River Road 1477 to Belter’s Campsite 1495.4 (18.4 miles, 470 total miles)
We got up at 5 AM as planned, Tater and I, and finished getting the last few things ready to hit the road. I warmed up the breakfast from yesterday that I had left over, and ate that with my fingers on a paper plate as we drove along.
On the way, we stopped at a gas station for about a half an hour. Baked Potato and I had been talking about post trail depression the night before, and he’s gone through it quite a bit since his thru hike last year. I’m learning that it’s hard for him to see everyone hiking and living that life, and he is still here experiencing it, but a little bit on the outside.
Tater was having a little bit of a panic attack about it, and I asked him to pull over so we could figure it out. He really wanted to get me to the trail on time, but that was far more important to me. (Full disclosure, he did give me permission to write about this because we both think it’s an important topic.)
After talking things out and taking the time to feel his feelings, he seemed a lot more cheerful and we continue driving. I got my writing done, and he played some music that he liked, and after an hour and a half we were back where my mom had dropped me off.
I asked if he wanted to hike with me for a little bit, and he agreed to hike to the first shelter in 1.4 with me. That was where the Cult had stayed the night before, and I’d been hoping to meet up with them first thing in the morning and hike together, but we were a little behind schedule for that.
We saw a couple section hikers, Nice Lady and Quiet Man on the way out of the parking lot. Nice lady had thru hiked in 2012, and she seemed like she missed the trail just as much as Baked Potato did.
As we hiked along, on a nice flat area next to the river, I began to realize I was having some depression of my own. I’d had such a great time at home, spending time with my best friend, getting to see my mom, driving my car, seeing my friend Paul and spending time with Baked Potato, that it was actually sort of painful to come back to the trail.
A zero at home is a unique experience. I talked to Piñata about it later, and the fleeting thought of It’s so comfortable I could just stay here and not return occurs to every hiker most likely. Part of me very strongly wished that I had taken another zero, and then come back to the trail. But that would’ve made all the hiking that I did in the days before I went home, to meet back up with the Cult, mean nothing.
On top of that, wizard, the former flip-flopper, was going to be with the Cult and a week, and I really wanted to meet him and pick his brain about his hike. At one point as we hiked I told Baked Potato I wanted to go home, just because it felt good to say, and he turned right around and said he would bring me back if that’s what I wanted.
It was a very sweet offer, and the fact that I had that available to me almost made it harder to say no. Maybe if gas was two dollars a gallon I would’ve considered it, but we live in different times than that now.
We reach the shelter quickly, and I saw the two male section hikers from a few days back had stayed the night and were packing up. One of them was going back home after spending a week out, and the other was continuing his journey to Katahdin.
Tator found a small tick on his leg, fortunately he was wearing pants, but we all checked ourselves to be safe. We talked about the gypsy moths that are all over the place all of a sudden, and how they are an invasive species responsible for killing trees.
All too soon it was time for Baked Potato to head back to his car, and saying goodbye to him was when my time at home being over seemed to feel the most real. I knew I might see him later in the day, but I was back to hiking another day on my own.
Shortly after we parted, I realized the itinerary I’d been sent was wrong on the mileage. I found out later that QT had used the AWOL guide as a reference, and it was 2 miles off from Far Out, in the wrong direction of course. So I was in for an 18.4 mile day, instead of a 16.6. I’d been jazzed for a shorter day, but it wasn’t meant to be.
The trail stayed flat right next to the river for a couple more miles, but I was winning no speed races right then. My body probably could’ve use some more rest, and I was sluggish with a full food bag on my back, and post home blues in my head.
After the fog went away, the day was mild and nice for the most part, and the weather was calling for partly sunny skies all day, with a chance of isolated thunderstorms around noon. I was hoping they would miss me.
I went through a couple fields to round out the flat hiking, then the trail began to climb into the mountains. From what I’d seen of Connecticut so far, it appeared to be a lot of steep ups and downs, without a switchback in sight. Gone were the flat ridges of Pennsylvania. There were also less sweeping views than New York from what I could tell.
