Date: 2016-07-30
From: Pinkham Notch

To: Wocket Ledge/Finish!
Miles today: 0.0

Box Turtle here, for the last time! I finshed the AT this past Tuesday, July 26 when I reached Wocket Ledge, the point on the northern New Hampshire trail where I fell last year and broke my fibula just above the ankle. I can't call my self a thru-hiker, beacuse I didn't complete the trail within a twelve-month period, but I'm a 2,000-miler, having joined the ranks of those who've hiked the AT's length of 2,190 miles. (One of thousands of human hikers, and yet, a single box turtle!) The Appalachian Trail Conservancy will give me a certificate that says as much. I'm very happily writing this from the kitchen table in Pittsburgh--clean, in ordinary clothes, and sitting out a summer shower in dry, relaxed comfort...barefoot! Haven't even brought those shredded hiking boots in from the car. As the few readers may or may not have noticed, Box Turtle posted rarely as the hike wound down (wound UP is more topographically accurate). My faux-sprained ankle in CT set my schedule back.(It can't have been an actual sprain, since after two days of rest it was fine; I now know it was simply swelling and soreness my doctor said I could expect for up to a year after the bone break, following any "vigorous exercise.") I had to eliminate my imagined "zero" days in New England and just keep trudging toward the goal; no time for leisurely library stops! In truth, I loved the New England hiking, but by the end, when I had to hike 21 days straight without a break, parts of some days were a trudge, albeit in spectacular surroundings. The reason I couldn't just slow down was due to ten days of difficult-to-get, sequential reservations at high-altitude "huts" in the White Mountains, where Mr. Boxy was joining me for his "summer vacation." The huts are a historic regional attraction that have been around for almost a century and are operated by the Appalachian Mountain Club. They're staffed by outdoors-loving college students, offer bunkrooms, composting toilets and cold running water, home-cooked dinners, breakfasts and snacks, and are set in extraordinary locations along the White Mountains in New Hampshire, centered on the Presidential range (Mt. Washington, Madison, Jefferson, Adams, etc.). Some European hikers on the AT compared them, rather unfavorably, to inns in the Alps. The latter, they said "are more like hotels", serving beer and wine, and situated along trails that are much higher in altitude and scenically more dramatic (with snow), but "not as rugged" as the AT! While Box Turtle just loves these huts, she admits to antipathy for mountains and above-the-treeline hiking, with all the exposure, quixotic weather, and ruggedness. She prefers her accustomed terrain--the deciduous forests of lower altitudes, with scenery of streams and ponds, ferns and leafmould. An alps adventure is not for her. Yes, there is a weird appeal to tiny, alpine plants that have taken decades to reach a foot in breadth, or stunted trees hundreds of years old, but less so when you must look only at the rocks beneath your feet, all is obscured by fog, and wind gusts are pushing 70 mph.So, for BT, the last two weeks of the hike almost seemed like a different trail in altitude (often above 4,000'), trail surface (sometimes no soil at all--only rocks), and living conditions (cushy!) Her shell was very light, as she did not need her tent, sleeping bag, or cook set during the hut stays, so she hiked with vigor and full belly through the steep terrain. And dramatic scenery is, well, dramatic. But scenic preferences obviously vary by temperament. I've learned my own--as might have been pre-ordained by my trailname--lean toward the safe and secure rather than the extreme and volatile. This should save tens of thousands of dollars on trips that will not be taken to the Alps, Nepal, or Patagonia! Zero interest!Looking back on this year's 750+ miles and seven states, I went through my journals to see if I could pull out a few memorable aspects of each state's hike. A more thoughtful summation would require, well, more thought! But here's what comes to mind about this year's hike:*PA--It is a wonderful thing to have your daughter join you on the trail, and Snappy (Emily) hiking from Boiling Springs to Duncannon with me made it a special first weekend. Staying in the cabin at her farm and enjoying her great cooking the night before was a beautiful sendoff. And,Snappy was the best person to critique the