#182 Stealth Camp to Race Brook Falls - Day 107: MM1498.4 - MM1514.0 TD107
Goodbye Connecticut / Hello Massachusetts - Something big happens today that gives me what I need to make it to the finish line of Hanover NH, still fifteen days away.
5-3-2023
Last night, as the bright moon rose high into the sky, shining light on my tent, I heard something prowling around by my canvas food bag, which is tied to a tree about twenty feet away.
Sticking my head out of the tent I find no animals but observed an unreal creation. The stark contrast between illumination and shadows appeared animated, as though painted on canvas.
Rising before the sun, I set out towards Salisbury Connecticut, where I have a tough decision to make. I’m down to a few dollars and the home budget is suffering. Salisbury might mark the end of this hike. If so, it’s at least a somewhat easy place to get home from, and an easy place to get back to next year.
I step out of the woods into a beautiful open field known as Rands View, with pre-sunrise views of distant mountains and cloud covered valleys.
If this is going to be my last day on trial, it’s at least been a beautiful start.
Somewhere in the valley I cross the Fifteen-Hundred Mile Marker of the Appalachian Trail.
The gift I receive in Salisbury Connecticut is much more appreciated and helpful than the giver will ever know.
My intentions are to use the last of my cash to buy a simple cup of black coffee and refigure out the fate of my hike while my phone charges, possibly figuring out how to get home from here.
I set my pack on a metal chair outside Sweet William’s Coffee Shop and Bakery while I go in.
As soon as I walk inside a lady asks if I’m thru-hiking the trail. I tell her they call hikers like me a LASHer (Long Ass Section Hiker), and that I’m hoping to do about a third of the trail on this hike.
She tells me that its customary for the first person to see a long-distance hiker to buy them a coffee and treats when they come into town. She then follows up by saying it’s her pleasure that it fell on her this time.
She hands a twenty-dollar bill to the man behind the counter then turns towards the door, telling me to enjoy.
The man behind the counter gives me the change from my order, telling me it’s for my next stop in town.
I throw all the coins and one dollar bill into his tip jar then walk outside to enjoy my treats.
Sitting outside below the table’s umbrella, out of the sprinkles, I sip my coffee and eat the pastry, with a new view on life. I think I can hike a little farther, perhaps making it into Vermont before running out of food and what’s left of money the lady gave me.
The lady’s generosity gives me the spark of hope I’ve been searching for, bringing with it encouragement.
I make a Facebook post about her trail magic. Halfway through the post I humbly ask for help - something I’m not accustomed to doing, I’m stubborn like that.
From FB Post From 5/3/23 - This little gift gives me hope that I can continue my hike as planned - as I am almost out of money. I have been doing my best to extend the hike; skipping stays at hotels and hostels, eating simple foods, and I’ll continue that, but I may have to cut this hike shorter than expected - leaving one state undone and this year's mission incomplete.
If you are able to contribute to my hike it will be greatly appreciated. This is not a hike for fun or a vacation. I am kind of on a mission. Those who have been following my stories on Substack and following my FB posts know why I'm here.
In short, I've been able to speak with a lot of people on the trail who have gone through exactly what my family has gone through, we have put a little spark in one another's lives, giving hope and encouragement.
There is hope for healing after traumatic life events.
I've posted a picture here with information for how you can donate to my Venmo or subscribe to my blog.
Thank you.
I immediately receive a one-hundred-dollar gift on my Venmo account.
With it, I walk across the street to La Bonne's Market to beef up my food supply, at inflated prices, of course.
I pull things out of my pack I don’t need anymore - gloves, Faze’s multitool, an umbrella, and several other items that are slowing me down, then take them across the street to the post office to send them home. This lightens my load by about two pounds.
I also picked up some much-needed insoles from a drug store. My boot bottoms have been scrapped off by Pennsylvania, leaving little substance between the ground and my feet. I can’t do anything about the outside of the boots but can add padding to the inside.
Note: Over the next few days, I receive about seven-hundred dollars in support of this hike, most coming from good friends, and some of it coming from people I’d recently met on the trail.
This boost gives me what I need financially to make it to Hanover NH, plus a little to send home, temporarily bridging that gap until I get back and return to work.
Beyond the monetary value, this gives me renewed purpose. It’s more important now than ever to complete this hike and this mission. I’m not walking alone anymore; I’m walking with the faith others have invested in me - I’ll use their gifts properly.
I fill my water bottles from the water spigot on the side of the building. Two hikers, Fix It and Jack of All Trades, walk up with their bottles.
I remove my electronics from the outside electric outlets so they can use them.
The three of us sit at a at tables trading stories while I reload my pack. Both of them are handy men, hence their trail names, thru-hiking north from Georgia to Maine.
When I get up to leave, a man invites them inside. Being the first person in town to see them, it becomes his pleasure to treat them to coffee and pastries, as is the local custom.
With renewed vigor I hike out of town and up the next mountain - back to the grind.