Date: 2011-06-28
From: Fingerboard Shelter

To: Inn on the Hudson, Peekskill NY
Miles today: 16.2

What hikers talk about, in decreasing order of frequency:1. The upcoming and recently passed trail features2. Mutually known hikers (catching up on friends, complaining about acquaintances, telling stories of trail celebrities like UHaul and Jay)3. Girls (less so in the presence of female hikers, but still quite a lot overall)4. Town food5. Gear (tents, packs, sleeping pads)6. Chaffing7. Anything not directly related to the trail* * *(In which I visit the zoo and reach the lowest elevation of the AT)I stop by the lake one mile from the shelter, and eat vending machine ice cream while I charge my iPod. (Despite its shattered screen, I've been able to use it for the time being with a clear screen protector from Walmart.) Only when I check the guidebook do I realize that if I don't hike the 14 miles to the zoo before 4:30pm then I will have to use the bypass trail instead, and miss the point of lowest elevation on the AT, a mere 124 feet above sea level, and pick up the pace to make it on time.While still difficult, the trail is somewhat easier than yesterday's, and I feel much better as I hike than I did yesterday. The trail again consists mostly of steep ups and downs, but towards the end of the day the trail suddenly becomes fantastically groomed and maintained. The steep parts contain elaborately constructed stone staircases and the flat sections are paved smooth with carefully laid patchworks of smooth, wide stones. The one mile of trail must have taken many thousands of volunteer hours, and to the side of the trail I can see the pulley systems used for ongoing trail maintenance. While I suppose that some people might find it a detraction from the more natural trail style, I find it a pleasure to walk on, and by far the best constructed stretch of trail on the AT. It reminds me of what people joked PA would look like if Bob People's maintained it, a flat mosaic of stones perfectly arranged in geometric patterns.At the base the last staircase the trail leads through the zoo itself. The zoo contains a meager selection of animals, none particularly exotic, and I am unsurprised to learn that it houses only animals that have been injured or otherwise rescued. The AT low point occurs at the bear cage, which as far as Hazard, Tigger, Arthur Dent and I can tell, is completely empty. We meet up with the Germans, Craig and Henrick, Capt. Planet and Sherpa, and walk over the Bear Mtn. Bridge, an impressively large suspension bridge from which we can look down what must be about 124 feet to the river. Sherpa has decided to take a train to New York City to crash with a friend while she gets over her cold, and the Germans are getting off the trail (Henrick because his vacation time is up, Craig because of his ankles). Capt. Planet wants to spend a last night with the Germans and I need to charge my Kindle and iPod and could use some more food before my fourth of July vacation, so all of us attempt to hitch in to Peekskill.Hitching with five people is tricky at the best of times -- usually it's more effective to split up into groups -- and the road after the bridge is a spectacularly bad place to get a hitch, with fast moving traffic and no shoulder. Unfortunately there seem to be no other hitching options, as the road gets even worse up ahead, so that walking further is out of the question. We halfheartedly attempt to hitch while we try to come up with a better plan, and against all odds an SUV sees us and turns around to pull onto the small shoulder on the opposite side of the road. He does trail magic regularly around here, he tells us, and I marvel at our luck in finding someone among the millions of city dwellers who had even heard about the AT. He says that he plans to support Jennifer Pharr for a few days when she passes by soon on her southbound record attempt, and I hope that I don't miss her by being off the trail in New York at the time.We all manage to fit inside the car -- I've sat with three other people in the back seat of a car so often now it seems as normal as riding in the back of a pickup truck did in the south -- and the driver drops all of us but Sherpa off at what we are told is Peekskill's one hotel. We have entered the sphere of New York City prices -- $140 for a room -- but split four ways this is manageable, and the Germans generously offer to give me and Capt. Planet a steep discount since we have agreed to take the floor.At the hotel we meet Timber, another German who had not yet met Craig and Henrick, only to finally see them just as they are getting off the trail. I have managed to catch up to Timber yet again because he has gotten Lyme disease -- an increasingly common ailment as we go north -- and spent the last day in the hospital after barely being able to hike the few days before.Capt. Planet and I walk from the hotel to the center of town for a light resupply. We pass housing projects and parks filled with black people who stare openly at the two bearded white guys walking down the street. One group of twenty something year old guys hanging around the sidewalk is particularly intrigued by our presence. "How long'd it take you to grow that thing?" one of the guys asks, gesturing with his hands to his face as he straddles his BMX bike. When I tell him about five months, he snaps his fingers and points to us excitedly. "Shiiit, I've heard of you!" he says. "You're the people who walk!" I tell him he is indeed correct, specifically Georgia to Maine. The group is tickled to have run across such strange, eccentric travelers, and one of them speculates, "I'll bet there ain't much pussy out there." We confirm this sad fact, and when they hear that we have been on the trail for roughly three months each, another shakes his head. "Daaaamn, these niggers'd probably pay for a fat chick after three months in the woods," he says. "Well I don't know about *pay*," Capt. Planet says, taking mock offense.Capt. Planet, all three Germans and I go out to dinner. We peer in the windows of each bar and grill, and walk past the one's whose fancy plates and delicately arranged food suggest menus out of our price range, and settle upon a Mexican restaurant where a groups of cops are eating. "Hey, no beards in here," one of them jokes, smiling to us when we walk in. Over dinner Craig and Henrick get their first chance to talk with Timber, and they sometimes lapse into German when they can't think of an English word. I get to learn more of Craig and Henrick's story, how they met at the Hiker Hostel in Georgia, started from Springer on the same day and have been hiking together every day since their third day on the trail. Now they are both getting off the trail on the same day, but hope to return another year to hike the 800 remaining miles together. They are perhaps the closest hiking partners I've seen this far into the trip, and I think of how lucky they've been to each find a partner they enjoy hiking and hanging out with even after months of each other's company.With only three or four days remaining until my New York trip, I find myself dreaming of internet, stores and rest. Maybe the strangest part of the experience will be being away from other hikers, truly off trail for the only time other than my day with Noam, and since my aunt will herself be gone on vacation, I may well find myself more alone in New York than anywhere out in the woods. But the thought of sleeping and sitting for hours at a time sounds incredibly appealing, and worth being lonely for, at least for a few days.