So, I hiked and hiked ... and hiked. I rested little,
and just kept moving as steadily as I could. The only rest stops involved
filling the water bottles at pumps, and eating energy bars, or burying
my face in another mango (they have never tasted so good!)
For the most part though, I was finding much to appreciate.
The landscape was absolutely lush. The streams were full, gushing with
crystal clear water, and the glens full of oversized ferns and laurel.
Along one surreal stretch of trail, I hiked by a remote and stunningly
blue body of water surrounded by towering oaks, to find out later that
it was called Nuclear Lake. As it turned out, the trail
went through a wild landscape with few hints of the teeming city and suburbs
that were never far away. Unfortunately, the air was like pea soup, and
it was hard to see more than a mile at the overlooks.
I saw very few hikers. The hikers that I did come across
were thru hikers, and for the most part, they were in their 50's or older.
Many of them had retired, and had the time to pursue such a journey. One
man told me he was 85. All of the hikers I met were right on schedule,
and were planning to be in Maine by September. I was truly inspired by
these hikers, and it gave me comfort knowing that I have plenty of good
years ahead of me. Even though my knees may finally give out on me from
running, I can always resort to hiking.
For the most part, it was a truly peaceful journey. I
did hear roads at times, and there were two stretches where the trail
was not far from Interstate 84 and the Taconic Parkway, but other than
that, the only sounds were those of song birds, frogs, and the steady
hum of insects.
At the end of each day, I felt crushing fatigue. I basically
hiked as long as my body would let me. On both Saturday and Sunday, I
put in roughly 20 miles a pop. I was happy not to have to worry about
setting up a stove, cooking, and cleaning pots. But the vegan meals were
not particularly tasty, and I was just shoving the food in my mouth to
get my needed nourishment. Both nights I stayed in my tent without the
suffocating rain fly, as it was so hot, and the air so still, I needed
to capture any faint breeze that came by. I slept on top of my bag, and
realized that was one item I really didn't need. As I lay my tired body
down, I could feel my shoulders relax, and the fatigue evaporate. On the
second night in Fahnestock State Park, I could hear nothing but frogs
at a nearby pond, and the usual chorus of crickets.
The last day was the roughest. My back was particularly
sore from the hiking the day before, and the air was only getting heavier.
It looked like the sky was going to burst, but I never dealt with much
more than a few drops here and there. I knew I was going to make it when
I hiked through the Greymoor monastery grounds, with one more ridge to
hike before the Hudson River. On the last ridge, I could hear the Metro
North trains, but I could never see the river below, as the sky was too
hazy. As I sauntered down the last hill to the Manitou station, I still
had an hour to kill. I had made it! To celebrate, I grazed through a few
raspberry thickets.
Before I knew it, I was on an air conditioned Metro North
train heading to Spuyten Duyvil. In little more than an hour, I was setting
foot in my home. My wife and son were standing in the rain, waiting for
me at the train station. When I got home, I was pleased to find that Maureen
had fixed a delicious meal, had chilled a few Saranac Black and Tans,
and had a bath with Epsom salts waiting. Could I be happier? This is exactly
the kind of greeting every backpacker dreams of after a few days on the
trail! Thank you Maureen!!
Well, that is the way every backpack should end, but
there is a PS to this story. After my bath, I finally got a chance to
take a close look at my body, and sure enough, I found a tiny tick right
below my shoulder. I pulled it out with tweezers, and stored it away in
a zip lock bag. I'm glad I did that, as I was able to present it to my
doctor when I thought I was starting to show signs of having lyme disease.
The following weekend, I ran the strenuous Escarpment
Run, and afterwards, I experienced alternating waves of fever and chills.
I didn't have the telltale bull's eye rash where I was bitten, but I wasn't
going to waste time checking out my situation with the doctor.
Fast forward to the next week, and I am now feeling recovered
and energetic. The thing I pulled out indeed was a deer tick, but my tests
for lyme disease came out negative. So, who knows what kind of demon my
body was fighting that day. Maybe doing 45 miles with a backpack in 48
hours, and 18 miles of the Catskills in five hours was too much for my
body to bear in the span of one week. Looking back, tick bite or not,
both weekends tested me to the fullest. Yet, knowing me, I will be out
on the trails again soon, whether it is with hiking boots or running shoes.
I'm sure by the time I embark on my next adventure, I will have forgotten
the pain, and will be scoffing at the challenges. Some people just never
learn.
|