MREs we had for our first night's dinner on the trail! (The Meals Ready to Eat were a thoughtful gift from a swimming buddy whose son is in the US military.) I have a prejudice toward Pennsylvania, and I loved it. The rocks that so many hikers decry there are really no worse than New Hampshire's. The vertical climb from Lehigh Gap was a microcosm of what comes later on Katahdin. I missed seeing a rattlesnake, but enjoyed seeing a Copperhead. Off trail, I enjoyed the terrific BBQ at Road Hawg in Duncannon (thanks to a tip from biker friend Dennis) and, in Hamburg, PA, the malted milkshake I enjoyed at "the only remaining drugstore with a soda fountain in PA." "Urban Birding" by Mark Possanza and "Green Drake Hatch" by Anna Catone were the poems that launched me back onto the trail. A visit from college friend Bill provided terrific sustenance in Kunkletown. The night spent on the garage floor of a house/hostel with alot of large centipedes, a Doberman, and a host who continued talking to us in the dark after we'd tried escaping into our sleeping bags had a less positive vibe.NJ--This state was memorable mainly for surpassing expectations, though the hiking was rarely easy. (The latter should go without saying by now.) Who knew northwestern NJ had such beautiful, forested vistas of undeveloped land? Some of NJ was spent hiking companionably with Seeker, who coincidentally I'd met in a shelter in Georgia last year. One day, we shared a particularly delicious burger and beer lunch (well, the beer was mine) at the Wit's End Tavern in Unionville, NY (just over the NJ border) after a morning hike that included a picturesque stop at the Murray Property, an old farm maintained as a bucolic hiker resting place, before pressing on and up Pochuck Mtn. NJ also boasted the AT's prettiest wetland, with an unheralded half-mile boardwalk through its midst. Dorothy Parker's elegy, "Transition," (supplied helpfully by friend Jo) put my quotidian delights in perspective. NY--this state was dominated by what was manmade, both on and off the trail. The NY section of the AT is maybe the most historic (first to be formally established) and likely the most embellished with stonework, monuments, and peculiar features like its zoo at Bear Mountain. Crossing the Hudson River on the historic bridge at Bear Mountain felt triumphal! Seeing a teeny tiny skyline in the far distance from a rocky outcrop sixty miles away where you're the only person around is positively weird. My hiker friend from last year, 44, surprised me at a trail shelter, doing a section of the trail hiking south. We arranged a complicated swap, where he retrieved my forgotten hiking stick in return for me hiking to his car and then driving to pick him up. (He and his wife later hosted me at their house for two days while I recovered from my "sprained ankle," so the swap was hardly even.) I enjoyed both the trail itself and my two days off in Manhattan with dear friends. The interface between the AT and Manhattan was jarring, and thought-provoking. My time off the trail felt a bit like taking a vacation from training for the Olympics. This may seem like a pompous exaggeration, but there was definitely a need to regain my focus when I hiked back into the woods. Walt Whitman's melodramatic nature-focused poems were not my favorites, and yet they seemed appropriately stately for the state of NY. Anyway, you have to love the ornithological detail of his "The Dalliance of the Eagles." Is there any other poem that describes bird sex?CT--Starting to feel like New England here, and I enjoyed the comfortable proximity of the trail to small, old towns like Kent and Salisbury. The northern AT's best hostel was here: Bearded Woods Hostel, outside Salisbury. Perhaps the easiest hiking here? I believe this was where I saw a baby porcupine! Looked more like a hedgehog, almost black, and the quills looked more like rubber. Since I hadn't found a CT poet yet, I learned two short ones by MA resident Emily Dickinson--one light, one heavy. But neither were my favs. A little uptight; I guess this should be no surprise.MA--I blathered on earlier about Williamstown and have mentioned my reunion with hiker friend 44. Loved the Berkshires hiking, including Upper Goose Pond, a crowded cabin shelter but a beautiful swimming site (fully clothed, for cleansing as much as recreation). Loved my visit from family friend Deborah, who provided multifaceted trail magic. MA poet Elizabeth Bishop's poem "North Haven" is, I'm