Leaving the trail of the Apalaches – The Trek

LEving Town is always difficult for me. In my brain, do half a day after waking up in a bed and eating full breakfast in the city should not be difficult, so I frustrated myself when the miles still hurt the same.

New team, new path

In Rutland, I pick up my new package from the post office and charge with a five -day food transport. It is equal frustrating and stimulating to discover a new routine and packaging system for a backpack so very different from the previous one.

Fortunately, it does not seem that the day will be too difficult. I take the bus for free from Rutland to the beginning of the path, where I share the path with the path of the Apalaches for just one mile before separating to the north to Canada.

The comments on the map say that a yellow jacket nest lives next to the path of the path for the crossing, but I do not stay to verify.

I love free work!

He spent much of the afternoon thinking about why I am writing these blogs. They do not pay me for it and, honestly, I don’t think my walk is so exciting to read.

Part of that, I am sure, is to give my friends and family an easy way to verify and listen to how the path is going without having to listen to hours of my wandering on the phone during my limited time in the cities.

A more important part is to know that publishing these daily blogs will force me to maintain a good path of paths, and help me remember what the day to day was, when all the most memorable moments have vanished.

Anyway, if you are reading this, I’m sorry I had no great revelation or fun connecting issues to tie these days with a good arch. Above all I wake up, I walk, lunch, road and then sleep.

I am not clinging to the standard of making these small silly publications than they are: the daily count of my experiences while I walk the long path from Massachusetts to Canada. In addition, an exit to complain about my feet.

Let’s talk about my feet

Ok, if you are still reading, I am so happy that you also have a personal interest in the condition of my feet. My feet are like the most delicate orchids: Train them in any way differently from their most perfect ideal scenario, and they will die.

Less than one mile of the path, approximately a week ago, I developed two small hot points on the back of my heels where they rubbed against my shoes. I did what you are supposed to do and slapped a piece of tape on each one and continued walking.

What I could not realize was that, over the years, I have developed an allergy to Leukotape and my feet quickly swells twice as much of their normal size and exploded in an angry eruption, red and itching with blisters full of liquid that extend from the bottom of my heel to my Achilles.

I will not publish a photo of that on the Internet, but if you know me in real life and want to see, just send me a text message and connect you.

Rutland gave me the opportunity to spread my heels in Benadryl and diaper eruption creams, and now I hope the best. When I leave the city, my feet feel better than they have done in the last week, but I am sure that the short post will not last and I will have a new problem to deal with in the next city.

Walk

Originally, chicken legs and I had planned to push a little more than 18 miles to a really pleasant refuge. However, once we left the path of the Apalaches, the long path quickly remained a little less and our rhythm slowed down while we constantly crawled on dead trees.

In a moment I see Chickn, who was approximately half a mile ahead of me, comes to power walking with his eyes wide open. «Big Black Bear,» whispers me. «Right on the way!»

I do what the CDT taught me: I take the lead and ely the entire American cake until it is sure that each bear inside a ten mile radius listens to me. Unfortunately (fortunately?), I don’t see the bear, but we remain on a maximum alert for a few miles.

Calling him one night

About two miles from a closer shelter, Chicken and I agreed to call it early to spend the night. We are both mentally having a bad day and decided to take the victory of a quiet night. We spent the night in the shelter watching the sun fall and eating pizza that we packed from the city.

Just before reaching the camp, I see a tree fall in the forest. No one else was close to see it. (He made a sound).

Today I listen to New Slang by the shins and sounds like being 16 in a car with my mother. The windows are rolled. We are both singing.

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