6/17/2017 Mile 1572.9-Crystal Mountain, Massachusetts
Dear Andrew, Today I have been in the woods for three months, and I celebrated the only way I know how: walking. I decided to get a little wild, and I hiked my last few miles of the day after an ill-advised gas station milkshake consumed curbside next to where the neighborhood boys park their bikes before buying Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. I guess we’re all just trying to spice it up. The north has been littered with breathtaking mountaintop views that I would have stopped to admire longer if not for the hordes of mosquitoes whose interests include:
What comes to mind when you think of Connecticut? “Yale” and “Gilmore Girls” are both acceptable answers- though I recently added another association to the self-proclaimed “gateway to New England:” a radical boarding school chaplain and her farmer husband from the Netherlands inviting me into their charmed life for an impossibly glorious evening. I was trudging through the third day of 90-degree humid heat, drowning my dehydration sorrows with the sweet sounds of Jim Dale’s flawless performance of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, when I ran into a woman walking two overenthusiastic mutts. I prepared for the usual benign trail small talk with a jaded internal sigh. “Are you thru-hiking?” she asked. “I am,” I answered, as if the one-bedroom apartment on my back didn’t give it away. “How would you like to sleep in a real bed tonight?” She asked. I stalled for exactly 25 seconds while I evaluated my odds of being murdered: very low. No murderer would dare own such lovable dogs. So I accepted, and Kate took me to her eclectic home nestled in the countryside valley for a shower, laundry, dinner, a cozy bed in the guestroom, breakfast the next morning, and even a sandwich for the road. She spent years in her 20s travelling and hitchhiking through New Zealand, relying on the kindness of strangers. Now that she is able to, she takes in the occasional wayward traveler like yours truly. I could have basked in the sun on that well-manicured back patio forever, eating sautéed kale and discussing the best way to stop the deer from eating the seasonals. But she drove me back the next morning, and just like that, it was over. So here I am, definitely not murdered, and glowing with the undefinable hope that comes from the kindness of strangers. Since then I’ve been given two Powerades from a business-like biker, an ice cream sandwich from a trailer-living hippie hiker, and an entire sandwich spread complete with sodas and homemade cookies from a farmer thru-hiker and his lovely coworker. They say that the trail has magic, but mostly the trail has bugs. The real magic is in the people. Well, the real magic is in Hogwarts, but you know what I mean. When I asked Kate what made her stop driting, she said meeting her husband. Then she paused and added; “Also running out of money.” Love and Money- is there anything else in this world? Oh, of course- walking. How could I forget. Love (and Money and walking), Laura
1 Comment
6/4/17 -- Mile 1293 -- Delaware Water Gap, PA
Dear Andrew, I think the season must be changing; I can tell because everything is new (people, places, shoes) and also I've walked through at least six different caterpillars spinning themselves into a new life. I feel bad for interrupting them, especially since that's what we're all out here trying to do, too. But even with delightfully comfortable new shoes I suspect I'm still pretty much the same ol' Lobo. I am now past the halfway point, and in a few moments I'll be hiking into New Jersey. As a fellow hiker said, this half is like "the second session of summer camp" -- it's a whole new world out here on the trail. Rowdy college kids are out for beer-fueled car camping, begrudgingly enthusiastic Boy Scouts are trekking along en masse, middle-aged section hikers are taking early summer vacations, and at some point I became a grizzled hiking veteran. Maybe it's just because I haven't brushed my hair in two and a half months, but people talk to me like I know what I'm doing, and they're impressed. I say this not to humble brag, but out of sheer self-deprecating disbelief at how deeply I've settled into this life. I cannot imagine an existence in which I am not walking all day, every day. When I walk I think about walking. I dream about walking, and then I wake up and I walk. It doesn't matter whether or not I enjoy it, it's just what life is. Since I last wrote to you I've walked through three states: 18 miles in West Virginia, 42 miles in Maryland and 229 miles in Pennsylvania. PA is infamously despised for its rocky terrain, and my feet are feeling the consequences. Each and every step is onto a jagged rocky spike, and the miles inch by. Then there are the monstrous piles of boulders that require hand-over-foot rock climbing, except also with the weight of a small child on your back. Oh, and of course you have to do all of this in the rain. But what else is new. I'll TELL you what's new--I saw a groundhog in a TREE yesterday! More like treehog, am I right? All jokes aside, I wish it well on its important work up in the sky, where no groundhog has ever gone before. I am also going where no groundhog has ever gone before--to a land of extreme self-reliance and all the glorious self-worth that comes with it. But I'm being rude, I shouldn't assume that groundhogs don't spend their youth in a quest to self-actualize. Perhaps that's what the treehog was looking for after all. But enough about those glorified hamsters, time to leave the rocks behind and, you guessed it, keep walking. Love, Laura P.S. As I was writing this in a civilized church hostel basement a caterpillar FELL OUT of my hair. Just thought you should know. |
LettersThese are the letters that Laura has sent her brother over the course of her hike. They are faithfully and painstakingly transcribed in their entirety. They are meant to keep people updated on how many facts she has learned about trees. Archives
July 2017
Categories |