Coach
N. Wilcox Mountain Shelter - Outside Dalton, MA: 26.7 mi
Last night I was attacked and harassed by mice all night long. They were bold and were not easily scared off. The first time one woke me, it was getting into one of my bags. When I moved the bag, it just started at me. I didn't move at all. It was almost like he was letting me know I was in his territory and that I was in for a long night. As one can imagine, I didn't get a lot of rest. As a result, I was tired all day. I was tired, but I did manage another good mileage day. The push today means that if I get another early start I will be in Dalton to eat breakfast with Professor and Lindsay.
Professor
I emerged behind an old lumber yard, across some train tracks, and onto Depot Street. I knew that in less than 20 minutes I would be in a Tavern, pint in hand, dirty as all get out, Friday night, waiting for Lindsay. When people stare at me, I stare back until they look away. I think it's an animal thing.
This morning, just as the sun was cresting over the pond, the cabin was filled with the smell of blueberry pancakes, butter and real maple sugar. I ate seven, I could have eaten more, but I knew I had a hill to climb. Later as I was starving I wish I had taken the two extra pancakes being pushed on me. I ate peanut butter instead. Dalton, Dalton, Dalton...that's all I thought of...I went hours without knowing I was hiking...Dalton, daydreaming of Dalton.
Here I sit, my shirt looks like blue and white tie-dye from my sweat stains from the last 5 days. My legs are covered in mud, my beard...well my beard...My pack smells sour from weeks of rain.
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