Beautiful Sadness - Leaving Dalton

Today we left Dalton, Massachusetts after visiting the shorter and more widely known cousin of the N2N-TCP...the AT or Appalachian Trail.

Dad and I visit the famous Yellow House on Depot Street in Dalton, MA that sits along the famous Appalachian Trail.

As we headed out toward Pittsfield, Massachusetts, we passed the dam on the Housatonic River that once served a factory that sets at the junction of Main Street and Depot Street in Dalton.

Dam on the Housatonic River that once powered the shuttered factory to the left side of the photo.

This dam and this shuttered factory are emblematic of the change that’s rolled over the small towns that we’ve been traversing as we pushed westward through Massachusetts.  The Industrial Age was born here, lived a good long life, and was eventually replaced in the last several decades with the new labor of the industrial age.

Some of the towns have tried to adapt as the industry that made them manufacturing power houses slowed, dried up, and eventually died.  Some of these factories have been reborn as arts, fitness, and pet centers, but many, many more have not.

They sit on the riverbank and the clank of machinery and the hiss of steam has been replaced by the gurgling of the river and the twiter of birds.  Good riddance say some, but I’m not sure. The creeper vines are slowly pulling the brickwork and glass of the factories slowly into the riverbank to be consumed as time and “progress” march inevitably forward.  There is a beautiful sadness about it all. How one way of life has blossomed and lived and died like the fog rolling down off the hillside to settle on the water and eventually be banished by the rising son.

I feel for the people trapped by the pace of change.  How they have seen their how way of life...no, the whole of their life’s work grow and then slowly wither and be memorialized by the shuttered factory slowly returning to the soil.  So much work and innovation and labor returning to a more basic state as nature exerts her influence over these fragile works of humanity.

I’m grateful to feel this beautiful sadness.  It’s something that surrounds you and you can feel in your soul at the slow pace of walking.  You can breath it and live it and feel it all around you and in you. The beautiful sadness of endless change.

Push to Dalton, MA - Part II

Well we made it to Dalton, and we’ve set up shoe at the Shamrock Village Inn.  It’s a hiker motel, and it’s about what you’d expect in a place that caters to dirty hiker trash….like us.  It’s completely and totally glorious. Cheap prices, an easy walk to Paddy’s where you can grab a great cheeseburger or shepherd’s pie, heaters that work, hot water, and a soft place to sleep out of the rain.  Everything one could hope for in a place to crash.

Dad and I have a habit that we picked up from Mandy Lea of Mandy Lea Photography.  Side note….if you’re not acquainted with Mandy’s story, you should really go check it out at:

https://mandyleaphoto.com/

She’s a fabulous photographer and even more fabulous human being.  Roaming the country, and now internationally in a @TAB trailer bringing the beauty of the world to people who cannot go themselves and inspiring people to follow their dreams!  Check out her story. She’s the real deal.

Anyway, back to the pilgrimage.

The habit that Mandy suggested, and we’ve been following is to name the highlight of the day, the lowlight of the day, and something you’re grateful for that happened during the day.  We’re writing these down in addition to naming them, but today Dad noted that his lowlight was that the hills of western Massachusetts were still in the embrace of late winter. There’s a little snow along the roads and many of the lakes and ponds that we passed are still partially covered in ice.

Waiting for spring this lonely rowboat seems to be pining for warmer days as ice coats the lake that she plies in warmer times.

We covered a little over eighteen miles today at a little over two miles per hour.  The hills were steep going up and going down, and we had a pretty steep climb to the highest church in New England in Peru, Massachusetts located at an altitude of 2,064 feet.  Not in the same class as the western mountains, but hey, we’re feeling pretty accomplished.

These hills are going to be spectacularly beautiful in a couple of weeks, but if you look closely enough there’s beauty in the embryonic awakening that is just on the edge of becoming a reality.  The robins are out, and at the lower altitudes the frogs are beginning to chirp. Higher up, folks are getting ready for the maple sap harvest.

Sap tap on a maple tree awaiting the return of spring.

The signs of the rebirth associated with spring are all around, and the fact that they’re not quite here yet, the lowlight of the day, just serves to emphasize how special these things will be when they finally arrive in the next couple of weeks.  We’ll have moved on, but I’m sure the folks left behind will enjoy the awakening

The Push to Dalton, Part I

We did it.  We covered our longest daily distance to date.  A touch over twenty five miles from Hadley, Massachusetts to where we’re bedding down for the night in Worthington, Massachusetts.  We’re within about seventeen miles of Dalton, MA where the famous Appalachian Trail crosses paths with the far less famous N2N-TCP Trail.

