7/4--7/8/08 to Gorham, NH

7/8/08  16 miles to White Birches Hostel Gorham, New Hampshire

Like any challenge, the White Mountains have been just as rewarding as they were challenging. Summitting the mightiest peaks in the Northeast, braving the glut of tourists, maneuvering my way through the grip of a domineering Mountain Club, and finding my way to the glorious boundary of the final state were all part of the Whites’ endeavor.  Just as it is difficult to see the forest from the trees, or the universe from one world, the Appalachian Trail cannot be fathomed from one mile. But after my four months of adventures and now stumbling into a new crowd altogether—the Southbounders, I realize what a magical trip this has been!

7/7/08  11.7 miles to Carter Notch Hut

Today fell to the leisurely side, but after my aggravating voyages through rough climbs and mobs of tourists, I feel justified in relaxing. Plus, with the last state in sight, literally and figuratively and the miles quickly disappearing, I know it is time to savor the end. I earned work-for-stay at the northernmost hut, Carter Notch, and their kind treatment helped redeem my pessimistic view of the New Hampshire huts. 

7/6/08 15 miles to Osgood Tentside

Trekking through the Presidentals (of the White Mountains) requires conquering both the jagged cliffs as well as the pampered mobs of tourists. The crew at Mizpah helped me begin the day with a sumptuous breakfast—giving me the adequate energy to overtake the yuppies summitting the magnificent peaks today. I was constantly overwhelmed with the sheer volume of tourists, especially at Mount Washington, where I had to stand in line to reach the summit! I wanted to throw up on the day hikers.  In addition to my social struggles, I was rejected from Madison Spring Hut because the crew claimed that three thru-hikers had already taken the work-for-stay positions. It’s a little disheartening to get shunted to the ridgeline in the evening, to rush down the rocks only to find the shelter of the treeline. These woods are my home, and I have nowhere to stay when the affluent tourists have a monopoly on the mountains.  Luckily I found a disgruntled hiker named Derrick here at the tentsite just as pissed as I am. 

7/5/08  21 miles to Mizpah Spring Hut

The demons of the mountains did not punish me as hard as in the past few days and I was fresh enough from my plush stay last night to conquer more Whites, including a 3000 foot climb. The mountains are both plush and rugged, civilized and untamed, devoid of warmth and disgustingly crowded. Tonight is my second night at a hut, and each time has given me only a glimpse of the pampered and insecure who move their comforts to remote places. It’s a distracting way to view this beautiful state, but hopefully I won’t miss it in the wide wilderness ahead. 

7/4/08  13 miles to Galehead Hut

The volatile adventure through the Whites continues after two days of leisure at Squam Lake and a day of conquest again on the rocks. Brett rescued me from Franconia Notch two days ago, to return to the only place on the trail I can call home—Squam Lake, New Hampshire. I spent one day meandering around Plymouth, NH and the next reliving old times with old friends. It was almost more than fate that Paul and Ryan were in town with me, so Brett ironically chartered us to repair a spot on the swampwalk we built last fall—toil I never thought I would return to. But nothing could spoil a beautiful boat ride on Golden Pond and free pizza afterwards. The sight of all of my friends—Brett, Paul, Ryan and Sarah, happy and at peace, gave me new inspiration for hiking. This was certainly one lucky thing since the mere thirteen miles of hiking today wore me into the rugged ground. But the evening was saved when I met Kirty Harry and LT at the hut and received good food from the kind crew of ladies at the hut. 

Photos from ?NY, Connecticut

    

6/20-7/2/08 to Squam Lake, New Hampshire

7/2/08  18 miles to Plymouth, New Hampshire  (Brett Durham’s house)

Fate has repaid my misery with wonderful rewards and now that I am in the company of old friends it is difficult to even remember the toil of the last few days. Thoughts of seeing my old New Hampshire home kept my feet moving, led me through swamps, clouds of insects and over ridgelines. I had promised my friend Brett to meet at a highway crossing by evening. This entailed walking 18 miles within 12 hours, a seemingly simple plan. But no matter how much I anticipated my timing or how fiercely I climbed, I had intense difficulty reaching the road; ultimately arriving just in time.

