[Bill Menke’s Journal for May 15-22, 2009; Appalachian Trail in New York]

May 15, 2009. Hannah and Josh dropped me off at Hessian Lake, in Bear Mountain State Park, New York on their way up to Lake Sebago at about 1:30 PM. The day was warm and sunny. The sky was bright blue with puffy white clouds. I crossed the Hudson River via Bear Mountain Bridge. The view of the Hudson Highlands is spectacular, with the green hills of the Highlands all about and the river hundreds of feet below. A motor yacht was passing beneath the bridge and a freight train was crossing in front of Popolopen Gorge as I made my way across. Once across the bridge, I headed north along the highway until I found the point where the Appalachian Trail (AT) takes to the woods and climbs steeply up the flank of the hill called Anthony’s Nose. It’s a long and steep climb, and I took it slowly, as I became used to the weight of my backpack. While the woods here are light, the views are all pretty restricted. Twice I stopped at streams to refill my water bottle. I used my new Katadyn water filer, and was pleased at the speed at which I could purify a liter. I rested a while at the overlook at Hudson Highland State Park. There’s not much of a view, but I could see through the trees to the Hudson valley in the west. The trail passes a convenience store at the Route 403 Crossing. I didn’t top, not thinking that I needed anything (I was mistaken in that). I camped for the night at the soccer kiosk at the Greymoor Center. The Friars let through-hikers use this facility, which is extremely generous of them! Three other hikers were there, both south-bounders. One was a retired FBI agent from Charlotte. We cooked our respective dinners (mine being pasta with tuna) and talked for a while. I slept in my tent, so as to leave more room in the kiosk for the people without one. A trumpeter played a song at sunset and bells chimed the hours during the night.

May 16, 2009. Fog shrouds the soccer field in the morning and the outside of my tent wet from it. I hang it up in the kiosk to dry a bit. I eat a breakfast of rice with sausage. I’m the last to leave. I pack up, sweep out the kiosk and head out. The fog has lifted, but the sky is grey and the air is cold. The trail is relatively flat here. I pass a pile of rocks that I take for mine tailings, and poke around, looking for the mine. I find instead an elaborate and well-decorated shrine atop a little hill (maybe Little Fort Hill). I stop there for a few minutes and then continue on. I cross several largish streams during the course of the day, one with a pleasant little waterfall. I filtered water from each, taking care to stay hydrated. Rain began to fall in the late morning. I switched into my shorts and donned my raincoat. The drizzle was light and lasted about an hour. The rest of the day was overcast and rather chilly – about 55 degrees F. At one road crossing I passed a simple cross with a sign asking hikers to say a prayer for someone’s friend who had died on the spot. I obliged. I arrived at the Dennytown Road Group Campsite at about 3:30 PM. I pitched my tent at one end of a broad grassy field. At the other end, a group of about a dozen guys were having a sort of annual reunion and had erected a whole line of tents as well as a pavilion constructed from an enormous blue tarp. They told me that their annual camp-out had its origins in a bachelor’s party several years ago. They offered me a beer, and I chatted with some of them, while the others played with Frisbees and baseballs. Most were local. One, named Rick, was a blues singer who worked in Croton, NY. Another had been married at the 76 House, near my home in Tappan, NY. It’s a small world! I cooked my dinner (pasta and tuna, again) and turned in early.

