Date: 2013-08-21
From: Stealth camp beside Totman Hill Rd

To: Betsy & Bill's House, Elm St. Norwich, VT
Miles today: 17.7

I burned my bra this morning. Not in a "Women's Lib" sort of way. But in a "How have I not Darwin Awards-ed myself out of the gene pool?" sort of way. I slept okay and went through my morning routine. I had left the washed laundry hanging on a tree limb behind my tent. It didn't rain, but everything was much wetter due to the morning dew. My clothes were cold and wet. I wasn't looking forward to putting them on. I put on the wet t-shirt and put my down jacket over the top, hoping that my body heat would dry it. And it did. But I couldn't bring myself to put on my bra straight way. Instead I came up with a great idea, and I wondered why no one had thought of it before. I'd put my bra in the lid of my cook pot, and then I'd hoover it over the flame of my alcohol stove. Of course I wouldn't set it directly on the fire because that would surely cause it to burn. Nope, I was too smart for that!So I cranked up my stove. Put the bra in the top. I wafted it over the flame, watching the steam rise up in satisfying curls. I grabbed the bra and turned it over. It was nice and warm. Nope, this shouldn't take much longer at all! Suddenly I smelled burning rubber. Uh-oh. I snatched it out of the pan and looked down in shock at the turquoise imprint of the bra strap on the bottom of the cook pot lid. Well, shit! I scratched my finger over the melted imprint. I examined the bra straps. They were hard and crusty and scratchy. I put the bra on to test it out. Sitting perfectly still in the safety and comfort of my tent, I could feel the melted straps scratch my skin. Maybe if I wore it inside out? It didn't scratch quite as bad, but I knew that would be only a mile or two before I drew blood. Well, shit. I guess I'll be the bra-less wonder. I strapped all my wet clothes to the outside of my pack and set off. I was hiking down a hill and I noticed what I thought was a powerline hung at about waist level along some of the trees. Suddenly, I realized that they were maple trees, and those 'electric' lines were actually tubing to help collect sap to make the famous Vermont maple syrup. I saw them on and off all day. The trail followed along old stone-fence lined roads. Tall, broad maples stood as ancient sentinals on either side. I wandered in and out of forests and pastures. I headed up and down hills. Vermont was rolling out the red carpet. I found trail magic at a couple of road crossing. There were hand-written signs cheering on hikers. I couldn't help but smile. A few days ago, I received a message in my guestbook from a lady in Norwich, VT. She invited me to stay at her home. Initially, I didn't think the mileage would coincide, but it's working out. I knew I had somewhere to sleep tonight. It took the pressure off the day to plan where I would sleep and ration food and water accordingly. So when I got to a lush green pasture with shadows of clouds rolling across the surface like waves in the ocean, I knew I had to stop. I thought back to my time hiking with Dreamer. We'd decided back then that we needed to do more "pasture sitting and cloud watching". I don't think I've done a very good job of that as of late. So today, I would try to remedy that. I found a corner that was shaded. I sat in the grass and shed my shoes. I looked at the green rolling hills. They looked like they were covered in 'water stains', but it was just the clouds. I saw the hints of fall color. I ate lunch and smelled the sweet air. My time in Vermont was coming to a close. I wanted to savour this last little bit. I came down into West Hartford, VT. The town had been devastated by Hurricane Irene two years before. There was a new bridge straddling the White River. The water was clear, and the sand was white. Several teenagers were swimming in the water and playing along the sand beach. I had to get in. I had to. I followed a footpath through the high grass down below the bridge. I slipped on my scratchy, burned bra (I'm going to have to keep it as a swimsuit top) and shed my shorts. The current whisked me down the river several feet, and I ducked under water to swim against the swift moving water. It was clear, and I opened my eyes. Oh, it felt so good. I think I must have been a fish or a river otter in a previous life. I talked with a section hiker who was sunning on the rocks. I could camp here tonight, but I knew that Betsy was expecting me in Norwich. So I got dressed again and walked to the West Hartford Village Store & Full Belly Deli. I got a slice of pizza and lemonade. I chuckled to myself. This would normally be a 'meal', but in my current situation, it's merely a 'snack.'I climbed up the hill and passed under I-89. The trail ducked into the woods and rolled up and up, and then down and down. It passed through 'new' forest. The pine trees were planted in neat, uniform rows. They reminded me of soldiers standing in formation. Even the scars of their early branches were almost at the exact same height on every tree. At some angles, the forest looked like it grew in its normal chaotic happenstance pattern, but at other angles, it looked like a forest of clones. I was pooped when I got to Elm Street. I turned right downhill and passed houses with hiker boxes and trail magic set out beside their mailboxes. I smiled. Betsy welcomed me and told me where to drop my pack. Then she ushered me inside and pointed out the shower, a pile of clean towels and some clean clothes I could put on. She and her husband, Bill, and several other families in the Norwich, VT & Hartford, CT area host hikers in their homes. Their son had thru-hiked in 2006, and he was taken in by a family when he got injured in the Smokies. Betsy & Bill were so moved by the treatment their son had received that they immediately started taking in hikers themselves. This year, they had hosted 127 hikers into their home. Did I also mention that they cooked us a delicious dinner? Downstairs in the finished basement they had air mattresses (the really nice kind!), pillows, a nice couch, TV, movies, etc. Their only request is that we continue to pay it forward. I can't wait to!And if my evening could get any better, Pressure-D and HOBO were also there. Two of my favorite guys on the trail to share in this special evening. Thank you, Short 'n Sweet and Greybeard. You have a wonderful home and you are fine examples of how good people can be towards each other. I look forward to carrying on your legacy of pay it forward.