Though the Whites have been beautiful, the relentless, steep grade and jagged rocky landscape has slowed my pace drastically. Descending 3000 feet of slick rock faces or creek beds leaves my knees feeling like exploding, and then ascending the 3000 feet again zaps the strength that I have left.  But all is well that ends well, and this is just the end of one chapter. I am happy to see that all of my friends here are thriving in the woods’ life. Brett still works for an environmental non-profit organization. Paul found a job with the Forest Service working with my old boss Ryan, who is getting married to Sarah, an old thru-hiker, this August. Everything is well in New Hampshire! 

6/30/08  15.4 miles to Beaver Brook Shelter

Karma reaps its toll again. I feel like all of the frustrating and painful toil I have done today will surely equate to some bountiful glory, hopefully tomorrow things will be sweet with my old New Hampshire friends. I hiked an additional six miles today, confused by the chaotic jumble of trails. Mount Moosilaukee was a rewarding introduction to the White Mountains—clear views and a majestic atmosphere. Tonight LT, Dirty Harry and I are combating flies and telling stories. 

6/29/08  19.3 miles Ore Hill Shelter

The challenge of New Hampshire has begun. Gone are the days of tranquil rolling ridges and now begin the rigorous combat climbs. Today included three major elevation gains: Smarts Mountain, Mount Cube and Ore Hill. Each one is a fiend to hikers. Today was also pivotal in that I met me first Southbounder, “Grace.” It is a good omen for what is north. Ryan and Sarah (friends I worked with on Squam Lake in Fall 2007) left me a note at a trailhead, telling me they tried to find me, but hopes of contact were futile.  But I can look forward to seeing old friends very soon.

6/28/08  16 miles to Trapper John Shelter  (near Hanover, New Hampshire)

I have been bound to Dartmouth for two days now, ironically. Last night I stayed in the house of Mary Friedman, another native of Winston-Salem and a Dartmouth student. It was both relaxing and indulgent to be in such a plush city.  However, tonight I ran into the Dartmouth sophomore student outing trip. This would have been enjoyable if by cruel cosmic irony there weren’t thunderstorms that forced 12 of us into a 6-person shelter. It certainly has been a great impetus for telling stories.

6/27/08  20 miles to Happy Hill  Shelter

Thus it is time for my final reflections on Vermont, this wild 12^th state. The long Trail and all of its history, challenges and travelers was an amazing connection to the land, and I have enjoyed all the crazy Vermonsters along the way. Recently the AT has been tedious and difficult, but hopefully I can forget the hardships and only carry the sweet memories of campfires into the future. Last night Trill, Allgood, Footloose, Pebble, Sunnyside and I had an epic thru-hiking night, a great opportunity to reminisce on the adventure thus far. The rain and pain I have tolerated well, but to stay sane now I say goodbye Green Mountains and hello to the Whites.

6/24/08  19^th birthday!

My birthday was sort of mundane. My most memorable celebration was simply gorging myself.

6/23/08 17 miles to Clarendon Shelter

There certainly need to be times of atonement and recovery after any challenge. Even though yesterday was dismal, my friend, Footloose, with whom I’ve been staying for three nights, has brought me back to good spirits. His peace, as well as the quirky wisdom from a trail geezer whose name I’ve already forgotten, have helped recover my ease. That and we had a good fire and whiskey tonight, practically early birthday presents.

6/22/08  19.3 miles to Big Branch Shelter

I felt unstoppable today marching through three thunderstorms, but crippled when I unpacked my bag and found my sleeping bag soaked.

6/21/08  14.7 miles to Spruce Peak Shelter

The family reunion was both successful and luxurious. It was more than a pleasant surprise to be transported instantly from an insect-ridden dirt path to a plush set of sheets in a Bed and Breakfast with sickening endless amounts of food.  This encounter with all my family left me with high spirits, reborn in my hiker capabilities. Today was an easy day. I was certainly willing to accept the delay for breakfast at the Snow Goose Inn.  Some of the greatest things in life aren’t things.  

6/20/08  21 miles to Stratton Road Family Reunion (near Bennington, Vermont)

Life in the placid and timeless wilderness has been more chaotic for me recently than it should I have not yet fully escaped from the constraints of schedules and transient goals, but am trying to steer away from moving to a place or purpose and just begin walking.  In Dalton, Massachusetts, I stayed at the legendary “Birdcage,” the highly trafficked home of Rob Bird, one of the legendary trail icons on the AT who gives away his resources to those in need without discrimination. The next day I crossed Mt. Greylock, the mighty crowning peak of Massachusetts and later entered the wide wilderness of Vermont.  I feel the old thrill of the northern mountains, something that can only be captured in the smell of fir trees, the chill of morning fog and the steep stacks of rocks up the sides of mountains. Soon I will leave the shelter to meet my family at a road crossing. Hopefully they will be there or I will be stranded!