May 17, 2009. Rain fell during the night, heavy at times and with crashing thunder, but my tent kept me dry. My neighbors had no trouble either. They told me about the large bonfire that they had made, and which I had slept through, which even the rain had not extinguished. They coaxed it into flame in the morning and I warmed myself. I ate rice and Spam for breakfast, packed up, said goodbye and headed off. Hiking today was easier than yesterday. Some adjustments to my pack seemed to better balance the load and speed me up. I passed several nice streams and one sizable waterfall. I also say some interesting flowers, some of which were very fragrant: blueberries, honeysuckle and a wildflower with stem and leaves resembling a tulip in form and with a pink flower about the same size of a tulip’s, but bulbous and without individual petals. I also spotted several iridescent orange newts. The weather during the day was overcast and chilly. One section of the trail follows an old mining railway and passes over an elaborate stonework trestle, ten feet high in places, yet only three or four feet wide. The rail bed made for very easy and fast hiking. The trail then passes Canopus Lake, which was grey and choppy. The trail around it is very rough, with several steep sections up and down the low cliffs that are so common in the Highlands. An overlook affords a very nice view of the north end of the lake. I ate lunch at the bare summit of Shenandoah Mountain, which commands a nice 360-degree view of the surrounding hills. A Nine-Eleven memorial - a flag with accompanying inscription - has been painted onto one of the rock ledges. A little later I passed by Shenandoah Campsite, a grassy clearing along the trail. I walked down the little side trail to the well, which is beside a small shed in a clearing that also hosts a much larger barn. The trail then plunges steeply downhill, past stone cliffs towards a large brook that sits in the bottom of a gulley. The trail crosses the brook twice, once by ford, once by footbridge. A little further along the trail, near a road crossing, is RPH Shelter. It’s constructed of cinderblock and has a broad patio and a well. Two other hikers were there when I arrived: a northbound through-hiker and southbound section hiker. The section hiker, a Dane, was doing the same hike as me, but in the opposite direction. They both left as I was cooking my dinner, noodles and tuna again. I hung out my tent to dry and took stock of my supplied. It was then that I realized that I was actually two meals short of rations. Fortunately, other hikers had left a pile of freebies, including both food and clothing, among which was a family-sized box of macaroni and cheese – enough for two meals.

May 18, 2009. An animal woke me in the middle of the night, when it knocked over cooking gear I had left on the patio. I turned on my flashlight and discovered a black domestic cat, with glowing yellow eyes, staring back at me. I shoed it away, did a better job at stowing my gear, and went back to sleep. The night is very cold! My thermometer reads 47 degrees F inside the shelter when I awaken. I eat a breakfast of rice and Spam, pack and head off. The trail ascends Hosner Mountain, a long low ridge. Trail crews have done an especially elaborate job on this part of the trail, in places cutting it into the side of the ridge, in others building it up with close-fitting stepping stones. The views from the ridge are not the greatest, due to the canopy, but I can see farms in neighboring valley at an overlook near the far end of the ridge. I meet one section hiker, on his way from Lyme, Connecticut to the Delaware Water Gap, as I descend Stormville Mountain. The next section has many ups and downs, and several more highland scarps. I’m getting low on water, but a sign warns that the next stream should be avoided, due to farm runoff. Fortunately, I find a tiny tributary coming string off the next mountain, which I judge to be clean. I cross Interstate 84 and then begin a slow ascent of the next hill, planning to stay at the Morgan Steward Shelter, located atop it. This hill has a very nice west-facing overlook. I pick out a cranny among the stone ledges and rest for a while. A bit of sun is breaking through the overcast, bring some very welcome warmth. I make Gatorade and eat a snack. I then hike the remaining quarter mile to the shelter. I’m still feeling pretty cold, so I make coffee and then sleep for an hour or so in the shelter. A little bird, identified to me later by another hiker as a phoebe, has made a nest under the shelter’s eve. After my nap, I pump water from the well beneath the shelter. After a while, two other groups of hikers arrive. I move out of the shelter and set up my tent, mostly because it’s warmer than the shelter, but also to leave room for those who need it. I eat noodles, tuna and onion for dinner. The clouds are slowly breaking up as the evening progresses. Near sunset, I hike back to the overlook and am treated to an absolutely beautiful sunset. A band of clouds on the horizon are marvelously backlit by the sun, and the distant Catskill Mountains are pale orange in color. I hear two Barred Owls, one close by and the other more distant, call rhythmically to one another. After sunset, I return to my tent and sleep.

