Despite the lateness of the hour, we still had plenty of light left, and once we finally hit the trail, we moved fast. I didn’t expect to go very far, just perhaps to Brassie Brook Shelter. Copper was just a week out from being unable to stand up on his own, after all. When we stopped in at Brassie Brook Shelter, there was plenty of daylight and energy left, so I decided to move on after a snack, especially when one other fast-moving Nobo I hadn’t met (well, obviously, seeing as how I’d fallen behind by a week) stopped in for a moment and decided he’d move on. Even though I left slightly before him and basically moved as quickly as I could to reach the top of Bear Mountain, he passed me moving twice as fast somewhere on the steep rocky slopes. I redoubled my speed and chased him to the top, where we stopped next to an enormous rock pile in the shape of a frustum. Years and years ago, when it was still a complete pyramid, it looked like this: Continue reading
Since this is primarily a trail blog and the (more than a) week I spent in Boston while Copper recovered is a distinctly non-hiking activity, I’m not going to give a day-by-day breakdown of my activities. Indeed, half the time I spent there, I sat around Vicki’s house doing very little (although I must say, that being able to do so for a change was wonderful).
Here’s a sort of highlight reel (in no particular order): Continue reading
I woke up the next morning in my hammock. I left it set up, and emptied my backpack into it. I put Copper on the floor inside the shelter (one of the earliest lean-to-style shelters I saw, complete with deacon seat separated from the sleeping shelf by a gap to trap porcupines–Copper had come in limping the night before so I figured he’d be happier sleeping in all day and recovering), and walked my empty pack into Kent. Continue reading
We all got out of the Graymoor Center reasonably early, despite the vast field that had to be crossed to get to the porta-potties. We all wanted to beat the heat. Toast and Rusty left as soon as there was enough light to travel by, hoping to make it to the Appalachian Trail Train Station in two days in order to get to NYC, and I left not too long after, maybe around seven. Noodle and Candy Pants were hot on my tail, as was evidenced by them catching me eating snacks on a rock at the first road crossing, pondering where I would find that day’s lake to swim in. Candy Pants had gashed open her knee something awful, bleeding all the way down to her socks, and stopped to clean and bandage it and decide whether or not to keep hiking. Continue reading