1584.3 miles, 2,904,305 steps

This week, I cleared most of Massachusetts. Though it continues CT’s trend of quaint New England towns, MA is a step up topographically. At last, I’m above 2,000 feet again. No longer am I traversing one solitary ridge as in PA or NJ. With peaks littering the horizon, I’ve returned to the land of proper mountain ranges.

Aside from punning off a common abbreviation for the state, the title also attests to the many new travelers that came across my path. The main bubble (the mass of hikers that start mid-March through April) is a week or two behind, but the “fast bubble” has enveloped me. The strongest hikers, laying out 25 to 30 miles every day, have been passing me since February, but this was a notable chunk of 25 or so people within the span of a single week. Despite technically being part of “the bubble”, there were no ill effects of overcrowding. Not a single shelter has been full my whole journey, including the wildly popular Upper Goose Pond Cabin.

While these fast walkers would have outpaced me anyhow, this was an especially slow week for me. Issues with my sleeping pad re-emerged, which I’ve patched so many times that the manufacturer agreed to replace it on warranty. Thank God I’ve stayed injury free, but suboptimal sleep exacerbates the steep terrain and my general fatigue. I did complete the 100-odd miles from Kent to Dalton, but it took a full day on Saturday to accomplish that.

Coming to terms with my slowdown, a July 21^st finish date is out of the question. I now expect to finish on or slightly before the 28^th. I had greatly hoped to watch the opening ceremonies of the 2024 Paris Summer Olympics at home with my family. But just as I missed the Super Bowl due to my early start, it seems this too will be another sacrifice to fulfill my mission on the trail. I won’t miss the whole set of games, though, so I’m not wholly disheartened. At least there’s no real danger of sliding back even further, the extra week allows for very conservative paces, especially through the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

However, one supreme blessing was the cooler weather. Highs never exceeded the mid-70s, meaning hydration and heat exhaustion were easy to contend with. Along with the amazing MA landscape, this picked up my spirits considerably.

Day 111: Monday, June 10

Stewart Hollow Shelter to Belters Campsite – 15.8 miles

I hinted last week at employing a new sleep strategy to beat the heat. To make the most of the cooler mornings, I decided to wake up at 4:00 AM and take a longer rest during the middle of the day. Despite my bleary-eyed first half of the day, a glorious nap from 1 to 3 made up for it. However, this week was a cool one as I already mentioned, so I didn’t replicate this approach moving forward.

As I approached my stopping point for the evening, quite a ruckus reached my ears from the trees beyond. The wood thrushes were all calling and singing simultaneously. A friend of mine put it best when he described the sound as a Star Wars LEGO set coming to life.

Day 112: Tuesday, June 11

Belters Campsite to Brassie Brook Shelter – 15.5 miles

I spent the majority of today crossing through fields along an extensive valley floor. Many times I found myself crossing or following a road. The most exciting feature of this stint came as I crossed a red iron bridge over the Housatonic River. To my right was the Great Falls. The trail led me right up the top of the falls, allowing me to capture a compelling slow-motion video of the rapids.

I took lunch at a modest stone monolith, about 8 feet tall and four feet wide. A woodpecker came remarkably close, and I caught on video the bird hammering into a tree.

Shortly before climbing out of the valley, I made a half-mile detour into Salisbury CT. I secured some energy bars to keep me fueled on-trail, as well as some raspberries and a half-dozen fresh biscuits as a town snack. In the market, they had an animatronic cow that mooed at the push of a button.

The Brassie Brook Shelter was rebuilt last year, meaning I had a brand-new structure to spend the night in. After settling in, I noticed an occupied bird’s nest in the opposite corner. For most of the evening, I watched the Eastern Phoebe bring food to her three offspring. An amusing episode ensued when she brought a whole dragonfly, a gargantuan task for the chick to swallow.

Day 113: Wednesday, June 12

Brassie Brook Shelter to Sheffield-Egremont Road – 14.3 miles

My camping spot yesterday was just before the summit of Bear Mountain (not to be confused with last week’s peak in NY). A cairn and greatly weathered plaque marked the location as the highest point in Connecticut (in the photos, I traced the letters I could make out in the marble). Furthermore, this was my first time above 2,000 feet since Virginia. Yet another mark of transition from gentle ridges into true mountain ranges.

