New Jersey

Day 52, July 29

Packing up and setting off at 6:15 am, we walked back to the diner for breakfast, and then to the post office. By 9:20 am we were on our way, after a successful resupply, save for a packet of Priority Mail which we had been expecting and which had not arrived.

The "trail" lead along a large bridge spanning the Delaware River, and then to the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area Click on "trail segment"
select "terrain"
then zoom out . We stopped for water at its information center. It was interesting to learn how such an unlikely gap had formed. Unlike all the other gaps we had crossed, this one had a river running through it. The prevalent theory was that the river was here first, and as the mountains were slowly uplifted, the river kept cutting through them.

The trail followed a popular tourist trail to Sunfish Pond Click on "trail segment"
select "terrain"
then zoom out . Initially, this tourist trail followed a beautiful drainage that hardly lent credibility to New Jersey's lackluster image. While circumventing the pond, we failed to notice the AT turning off, and followed the wrong way for a few tenths before returning and discovering the junction. After a few hours of hiking we descended to the marvelous Rattlesnake Spring in a grove of rhododendron. The day was hot, and we stood in the cold water runnoff for several minutes, soothing our feet.

Throughout much of the afternoon the trail followed old roads. The walking was easy and the scenery quite pretty. Occasionally a view to either side of the ridge revealed much flatter terrain.

We stopped at a hand pump for water and met a New Zealander and his half dozen YMCA students. The fellow raved about the hiking in his homeland on the South Island, and we listened with great interest. The kids asked us several questions about our endeavor, and seemed awed by it. They were from New Jersey and when we said this was a very pretty state, they were surprised. One girl beamed: "Really? You think so? I've never heard anyone say that before." Seemed that all she had ever heard was how polluted the state was.

Pressing on, we hiked a few more miles and made camp away from the trail in a grove of conifer, stopping at 8:16 pm.

Day's mileage: 22.0

We had stopped in such a place that we could reach the next store at its opening time of 8:00 am tomorrow. Because we had to wait for the Delaware Water Gap post office to open this morning, we fell far short of our 30 miles today. Previously we had hiked eight consecutive thirty-plus milers from Harper's Ferry.

As usual during a trek of this nature we were learning a great deal about ourselves. In the initial stages we learned not to become disheartened by the incessant climbing and descending. The trail planning committee did not regard the hiker's energies as precious commodities. As has long been our practice, we crawled into the tent that evening affirming that we were "pleasantly pooped." This was say that we had enjoyed a good workout. In this way we transformed our labors into very positive experiences. Steep hills? We called them "blubber burners". Tormenting heat and insufferable humidity? No problem. Ditto with the black flies. Now, the more we progress on the AT, the more we were learning to ignore its seemingly inane layout. Overall, we were discovering the happiness that resided within us. We were gaining a great deal of happiness in the course of this journey. Jenny has long had the ability to overlook a trail's foibles. With my engineering background I tended to analyze its every aspect. But I am learning that when we denigrate something, our minds lock onto it and we become obsessed. When we ignore it, we skip over it like a flat stone skipping across a millpond.

The day previously we had encountered yet another element in the equation: the backpacker who kept power-hiking up to us, only to resume his incessant complaining about every conceivable aspect of the trail. Eventually perturbed, I snapped that I didn't come all the way from the west coast to listen to people whining and winging about the trail. Then it occurred to me that like the steep hills and bugs, the negative comments from fellow hikers are merely further non-events to be ignored.

Day 53, July 30

We broke camp and checked the ground carefully using our flashlight so as not to leave anything behind. Then we set off at 5:09 am, stumbling in near darkness back to the trail to resume the northward trek. It was here that I fell upon the notion of writing a book about preparing for and hiking the AT. As we hiked, we discussed the book's contents and philosophies, its market and distribution.

At our first rest stop a few hours later I discovered that I had lost my hand towel and a pair of socks. This came as a shock, as I rarely lost anything. I remembered having removed them from the tent and placing them on my pack, ready to place inside it, but apparently in the darkness I had not noticed them sitting there. Today we were swatting deer flies, and I truly missed my hand towel.

We reached Culver's Gap and Worthington's Bakery Click on "trail segment"
select "terrain"
then zoom out at 8:15 am and bought a whopping $47 worth of groceries. The clerk remarked how unusual it was to see hikers buying real food. "Most of them go for handfuls of candy bars, Gatorade, and a bunch of donuts." Granted, we had just bought "a bunch of donuts", but we also loaded up on fruit, bread, cheese, potato salad, milk, yogurt, etc.

