Cold as hell

Flashback to 1997. My father, little brother (age 5), and I are walking along the blustery South Jetty beach in northern Oregon. My brother has a sudden epiphany filled with truth and wisdom, "Dad, if your hands get cold, just grab your peeps."

Many years later, and these words have continued to save my fingers from certain frostbite. Yeah... it's been super cold lately. The kind of cold where I seem to move in slow-motion, where my speech begins to slur, and where it's simply too cold to drop a number two. 

I've been hiking off and on with a fellow named Zhivago (which, by the way, awesome trail name). Zhivago always has his thermometer handy, and the past three nights he's said it's been 4°, 10°, and -1°.

Say whaaaaa?!

I knew I was signing up for cold weather... but DANG. Plus, it's been really windy lately which multiplies the frigidness greatly. Needless to say, I'm in town today thawing out a bit. I don't think there is a better feeling than stepping into a hot shower after days in the freezing woods. 

However, I'm staying in town too much. At this rate, I won't be able to afford it, neither with time nor money. So, I'll need to keep moving. And I mean this in the general sense, as well as the most literal sense. Besides crawling into my warm sleeping bag at the end of the day, the only way I've been able to stay somewhat warm is to keep moving. Keep hiking. Keep doing jumping jacks.

Honestly, my hands have been my greatest difficulty. It seems that no matter what I do, they remain numb and cold. That's why I have no problem taking a trip into town. If not for a motel room, at least for a hot cup of coffee before continuing the trek into the bitter cold. 

And now, back to Arthur

It always takes me by surprise

how dark it gets this time of year

And how apparent it all becomes

that you're not close, not even near

No matter how many times I tell myself

I have to be sincere

I have a hard time standing up

and facing those fears

But Frank put it best when he said

"You can't plan on the heart"

Those words keep me on my feet

when I think I might just fall apart

Now I miss you more than I can take

and I will surely break

And every morning that I wake

god, it's the same

There's nothing more to it,

I just get through it

- First Aid Kit

Vermont and the Long Trail are now behind me. 273 miles across the length of the state from Quebec to Massachusetts.

It feels good, but I'm pretty tired. I came into town to relax, resupply, and revel a bit in having finished the LT, but really... sometimes being in town is exhausting. There's always a lot that needs to be done before getting back on Trail, and typically the town is spread out enough to where you have to walk in order to get these things done. Often, you end up hiking around town several miles just to get a meal, drop by the post office, resupply, or do laundry. Part of the reason I'm kinda worn out while I type this is because I walked to a laundromat listed in my guidebook only to arrive and discover that it's no longer in business. One of those moments where you just stand there looking back and forth between the laundromat sign and the now vacant building.

My arm slumps down holding the bag of smelly hiker clothes. Perfect. 

But it's still been restful despite things like that happening. I ordered a pizza and picked up a couple beers to celebrate the end of the Long Trail. I watched TV, including an episode of Arthur, bringing back so many memories from my childhood. And dang, that show has the best theme song.

After my last update from Manchester Center, I grabbed a hot meal and realized I still needed to resupply before hitching a ride back to the trail. It was getting dark fast, so I found myself racing through the claustrophobic grocery store aisles, dodging other shoppers who showed absolutely no self-restraint in staring me down. 

As I'm packing my food outside the building, a nice lady walks up and starts asking me about the trail. She's really sweet, but all I can think is, "GIVE ME A RIDE PLEEEEEASE!"

Literally, as I'm thinking this and kind of starting to zone her out, a gentleman comes out of the store, walks right up to me and says, "You need a ride back to the trail?"

Haha! What?! "Yes! Actually, I would love a ride back to the trail. You sure you don't mind?"

"No, no, it's no problem. In fact, you're welcome to tent in our yard if you want. I'm getting ready to make some supper, too," he informs me. 

And just like that, Trail Magic. 

It always amazes me how kind people can be to hikers. The guy's name is Dan, and he is a friend of the Trail and the hiking community. I end up staying at his place, getting a hot shower, eating a delicious dinner with him and his girlfriend, and sleeping in a warm bed with their cat. I am blown away by their hospitality and kindness.

From Manchester to the border, the weather is still chilly but warmer than it has been. I'm actually able to hike a few days without having to wear my two jackets and gloves. It takes me a few days (and just enough food rations) to arrive in The Bay State.

I remember how exciting it was for KitFox and I to arrive at that wooden sign, welcoming us into Vermont. 

Vermont. 

It sounded so NORTH to me. And now coming to that same sign over a year later, it meant I had traveled a significant distance SOUTH. And ever south I go.

That'll do, pig

Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all

But lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall

Lend me your eyes I can change what you see

But your soul you must keep, totally free

Awake, my soul

- Mumford & Sons

Did some night hiking last night in order to get into town this morning. I'll tell you what... if you're prone to get scared easily, don't hike at night by yourself.

But if you're comfortable with being in the woods at night, it's incredible. Such a different trail at night than during the day. 