At once, the way sharply descends into Sage’s Ravine. The magnificent spruce forest, mossy heaps of marble, and the gentle stream slipping between impressive boulders instantly won my admiration. Somewhere in the ravine I crossed into Massachusetts (three different signs dispute the exact spot, I just photographed the prettiest).

I spent the rest of the day covering what I termed in my head the “Mt Everett area”. Aside from the ravine that cuts through it, a sort of 1,000-foot plateau is bordered by three ~2000-foot peaks: Bear Mountain in the Southwest, Mt Race in the East, and Mt Everett in the North. In the title picture, I’m gesturing toward Mt Race from Bear Mountain. Beyond Sage’s Ravine, I found this whole stretch to be an enchanting wilderness. The more frequent conifers and grander vistas afforded by higher elevations provide a more exquisite landscape to the eyes. Even the birds are more fascinating: the smooth coloration of the Cedar Waxwing, the intricate calls of the Winter Wren, or even the Common Merganser, a special kind of duck. The woods out here are such a treat.

Not to say this was a walk in the park, however. Climbs up and down these pinnacles were more often sheer rock than not. Mt Everett even has wooden steps bolted into the granite to make the incline safely passable. Although no longer than a half mile, these slopes were mercilessly punishing on the thighs and knees.

Descending from the plateau into the valley came around evening, meaning the mosquitos were out full force. A small swarm ambushed me. I neutralized a dozen or so, but gave up on pressing father retired into my big net for the night. I moved my bug jacket to a more accessible pocket on the outside of my pack to rapidly deploy it in future engagements with the enemy.

Day 114: Thursday, June 13

Sheffield-Egremont Road to Mt Wilcox South Shelters – 13.8 miles

Toward evening, I crossed US 7, the highway that leads to Great Barrington MA. Faced with another uphill, I trudged to a halt and gazed despondently at my feet. I had hoped to reach Vermont this week, but I was slower than expected. I was finally coming to terms with the slide back to the 28^th. I contemplated how easy it would be to catch a ride into Great Barrington, and from there take a bus to an airport and…

I caught myself plotting an escape route. Yes, piling on yet another week to the schedule was disappointing, but I wasn’t going to quit over that. I got moving again, and before long passed a middle-aged couple coming the opposite way. They gifted me three energy bars and some compassionate words of encouragement. I didn’t let on to the fact, but I desperately needed their kindness that day.

Day 115: Friday, June 14

Mt Wilcox South Shelters to Upper Goose Pond Cabin – 15.9 miles

Today the weather deviated from its sunny status quo, thunderstorming twice with a calm break in the afternoon. Though it never rained heavily, I did temporarily ditch my pack for shelter at the first peals of thunder. However, lightning kept a safe distance away the whole time.

Just after lunch, I crossed a road that leads to Tyringham MA. 30 yards to the east was a farmhouse. On the boarder of the front lawn stood a red shack with “Trail Stand” painted on the side, the white letters forming a circle around the AT insignia. Shedding my pack onto the nearby picnic bench, I moseyed over to investigate. The space was furnished with shelves of snacks, refrigerated drinks, and a charging station. A note listed the prices for sundry refreshments and indicated a red bag to deposit cash into. The items were reasonably priced, thus I eagerly acquired a bag of Ruffles, two 6-packs of Oreos, and a generic Powerade (after all, I need to get my daily intake of Red 40). I admired the charity and boldness of the owner to leave the site unattended, trusting hikers to pay for their purchases on good faith.

The next mile passed through a marsh. I was moderately amused by the unusually rickety and crooked boardwalks, even by backcountry standards. Some were slanted a full 45 degrees!

The evening destination was a cabin perched near Upper Goose Pond Lake, itself nestled in a mountainous bowl. Here I caught up with the myriad of folks who passed me throughout the day: of the eleven other bunks, ten were occupied. After admiring the reflections of the trees in the still lake water, I relaxed on the porch. I got to chatting with some fellow bird enthusiasts, sharing our favorite sightings along the trail. When “hiker midnight” arrived, commonly known as sunset, we all filed into the bunk room to settle down. I slept the best night in weeks on the provided mattress.

Day 116: Saturday, June 15

Upper Goose Pond Cabin to Dalton MA – 20.6 miles

The cabin is actually staffed by a volunteer caretaker, who was too busy the day before for us to get acquainted. However, word went around that anyone up at 6:00 AM would be treated to a pancake breakfast. Sure enough, when I slid into the kitchen promptly at 5:50, the caretaker was quick to slide me a plate loaded with two fresh flapjacks. I never did catch this elderly man’s name, yet he displayed profound humility and generosity in the way he cared for the facility and provided for the needs of his guests.

