I forgot to mention that I was wearing boots that had been wet for two days and clothes that hadn't been washed since Kent, Conn., some 70 miles earlier.
Finally, I didn't write the bit about Dalton being 28.7 trail miles from Tyringham.
So there you go.
[Lecture alert!]
When you set out to do a 29-mile day, as I had done just once before, you need to be A] highly motivated.
Check. More than fixing all the discomforts listed above, I was driven by my desire to catch up with the hikers I'd lost track of when I slowed down in Connecticut.
B] You need to forget about cooking meals, visiting shelters that are more than a few yards off the trail or swimming/taking in vistas, etc.
No problem. A combination of protein, fat and sugar two or so times in the day should suffice to fuel the human engine. I would do that with peanut butter, Pop Tarts, pepperoni and sharp cheddar cheese.
And, C], you need to just accept the fact that something is going to go wrong. No one hikes that far through the woods in one day and gets through it without a hiccup.
I passed by two trail magics - a box and a cooler - that had long ago been depleted. When I reached the first shelter, the October Mountain lean-to, a group of kids peppered me and another section hiker with questions while I ate some very basic food and checked the trail register. Pretty funny. Then one smart aleck wished me good luck with my "hiking sticks" on my way out.
The section hiker, a southbounder, told me that the remaining 12 or so miles were "cake." He also told me I'd be running into some sweet trail magic halfway to Dalton. I also read in the register that Pusher, a hiker I've met several times, had done virtually the same hike days before. After visiting the shelter, I was refreshed, and I hiked fast over the next 6 miles.
The trail was cake, and the trail magic was there. The sodas were ice cold and the orange things had little packets of Fritos, Oreos, Doritos etc. just waiting for me to eat.
After that came the hiccup, and it came in two: I developed a sudden and very aggravating chafing problem as I walked. Then, just a few miles outside of town, I could see the town lights but the trail went up, up and down where I thought - because my AT companion led me to believe so - there would be only down. It was very dark all of a sudden, so it was just me and my headlamp.
And these guys...
Two baby deer peering at me from either side of a narrow tree. I took my time in identifying them because I didn't want to rush right into a pair of bear cubs. The deer remained still and absolutely silent. I've since been told that adult deer leave their young in a spot while getting food. The young deer are scentless, and undetectable by predators, so that's their survival strategy.
I walked into Dalton not terribly late and made it to the home of Tom Levardi, a man who has for years hosted hikers free of charge at his Depot St. home. Outside in his yard I saw old trekking poles lining the walk - "Must be the place," I thought. The front door was open; only the screen door was closed.
Tom invited me in after I stashed my pack and boots among the others on the porch, and in the living room I found several hikers I was very glad to see: Col. Mustard, Chance and Mississippi, and a hiker named Lisa and one I hadn't met named Comb.
I took a shower and Tom dished me out some ice cream. Damn, hiking the Appalachian Trail wouldn't be the same without the trail angels.
It has been a humbling experience to find such people, and to exist as a wanderer among other wanderers. Whatever hardships the trail throws at me, I can look on moments like this one and feel blessed.
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