Day 71: A Full Pack, Piles of Rocks, and a Detour

Summary
July 21st

NOBO mile #1676.8

Tolmann’s daily mileage 8.5

Tolmann’s total mileage 653.1

Started the day not feeling totally motivated. I’ve been with Debbie now twenty days in a row, and that part of the “interlude” has been so very nice. And two days of slack-packing has settled my trail itch down a lot! 

But we packed up, went to grab a protein filled breakfast at Maple Leaf Diner in Londonderry, then started the long drive up USFS 10. Then, a long hug, and off she, and then I, went. It was about 10:00. 

I struggled to get my pack on without a jarring, hitching motion, very conscious of my back. Once it was on, it felt OK. The trail was a gentle to moderate incline, enough to tell me I was going up, but one I could maintain a decent pace on. Of course, I paid a lot of attention to whether I was putting any strain on the shoulder. I started to feel some tension about a half hour in, so found a rock to sit on for a few minutes until it relaxed. 

Got to the Little Rock Pond Shelter around 11:30, so had a snack. While I was there a young couple arrived, with the necks of stringed instruments sticking up out of their packs; he with what looked like a Washburn Rover travel guitar,or perhaps the Vagabond; and she with a Luna ukulele. 

We didn’t have chance to talk much before it was back to the trail. 

After Little Rock Pond, the trail became a little more extreme climbing up to White Rocks. I was feeling the back more and having to take more frequent rests. 

I came upon what the guide says is a “rock garden”, which I’ve come to expect to be be a place where people build cairns. This was such a place on steroids. There were even cairns up in trees. 

I’ve got mixed feelings about these displays. On one hand, they look cool and are a unique thing to run into on the trail; on the other hand, they are an intrusion on the natural landscape. There are places above tree line or out west where cairns are used to mark the trail, so informal or artistic cairns could lead the unwary off trail. 

Around this time, a SOBOer passed by, warning me that the “white rocks ahead are dangerous.” The guide mentioned White Rock Cliffs and a second rock garden, but nothing about dangerous climbing. I moved ahead with trepidation. 

The second rock garden was more developed, but less creative than the first. There was also a sign for a side trail to White Rock Cliffs. So I began to relax, since I wasn’t planning on going out to the cliffs. 

Then came the downhill. Now I was feeling the pounding of each footfall on my back. It’s very difficult to reduce the impact of climbing down; many people end up blowing out their knees on steep descents. For me, it was the over and over of pack straps as my shoulders worked to stop the downward movement of the pack. Ah, sweet inertia! 

By the time I reached the road, I was feeling done. The story yesterday’s SOBOer told of the Yellow Deli Hostel began to sound pretty darned attractive. I pulled out my phone; no service. He had mentioned a bus, so I walked to the parking lot to see if there were any signs. Nothing. Time to stick out the thumb. 

There was a car parked on the east side of the road; a woman and two children wading in the brook beside the road. That made it difficult to set up a place to hitch; in fact, the first car I saw pulled over,thinking I had car trouble. They had no room for me in their packed car; they just wanted to make sure I was ok. But now I was concerned that folks would think I was manipulating them. There was really no other place to stand where there was room for a car to pull off. 

It took 40 minutes before a pickup truck pulled over. That’s when I got a realistic sense of what I was about to do. The nearest town to the west on rt 140 is Wallingford. The bus the SOBOer was talking about went from Wallingford 10 miles north to Rutland, where the Yellow Deli was. This all worked out because I caught a hitch from a local who knew what I was trying to do, and could direct me, and because the bus to Rutland was scheduled to come through just 1/2 hour after he dropped me off. I had NO idea how to do the reverse, but since today things lined up perfectly, I let tomorrow go, with hope/faith it would work out somehow. 

I endeared myself to another passenger on the bus who took it on himself to make sure I got to the hostel, and kept me entertained with stories about how he painted houses working for his brother, etc. So before I knew it I was walking from the bus, and a worker at the hostel saw me and asked if I was looking for a bed, and then I was settled in, with a shower, a trip to Price Chopper for… wait for it… a quart of chocolate milk, the prospect of a free meal, a bed in a stuffy, smelly hiker bunk room, and the certainty of a free breakfast.

The Twelve Tribes and the Yellow Del deserve more in-depth description than I can provide. Some folks call it a cult, and there is a cult-like aspect to it. But you could also call it intentional community, or alternative life-style, or spiritual-based living. What I saw were people joyously living in community, and, although I do not agree with everything they say, what they have works for them. 

Supper was provided as part of their Sabbath Celebration, which we were invited to witness. There was singing and dancing, then a time of sharing gratitude for the gifts received during the week. The community had enough musicians to make a folk-style band with guitars, upright bass, fiddle, cymbals, a trumpet and a trombone. They were skilled enough to make a joyous noise.

Then the tables were set and we had a meal of mackerel, rice and vegetables, which was quite good. At some point, though, I needed to retreat to the quiet of my bed. 

I think this was a good choice for me today. I’m looking forward to witnessing the miracles/magic of getting back on the trail tomorrow, whatever they may look like.