Project Eveningland

7/8/2023 Saturday

Mission: rest day. I overrode some tiredness yesterday to do a few of the rockier bits of southern NY in the dry weather. Not that it has at any point felt dry, on account of the endless non-evaporating sweat.

Last night I slept on a futon in a blessedly cool, dry basement with the reassuring sound of a large fan. Wedge set up a whole little rest area down in his studio space for hiker friends who come through—they live very close to a long stretch of the trail in NY.

I had what I would have previously considered an unhealthy lunch, except that it’s what my body wanted. Very very much. As soon as I started eating it my soul microbiome began to purr. Anything my system can process without difficulty—and that’s not protein bars, nuts or potato chips—is so, so welcome. Had the same thing for dinner.

I took a long nap in the afternoon. Wedge suggested I do a super short hike tonight with a light pack over the hill right past where I left off. He argued that it was better to do that rough ascent/descent tonight than tomorrow in potentially wet weather. The terrain ahead is a bit more friendly, he said. I was convinced and took him up on his offer.

He dropped me at the Orange Turnpike crossing and I took off up a series of rocky scrambles and scrapes. It is all glacial—it reminds me of the terrain near where I grew up in northern Ohio. There are moths flying everywhere. I’ve never seen them in such numbers. I began to fear that I might inhale one in my exertion. The afternoon light was strangely diffuse and dim.

I had hiked plenty in PA before this trip. And I had done most of the southern half of the AT. However, I haven’t ever hiked in New England farther north than this. I don’t have much of an image of the trail ahead and that’s quite alright, thank you very much. Assuming standard preparation for harsh alpine conditions, I’d rather just face it when it’s in front of me. That’s how I do it in Colorado.

There’s another blind spot in my future vision. I’ve already achieved more personal growth than I had dared to hope for on the entire journey. So I don’t know what the rest of that growth will look like. I cannot yet imagine it. Isn’t that an interesting mystery?

I began my descent, texting Wedge at the instructed waypoint. He knew about how long the climb down would be, he told me on the drive, and would pick me up at Elk Park.

It was a hairy walk down, a real pain. I gently tapped a knee against a ragged piece of pink rock and caused momentary (but startling) pain. I hustled across a busy road and up to a parking lot. Wedge drives the same car Ben does, so it felt familiar, rather like Ben had loaned us a getaway car.

I hung out with the family on the back deck. They have two sons, both clearly real good guys. Hudson and Nate were tossing a lacrosse ball back and forth. Cindy showed me a small turtle they were rescuing (moving out of a dog-accessible place and into a nearby forested area). Such vivid colors on his shell and feet. He moves his limbs steadily, ready to battle on. He is young.