Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2006 17:26:41 +0000

DAY: 42
PRESENT LOCATION: Bennington, Vermont
DISTANCE WALKED,2006: 417.2 miles
DISTANCE WALKED,TOTAL: 1,596.7 miles
DISTANCE REMAINING TO KATAHDIN: 578.9 miles

Hey y’all.

Well, I suppose it’s all up to me, since this whole thing is about self-reliance: Happy Birthday to me! I turned 42 today, which puts me in the enviable position of having celebrated two birthdays on the Trail. Two years ago I hit life’s official halfway point (if I’m lucky) near Catawba, Virginia. That night was memorable both for the disturbing juxtaposition of Krispy Kreme donuts and Yuengling Lager and for it being one of the most miserable nights ever spent by anyone on the AT. I had the misfortune that time of staying at a hostel called ‘Four Pines’, where the owner’s delinquent teenage son and a retarded neighbour boy spent the whole day and most of the night terrorising the resident hikers by tearing around the place like rabid hillbillies astride ATVs, (4-wheeled motorcycles), storming right up to the door of the garage where several tormented travellers lay ’sleeping’, merely to rev their machines with obvious backwoods glee. The homicidal fantasies that plagued me while S_____ (sigh) and I shared a backyard birthday bowl kinda spoiled the mood - all the while, teenage motor-psychobillies, their vile chariots piled high with firewood, swooped around the paddock hell-bent on constructing a hilltop bonfire; those two hellions are now lying in shallow graves behind the outhouse. This is my confession,and may God have mercy on my soul…

Celebrations this time are looking tamer but better. I entered Vermont yesterday; only three states to go, but they’re all pretty big ones. My last night in Massachussetts was spent in the backyard of an outfitter called (yes) The Mountain Goat, in Williamstown, a college town with the twin delights of cute college girls and some great art museums. I did a ‘nero’ that day (nearly a zero) as I’d just left camp when a sharp pain stabbed through my left knee and quickly faded. Far-off warning bells gently chimed. I did three miles down to the road and turned west to the Shop’n'Stop for some re-supply, then decided to check out the college art museum for a culture hit (books are heavy). I also felt like some time to myself. Trail friends are good to find but I’d aimed to hike alone as far as practicable this time - the one big lesson of ‘04 - and had been bemused to find just how quickly an incipient group was taking shape along my portion of the Trail.

I admired a few great Jackson Pollocks and a wonderful Grant Wood (’Death on the Ridge Road’) in the museum, and when I was leaving, whoosh, another stab of pain. That was it; my legs were telling me something and I may be slow but I sure ain’t stoopid. The staff at the Mountain Goat let me camp out in their backyard, right on the banks of a rushing river carving chutes and channels in the rock. I soaked my limbs in the icy waters, perved at gals in the college coffe shop and next day, yesterday, my leg felt fine. I did 14 miles, crossed into Vermont and I’m now on both the Long and Appalachian Trails, which share a path for the first 100 miles of VT. Hopefully the knee pain was just a warning to SLOW DOWN.

Vermont has been hilly, green and muddy so far, and yesterday I was almost driven insane by these god-awful gnats that dive-bomb yer eyes till they find a way in and render you temporarily blind. The worst thing is their strategy of hovering just out of swat-range, waiting, biding their time, and then…We’re In! Man, the woods were resounding with my foul-mouthed curses - lucky the Newlyweds were out of earshot.

A hiker came into the shelter last night having just seen a bull moose. I was so envious! There are ponds and lakes and muddy swamps and beaver dams everywhere - I have seen a beaver (no jokes please) but if I don’t enhance my wilderness experience soon with a moose sighting, I’ll be seeking a refund.

This morning I woke, realised it was my birthday, sighed, thanked the nature spirits for getting me to another one, sheltered a while from the rain and then walked on to Highway 9. Some kids from the local high school ski team, out doing some Trail maintenance, offered me a ride into Bennington, 5 miles west. I had recently devised a little rule of thumb I call ‘OSI’ - Obey Spontaneous Impulses - and I was soon heading to their car while they broke into a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday Mr Mountaingoat’. Suddenly a birthday to remember was falling into place, and Bennington is now one of my favourite Trail towns. I got a free shower at the rec club, had a sauna (you sweat like yer hiking but without any effort!) and washed my shirt in the sink (this is like winning the lottery). Had a long, nude conversation with an old man who was fascinated by my stories. He asked my name and when I told him, he said, “Well, Mr Mountaingoat, buy yourself something nice,” and pressed $15 into my sweaty hand. I protested, half-heartedly. “God’s been good to me,” he insisted. And if you think there’s something creepy about accepting money from a naked old man in a sauna, then…I guess I see your point.

I have a free ride back to the Trail in an hour, courtesy of the local outfitter guy. It’s been an excellent birthday: coffee, soap, hot water, a sauna, and hot wet cash. It’s been positively raining Trail Magic, and I feel really, really good. I may only do 1.5 miles to the next shelter, or perhaps 8.5 to the one after. I may just bed down under a tree. I have two cans of Miller High Life beer in my pack, several days’ food, plus a half-bottle of Yukon Jack, the finest thing, after curling, to ever come out of Canada. High Times indeed in the old shelter tonight.

Hope your own lives are as jam-packed with simple pleasures.

Mountaingoat   x

PS I did finally manage to meet Paparazzi. He drove me for half an hour each way to a backwoods restaurant in Charlemont MA, with a stop at a lake where I washed myself and dozens of dead fish floated instantly to the surface. His instructions were, “Eat as much as you want. It’s my treat.” I complied. (He also asked me to define the meaning of the AT in one word. I suggested ‘freedom’; his own offering was ‘adventure’. Both’ll do me).

PPS If anyone would like to send me a letter, postcard, money,light-but-delicious foodstuffs, nude photos (Alex, Id, Phil, Robbie, Marc, consider yerselves exempted from the latter), you could do so to the address below. It’s 137 miles north, so it should take me 10 days or so to get there. Australians, etc, I think 5 or 6 days would be enough. I would really appreciate anything to add some colour to my next post office visit. Write all the following on the envelope:

I___ F_______
GENERAL DELIVERY,
HANOVER, NH 03755
USA

HOLD FOR A.T. HIKER,
ARRIVING APPROX JULY 3