pretty sure, about Maine, but it was one of my favorites, with the best description of wildflowers --the same ones I was seeing in fields along the AT in June and July.VT--Thanks to a generous college friend who helpfully owns a luxury inn, Box Turtle spent several nights snuggled under high thread count sheets after delicious meals, and high-mileage hiking (18 and 21 miles on two days when her friend provided transport to and from the trail, enabling "slackpacking," that is, hiking without a full pack. Believe me, it makes a difference.) Killington Peak was the first one above treeline since the mountains of the southern AT. Pretty cool to see the 19th century graffiti carved up at the top. People carved their initials in seriffed letters! There was some great roadside trail magic before leaving the state: a thru-hiker's sister and her boyfriend were surprising the hiker brother, Samurai, on his birthday with a roadside buffet where he'd be coming out of the woods. Angus burgers with bacon, cheese, grilled vegetables, hotdogs, a fresh tomato salad, chips & guac, soda, beer, cookies--all there for the asking under a roadside tarp! I happened to hike by around lunchtime with One Boot and his daughter, Gummy, and we enjoyed most of the proferred items. That was the only night on the trail I was actually too tired (and full) to cook dinner.NH--It's fun when the trail runs right through a town (and nice that you don't have to hitchike there to re-supply), as it does in Hanover, home to Dartmouth College. I stowed my pack at the Dartmouth Outing Club's lovely old building and chatted with some of the kids, interested in the hike. The Dartmouth Outing Club maintains a lot of the southern NH trail. More sweet trail magic was provided by two more college friends driving from Burlington, bringing a box of supplies Mr. Boxy'd mailed them, and treating me to a great Nepalese dinner (not to be confused with an Appalachian dinner)! The connections with friends along the way this year was something I hadn't fully expected, but deeply appreciated. It rained all the next day, hiking out of Hanover, so I was thankful to see One Boot and Gummy on the trail and share the next shelter with them. Ordinarily, I'd try and wait out a day like that (stay in town), or only hike part of the day, but I'd used up all my extra time. I did stop earlier than planned, but then had to hike 17 miles the next day to make up the miles. Four days later (two ending at hostels and two in shelters on the trail due to more rain)and I was into the Whites. My New Hampshire poem, "The Black Faced Sheep," by Donald Hall, was a complex favorite of mine (and the last one I learned), for combining a sense of history with a sense of place and affection for sheep, all wrapped in a discouraging package. I loved seeing two Pine Martens race down the trail after each other on my next to last day hiking.You might ask (some have!), did I perhaps learn any lessons from the AT as a whole, from Georgia to Maine. Um, well. The linear nature of the trail is a great template for moving forward. That has to be one of its appeals to hikers who come to the AT in all sorts of situations and times of life, for all sorts of reasons. Whatever your reason for hiking, you can't help but feel satisfaction at the concreteness of your forward progress; you know just what you accomplished each day. There was a lot of satisfaction simply in perseverance: there was definitely a value in just continuing to walk. I realized my most satisfying accomplishments in life were also the most difficult.   So now that I'm home, I'm looking to move forward in other ways, with added perseverance. Maybe try harder, but for things I truly care about. That's sort of what I got...if that seems silly to you, then I guess you saved a lot of time not hiking the AT!The welcomeness of Mr. Boxy's aggreeable company cannot be overstated, after eight weeks of mostly solitary hiking. The unexpected arrival of Maple Tree (son Jake) for the end of the hike added energy. (Truly, I think he was drawn, like a moth to flame, by the luxurious surroundings of the Mt. Washington Resort at Bretton Woods, to which famille Box Turtle repaired following the hike's completion). This was followed by a night at Bascom Lodge at the summit of Mt. Greylock in Massachusets and a visit with dear friends in Chautauqua, NY. Zooming home at 65 mph, Box Turtle marveled at how the speed and scale of life differ depending on one's mode of transportation.