Date: 2009-09-03
From: Thistle Hill Shelter

To: Wild Camp North of Velvet Rocks Shelter
Miles today: 17.1
Weather: clear sky

I'm beginning to think that I start every entry with a weather report these days and so, for consistency if not entertainment, it was warm last night. From my point of view that was good and I just lay there with my sleeping bag draped over me but if I did have one complaint it would have been the timing.Here I am trying to psyche myself up to splash out on some warm weather gear and so the last thing I needed was a mild night to calm my mounting concerns. No, what I needed was something chilly. Something below zero, preferably significantly to the left of zero. Something to force my hand. Something to turn lethargy into action.I saw something black in what turned out to be the last of the woods before Hanover. It was off to my right and I got a good look but just couldn't be sure what it was. It didn't strike me as being a domestic cat; I wondered if it might be a skunk but that seemed a stretch; and as for the Beast of Bodmin Moor? Perhaps not.I was thinking about it as I took a weight off and who should come wandering along but Chef. Apparently yesterday he had rushed to catch the store in West Hartford before it closed and had landed on his feet, making it with minutes to spare and then finding some unexpected accommodation in town. I got a head start on him as he had slept long but he still caught me quickly enough but this time, rather than continuing on at our own speeds, he slowed down and we walked into town together, chatting about what had brought us out here and what had kept us going this far.And today 'this far' would be New Hampshire. The second last state. A once fabled land, oft spoken about (nay dreamt about) but seldom seriously contemplated. A land that we hoped would be in our future (all be it a somewhat distant future) as we had covered those initial miles through Georgia and North Carolina.I headed to the library, organised some ice-cream and then disposed of one scabby t-shirt and a beyond scabby pair of socks. I thought that if I dropped even a little bit of weight and created just the merest hint of space in my pack I would be more likely to actually buy that much agonised over cold weather kit. Nobody said that it would be easy though; I ruled out the $80 poncho, gave serious consideration to the $40 poncho, but then, when I finally set eyes on the $7 poncho, my resolve cracked. This was my sort of rain gear. Its laughable inadequacy for the high hills would be my saviour. I never want to be the guy pulled off the mountain to be pilloried in the local press for stupidity and being inadequately equipped. Now, with this sort of gear in my pack, despite my concerns over what lay ahead, I knew I would be OK; with this yellow poncho in my pack I would do anything to avoid that scenario. The poncho would not protect me from the elements, it would protect me from the need to be protected from the elements!There then followed a veritable frenzy of consumerism and before I knew it, with the purse strings now loose, I also became the proud owner of a new pack cover, a new book and another free t-shirt. OK maybe not quite a frenzy.With all that excitement I felt like I needed to sit down and so headed off to the pizza place, where once again I met Chef, where I had some tasty pasta and where I relaxed with Firefly and over a well deserved bottle of beer.Life was good. I'd arrived in New Hampshire, I was hail and hearty, the Whites lay ahead, I was surrounded by good people and my immediate future consisted of another night sleeping in the woods.