But I would encounter still more hospitality halfway through the day. My guidebook tipped me off to “The Cookie Lady” (maybe she knows the muffin man?) on Washington Mountain Road, just a tenth of a mile off-trail. Her front porch and lawn are open for hikers during the day. Approaching the property, I was greeted by the Cookie Lady herself. Easing into a rocking chair on the porch, I was invited to grab a few morsels from the cookie box while she disappeared inside. She reappeared with a jar of hibiscus lemonade that she brews herself. The chocolate chip cookies almost held a candle to my great-grandmother Lucille’s recipe, while the juice was quenching and not overly sweet. I took my hour lunch break at the spot, talking with other hikers as they trickled in. The Cookie Lady had work to do in her garden but returned with a bucket of fresh-picked honey berries for us to sample. Despite the name and the likeness to a blueberry, they were very tart. Imagine a compressed cherry tomato.

It’s plenty of light left, I crossed the tracks into Dalton. A trail angel named Tom, listed in the guidebook, lets hikers pitch their tents in his back yard. After introducing myself and setting up camp, I walked over to the sandwich shop. I was torn between pizza and a sub, so I was pleased to see a “Pepperoni Pizza Sub” listed in their specials. And of course, I couldn’t say no to a handmade whoopee pie.

Day 117: Sunday, June 16

Dalton MA to Cheshire MA – 8.7 miles

Typical town chores occupied most of the day: grocery shopping, showering, and laundry. In addition to mass, these had me occupied until late afternoon. I planned next week to be a longer one and was eager to put down some miles before sundown, but I still found time to hit the pizza parlor before leaving town. No one else was there except the owner. As we made polite conversation, she directed me to a unique pizza that she herself concocted: Honey Buffalo Chicken. Always one to try the local flavor, I order a personal pie, but she threw in a salad for free as a hiker special. While I don’t particularly enjoy sweet pizzas, the creation had a pleasant balance of flavors, and the shredded chicken added the perfect texture. Cramming the last two slices into the salad container, which I forced into the exterior stretch pocket on my pack, I finally started for Cheshire by 4:00.

The path between to two towns hurdles a short ridge. Just before the descent lay the famed “Cheshire Cobbles”, a jumble of marble stones that form an overlook into the lake and town below. I stayed the night at the Father Tom Campsite, maintained by the town and located next to the municipal truck depot.

On the Horizon

It’s time to head into Vermont. As such, the surroundings become far more rural. I’ll need to put down 130 miles to reach a good resupply point that has mass. Add in temperatures in the 90’s, and this is set to be the most brutal week of the whole journey.

Pebbles

New Birds: Cedar Waxwing, Hairy Woodpecker, Winter Wren, Barn Swallow, Common Merganser

Photos: The Google Photos album now contains more pictures than miles I’ve walked! Also, I reorganized the images to appear newest to oldest, so you don’t have to scroll all the way to the bottom for the most recent uploads.

Podcasts: “Huberman Labs” is a great show for learning the cutting edge of health science. Dr Andrew Huberman reviews the cutting-edge literature on a topic, synthesizes the results, and presents digestible conclusions and daily practices. My favorite episodes include the best tactics against the common cold, researchers describing their work at creating prosthetic eyes, and the recent miniseries about sleep with guest Dr Matthew Walker. On the other hand, “Jimmy Akin’s Mysterious World” rigorously investigates the realm of the strange, paranormal, or possibly supernatural. Ever heard stories of Bigfoot, alien abductions, government conspiracies, or psychic phenomena? Jimmy Akin applies his skills as an apologist to explore the hard evidence to uncover these mysteries as hoaxes, natural forces, or perhaps something rather extraordinary. This is by far my favorite podcast I’ve picked up on-trail, and I often turn to it as an entertaining break from my nonfiction audiobooks.

Audiobooks: Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton, Reading the Church Fathers: A History of the Early Church and the Development of Doctrine by James L. Papandrea

Songs in my Head: “Stand” by R.E.M., “In the Garage” by Weezer, “Only the Young” by Journey, and “Migration” by Jimmy Buffett

🎶 I’ve got a mountaineer soul I can barely control / and some Massachusetts here in my heart 🎶

Maxwell “Oatmeal” Stelmack