There were a lot of pine trees, and soft pine needles to hike on, although where pine trees are their roots run across the trail. There were still plenty of ferns and grasses all around, and a bit of mountain laurel here and there along the trail.
After the first up-and-down of the trail, the biggest one of the day, I came upon Guinea Brook. Signs along the trail said that stepping across the stone steps wasn’t safe, and it was recommended to either walk through the water or take an alternate route.
I wanted to walk across the rocks, and it looks like it would be alright, so I took my time still hiking very slowly and crossed the rocks. When I stepped onto the bank, I looked up and I was startled upon seeing a couple I recognized from Wiley Shelter the other day directly ahead of me, getting ready to collect water.
I apologized that they’d had to wait for my pokey progress across the brook, and I got to talking with Johanna while Ivar collected water. They are from Sweden and started at the shelter a few days ago, and are planning on hiking all the way to Katahdin.
It was interesting to chat with them while I was having a particularly homesick day, to put things in perspective. They were really nice, and dealing with the usual struggles of starting midway on the trail. Mainly, people passing you all the time, which can be demoralizing, and going through the break in period essentially alone.
They mentioned they hadn’t brought enough food to last to the first resupply, so they’d need to head into town early and were trying to figure out a shuttle. I was very happy to give them Baked Potato’s number, who they’d met briefly when he packed out some of their trash from the shelter. I really enjoy getting to facilitate trail magic and being a little like an ambassador for trail angels, since I seem to get lucky with finding them. It helps me feel like I get to do some trail magic, too.
From there, I had five ups and downs to get to Pine Swamp Brook Shelter for lunch. I felt fatigued and frustrated as I hiked, having one of those days on trail. The highs are very high, but the lows are quite low.
At 12:30, when I was about to hit the second to last peak before the shelter, the sky got very dark, and when the breeze hit I knew what was coming. I thought about how I had seriously considered leaving my umbrella behind at home, but was very grateful I hadn’t, when the storm broke overhead.
There was no thunder or lightening that I could tell, but it poured hard for about 30-45 minutes as I hiked. Similar to the storm outside Duncannon, and there was nowhere to go but forward.
My bag stayed dry under the umbrella, but my shoes and socks were soon soaked. I thought about crying, but the tears weren’t quite there yet. I passed a few different day and section hikers, who complimented my umbrella. I told them it only half worked.
After the rain stopped, the sun and blue skies came right back out like nothing ever happened, except the trail was soaked with puddles. I hadn’t gone very far during the rain, and tried to pick up the pace, squelching in my shoes.
It was still 2.4 miles to lunch, and my bug spray had all washed off, so I had gnats trying to land in my eyes and mosquitos buzzing in my ears. The humidity was rising again, and I tried not to think about what I could be doing at home if I’d taken another day off.
At the shelter, I was happy to see Piñata having lunch. She usually hikes a little behind the group and does her own thing during the day, so I was glad to see her. She’d sat on the side of the trail the whole time it rained, wrapped in her hammock tarp, which had kept her and her shoes dry. Pretty ingenuous.
We sat and talked while I ate two ham sandwiches and some salt and vinegar chips I’d brought from home. We caught up on the last few days, and talked about plans for the next few. I talked to Baked Potato on the phone as well, and he was working on some trail magic for the Cult at the campsite we were going to.
Piñata left a little before me, and we both had 7 miles to go to Belter’s Campsite. I had enough water for lunch, and had planned to get more .1 along the trail after the shelter. However, I realized my mistake when I walked a quarter mile and there was no water to be found. The .1 had been off the blue blaze shelter trail, not on the AT.
There was no way I was turning around, and I saw the next water source was 3 miles ahead and I had nothing to drink, except a Truly in my pack. I saw there were some comments about a questionable water source at a gravel road a mile up, so I figured I would check that out.
It was flowing when I got there, which I had supposed it would be based on the rain. I filtered and drank a little over half a liter, mixing some electrolytes in as well. The water was rather warm, and tasted interesting, but dehydration is no joke while hiking, and it was 80 degrees by then.