Home for a While

Maybe all my toil and misery was invested wisely with Karma, because now I am happily in my old New Hampshire hood, taking days off with my old friends. In addition to high times and plethoras of food I am able to visit my old home on Squam Lake, perhaps the only place on this journey that I can call a home. It's great to see all my friends have survived the winter and prospered since; working through and enjoying the summer.
The White Mountains are exactly as I remember: beautiful and exruciatingly hard. Only 380 miles left!

6/12-6/16/08 to Dalton, Mass

6/16/08  17 miles to Kay Wood Shelter, 3 more to Dalton, Mass.

The day is not yet done, but the monstrous thunderstorm that has overtaken the skies provided a good impetus to rest awhile at this convenient shelter. Maybe it was the coffee and early start I had this morning, but thus far time has really slipped away in effortless labor. Perhaps this cool weather is making things so easy or perhaps I’m a crazy child of nature!

6/15/08 28 miles to Upper Goose Pond Cabin (Berkshire county, Massachusetts)

What a change in fortune this day has been. After waking up at 4:00am from my fitful greenhouse shelter sleep, I quickly scrambled into the world of new obstacles and rewards. Before noon I had already completed 12 miles and felt confident in the prospect of being here tonight. However, Massachusetts has certainly doled out its punishment with insects. The mosquitoes in this region are so bad that I can only hope to outrun and outmaneuver them as my chance for not being devoured. Hiking has become frantic—I cannot stop to pee, drink or even adjust my load without being swarmed!  My strategy has been reaching each road crossing in an unbroken movement, because the insects cannot reach me there. By the end of the day I was saturated with sweat, DEET, Goldbond powder and bug carcasses as well as past-exhaustion.

But reaching this cabin, a free service of the Massachusetts AMC (Appalachian Mountain Club) has restored all efforts. New company—Pickle and Garlic—and old friends, Longstep and Sleepwallker—have certainly restored most of my energy. I felt adventurous to take a moonlight swim in Goose Pond and now I can sleep easily with the luxury of screened windows.  On to Dalton, MA tomorrow.  

6/14/08  16.8 miles  Disarrayed empty greenhouse by the CornCrib Farmstand on the side of Route 7 (near Sheffield, MA)

Truly this is the most fitting image of a bum I have yet attained. I practically outran a lurching thunderstorm to make it here, only to find the farmer’s market closed. But tired after nearly 17 miles of rigorous climbing and battling families of mosquitoes, in addition to seeing a black horizon ready to storm, I realized this would be home for the night. 

6/13/08  18.1 miles to Brassie Brook Lean-to (Northwest corner of Connecticut)

No complaints for this tranquil day. I was blessed with both moderate terrain and moderate weather. I wish I could resolve this entry with more clearance, but it has to be abrupt or the mosquitoes will eat me. 

6/12/08  19.5 miles to Sharon Mountain Campsite

Once again I have neglected my precious inner voice but fortunately this time it was not a product of stress, but leisure. In Kent, Connecticut, I stayed with my friend Jillian Sawyer and her family. In fact, I stayed two nights, accepting their wonderful hospitality and enticing company. The image that best depicts my voyage back to society is navigating White Plains, NY at the direction of Herman Furman, Jill’s blind friend, to recover his guitar from a music shop.  It truly cannot earn its traumatic justice in my journal alone, because it was such an irreplaceable journey. Herman is a very brave man and Jill is and has always been a mystic spirit.

To bring the final atonement to the universe, the heat wave finally expired, in one final violent storm. Only the two tornados I have lived through could surpass this storm in intensity. But after finishing its course, the fireflies came out to dance again, to let us know that everything is fine. 

Second to last

Goodbye green mountains, goodbye relentless hills and wicked thunderstorms. Today is the threshold of a great new white horizon, today is my day crossing the free state. 

5/29-6/10/08 to Kent, Connecticut

Posted by Mom from Michael's (Ishmael) handwritten journal entries mailed home:

6/10/08  17 miles to Kent, Connecticut

I will use this lull in activity to repay my cheated journal. Unfortunately if has been so stuffy and oppressively hot recently that life has been like muffins in an oven—a very humid oven rampant with insects.  Those muffins are also required to climb an average of 18 miles of hills everyday. As a muffin, I know my body is rapidly adapting, because I am sweating and drinking more than ever before. On the brighter side of life, I am now a mile away from Kent, where hopefully I can visit my friend, Jillian Sawyer.

