Date: 2003-08-09
To: Vernon, N.J.
Miles today: 13.6

We were awakened by two very loud hee-hawing sessions through the night. Whether they were a prelude to more mulish hanky-panky I can't say. I emerged from my tent to a beautiful morning. Not a clear blue sky or sunny day by any means, but the sun did cast a weak light through wispy high-level cloud, the grassy slope was heavy with dew, and the air was cool and refreshing. It was going to be a warm dayUp the slope were the hammocks and tarps of "Riff-Raff", slung neatly side by side just into the trees. One, containing a little lump, hung peacefully (that's Ben). The other, a much bigger lump, heaved around and generated great snores (Tyler). I haven't cooked breakfast for some time, but, with all the amenities in the shelter, I decided I would today. Afterwards, as I stood cleaning my pot, something fell past my face and landed in the aluminium sink with a great metallic thud. It was a mouse. He looked at me with a "Crumbs! How did that happen?" expression on his face. Similar to my own in fact. After a full half minute, it suddenly occured to him that he ought to run away. But getting up the high sides of the sink was impossible. At last he found a hiker's sock draped over one corner and made his escape up that.  I was first away today and, after about five miles, turned along a hedgerow and met a Trail worker trimming the fringes of the path. She had her boxer dog along for company, and I soon learned that she was from Scotland also. From Dumfries originally, her name was Jill.As we chatted, the dog became agitated and, behind my back, started to make retching noises. I turned in time to see him throw up copiously on the sacred path. I turned back, and Jill and I continued to talk about Scotland and the AT. Next minute the dog was right beside me trying to clear his air-ways. We paused and looked down as he produced a great spume-laden sneeze all over my boots and socks. Jill and I looked up again and continued our chat. A few minutes later she got back to her trimming and me to my walking without either one of us referring at any stage to the dog and its ailments. A very British conversation in fact.Before long I reached the road into Walkhill and the AT became tarmac for a while, detouring round the Walkhill nature preserve which is all swampland. Half way round, the road goes over the Walkhill River and I settled for a pleasant hour on a shaded bench seat by the river.`On my way again, the Trail left the road and took a pathway through the swamp for at least a mile. Slightly elevated above the mire, it was very easy going, but you had to keep moving - stop for an instant and the mosquitoes pounced in numbers. In this stretch Tyler caught up with me and explained that "Chafe" had badly blistered feet and had decided to hitch a ride into Vernon. I was enjoying the day, not least because it marked the return of the flowers. They are a rarity in the forest now, but in the open meadows, pastures and swamp areas, summer wild flowers are thick. Bee-balm (a Monarda, much of it pink, some lilac) and goldenrod sem to like each other's company and cover entire areas of meadow. Also knapweed, sumac, red and white clover, black-eyed susan, blue chicory, tansy, and several other flowers I can't identify. Near the end of the day's walk, I came to one of the engineering feats of the AT. The new elevated boardwalk, about a mile and a half long, which takes the hiker through the large swamplands round Pochuck. Previously hikers either waded through this area (unthinkable), or took a four mile detour around it. Built by the New Jersey ATC, it opened only this year, and I was a very grateful user. It's fun too. Finally emerging on to NJ94, where "Riff-Raff" were waiting for me (they may sleep late but they march like Spartans), we set about hitching a ride into Vernon. Not easy, and it started to rain heavily. I stood some distance from the others by a stone wall of an empty cow pasture, and thumbed away fruitlessly for 25 minutes. Eventually, looking behind me, I realised the field was no longer empty. About 12 feet away, and standing perfectly in line facing me, were five black cows. They didn't graze, or flick a tail, or twitch an ear, or do any of the things a cow does. They just stood and stared at me, this human waving his thumbs. It was a bit creepy.Just then a car pulled up, already containing "Riff-Raff", and I was saved. Tonight we are in the hostel, run by the Episcopal Church here in Vernon, located in the basement of the church hall. "Thistle" and "Two Speeds" are here, and they have decided they will carry on the hike. "Chafe" is here too. All in all, the last two days have been quite strange.