A long eventful day..

Just walked into Kent, CT this morning. Phone call to Sandy....Shin splints still a bother. "what happens is your calf muscle gets stronger than your front tibial muscle and then it begins to pull away from your shinbone. I'll mail you some tape and some new insoles." Thanks Sandy! So with a bucket of ice for my leg and a hot yerba mate in my hand I sit on a park bench in Kent. Found a good article in the NY Times about Frederick Law Olmstead, grandaddy of Landscape Architecture and a promoter of the human need for natural spaces = quiet contemplation. An architect of community space, Olmstead used curved lines, irregular plantings, symmetrical courts with connecting pathways, secret hideaways and people-watching perches, canopied forest walks leading to grand overviews of land and water. Benchlined walkways converge at rollerskate park where music draws crowds. One can escape the noisy polluted streets and find respite with the turn of a foliated corner...The article talked about his lesser known midwest city park projects. I had travelled to see his famous NYC Central Park some years before.

This town of Kent is not exactly a hiker-friendly 'trail town.' The only thing I like about it here are the sweet sports cars that roll through. One hotrod pulls up at the light with the air intake projecting above the front hood, a racer red color, and a pair of wheelie bars. I was just hoping he would pop a wheely right there. But no dice.. 

Back into the woods.. a long push today but the plans for tonite's stay are developing slowly. I don't have the mileage sheets on me, but I know I'm crossing into NY today so that must mean that an A.T. commuter train platform to NYC is within a day's walk. I catch up with the three bastards, Tag, Effect, & Coach. We pass a sign reading 734 miles from Katahdin. We are 1/3 of the way to Springer Mountain, Georgia. Rendezvous with NOBO section hiker "RedEyes" who happened to know Powder River from a 2008 hike. Stop and smoke with RedEyes: "Dude you could be in Times Square tonight if you reach the train stop by 7 tonight." Me "Really, what's that like 15 miles? OK so I got about 6 hours to cover that distance. That's doable."

Trail runs along the final stretches of the Housatonic River. Class 3+ rapids rolling nicely still after Irene. Kayakers hit chutes at about 8 mph. I jog along trying to match their speed and to see them surf the eddies. Next I hear some barbaric yelling and see Tag battle/axing Effect on the beach. They have stopped for a break and are both carrying foam-padded weapons for daily battles. I jump in the river for a quick swim. Then a rancid Odwalla bar from 2009 gives me a tummy ache. Better check the expiration next time I score some food from a hiker box. Wiley shelter is next, so at this point I know I'm close to the walk's end.

The trail breaks out of the woods for the final mile. While enjoying an open view across pastoral landscape for a change, I'm trying now to remember what the approach will look like... about to pass by a familiar place. We <Neal, Pat, Nolan, Ron, Alan, Aaron, Andy, Adam, and the rest of the crew> camped out for several weeks in a Tractor yard with the Mid Atlantic Trail Crew in 2009 during the boardwalk project.---------Meanwhile a Northern Harrier cruises low over the open pasture searching for rodents. The optimal light breeze blowing across the field providing just enough lift for silent glide with hope for a meal. No dice."Good luck to you Mr. Harrier. I've gotta train to catch."-----------

My memory serves me right. The trail drops down out of the upper field, jumps a fence via turnstyle, continues past the tractor yard where we camped, passes a corn crib in another open field, jumps another fence and on down to Pete's Native Landscaping business on Rt 22. Towards the end of a long day's walk, it was fun to walk this mile again and remember my time spent here. When I reach the train platform behind Pete's cages of Chinese pheasants there are 4 other hikers with very large packs. "Ah they must be section hikers" I think to myself. They are from the city. All of them are waiting for the return trip home after a wet weekend in the woods. Just as conversation crumbles... the bastards show up. Dylan invites me to stay with them at his brother's place in Brooklyn. Moose and Easy show up from the deli with sandwiches and beer in hand. Moose: "We're gonna stealth camp behind Pete's tonight."

Just on the other side of the train tracks is the boardwalk that I helped construct some years before. I have to run across the tracks and check the progress... Phragmites growing wildly over swampland that I only remember as a muddy construction site. The curved path of oak planking floats beautifully through the loostrife and goldenrod. I'm surprised to see how far the volunteers"the Boardwalk Crew" have progressed. Only about 100 ft to go and they will have completed a 1/2 mile , handicapped accessible boardwalk.

I turn back and run to not miss the train pick up for a trip to the Big Apple. FROM THE WOODS Two hours later to GRAND CENTRAL STATION. The four of us are tripping in awe of the marble stairways and lofty ceilings. We step out onto the street "Are we outside?" I wonder while leaning my head back to see the skyscrapers. Business everywhere! Jazz Saxophone player to my right and a scottish bagpiper to my left. What a trip!

 RECYCLE MAN earns his living 5cents a can

Brooklyn, NY September 2011

chilln in Central Park