Date: 2006-08-16
To: By Molly Weiner, aka 
Miles today: 0.0

By Molly Weiner, aka "Justafriend"When I first agreed to join my dear friend Lefty on her trek along the Appalachian trail, it was an easy promise to give: mostly, because I was certain I¢d never have to make good on my word.Twenty-one hundred miles through the woods with her Mom? When I can barely make it through dinner with mine? Honestly, I never thought Lefty would come this far.But as the miles and journal entries piled up, it was becoming more and more clear that Lefty really intended to live her dream¢¦.and that, when she made it to Connecticut, I, Molly, whose idea of a hike is walking the red carpet in four-inch stilettos and whose enjoyment of the outdoors begins and ends with an al fresco massage, would be living it with her. My bowels clenched when I got the fateful phone call. The main topic of conversation seemed to be pizza: how Lefty wanted it, and couldn¢t get it, and what kind of pizza place closed on Sunday night? Finally Lefty got to the point. She was in Kent, Connecticut, ready for me to join her.I gorged myself on sushi and lobster mashed potato and began discarding the trappings of my glamorous life for what I would need on the trail.I traded in my metallic wedges for a sensible pair of Nikes. The bikini was out; a pair of no-nonsense shorts and a Wicked Oyster t shirt were in. I borrowed my sister¢s Camelback (affectionately renamed the Cameltoe), digital camera, and backpack. From my mother¢s special ladyfriend Clair I scored a one-man tent, a sleeping bag and a mattress pad. I loaded up on bug spray and beef jerky and got behind the wheel of my mother¢s Civic, charmingly accented with an anti-Bush bumper sticker, and drove from Cape Cod to Connecticut (for the first two hundred miles of my trip, I couldn¢t figure out why all of these Republicans in SUVs were honking at me).The hardest part of the drive through the Berkshires was undoubtedly passing by the famous Canyon Ranch Spa in Lenox and not turning through the gates!I drove to the top of Greylock Mountain and hiked down to rendezvous with Lefty and Buoy, who¢d spent the morning at EMS in Vermont. Normally, I recognize my friends by the sound of their voices or the sight of their faces. In Lefty and Buoy¢s case, I have to be honest and say that the first thing I noticed was the smell. It was kind of the distilled essence of sweat, sunscreen, wet backpack and beef jerky, with the faintest whiff of mold. We headed into Bascomb Lodge, to talk to the other through-hikers. Lefty assures me is customary and very important to caucus with people you¢ve spent months with, yet know only by names like Tabasco and DazedandConfused. The odor intensified as the conversation continued: about the weather, and who else we¢d see on the trail.¢Where are we camping?¢ I asked. Lefty opened up her guidebook and decided to proceed to a Shell gas station, where you asked for a man named Rob, who¢d then make a phone call to another guy who¢d host through-hikers. I heard the banjoes of ¢Deliverance¢ twanging in my head, and was more than a little relieved when it turned out our would-be host doesn¢t take through-hikers with cars.Luckily, Lefty had found Tom, a hospitable hikerin Dalton who'd offered them their backyard the night before. We drove there to set up our tents. When my loaner was unfurled, the first thing that hit me was the stench of decaying fabric. The entire tent was covered with spores of white mold, and didn¢t appear to have been used since Madonna was wearing rubber bracelets and married to Sean Penn.¢You can¢t sleep in that!¢ Lefty exclaimed. ¢You¢ll either go into anaphylactic shock, or you¢ll die of embarrassment!¢¢Me die of embarrassment! Look at you!¢ I retorted. (Lefty assured me she'd showered at some point. I wasn't convinced).Then it was time to head to a local restaurant for dinner, where Lefty had invited other through-hikers to sit with us. The quarters were close, and I knew I¢d be in trouble as Lefty invited one hiker after another to join our table and share their stories. I watched in awe as the hikers, including Jambalaya, Pepperoni and Hollywood consumed massive amounts of food. Finally, Lefty looked at her watch. ¢8:30! It¢s way past our bedtime!¢ Feeling as though I¢d accidentally wandered back to Century Village with my Nanna, I hurried back to my campsite in Tom¢s backyard. Lefty lent me her one-man tent and I crawled inside, trying to ignore the odors (¢It doesn¢t smell!¢ Lefty insisted). An hour later I¢d played an entire episode of ¢Everybody Loves Raymond¢ in my head and finally managed to drift off to sleep when Lefty rustled at my tent door. I cracked open one eye and asked what she wanted. ¢I notice you don¢t have a pillow!¢ Lefty said cheerfully.¢That¢s the least of my problems!¢ I said.We woke up the next morning at 6 a.m.. I crawled out of my tent as Lefty fired her digital camera in my face. We proceeded to a diner for breakfast, and to use the facilities. Then I spent an instructive forty-five minutes watching Lefty duct-tape her blisters and we finally hit the trail.We hiked through Dalton, walking along streets and neighborhoods. ¢This isn¢t so bad!¢ I thought. Then the trail entered the woods, and I felt a call of nature. Lefty shared her technique of squatting while holding on to a limber tree branch to avoid straining your legs. I¢d never felt quite so close her. I hope to never feel so close to her again!As we walked, other through-hikers asked who I was. Because I hadn¢t bothered to come up with a catchy trail name I¢d say, ¢Oh, I¢m just a friend.¢ I¢d barely made it into the woods before that became my name. ¢Hi, Lefty! Hi Justafriend!¢We walked. And walked. Up hills and down the hills. I kept my eyes on the ground and my feet moving forward. ¢I¢m fine! I¢m fine!¢ I insisted. Then I¢d trip and stumble and almost fall, and pick myself up and keep moving.Five miles into our hike we met Buoy, who¢d dropped off the car at the town we were hiking to,and met us half way. We took pictures and continued our hike, ending up at Dinah Twist¢s an ice-cream stand in Cheshire that makes legendary banana splits (at least they¢re legendary among the through-hikers who couldn¢t stop talking about what they planned to eat next as they walked).Then I headed off to a friend¢s house for the night, and Lefty and Buoy headed back to hike up Mount Greylock. All kidding aside, I am so proud of my friend¢s accomplishment, her determination and grit. I¢m thrilled she¢s gotten this far, and I can¢t wait to celebrate with her at the end of the trail!