Let me just say it upfront.  Dad was a beast today. He’s seventy-eight years old, carrying a twenty five pound pack, and he put in over twenty five miles with no complaints.  He even found time to fool around in the snow at the base of a small ice fall on the General Lafayette Trail just on the east side of Chesterfield, MA.

Dad playing around in the snow at th base of a small ice fall.

His push to Worthington has put us in a position to be able to make an attempt at getting to Dalton tomorrow.  I don’t know why, but Dalton, MA has taken on an importance as a milestone on our journey from my perspective. I guess it’s because we’ll be crossing through a town that will provide a much needed respite for the north bound, or NOBO, thru hikers of the Appalachian Trail later this summer.  Those folks are still hammering away at the miles down in Georgia, North Carolina, and maybe Tennessee right now.

Though we’re all miles away from each other, I feel a kindred spirit with the joys and the struggles of what they are trying to accomplish.  I’m also looking forward to spending one short evening in a “hiker town.”

Though tough, today was a good day and proved that we have what it takes to conquer some real distance coupled with some non-trivial hills.

Taking a Zero Day

You know you might be a long distance hiker if you start the morning emptying the floor of your house into a bathtub as part of your effort to keep things cleaned up on the trail.

Keeping things clean in the house of Big Agnes

Have no fear.  We did the right thing and responsibly cleaned up our mess.  We’re a bit uncivilized, but we’re not savages.

Today we took a zero day.  For those that might be new to the lingo of long distance hiking, a zero day happens when you make zero miles in the direction of your ultimate destination.  

We had been walking for eight days straight, and we were both a little worn.  Today was predicted to end with a rainy afternoon and evening, and I’m nursing the first blister of the expedition.  It was time to take a day and rest, resupply and reorganize.

In addition to cleaning and dying our camping equipment, rain gear, pack covers, and packs which had become thoroughly soaked during our trekking over the last eight days, we did all of our laundry.  I can tell you that the stench of eight days of road was beginning to get quite potent, so the six dollars a load in the guest laudry was probably worth it overall.

Additionally, we planned out the next couple of days which we hope will involve a two-day, forty-one mile push to Dalton, Massachusetts.  Dalton, MA is where the famous Appalachian Trail crosses the less famous route of the N2N-TCP. I don’t know what we’ll find there, but we’re counting on a hiker friendly welcome because the intervening distance promises to be beautiful but a remote trek through the Berkshire Mountains of western Massachusetts.  

In the morning we went to the post office, and I sent off a package with a pair of long hiking pants and a heavy fleece sweater that I don’t think I’ll need since the spring is finally arriving.  We resupplied with some food (Ramen, cheese, and peanut butter) and Dad replaced a set of gloves and a sun hat that had proved to be less than satisfactory. We walked just a little over three miles for the in and around errands in Hadley, Massachusetts.

I don’t know about Dad, but I needed the rest.  I took about a two hour nap this afternoon, and I feel ready to get out and hit the trail tomorrow.

Wish us luck as we move to start increasing our daily distances!

Fourteen Miles in the Rain

Today, I woke up at about fifteen minutes till six to the staccato cadence of pelting rain on the fly of our tent.  I took a video to capture the sound, looked around to make sure everything inside the tent was nice and dry, and started to get things packed up for our planned fourteen mile march into Hadley, Massachusetts.

Honestly, it was a pretty good walk.  On the advice of people who had done this sort of thing before, we had lined our packs with Hefty trash compactor bags and we added a rain cover over the outside of the packs.  Even though it rained for eleven of the fourteen miles, all of the gear that I needed to keep dry was dry at the end of the day.

My rain jacket and pants kept me warm enough, and the hills flattened out a little so we made very good time.

We even got to stop and wait for a train to pass.  Pretty loud, and I don’t believed I’ve ever been this close to a train in a car.  Pretty cool experience.

Waiting on a train in Belchertown, MA

We’re eight days into the trek, and we’ve covered a little over one hundred twenty miles.  We’r averaging about fifteen miles a day which is slower than we’d hoped, but we’re going to take a zero day tomorrow to give ourselves a chance to recharge.  Both Dad and I are pretty tired, and we decided that we’d take some time to rest instead of heading back out into the rain.

As more than one friend has told me, “You’ve got to listen to your body.  I’m also going to take the opportunity to lighten my pack a little. An UA fleece, a pair of Prana Zion long pants, and a second set of gloves have served their purpose well, but it’s time to lighten the load.  It doesn’t sound like much, but it’s probably close to a couple of pounds, and I guarantee that I’ll be able to tell the difference.

