Trail magic someone?
After waking up for the third and last time in the shelter, I ran out of food and still hurt. My short -term plan to see if my leg would be good with a couple of days of rest had not paid fruit.
I went south on the road for the first time since I started in New York. It was a very short walk to the crossing of the road. Upon arriving on the road, I loved discovering the magic of the path.
Taking into account how depressed I felt about my injury and inability to progress along the path, this magical configuration was only the tonic to lift my deflated spirits.
And what incredible magic was it. Apparently, it is normal every week during the season, and this group of retirees had gone further. While I explained my situation, the most kind people on the planet had me flatter me. They took me to a camp chair. Another chair was brought to raise my leg. They gave me a herd of ice. Ibuprofen. A plate of food was prepared and delivered to my chair.
It is impossible to properly describe how incredible it is to get out of the forest with an injury and be treated thus by complete and absolute strangers who want nothing in return. I spent a couple of hours enjoying the heat and comfort of this company. My heart and belly were about to fill.
One of the organizers had the kindness of offering me an elevator to the city that I gladly accepted. They dropped me in the supermarket where I had spent only a few days before, and I bought enough food to see for a few days resting in the paid camp that was aimed at arriving at night. After filling my package, I left the supermarket and put my thumb for a hitch in the city center with my new secret weapon reached on the Magic path.
The brilliant sign made me collect in Nanoseconds. I arrived in the city in the late afternoon and went to the library to connect and let friends and family knew I was alive and kicking after a few days of disconnection.
Next Level Trail Magic
The last part of my plan for the day was to get hooked to the camp paid in Stratton. This would be the first time I tried a hitch along a path that is not usually frequented by hikers. Normally you would simply walk Rangelley to Stratton along the way. The way between the two cities was small and had worries about how much traffic there would be, much less look like a homeless person out of work with a strange signal.
I walked the short distance to the road and assumed the position with the thumb. After an hour I had seen a lot of traffic, which was positive. The negative was that no one was stopping. I was beginning to seem that I would need to break my number one rule of non -transfers, a thought that cooled to my nucleus.
As all hope seemed lost, a gentleman left his house near where he was standing. He climbed into his car and drove the ten meters or so to where I was standing and asked me where he was going. Stratton said and he said no problem, jump. I couldn’t literally believe my luck.
Once installed in the car, we started chatting. The guy Samaritan said he had uploaded some of the paths years ago and was surprised to see me trying to get hooked near his home. I explained my situation and my recovery plan. It was at this point that the United States and their kind people went to the next level. This man said that if everyone needs to do is lying and relaxing, he could camp in his backyard. There was an outdoor shower and I was happy to stay a few days while my leg cured.
This is where it goes even more crazy. The man explained that he was not even heading to Stratton, he simply felt sorry for me, since he had realized that he was standing out of his house for an hour without getting up. I was willing to get to his car and drive me just to be kind. You Americans are playing chess while the rest of us play controllers.
The man showed me to his patio, explained how the outdoor shower worked, shared his Wifi password and said he entered his house to use the bathroom when he needed it. The trust, care and concern that I still find in this country is incredible. I configured my tent, I showered, I cooked my ramen Pad Thai in the patio and collapsed on my sleeping mattress.
Rangelley recovery
With the ordered temporary accommodation, the following days were established in a rest and recovery pattern. I walked the distance very short every day to the city to soak my leg on the lake, sit in the library and write my blog.
After a few days, it was clear that my leg would not recover to a point where I could continue along the path in a pleasant way. There had been some improvement in the mobility of the ankle, but the pain that radiated from my warm and the surrounding muscles was still prevalent and significant. I reserved my flight home to New Zealand during the following week.
It was a very disappointing ending for what had been a very funny couple of months. Fortunately, the path was not going anywhere and knew I could return when my old leg was cured.
The final goodness
So I stayed with a reasonably small final and logistical obstacle. Rangelley is not the best connected city of Maine. With a population of approximately 1000 people there was no public transport from Rangelley anywhere.
So, could I keep my number one rule of non -transfers until the bitter end? Betcha After a week of being camped in the courtyard of a perfect stranger, I said goodbye and went to the main road in Rangelley with my firm sign. I needed to return to Gorham (the closest city with public transport), just 130 km away. And not on a path of trails. In fact, in the opposite direction to the path.
That is why I was standing on the road at 6.30 am I wanted to give me all day to see if I could sail the myriad of roads that were between me and the good old Gorham.
He took about 90 minutes to the first hitch. In fact, they offered me three elevators in that 90 -minute window for the cars that go in the opposite direction that everyone thought I was confused on how the path was. Again, ridiculous kindness for those people.
The first hitch was a girl who was going to work in the next city of Oquossoc (don’t worry, nobody knows how to pronounce it, so tell her in her brain as she wishes). She left me close to her workplace wishing me luck while heading on the way. I moved to the position and stood out my sore thumb once again. I should have anticipated the horrors that my thumb would happen today and I did the appropriate stretching.
This next way was … calm. As if he had put himself there with good intentions, but no car was interested in using it. After an hour, the girl who left me left her store and gave me a roll of cinnamon. I mean, I understand that I am a magnet, but trace magic of the stranger who gave me a hitch in Oquossuc … Wowsers.
After another hour he approached at noon and had only seen a couple of cars pass. The next vehicle to pass was a high -end four -wheel drive, so my hopes were established accordingly. The car slowed down and then stopped, and a kind gentleman ended up the window and asked if I would like to take a walk. Demons, yes, I did.
We chat while we approach the road and share our respective stories. The reality was that the path we were in did not go to Gorham, so I knew I would need to ask me to fall into another intersection to reach my final destination. When we approached the intersection in question, the man said he had some free time and that he was going to Gorham. Fifty kilometers out of your way. In the opposite direction where it was heading. I mean, I’m not really sure to tell you. They dropped me at the door of my accommodation in Gorham and with a smile and a wave while the kind stranger returned to his day.
Thanks to
I am a middle -aged man who decided to take a long vacation and walk along a path on the east side of the United States. Never in my wildest dreams I thought I would experience this level of generosity of the human condition. I have been lucky to travel to many distant corners of the world, and the way the Americans that I have met on this trip are beyond everything I have found before.
Thank you very much to all the people I met on this trip. The other hikers, the Trail Angels, the suppliers of Magic Trail, the owners of the shelter and the perfectly perfect strangers. It is, with much, the most social and friendly path that I have walked, and I hope to return in the future once I have restored my legs to its previous average condition.
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