8/8 Stewart Hollow Shelter (10.3)

August 28, 2013 at 8:31 pm

Some of you might be wondering where we are, what we’re doing, why we’re so bad at answering our phones, and probably also why we haven’t updated our blog in almost three weeks… To summarize, we caught up with a lot of hikers and began living in the present, from day to day, rather than thinking about our lives back home. We have been pretty caught up in the world of the trail these last few weeks and now we’re trying to get our heads above the trees.

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So, as far as the trail goes, on this particular day we spent a lot of time in the little town of Kent, Connecticut. We elected to go to breakfast with our newly rediscovered hiking family to celebrate reaching New England! We got a hitch immediately and ran around the town like excited children, taking in all the old wooden houses and stone walkways that are so symbolic of New England. The tangible signs that we were getting close to home were enough to keep us on a high all day long.

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A beautiful sign. The group of us – Kitchen Sink, Limey, and the Voice found a table at the breakfast spot in town and proceeded to multiply in number as Killer, Hagrid, Talker, and Peewee German showed up. The waitstaff were very patient with us… As we were sitting and devouring piles of food, a clean shaven guy walked up to us with the largest bag we have ever seen. Although we could see where his car was parked from where we were sitting, he was already visibly sweating from the weight of his burden. He walked up to the table, shrugged – which was a Herculean effort under the weight of the six litres of water attached to his straps – and said “first day!” before laughing nervously. Everyone at the table stopped what they were doing and told him in near unison to “drop the pack”. We jumped on it like feral dogs and started pulling out item after item. Pretty soon, we had a pile of things to bring and things not to bring. “Waterboy”, as Killer appropriately dubbed him, bought us breakfast for the pack shake down, and proudly hit the trail with at least twenty pounds less on his back.

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The rest of the day was hardly comparable to our Waterboy adventures, but we did hike out happy, hungry, and weighted down ourselves with a fresh resupply. We camped by the river at the Stewart Brook Shelter and fell asleep listening to the Voice singing in his tent.