It's been great being back on the AT, seeing familiar sites and seeing people again. So far, I've met a total of four long distance hikers. The first, Walking Dragon, was a NOBO LT thru-hiker who I met in my first week on trail. After him, I didn't see any until a couple days ago. I met Frostbite, a SOBO who started in Monson, ME back in August. I also met a SOBO section hiker but didn't get his name. And earlier today, I met Kansas City and his pup, Charlie Dog.

Other than that, it's still been pretty solitary out here. I think there are a few SOBOs a week or so ahead of me, but most of them are flip-floppers (meaning they've already hiked a southern section, skipped up to Katahdin, and are now heading back south to where they left off).

I should be finished with the LT in another few days, and I plan on celebrating with a comfy Howard Johnson bed to sleep in (and probably a pint of Long Trail Ale).

It's been good. Challenging, but good.

I've been enjoying the solitude most of the time. The snow has been slow-going but gorgeous. And smoking my pipe while reading Moby Dick has been therapeutic and relaxing.

Time to leave Manchester Center and hit the Trail again for another stretch (that is, after stopping at the local Chinese restaurant)!

Cheers.

Reunited

Holy light, oh, burn the night

Oh keep the spirits strong

Watch it grow, child of wolf

Keep holdin' on

- Wolf by First Aid Kit

Left the town of Brandon after a delicious breakfast (and second breakfast). The staff at the Brandon Inn were incredibly hospitable and fun to talk with... which, being their only guest, I was thankful for. **side note** I couldn't help but think of The Shining and Jack Nicholson breaking down my door. Staying in an old (OLD) empty hotel, ya know. Thankfully no twin girls were spotted at the end of the hall. 

Sarah, one of the owners, drove me back to the trail head where a nice soft snowfall was waiting for me. 

"Are you SURE you don't want to stay another night?" she asked in her British accent. 

"Ha, trust me... I do." As I donned my pack and extended my trekking poles. I waved goodbye and watched her drive off back down the hill towards town. Now into the snow. 

I hiked about 7 or 8 miles that afternoon as the snow continued to fall softly to the ground. I stopped a few times to catch my breath and to listen. The woods were so quiet. Just the soft, steady snowfall all around me. 

Peaceful. 

I set up my tent in the shallow snow, cooked some undercooked mac & cheese, and snuggled deep into my sleeping bag for the night. It was cold. And dark. And now only a little after 5 pm. Story of my life. 

I read a few chapters of Moby Dick before eventually falling asleep. Then something weird happened.

I wake up in the middle of the night because I hear something approaching my tent. It sounds pretty close (by the way, I'm sleeping with all my food next to me). It's at this point that I realize I need to start yelling and scare this thing away before it gets any closer. 

But I can't. 

I open my mouth to yell and only a pathetic whimper comes out. What the...?

"GET OUTTA HERE!!" is what I want to yell at the top of my lungs, but I can't. The words aren't coming. 

Micah, if you want to not get eaten right now, you need to make some noise! Now yell!

You guys, this was so strange to me. I wanted to yell and I simply could not. Am I having a nightmare?

Apparently, yes. Well, kinda. 

The noise I heard must have just been the wind and leaves, but it was loud enough to wake me and make me alert. However, I was still asleep enough for my mind to imagine a bear or coyote or something approaching my tent. I was in between being awake and asleep, and therefore could not bring myself to actually yell. I could just barely whimper instead. 

All of this happened over the course of a few minutes until I fell back into full sleep. I awoke in the morning and recalled the event. It was an extremely weird sensation. I wasn't dreaming it, but I wasn't fully awake either. Crazy!

Breakfast. Coffee. Packed up and hit the trail. I wanted to keep moving to stay warm, but the terrain was pretty hilly and I was getting worn out. I took a lot of breaks this day. 

However, I had two big things to look forward to and hike towards on this day.

The first being Maine Junction, where the LT meets up and connects with the AT. The second being my friend, Greg, who was planning to meet me at this point and take me off trail for a restful Zero. 

It was early afternoon when I reached Maine Junction. I took some time at this point. I could feel the sudden flood of emotion and memories hitting me all of a sudden as I stared at the three directions of white blazes. Long Trail north, AT north, and Long Trail/AT south. Standing at the crossroads, in the exact spot where KitFox and I had stood last year. Except now I was heading south from the northern Long Trail, whereas KitFox and I had headed north towards New Hampshire and Maine. The sign read 469 miles to Katahdin, and like a movie, I replayed the images of us walking all those miles to the top of Katahdin. I turned around from the sign, and for the first time in over a year headed south on the Appalachian Trail.

Here is the video from that moment...

Also, this was now the first time I had ever hiked on the Appalachian Trail alone. A strange realization...

I now only had one mile to go before meeting Greg at the road crossing, but after only a few minutes of walking, there's Greg hiking up the trail! Man, it was great to see him again. 

You see, Greg is a Trail Angel. He lives near the AT close to Hanover, and he has opened his home and literally helped out hundreds of hikers over the past few years... providing a place to stay and rest and shower and do laundry. Two of the hikers he helped out in 2012 were KitFox and myself.

After hearing about me hiking the Long Trail, Greg generously offered up his home again for me to stay and rest and shower and do laundry! It was truly great to see him again. 

