Soon, we’ll have another state checked  off our list. For the most part, New York has been in the running for one of our favorite states thus far on the Appalachian Trail. Good food. Nice tread, for the most part, and actual views for our efforts.

Day 86: (Sept 24) 15.6 mi (789.2-804.8)

With a two-day resupply out of a gas station across from the motel, we hoof it down to the Dunkin Donut shop for “breakfast” and a hitch back to trail. Our goal for the day is the Fingerboard Shelter. We stroll to the end of Hessian Lake and then begin to climb a plethora of steps that showcase the CCC’s trailbuilding prowess that leads to the top of Bear Mountain. The section we will traverse is the first and therefore oldest section of the Appalachian Trail, from Bear Mountain through Harriman State Park.

Our next and most unexpected and amazing view, that evoked a 10 out of 10 “wow” factor,  was atop Black Mtn. We paused to look around and see what we could see whilst standing on a bald of granite, and were excited and surprised to see the Manhattan Skyline on the horizon. It was like a Wizard of Oz, magical moment.

Luckily, it was a fairly cool day, so our need for water was minimal, and we knew that water was available from a faucet next to Lake Tiorati.

With water in tow for the evening and the next morning, we finally made it to the Fingerboard Shelter, but not before being captivated by a bachelor group of hearty bucks, all 8-point or better.

Day 87: (Sept 25) 18.8 mi (804.8-817.8)

A beautiful sunrise certainly makes Starbucks Via coffee so much more palatable in the morning. We knew that we had lots of climbs for the day, but for some reason, the tread became more and more rocky. It was like New York decided that it wanted to be like New Hampshire.  It had a “mini” Mahoosic Notch, called the “Lemon Squeeze” that was a narrow rock scramble that was unimpressive and frankly, annoying, as a SOBO hiker. In addition, there was another New Hampshire-esque rock scramble that just seemed out of place, compared to the majority of tread thus far for New York.  If this continues, I fear that New York will fall out of favor with us for our favorite states thus far.

Towards the end of the day, the rocks mellowed a bit, but the roots got sneaky. In fact, one caught me by the toe, leading to a Superman style fall, wherein you’re suspended momentarily in the air stretched out like Superman. Of course, your inner child squeals with delight, “I’m flying!”. This squeal wakes the practical part of your brain, that was obviously asleep at the wheel, hence the Superman, and it’s only option is to hit the “Gravity Alert” panic button and hope the body responds with some sort of breakfall or obstacle avoidance. I hit the dirt hard, on my side (my body chose a breakfall, it appears). I find myself also wondering how torn my shoes will be. I roll into a seated position,  examine my shoe, and think I see a bear. As Paul can’t see it, and asks me if I hit my head. I look again. No bear. Just an optical illusion of shadows and swaying branches. I’m still pretty sure I didn’t hit my head.

We reach a road that heads into Greenwood Lake. The trail will continue another 5 or so miles, and then you hitch or walk into town, and we’ve been racing against an incoming storm. The moment we cross the road, the skies open up and rain upon us. We are now wet and soon will be cold in addition to being wet. We figured we might as well hitch into town now. Cars race past us with not so much as a nod. And just at the point that we’re about to bail on hitching and just keep walking, a car stops in the road, backs up, and gives us a ride. Thanks, Suzanne! She brings us into Greenwod Lake and waits while I make sure they have a room for us at the Lake Lodging Motel. She also offers to take us back to trail tomorrow if we need it. The rain is supposed to be done by 1pm. Once we settle in,  we walk to dinner in the rain and do our resupply shopping at the CVS on our way back. With a Dunkin Donuts nearly next door, tomorrow’s coffee will be awesome.

Day 88: (Sept 26) 7.9 mi (823.6-831.5) Greenwood Lake – Wawayanda Shelter

With the rain now supposedly stopping by 11 a.m., we move our back to trail time up. Paul is a bit anxious and wants to keep moving as we are not sure how long we’ll have favorable weather. Not that drizzling is bad, as it still feels fairly warm. We call Suzanne to see if she is available and leave a message. Time passes, and just before she calls back, we have a ride lined up with Paul about to load our packs into the vehicle. Frankly, I would have liked to have actually waited till 1pm and let the clouds get all the rain out of its system, but that would be 3 hours away, and we are trying to push as many miles as we can, while we can. This would prove to be a hasty, nearly trail ending, and almost fatal decision on our part.

