Lost Pond Shelter [mile 1541.7; SOBO 523.3]
Ugh. I feel like poop. I took half a sick day. Some days, your job just sucks.
The funny thing is, I was hot when I went to sleep. But of course, it got colder—and last night I fell asleep before I had everything nailed down. I woke up a lot and finally had to bite the bullet around midnight and sit up and pull on one more layer. Not quite enough.
I woke up late and I was already exhausted. I just looked at the inside of the tent and almost cried. (That’s how I know I’m tired. I’m generally not much of a crier.) The last thing I wanted to do was get up and de-pitch the tent and pack everything up and walk more. I wanted to roll over in a warm bed and sleep for another hour or two.
But no. Gotta unbuild the house every morning, even when it’s cold. Gotta make some miles. So I did it—but from the outset I didn’t feel very good. Lousy, in fact.
The trail was beautiful. Wide and flat, with not much mud, it followed a pretty brook for most of the morning.
But I was having a hard time even walking. The sluggishness reminded me of the norovirus time—just sheer tiredness. And my stomach was acting a little jumpy, too. I finally decided I’d need to stop early and get some rest.
So here I am at this pretty shelter. There’s a creek nearby, but I’m well above it. I piled leaves under the tent. And I had a realization: there’s quite a lot of stuff that should be under my pad, instead of lounging around the tent. Including my pack, which flattens down and is made of foam, more or less. So we’ll play with that tonight.
This is just tweaking anyway. The systems are in place, and then the fine-tuning continues indefinitely.
So wake me up at about 8:00 tomorrow! Bring coffee! 😉
Oh, heh. The numbers. I’m targeting 11/21 for an end date. Tossing in some resupply days, that means a minimum of 12 miles per day—and hopefully 13 or 14 or 15. I’m not interested in the global statistics; just Did I make 12 miles today? If yes, then good. If no, then not good. Everything’s subject to change, of course—on a daily basis, more often than not. And if it really gets miserably cold, I’m done. I’ve already danced that dance; having to go through that mess twice in one hike is more than I can muscle through. Finishing is not worth the misery!
But anyway, yeah. As of tomorrow (I believe), this is officially a four-season hike. One way or another, it’ll be fall when I’m done.
645 miles to go.