Day 3: 10.8 mi. (1470 – 1480. 8)

We wake with the sun…again, but still haven’t gotten into a rhythm of packing quickly and/or efficiently,  which one would think we’d be highly adept at by now. Nope.

If it wasn’t for the uphills there’d be no downhill, and boy were there plenty today. Straight uphill, followed by straight down hill in humidity like we’ve never experienced.  One could get heat exhaustion,  if not heat stroke, if they’re not careful. Luckily, the water is as plentiful as the rocks and roots on this trail.

The uphill rock crawl climbs allow you to “mountain step” yourself up, but these downhill are something else on these old knees. I keep telling myself, ‘it’ll get better…you’re in hell week(s)…you’ve this before.’ In some ways thru-hiking is like child birth. You’re so excited for the run up to actually popping out that child,  but when it comes right down to it, it’s hard and painful as hell, but you push through it because you have no choice. And then time passes and you think, let’s have another one, forgetting (actually downplaying and justifying) the discomfort you went through to get that beautiful child/thru-hike. Yup, we’re in “labor”. So, we watch our feet and pray for no “complications”, like a trip and fall.

From time to time, we are treated to a bit of flat, views, and colorful vegetation.

Towards the tail end of the day and our I tended mileage, as we are trying to heed our own advice, we came upon a douzy of a decent (500 ft in .5 miles) just past the St. John’s Ledges’ viewpoint.

Not sure what it’s called, but WTF comes to mind. Who designed this? I’m thinking that they wound this trail uphill (which was a beautiful rolling walk) and couldn’t figure out how to gracefully wind it down to the Housatonic River and make it home in time for dinner. I imagine the conversation going a little like this,

‘Hey don’t you think we should start heading back? I only brought snacks, and I don’t want to spend another night out here. The bugs are driving me crazy, and I’m almost out of paint. We won’t be able to get back before dark, if we back track.’

‘Maybe we can shimmy down this rock fall.’

‘I don’t know. It’s pretty steep.’

‘Oh don’t be a baby! The rocks look pretty stable, and if you squint your eyes, they almost look like steps. We can even slap what’s left of the white paint periodically on a couple of rocks on our way down and call it a day. Well, what’s it gonna be? We’re burning daylight here.’

‘Let’s go, I’m starving!’

To be honest, this route would have been much easier earlier in the day, certainly sans pack, and/or with trail legs and, more importantly, without a near crippling fear of heights. But what’s an adventure without nausea and challenges. I’m pretty sure that half mile descent took close to an hour and certainly dashed all hopes of adding another 3 miles to our day. Frankly,  we were pleasantly surprised we didn’t die.

Once down to more stable terra firma, we were rewarded with a shaded and absolutely flat dirt road walk beside the Housatonic River to our now intended campsite at Stony Brook. Completely gased, we set up our tent minus the rain fly and were treated to a firefly light show as we drifted off to sleep.

Day 4: 10.4 mi (1480.8 – 1490.4)

Today was supposed to be a “Nero”, where we would walk a couple miles, duck into “town”, for a 2 day resupply, and see if anything was afoot for the 4th of July. None of that came to fruition.  We did get a pricey but delicious breakfast burrito, cookies for resupply breakfast, charge our phones, and chat with two NOBO hikers, “Let it Be” and “River Runner” at the Cornwall Market. With no real hint of 4th of July festivities and a few more provisions from the CitGo gas station, we moezied back to trail.

Southern California does nothing to help one prepare for humidity, let alone walking with a pack on in it. I feel like a four year old. I’m sticky 24/7. Wipes can’t even keep up with this humidity. We have found the air to be so moist that nothing is ever dry. In the morning, our clothes are just as damp as when we rang them out the night before. With the wet comes the critters like the Ref Eft who tend to park themselves in the middle of the trail. Good thing they’re highly visible!

By the time we got to our “nero” campsite, it began to rain. Rather than set up, we sat it out for nearly two hours. It was warm, and we pretended we were in Hawaii. Somewhat rested and still as damp as when we stopped, we decided to push ahead to the Pine Swamp Shelter, as we weren’t in jeopardy of getting any wetter, whether in rained or not.

We cross slow flowing creek and then find ourselves in a part of the trail they call “the Squeeze”. Knowing what we know now, we should have trained on a stairmaster while in a sauna. And, seeing that it was going to rain overnight…all night, we should have just cowboy camped in the shelter. For some reason, we just can’t bring ourselves to that just yet. I will say that the pond water (and taste) brought back memories of the CDT.

Day 5: 13.1 mi (1490.4 – 1503.1 + .4 to Limestone Spring Shelter)

It rained hard overnight. So much so that water bounced off the ground and back into the tent. And once again, we had the pleasure of donning wet clothes for the day’s hike. Not gonna lie, but I’m getting a little concerned about what the efficacy of our permethrin treated gear/clothing will be. If it is wet daily, does that count as a washing? If so, we’ve got to get to town soon and retreat our gear.

Eventually we walked ourselves damp (as opposed to drenched) and took a side trip into the Mountain Cafe, for some real food (read healthy), and to charge our phones. Our Anker battery packs are obviously too old to keep a healthy charge, and we’ll  have to figure out a way to get some newer technology portable battery packs…sooner than later.

Our plan was to see if we could get to Salisbury by the end of the day, as a thunder shower was on the forecast. Needless to say, that didn’t happen. Salisbury, but not the thunderstorm. It appears that when the weather people back east here say it will rain a 4pm, they mean it will rain at 4pm. And their rain is not California drizzle. It’s turn on the fire hose rain. We did however, pass by the iconic Great Falls of Amesville and Giant’s Thumb before we climbed up to Mt Prospect (1448 ft), and it started to rain. 

Shit! 4pm on the dot! While we saw plenty of places to camp, none were/are legal in the state of Connecticut.  Here, you may only camp in official campsites. Thus, our only choice was to make it to the Limestone Spring Shelter/Camping, which was read to be a harrowing .5 mile descent off trail. The first .2 lulls you into complacency, as it really wasn’t that bad. In fact, we chocked the FarOut comments up to fear mongering, until the rain became a deluge and the thunder and lightning became synced. Nothing like working one’s way down precariously situated rocks as a river flows under your feet, praying to God that you are grounded in the event of a lightning strike. Highly motivated, we made to the shelter completely drenched and still alive, surprising its sole occupant, “Little Engine”. We are no longer hesitant to cowboy camp in shelters. We are ready for a Zero!