6/8/08  19.5 miles RPH Shelter (across the Hudson River, NY)

This has been another day subject to the weather. Even before sunrise I felt the oppressive heat descending on me. However I was grateful to slaughter many miles before noon, so I could bathe in the tourist paradise at Canopus Lack. Highlighs of the afternoon include seeing a rattlesnake threaten me closer than three feet and walking through a refreshing thunderstorm. The peaceful, conclusion happened when Young and Dumb, ’07 Northbound hikers left hordes of trail magic at the shelter. Life is nice.

6/7/08 15.6 miles to Graymoor Spiritual Center (near Peekskill, New York)

Some days are doomed from the daybreak like when I walked outside this morning and felt the sweltering heat like the Everglades. Even walking downhill I was coated in a film of sweat, so going up the steep rocks of Bear Mountain practically dehydrated me altogether. But aside from the heat, there was something I encountered today that was completely unexpected. No one told me that Bear Mountain State Park was the relocated ethnic quarters of Brooklyn. The trail meandered right through flocks of every religion and ethnicity possible in the woods. There were times when I practically had to compete with the line for the swimming pool to walk on the AT.  Most of the people, I assume had no idead the significance of this path. The roles instantly changed: they were the invaders to my land, and I was the native. 

6/6/08 19.6 miles  William Brien Shelter (28 miles into New York)

The Empire State has poised its challenges and revealed its marvels ever since the southern boundary. It feels as though I’ve instantly been shrunk to hobbit size, running through a rampant forest, alive and powerful. The terrain is awesome but daunting, towering over us at every angle. With today’s rugged hiking, Start, Longstep, Sleepwalker, Railroad King and I all made the pilgrimage to Bellvale Creamery for homemade ice cream.  Today we were rewarded with trail magic from Daddy-O, the most inspiring and inspired trail angel.

6/3/08  18 miles to Secret Shelter

Unfortunately, I have been curt and negligent about recording my thoughts recently, but these days I truly have faced fatigue powerful enough to suppress my thoughts. Feelings aside, I had a refreshing stay at the Delaware Water Gap Hostel and have since been hiking with Starfi, a chipper guy connected both to the word of god and to the grooviness of being outdoors. The trail in New Jersey certainly escapes the stereotypical image of the Garden State. I have yet to see a sooty wasteland, and in fact, it’s quite beautiful here. Unfortunately the insects are voracious. I hear the mosquito is New Jersey’s State Bird! 

6/1/08  21 miles Gren Anderson Shelter   Sussex, New Jersey

Very fatigued, both mentally and physically!  Neither crossing the Pennsylvania border into New Jersey nor receiving the hospitality of the Delaware Water Gap Church Hostel raised my strength. New Jersey is surprisingly beautiful but I will need more to brighten my spirits. I’m seriously considering a zero mile day in Vernon, NJ. 

            Enlarge your perspective. Be patient, be real.

5/30/08  21 miles around Palmerton, PA

Today has been a peculiar day, one whose twists I can only attribute to the omnipotent grip of fate. This morning, after braving the sweltering heat and rocky passages, I parted with Start and the Tennessee Twins to hitch into Palmerton—a difficult task but with its rewards. After soliciting the help of local launderers to guard my property, I devoured a monstrous calzone and left town with another lucky hitch, satisfied with clean clothes and calories. Yet I could not have picked a more tortuous day to climb the zinc mine from Lehigh Gap. The ascent is practically a mile of treeless, shadeless boulders on steep rocks.  I had only the zinc factories to thank, and the oppressive cloudless sun to appreciate for walking across the oven. After 10 miles without a water source, I luckily stumbled on Delps Spring, where I drank a liter on site. After that, I was steeled to reach the next shelter which plunged me into a rocky night hike. However, about three miles inward, I ran into a man walking his dog, oddly at 9pm, who invited me to stay at this house where he frequently hosts hikers in the garage.  Sure enough, his service is listed in the AT Guidebook, so I stepped over my suspicions and set up here at his garage. He is certainly astray in his wilderness views: an avid slackpacker, a gear buff, an Earl Schaffer servant. Hopefully I can reach Delaware Water Gap tomorrow night.