It’s too early for real gear reviews, but the Enlightened Equipment down quilt and the Big Agnes Fly Creek tent are performing remarkably well.  We'll let the facts play out a little longer, but my initial impression is that these were both very solid gear selections.

N2N-TCP Week One Summary

Well, we’ve managed to survive the first week.  Although we’re off to a bit of a slow start, I feel pretty good about how well “we’ve come up the learning curve” as Dad likes to point out.  Tonight, we’re tenting in yet another illegal, or stealth, location. This time we’re in a Massachusetts Wildlife Management Area. It’s not the best tent sitte, but we set up before dark, and since there is a 100% chance of rain later this evening we seem to be in a good spot.

Here’s the spot….Pretty stealthy overall.

For the weekly summary, we’ve managed to cover between 105 and 108 miles.  There’s a minor discrepancy between Google Maps and Nike Running Plus on these figures, but the important thing is that we’re averaging about fifteen miles per day.

We’re both tired, but we both appear to be getting stronger.  The first day up Aquidneck Island from Newport was only 13.69 miles, and I was worried about our ability to continue after that one.  I need not have feared. After a good night of rest and a good breakfast, we put in a long second day. From there the distance rose up to the current average, and we’re making good time.  We’ll have to pick up the pace a little, but I’m confident that we’ll get fitter as the time progresses. I can already feel that progress happening.

Walking makes the days feel longer.  You really get to sense and feel the area as you move through it.  You can feel the optimism of the town that’s trying to turn the factory down on the river into a pet and wellness centered business area.  You can sense the concern that it might not work out, and if it doesn’t that’ll me that some people will have to abandon their ideals of building a community in a small town and head back to the cities to find a way to earn their keep.

Mostly, you get a sense for how good people are in this country.  For whatever reason seeing people walking seems to bring out the best in people.  They introduce themselves to you and give you their phone numbers. They tell you to call if you need help.  They give you a friendly honk and wave on the road. I’ve met more “strangers” walking in the last week than I have in the last year of grinding away in DC.  Some people say that unity in this country is something that had its day in the sun and has vanished without a trace never to be seen again. I can tell you that’s not my experience.

I am grateful for the people who have offered us help.  I am grateful to see that so many people care and are willing to go out of their way to help their fellow humans.  I’m grateful to be reminded that we can find the best in each other if we will only take a moment to get to know our friends, neigbors, and people just walking through town.

Well, we’ve managed to survive the first week.  Although we’re off to a bit of a slow start, I feel pretty good about how well “we’ve come up the learning curve” as Dad likes to point out.  Tonight, we’re tenting in yet another illegal, or stealth, location. This time we’re in a Massachusetts Wildlife Management Area. It’s not the best tent sitte, but we set up before dark, and since there is a 100% chance of rain later this evening we seem to be in a good spot.

Here’s the spot….Pretty stealthy overall.

For the weekly summary, we’ve managed to cover between 105 and 108 miles.  There’s a minor discrepancy between Google Maps and Nike Running Plus on these figures, but the important thing is that we’re averaging about fifteen miles per day.

We’re both tired, but we both appear to be getting stronger.  The first day up Aquidneck Island from Newport was only 13.69 miles, and I was worried about our ability to continue after that one.  I need not have feared. After a good night of rest and a good breakfast, we put in a long second day. From there the distance rose up to the current average, and we’re making good time.  We’ll have to pick up the pace a little, but I’m confident that we’ll get fitter as the time progresses. I can already feel that progress happening.

Walking makes the days feel longer.  You really get to sense and feel the area as you move through it.  You can feel the optimism of the town that’s trying to turn the factory down on the river into a pet and wellness centered business area.  You can sense the concern that it might not work out, and if it doesn’t that’ll me that some people will have to abandon their ideals of building a community in a small town and head back to the cities to find a way to earn their keep.

Mostly, you get a sense for how good people are in this country.  For whatever reason seeing people walking seems to bring out the best in people.  They introduce themselves to you and give you their phone numbers. They tell you to call if you need help.  They give you a friendly honk and wave on the road. I’ve met more “strangers” walking in the last week than I have in the last year of grinding away in DC.  Some people say that unity in this country is something that had its day in the sun and has vanished without a trace never to be seen again. I can tell you that’s not my experience.

I am grateful for the people who have offered us help.  I am grateful to see that so many people care and are willing to go out of their way to help their fellow humans.  I’m grateful to be reminded that we can find the best in each other if we will only take a moment to get to know our friends, neigbors, and people just walking through town.