Chapter 115: The Long Trail

I escaped from town without making much more of a fool of myself than I already had. And hiking while riding a caffeine high? Amazing!

I was thrilled to cross the border into Vermont, and to begin the Long Trail. I ended up at the Congdon Shelter, some fourteen miles from where I began the day. It had started to rain just a few hundred yards before the shelter, so I didn't feel particularly bad about my apparently lax accomplishment.

I sat in my tent for a while, just listening to the rain. And endlessly contemplating my plan to do only easy 15 mile days in order to meet my parents in Hanover on the 23rd. Eventually growing bored with such ruminations, I pulled out my trusty journal, which was quickly filling with rambling diatribes against various petty personal injustices:

It feels weird getting into camp at 4 P.M. No, wait, I meant it feels awesome! Duh.

Another 14.1 done. It's raining now, but I'm in my tent. Bathroom this morning hit the spot. Wait, I'm--

I'm thinking about changing my plan, and doing twenties for the next couple days, so as to get to, er, Hanover by the twenty first. Why? So I can go to Ben and Jerry's on the twenty second and get the Vermonster. I figure that could hold me over the entire day. Why am I writing this way? maybe to practice, or maybe it's just because I'm lazy and I don't want to pick the penn off the page. But now I'm even tiring of that. There are a lot of people at the shelter just hiking the Long Trail. Lazy fucks. Why am I so lethargic? Its It's like six thirty. And I only did 14 miles. I think I ate too much food. Maybe that's why.

Haven't seen Mimi, Fred or Lou all day. On the other hand, Saint is here. Together we make up the rear, rear, rear guard, okay, last deserters of the Nature Train.

Section hiker out there is talking about wine and Bailey's in her resupply. She needs to shut the fuck up. She has. Good. I need some fucking Bailey's. I'll get some at the Long Trail Inn, maybe.

Blah Blah blah. Fuck. Only semi-emotional moment to day was when I realized how close to being done I really am. Fuck. Fuck.

Hiking was good the last couple days, probably because I had company. A tree is going to fall on my tent, and I'm gonna die. Should I go outside and be social? Feel wierd. Weird even. Thoughts scattered, unfocussed. Hiking angry this morning, probably because I accidentally started pouring liquid sugar into my water bottle, thinking it was water, at a coffe place in Williamstown. Fuuuuck. I remember meaning to remember to write that down, but I almost forgot. Fuck it. I'm going to bed. It's 7 P.M.