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Aug
3 , 1983 Wednesday (701.5 mtg) From
Gonzo!s Appalachian Trail journal
Had
a nice evenings sleep even though I thought the traffic would keep
me awake. Passing cars could not awaken me from my slumber once
I had drifted off to sleep. Stopped at the post office to mail off
the guide books that I no longer needed. Called Fred again and woke
him from his slumber. Thought that maybe we could meet and do some
hiking together, but we made no plans other than that I would call
him again from Tyringham. I continued on up the trail.
Dark
Ravine was nice, but too "dark" for any pictures. My recollections
of the place 19 years later amounts to nothing, so with no recollection
and no photos, the place is just a mention in my log of being nice.
It is unfortunate, but many of the interesting places along the
route have faded from memory. Memories that at the time seemed like
they would last forever. I used to be able to remember the names
of each shelter that I stayed in each night with no problem. Now,
as I re-write this log after not even reading it since it was written
in 1983, I struggle with maps and guides to piece together the last
surviving recollections of the trip. Some parts may seem to be lacking
in description. That is true, but I did not want to add anything
that really did not happen, or exaggerate too much from the truth.
Cathedral Pines is another area that has not even a mention in my
log. My memory of the ski resort just past that is stronger than
the memory of passing through an ancient stand of pines. A ski lift
was something new to me, but trees I had been seeing constantly
for nearing three months now. (note added 2008: I seem to recall
that perhaps the Cathedral Pines area had a reroute due to a hurricane
a year or so before I passed through, and many of the large trees
had toppled. Therefore I never got to see them.)
None of the shelters in this stretch seemed to have any water. No
pumps, and the springs were dry. The summer drought was beginning
to affect the water table more than I cared for. I did manage to
find a Pepsi machine at the intersection of highway 43. I did not
visit Pine Knob Lean-to, but checked out the spring - it was barely
flowing. Sometimes at springs like this I spent up to five minutes
collecting enough water to fill my pint bottle. The climb up Barrack
Mountain proved tough and rocky, but at the road crossing of Conn.
7 after the descent I found a nice restaurant where I had heard
that they always ask thirsty hikers the same question: "Are
you real thirsty?" Of course the proper response they intended
to get was "yes, I am very thirsty" With a smile, they
would then put the small cup down that they had in their hand and
grab a much larger cup to fill up. Very nice people. Their private
register had just run out of space so I was the lucky one to christen
the new register with the first entry. I don't remember what I wrote.
Something really sappy I imagine.
Just before the Iron Bridge over the Housatonic River near Falls
Village, I opted for the blue-blazed trail rather than the official
AT road walk to the bridge. The blue-blazed trail followed near
the edge of the river. In the river, I washed my socks and shirt,
and then relaxed for a bit. I noticed a couple of girls by the river
and decided to chat with them. My main goal was to find a source
of water. One of the girls, named Terri, said that there really
was no public fountain or anything like that, but offered to get
some from her house just across the bridge and up the road a bit.
To that point I had traveled 24.7 miles so the additional mileage
to her house put me right at twenty-five. It was time to find a
place to stay too. At the house, I was welcomed by what seemed to
be some sort of a party, at least they had company - besides me
that is. I was quickly extended much hospitality, which included
a meal of meatloaf, and potatoes. I visited with her folks and some
others visiting from Kentucky or Tennessee somewhere long into the
evening. I was offered the option to stay at their home, and accepted.
I chose to sleep outside on a lounge in the backyard because I told
them I would be leaving before they were up and did not want to
wake them. After two days in Connecticut with twenty-five miles
or more each day, I decided I would go for a record and attempt
to put 100 miles down in four days, and finishing Connecticut in
just four days time.
Gonzo!
Appalachian Trail Journals ©1983
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