We take the blue trail out of Greenwood Lake back to the AT. It’s misting but not terrible as we are mostly protected by the green tunnel of trees as we climb our way back up to the redline. Once again, the trail becomes rock slabs, unfortunately covered in green lichen that is extremely slippery when wet. New York is literally slipping further down our list of favorites, especially when we can see “safer” places to traverse.

New York transitions into New Jersey, and we have now walked through 6 of the 14 states on the Appalachian Trail and a total of 14 states of the triple crown trails. If we count the other states we’ve walked through or in, we’d add another 3 for a total of 17 of the 50 states in the USA. This would mean, by trail end, we will have walked through half of the states in the country. Wow.

From the later part of New York and into New Jersey, the tread was 2/3 slick rocks. The problem is that they’re nothing like Maine and New Hampshire rocks where you can be climbing up or down an active waterfall and NOT slip. You can trust your shoe tread (provided you still have some) and the rocks to hold fast in those states. This was not the case here. Thus, it made for very slow travel. Had we known these rocks were different when wet, we would have waited till the afternoon to get back on trail.

We marched on slowly and carefully picking our path for the most purchase we could get along this tortured path of Russian roulette up, over and down steep patches of lichen covered rocks. We’d often find safer routes around tall steep stands of rocks, but that took time. Paul found a flatter route that required ducking under a tree branch. He turned to pull it up and aside for me, and suddenly, the branch cracked, and Paul disappeared. I watched in horror as he fell backwards over a ledge bouncing off a protruding lip 6 ft down and flip again backwards, down another 6 feet where it looked like he landed on the back of his head and rolled once more before he came to a stop on his back. 12 feet below me lay Paul. And he had the Delorme on HIS pack. Shit. I’m thinking, how do it get down to him. Is he alive? The next thing I know, he has sat himself up and is rubbing the back of his head. “Are you okay?”, I call to him. “I was fine until my head hit this stupid rock”, he responds, stands, and then kicks the rock. I ask him if he wants me to come down to where he’s at. “No, I’ll climb back up”, he says.

Once back up, he examines the branch that broke, perplexed as to how and why it broke, after he had already lifted it once for himself. I see the blood dripping down the back of his head and take a look. Yep, he hit a rock alright. Fortunately, there was no lump forming, and it appeared to be a surface laceration about 3 inches long. (‘Tis but a scratch’, as they say in Monte Pythons Holy Grail) Superglue or steri strips would fix that easily. Problem was, we had neither. With both of us having been EMTs for decades and having responded to situations like this, we knew what to look for (as in, did we need to push the SOS button for this). The answer was no, but that didn’t mean I didn’t monitor Paul for any adverse changes that would indicate serious head trauma (read…inner cranial bleed or pressure). Our  daughter, of course, thought we should have pushed the button or had him get a CAT scan once we got to town, considering the mechanism of injury. Paul’s answer to the cut was to take out a baby wipe and rub his head vigorously to clean the wound and then don his hat once again. Of course, that made it bleed all the more. It was time for a little field finesse. It needed compression to stop the bleeding. A guaze pad and a Buff would do… and then he could put his hat back on. Mostly patched up, we continued on.

Not more than 15 minutes later, as I was ever so carefully making my way down a steep lichen covered slab, both feet suddenly shot out from under me, landing me squarely on the tail end of my pack and left elbow/forearm. My pack protected my sacrum, but nothing protected my elbow and forearm. I actually thought I had broken my arm as I couldn’t feel my fingers. Paul thought so, too. First Paul doing back flips and now me hitting the deck. This day was not going well. In each instance, our packs literally saved the day. It kept Paul from breaking his back on the protruding lip and kept his head from fully impacting the rock. And with me, it kept me from breaking my tailbone and jarring my back. We were not, however, confident our water filter had survived.

Towards the end of the day, we have an opportunity to test our filter. It worked, but it couldn’t fix the taste. Nothing could. It was that nasty. Luckily, there was a New Jersey State Park Office, just off trail with palatable water. New Jersey,  you may have redeemed yourself.

Once at our shelter for the evening, I reexamine Paul’s wound and do a thorough cleaning, add some prescription antibiotic cream, and redress the wound.

It is superficial and not deep, but stitches would be a good idea, but by the time we get to a place for stitches, it won’t be practical. Paul is still showing no signs of adverse head trauma, and I am cautiously relieved. Two more days of observation, and I’ll breathe a sigh of relief… we’ll also be closer to help, if needed.

Hopefully, the rest of New Jersey will mellow out and stop trying to kill us.