Date: 2020-08-06
From: Windsor Furnace Shelter

To: side trail to Pine Swamp Rd parking
Miles today: 8.2

In the morning I met Farmer, last night's late arrival. I hadn't recognized him at first, but he'd been working at Garden Mountain hostel in Virginia two years ago when, during a section hike, I stayed there and had my infamous midnight ribs dinner. I'd made a reservation a week ahead but they weren't home to pick me up as arranged, so I ended up walking two miles to their farm down a sketchy switchbacked gravel road and across numerous cow pastures. The hostel was a bunk room in a huge Victorian farmhouse. The bunks had wooden slats but no mattresses so I slept on the floor. The owner, a Brit ex-pat named Mark, spent the evening watching cable news at maximum volume and earnestly educating me on QAnon conspiracies. When, with my stomach grumbling, I finally abandoned tact around 8:30 and asked when the included dinner might occur, he headed off to the kitchen. Half an hour later he proudly announced the ribs, just out of the freezer, were in the oven and would be ready in just a few hours! Words failed me. I fell asleep on the floor of the bunk room and, sure enough, was awoken at midnight by Mark carrying in a plate piled with four pounds of the toughest ribs I've ever had. Nothing else, just ribs. I gnawed at them for twenty minutes until my jaws were exhausted, then went back to sleep. Mark was still in bed when Farmer drove me back the next morning. I heard from others at the time that my experience was a not unusual, though I seem to have set the record for latest dinner.Farmer didn't seem to remember me specifically but took the opportunity to say he never thought much of Mark's hospitality instincts and thought he was always looking for a quick buck. Mark seems to have since turned over hostel management to someone who knows hikers. The place now gets rave reviews. At the time I didn't understand why exactly Farmer was there and what he was supposed to be doing, and our reacquaintance made it clear he didn't either.The boys slept well and were ready to tackle the day after some oatmeal and peaches. Cool weather helped us up the climb to the Pulpit, with a boulder scramble near the end. We admired the view of rolling farmland and forested knobs broken by the sea of boulders called Blue Rocks. Nearby we explored the observatories on the lawn of the astronomy club, and had some fun photographing Nathan's Buddy Bison doll in odd locations.The level walk over to the Pinnacle was inordinately rocky. At one point I dropped my phone on the rocks but it seemed to be fine. Only later did I find the rear camera lens had shattered, ruining any future pictures. This did not look repairable. Nor, given the low cost Moto G-series brand phone, would it be economical. I'll be replacing the phone as soon as I have a chance.We passed Bear Bag and Farmer, who were lunching next to a pile of rocks they assumed was the Pinnacle, to take the side trail to the actual Pinnacle. There we whiled away a long lunch on the open ledges enjoying perfect weather and long pastoral views. Nathan in particular enjoyed what he called the patchwork farm fields. Almost no one else around, which is unusual for this popular overlook.The remainder of the day was level or downhill and far less rocky. We reached a meadow where one of the boys needed to heed nature's call. While we waited, two does we had frightened into the woods earlier returned, left, and came back several times, either curious of us or wondering when we'd be leaving them to browse in private. Nathan has been chewing a roll of Blue Raspberry gum for the last two days, and some other treats of the same flavor he picked up at The Peanut Shop. So we dubbed him Blue Raspberry. Jonathan has steadfastly refused to consider any trail names in his several trips with me, but it will arise naturally some day.The trail continued to be easy walking and turned gently downhill but by mid-afternoon Blue Raspberry was near the end of his endurance. He laid on the ground at one point with his pack on, declaring he had used up all of his energy. More specifically, he'd finished his gum. Buddy Bison, dangling from the pack, fell in the mud. Thus earning it the trail name Muddy Bison. We passed a scout troop near the end coming up from the parking lot we were headed for. One scout took pains to say it was a couple hundred yards to the lot. The long side trail seemed several times that distance and sorely tested Blue Raspberry's patience, but finally we arrived and found Sara waiting to take us all home. I'll be taking a week off with the family but will return here to continue the journey north to Katahdin.Coming home was at first dream-like, as if I'd found a very welcoming hostel. Little seemed to have changed in my absence, except I swear my two teenagers grew an inch or two. Before long it felt almost like I had never left.