#186 October Mountain Shelter to Father John’s Campground - Day 111: MM1560.3 - MM1580.8
“Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads” is written across the upper threshold of the small bike & charging barn at Father John's Campground.
5-7-2023
Yaaaaawn!
What a beautiful Sunday morning.
Moose poop lines the trail on my hike out of camp. Thanks Bob. See Post #185
The farther north I travel the more common dodging moose droppings will become. It’s just one of many features that resemble the trail in Maine.
The morning hike across the mountain is mostly flat, gently rolling, with a few easy climbs here and there. A man with a bucket of white paint and a brush is freshening up the Appalachian Trail Blazes.
Coming off the trail into Dalton MA, between a material supply company and a realty company on W. Housatonic Street, I follow Depot Street through the old downtown region, turn onto Main Street by the large factory and a dam, walk over the waterway to a weird three-way (or six-way) intersection, where I’ll follow High Street out of town.
On High St. I walk through neighborhoods and stop at Pine Grove Park baseball field, where I sit alone on the bleachers across the field from a women’s league soft ball game, changing socks, grabbing a snack, and relaxing in the sun.
My shirt is soaking wet, so I pull it off to let it dry in the sun. It is covered with salt from my dried sweat. It has been eighteen days since my last real shower. I stink and my clothes are nasty, but I have no interest slowing down or spending money on a hotel or hostel.
So for now, I sit here, early on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, with a mouth full of food, boots and socks drying in the sun, shirtless, in the middle of a mountain town, watching a ball game from a distance.
The sun feels great on my skin.
Life is good. I’m living the dream.
I pass the famous 1886 Fitch Hoose House on the way out of town. Check out its history.
Push and I leapfrog one another until reaching The Cobbles outcropping. From this overlook we can see Mt Greylock across the valley and look down into the town of Cheshire, MA.
He asks if I’m planning to stay in Father John’s (free) Campground in Cheshire. I’ve heard of it, but didn’t realize it was in the town we’re about to walk through. Now I plan to.
Staring off into the distance from the overlook, Push says to me, “If I weren’t standing here on the trail, I’d be sitting in an office.” He may not know it’s Sunday, and I don’t interrupt to tell him.
“I sometimes wonder If I made a mistake quitting my job to hike the trail, but moments like this reinforce my decision,” He concludes.