I only made it fifty yards maybe, when my stomach began to really hurt. I took off my pack, and because it was heavy with food, ended up dragging it across a rock. Foamy seltzer started pouring everywhere, and I realized I’d punctured the Truly can with the rock.
Fuming, I unpacked everything from my outside pocket, and emptied the rest of the drink in the leaves. It was punctured as if I had wanted to shotgun it, but I didn’t think my stomach would like that, so I barely drank two sips and dumped the rest.
However, the distraction had helped, and I did feel my stomach had settled down. I repacked everything and hiked on. The ups and downs didn’t stop, but I kept stopping from tiredness and pain in my feet and ankles.
I put on my favorite playlist, but even that wasn’t helping me at all. It was 5:00 when I hit the side trail to Sharon Mountain Campsite, where the water source was that I saw on the guide.
I was honestly torn between wanting to stay there, and hike on. If I stayed, all the work I’d done to coordinate back up with the Cult would be for nothing, I felt. If I continued on, would I not be listening to my body?
Just then, Jedi messaged me about the trail magic Tater had brought, including a bunch of fresh fruit and drinks. I told him I might not make it and that I was having a rough day.
Jedi let me vent a little, and sent me some encouraging words. Baked Potato heard what was going on, and gave me a call. He said he’d hike out to meet me and help the miles go by faster, which I was happy to accept.
As I hiked on, Furps messaged me as well wanting to know where I’d be heading for the night. I told him about the campsite, which was half a mile from a road. He said to see if someone wanted to meet him there for more trail magic.
I called Jedi, and he said he’d find out and let me know. I chatted with him for a few minutes about my day, which had sucked, but I was able to laugh about the mishaps, and that cheered me up.
I talked to Furps on the phone as well, after I heard back from Jedi, and let him know a couple people would meet him at the road. We talked about where the different hikers were at, and how hard it had been coming back to the trail after taking a day off at home. He got off the phone when a couple people arrived at his van.
I was feeling much more cheerful after talking to my friends, and after a couple miles I saw Tater hiking toward me. He seemed in good spirits, and we made the last 2.4 together. The sun was lowering in the sky, lighting everything with an orange glow.
I had a conversation with Tater about depression, which seems to be the theme of the day. It was so nice to have someone to hike a little with, though I did need to stop a few times to rest my feet. They had swollen extra with the food weight I was carrying.
Jedi had said to get water at the campsite sign, so Tater and I worked on that. He was nice enough to filter some water for me, while I rested my feet. While he was doing that, I felt something move on my hand. When I went to brush it aside, I felt a little sting on my hand, and saw a tiny tick had bitten me.
I tried several times to use my tick tool to get it out, but it was in such an awkward spot, right under my index finger knuckle, that I couldn’t get leverage.
I called Jedi to see if anyone had tweezers, while Tater ran up to the campsite to find the ridge runner for the same reason. I found out Neon had the exact same thing happen to him an hour prior. Back of the hand, felt the sting, etc.
Tater had gotten a smaller metal tick tool from the ridge runner, Pharaoh, and I was able to use it to extract the tick. We walked up and thanked him, and talked about Lyme, of course.
A little further on, we saw the Cult all set up at camp, and I got a warm welcome from everyone. It was so great to be back, and I was incredibly happy I hadn’t quit on the last four miles.
I had a delicious sandwich for dinner that Furps had made, and lots of fruit from Tater and chips and cookies. I didn’t have to cook, which was great, since I only had about an hour of daylight, having arrived after 7:30pm.
I got to meet Wizard, and talk a little, but we will talk more tomorrow. It had been a rough day, and I’d overcome post home visit depression, hiking an extra 2 more miles than planned, getting poured on and hiking with wet shoes and socks, and having a tick attached to my hand. But it all ended with trail magic and getting to be with my friends again. It was very difficult, but so worth it. All I can do now is hope tomorrow is a better day.