Total Weekly Mileage: 190.7
“Dumpster Forts and Ticks”
The wind was crazy last night. More rain too, and I was very happy to have stayed in town. Losing half a day is hard for me—I tend to get down on myself—but I felt very refreshed after the stay.
The wind persisted the next day, and there were downed trees all over the trail. I met and hiked with south bounders “Mule” and “Gigs.” They stopped at a closer shelter, but I kept moving for another few miles.
I was excited to get out of Vermont and onto the easier Massachusetts trail, stopping in Cheshire for dinner and to recharge. Then came a big climb of three miles out of town. I was a little pissed when I arrived at the shelter—not only was it full, but all the tent areas were taken as well. So I pushed on a little farther and pitched my tent on the side of the trail.
The weather was decent, but some rain was coming in, and the wind was still sketching me out, seeing all the deadfall on the trail. People don’t think about falling trees here the way they don’t think about lightning strikes out west. I’m always asked about bears and mountain lions, but these are the real killers on the trail—along with river crossings, though I’ve talked about that before.
Luckily, I got a ride in Pittsfield that night to escape the rain and wind. I stayed at a motel and even had enough time to go to Applebee’s for some authentic American microwave cuisine. When I arrived back at the motel, I realized I had left my room key inside. I went to the front lobby, but the door was locked. I rang the buzzer—nothing. I called the number—nothing. I spent two hours trying to reach the owners and finally gave up.
It was so cold and windy that I had no choice but to sleep in the cardboard dumpster at McDonald’s across the street, building a fort to protect myself from the wind. Not much sleep—and bad nights like that should be on the trail, not off it.
Without much rest, I didn’t get good miles the next day, but arriving in Connecticut soon after helped my morale. Kent was a great little town, and so was Salisbury. I grabbed a sandwich and coffee at an upper-crusty inn, sat in one of the nice sitting areas, and in between bites of an overpriced roast beef sandwich, started pulling ticks off me. Three this round, and two latched on. I hadn’t even thought about ticks this late in the season. This could be an issue.