So, my Zero is now coming to an end, and I return to the Trail tomorrow morning for more SOBO adventures. I am incredibly thankful for Greg and his hospitality these past couple of days.

It is truly amazing the kinds of people you meet and relationships you form from thru-hiking. When Greg helped KitFox and I out back in 2012, we maybe stayed with him 12 hours total, and yet here I am in his house again after over a year, and I feel as if I've known him a lifetime.

The Trail does that. The people you meet and the places you see leave an everlasting impression on your soul. 

So you see... yesterday, I was reunited with two very dear friends of mine. One wearing a blue jacket, the other wearing a whole bunch of white blazes. 

Sure! I love bread.

May God bless and keep you always 

May your wishes all come true

May you always do for others 

And let others do for you

May you build a ladder to the stars 

And climb on every rung

May you stay forever young

May you grow up to be righteous 

May you grow up to be true

May you always know the truth 

And see the lights surrounding you

May you always be courageous 

Stand upright and be strong

May you stay forever young

May your hands always be busy 

May your feet always be swift

May you have a strong foundation 

When the winds of changes shift

May your heart always be joyful 

And may your song always be sung

May you stay forever young

- Bob Dylan

As I was ascending Bamforth Ridge, just inside Camel's Hump State Park, I came to an overlook with a bench. It's not very often you find a bench in the middle of the woods... so naturally, I took a seat to catch my breath. On the bench was a plaque dedicated to a fellow named John "Nutsy" Notte. No mention of why the plaque was there... just his name, his age, "in memory of." And a famous lyric by Bob Dylan.

I love that song.

This past week has been pretty great overall. It started off with me leaving Waterbury after a day of rest in the Best Western. I lounged in my room and watched too many Halloween specials on TV. I tried to catch a ride for about half an hour as I walked from the Best Western to a busier intersection. Nobody was stopping. Well, except for the people at the stop sign I was standing next to. They stopped. And gave me dirty looks as they rolled on by.

Alrighty then! I thought a break was in order and walked a little further down the street to a pizza joint. Had myself a nice little pizza and some soda and hit the street again. And again, NOBODY was stopping. What the heck? I was even somewhat clean-looking at this point AND in a perfect spot for someone to pull over.

Thirty more minutes... No one. 

Well, I might as well start walking the 8 miles back to trail. Someone will surely get me along the way (and hopefully soon!).

Three miles later I arrive at a little outfitter alongside the road. I didn't really need anything, but again, I thought I could give my thumb a break for a bit. The lady inside was really nice (despite not being able to give me a ride, haha), and I enjoyed conversing with her for a bit. 

Back to the road. 

However, this time the hitchhiking gods were smiling upon me. Stuck my thumb out, and right away a car pulls over in front of me. I scurry towards the passenger window as the driver scrambles to clear his front seat of books, papers, food and cassette tapes.

"Hey! I'm trying to get back to the Long Trail."

"Yeah, yeah. Get in!"

Haha, this guy is already unintentionally making me laugh. I step into the car with my pack crammed in front of me. He's listening to NPR.

"Here, you want some bread? It's fresh! I just picked it up." He hands me a massive loaf of bread.

"Sure! I love bread!"

The next 10 minutes were awesome. 

This guy was a Cuban American who moved to Vermont twenty years ago or something like that. The only things we talked about on the way to the trail were lingual dialects and porcupines.

Like I said, it was awesome.

He dropped me off and wished me luck as I thanked him again for the bread and the ride. It had been raining all morning while I was still at the hotel, but now the sun was out and blue skies complimented the green farmland surrounding me. 

It was a good way to start the next leg of my journey. 

As the days went on, it warmed up a bit, then it got extremely cold again (with highs in the 20s), then proceeded to warm up again with some rainstorms. This morning was my wettest yet. Hiked about 6 miles to get to the next road crossing in a complete downpour. With the wind, it was downright miserable.

But you just gotta keep walking. It's all part of the package, I guess you could say. And the miserable days definitely make you appreciate every little luxury we spoil ourselves with in town. I nearly jumped for joy when I found a DRY towel to wipe my face with. It's not much fun (nor very effective) to dry off with a wet towel. #TheMoreYouKnow

Another thing I have learned while being on this hike... LOOK WHERE YOU'RE GOING. I was trekking along the other day, moving at a decently fast pace, when all of a sudden — BLAMM! I walked right into a tree. 

What the...??

Seriously, how did I not see this giant horizontal tree laying across the trail right at eye level? It's pretty obvious that when you hike you have to look where you're going (it helps, at least)... but while concentrating on the rocks and roots and mud and ice, you often neglect anything above the waste. It's a trail! Of course I don't need to look up — BLAMM. That's when you walk into a tree. #TheMoreYouKnow

So yeah, it's been a great week overall. Despite some of the miserableness that comes with a long distance hike, the views have been breathtaking, the woods have been peaceful, and the [few] people I've encountered have been heartwarming.

I'm now over half way through the Long Trail, and it's southwards from then on! Quebec to Georgia. Man... We'll see little ManCub. We'll see.

PS, did you know Quebec's abbreviation is QC? And they speak French there! Vermont basically borders France. Think about that. #TheMoreYouKnow