With packs heavily loaded we continued on. The morning was hot, but the air was full of hope. Clouds seemed to be gathering. At the Mashipacong Shelter we met a group of youngsters and their instructor. They had hiked fourteen miles in three days, and were now awaiting their ride home. This shelter was close to Deckertown Turnpike and they were waiting in the shelter, out of the light rain that had started falling half an hour earlier. A ways farther we met a south-bound thru-hiker, a fellow perhaps in his late 50's from New York. He estimated there were three or four dozen north-bounders ahead of us. Such a figure would put us about in the middle of the pack. This fellow complained of the rocks. He felt the trail was purposely routed through the rockiest places. I replied with a snicker under my breath, "Yes, sometimes it seems that way."

After a lengthy bout of tedious galumphing we reached the information-ranger station at High Point State Park Click on "trail segment"
select "terrain"
then zoom out . As we sat outside eating lunch, a ranger vehicle pulled up and its two uniformed rangers eyed us intently. They got out, ambled over, and asked whether we were section hikers or thru-hikers. Admitting we were thru-hikers, I felt we were about to be arrested for something. One of them said, "You're thru-hiking in sneakers?!" and from there the conversation assumed a much more relaxed tone. In fact, three times the gentleman asked if he could take us to the pizza parlor, and would hardly take no for an answer. Such hospitality from an officer in uniform was difficult to comprehend. We asked about leaving our trash, and the fellow said, "take it inside and tell the fellow you're a thru-hiker. That's the magic word around here."

The hiking was easier in most places as the trail descended to farmlands. Beneath umbrellas shielding us from a downpour we walked along corn fields and through mowed meadows, and eventually over the 111 bog bridges crossing Vernie Swamp. These near-drought conditions had reduced the swamp to mud, in which thrived an interesting variety of flora. We stopped hiking at 8:15 pm and managed to finish pitching the tent before the next burst of rain.

Day's mileage: 32.0

Day 54, July 31

During the night, ran fell intermittently. Still, our tent's fly leaked, and despite our best efforts we had not managed to discover just where. We set off at 5:18 am, and had walked about four-tenths mile when we came to a road with a pond. This set us back a couple of miles, and made us wonder once again about the accuracy of the waypoint mileages in the Data Book. We thought we had hiked thirty-two miles and indeed the DRs had seemed about right.

At Pine Island we were greeted by a dog that had apparently assumed the role of the local thru-hiker welcoming committee. Then the trail followed a dirt road alongside a sod farm for about one and a half miles. It turned left and followed the farm's south edge for half a mile, and then turned left Click on "trail segment"
select "terrain"
then zoom out again and followed its eastern edge half a mile back. Re-entering the forest and crossing a boggy area, the trail then climbed and passed through very pleasant terrain. Descending, it then followed a paved road several miles. En route, we passed a large pond where the locals were staging a major swimming competition. Police were directing roadside traffic, and a loudspeaker was broadcasting a running commentary in the typically high pitched frenzy designed to excite the crowd.

Eventually we reached the Heaven Hill Farm fruit stand Click on "trail segment"
select "terrain"
then zoom out , and were delighted to find a remarkable variety of comestibles. While sitting in the shade on the portico enjoying lunch, I watched a paraglider soaring the hillside back and forth, as Jenny busily washed a round of socks from a nearby hydrant.

From there the trail was more arduous in its climbs and descents. By mid afternoon the day had grown hot, and we hiked at a good clip, thinking of our thirty mile goal. About six miles from the first fruit stand, we reached a second one. There, we bought a few more goods and talked with the owner, Lila Lee, who was quite friendly to hikers. A fellow who was apparently hiking the highways - full tilt - stopped and bought a cold drink. He had no backpack, but set off carrying a plastic bag with a small selection of fruit. Until we saw him walk away, we did not realize he was a serious hiker, and we regretted not having talked with him.

The afternoon's hiking was strenuous as the trail followed a long succession of hogbacks that appeared to have been glacially rounded. At some point along these was the New Jersey - New York state line, and thus we entered our 9th state of the trek. I was feeling the effects of some malady, apparently contracted in the diner at Delaware Water Gap, and as Jenny paced ahead I fairly dragged along behind.

Below was the tantalizing sight of Greenwood Lake. An afternoon swim would have suited us perfectly, had the trail led to its shore. Across the wide, lake-bed valley a plume of smoke rose lazily - the signs of a growing forest fire, which we imagined might have been set by some campers. We could not see or hear any indication of fire crews working on it. In another hour the blaze had grown to clearly visible proportions.

After climbing The Pinnacle by the light of the moon, we struggled on two-tenths farther and made camp near the trail at 9:40 am. Feeling ill, I fairly collapsed into the tent and spent a retched night racked by the flu. The night was hot and humid, especially inside the tent, and we were drenched in sweat.

Day's mileage: 30.2

Many of the hikers we have seen recently wore head phones. I don't indulge in these implements here in the wilds. They would take me out of the moment, and isolate me from the environment, and from myself. I listen instead to my body's cardiovascular mechanisms. They are more important to me than loud music, for they tell me, for example, when to slow down, when climbing a hill, and by how much.