has a peanut sensitivity and wants light food she doesn't need to cook. I couldn't give her much advice. My own trail diet is granola bars, jerky, ham and cheese, and occasional fruit.Glastonbury Mountain was covered in pines, but an open firetower afforded spectacular full-circle views of the Adirondacks, Green Mountains and probably Greylock and New Hampshire. The wind whipped up dramatically as I climbed the steps above the trees. Such a chill! Much more of this to come in the alpine areas ahead.Two Williams College juniors were hanging out at the next shelter, hiking back to school for classes starting Tuesday. The girl, a theater major, is taking the semester off to avoid the partially virtual classes. Resting with them was a middle-aged woman hiking the Long Trail, full of conversation and trail advice.I booked it 10.5 miles up and over Stratton Mountain to the next shelter so I could make tomorrow a short day into Manchester. In the Stratton firetower were a couple hiking the Long Trail making dinner. The guy, Brian, works at a river outfitter on the Kennebec in the Forks near the AT crossing in Caratunk. Told me to look him up if I need anything, like missing the ferry maybe?I flew down the mountain as the sun was setting. Over three miles in fifty minutes. It was a surprisingly easy descent. Stratton Pond Shelter was bustling. It's a very large cabin that sleeps sixteen. There are eight other hikers, all doing the Long Trail, plus a couple of tenters. Since I rolled in near 8 and it was nearly dark I again unpacked and ate quietly. Second night in a row I'm pushing hiker midnight. A hiker had left out his glass Jim Beam bourbon bottle with a Sawyer filter screwed on the top.
Date: 2020-09-13
From: Jeffers Brook Shelter

To: Kinsman Notch (North Woodstock)
Miles today: 8.4

Woke early and chatted with the tenter who arrived late. He had left his home in Ithaca, New York and followed the Finger Lakes Trail to the Catskills. Through a series of other trails he made his way to the AT and headed north. I had more questions but just then the occupant of the tent I saw as I came in last night walked up. It was Rooster! I haven't seen him since the Lickskillet hostel in Virginia 1200 miles ago. Wow, what a long time that seems, but it was only two months ago. He seems to be holding up well after Maine and the Whites. He's headed to Harpers Ferry to finish.I headed up Mt. Moosilauke. It's over four miles of nearly continuous climbing ranging up to 1800 feet per mile of elevation gain. It's not as technical a climb as some of the other Whites. Just steep. But it's not to be taken lightly. In all it's 3800 feet from road to summit, compared to Katahdin's 4200 foot gain. I passed a few dayhikers on the way up, but for a beautiful Sunday it didn't seem that busy.At the summit I met southbounder Mail Man, napping behind a stone wall out of the high winds that buffeted the hikers. He was waiting for his buddy Hoot Owl, who I ran into later. Hoot Owl started in Georgia on June 29th and flipped up from Erwin, Tennessee. I called a shuttler from the summit then scrambled down boulders, ledges, and steep bedrock with wooden steps driven in. On a dry day this was all a bit fun if jarring to the joints. On a wet day it would be a slog. I have to say my knees and ankles are holding up really well. Perhaps I've strengthened them, or at least the muscles around them. I've heard young guys complain about their knees, but other than an occasional twinge I haven't felt any pain or discomfort.My shuttler met me early at the road and took me to the Notch Hostel. It was early for check-in, an unusual rule for a hiker hostel, but Mike booked me into a bunk. He did give me a hard time at first, apparently because I couldn't find my buff and they are a bit Covid crazy here. I found it stuffed in my stove to quiet some rattling. After showering I borrowed a bike and rode the two miles to Lincoln for a Mexican dinner and resupply. When I returned Dabs, Copper and another southbounder had rolled in. Trash, the section hiker from Hanover, had also checked in, having returned from his Cape Cod weekend with the wife. He's planning several sections in the Whites. We arranged to hike Kinsman ridge together tomorrow as a slackpack. It's a tough but doable day.In the evening I put on my real world hat for awhile to host a committee meeting for my son's Cub Scout pack over Zoom. It's a challenging time to run a youth group, and especially so remotely. Town is really the only time I can catch up on responsibilities like this.