May 19, 2009. I heard the Barred Owls calling again during the night. A woodpecker wakes me at about 6 AM. The night was very cold, bout 35 degrees F and clear with bright stars. The morning is crystal clear. I return to the overlook, to view the surrounding hills in the morning light. I eat a breakfast of rice, pack and head north. Once again, the trail has many ups and downs, winding around very rough land with many cliff faces. I spot a small hawk as I cross a power line right-of-way. One of the pylons is in the middle of a wetland. I judge this to be an odd place for one, until I spot a beaver lodge nearly. No doubt the beavers have recently flooded the area. I also cross train tracks, and several streams, all flowing briskly. I arrive at beautiful Nuclear Lake, where I spend two hours having lunch and relaxing. It’s a smaller lake than Sebago in Harriman Park, my favorite, but has similar rock outcrops and vegetation. Like Sebago, it’s anthropogenic, with an earth fill dam at one end. I enjoy the sun on the very pretty day, and watch birds, butterflies, turtles and small fish. I eat my sausage and drink my Gatorade. After this rest break, I continue on. The lithology changes along this section. The gneisses of the Hudson Highlands have given way to garnet-containing mica schist. The trail slowly rises up to the top of a hill with a broad rock ledge that sports a pretty good view. I sit there for a while, relaxing. I then descend to Telephone Pioneer’s Shelter. It’s empty when I arrive, but soon several other hikers arrive. While the day had been sunny and warm, the evening was chilly. I changed into warmer clothes. We chatted over dinner. Two of the hikers have been in the dairy farming business. They discussed the relative virtues of Jerseys (cute, high butterfat milk) and Holsteins (higher milk production, more profitable). One hiker is a retired science teacher, and discusses the plants that he had seen along the trail. One of the dairy farmers had also been an outfitter, so the discussion turns to an analysis of new kinds of hiking gear. I ate a dinner of rice and Spam, and got ready for bed. I used my tent, because I judged it warmer than the shelter.

May 20, 2009. I leave Telephone Pioneer’s Shelter after a breakfast of rice and coffee. The day is sunny and warm, like yesterday. I passed the Dover Oak, a tree with an enormously wide trunk. The trail ascends Corbin Hill, and then plunges down into the Great Swamp, crossing Swamp River by a wooden footbridge. The AT crosses the swamp on puncheon (bog bridges). The swamp has both cattails and phragmites, but it looks to me that the phragmites is winning. I spotted a garder snake and a toad amid the vegetation. The Appalachian Trail railway station is at the far side of the swamp. The trail then rises through a set of very picturesque hay fields, with farm and an old water tower. These open areas offer a good view back towards Corbin Hill. The trail enters the Pawling Nature Preserve and follows the ridgeline. I descended the ridge down to Quaker Lake via a trail brazed in yellow. I had to scout around for a section that was not marked as private property, but eventually found a patch of land fairly near the lake that plausibly was part of the Preserve. I spend an hour and a half there, eating granola bars, watching birds fly over the lake and enjoying the sun, which was lighting up ferns and overhanging vegetation is a very beautiful fashion. I then hiked back to the AT and continued northward. The trail crosses several lively streams. I stopped at two of them for water. Some parts of the trail fairly muddy. I arrived at the Wiley Shelter at 3 PM, set up my tent and rested for a while. Two fellow hikers from yesterday were there already, and four more arrived later in the evening. I ate the macaroni and cheese for dinner, but reserving some of the uncooked pasta for tomorrow’s breakfast. Just as at the Morgan Stewart Shelter, a phoebe was nesting in under the eve. It seemed really annoyed that we were about, but kept to its brooding duties. Many other birds inhabited this area, including a downy woodpecker. After dinner, we sat around the picnic table and chatted for a while.

May 21, 2009. In the morning, I cooked the macaroni and ate it with oil and Spam. Most of my food is gone now. I’m down to two packs of rice, two packs of Spam a piece of sausage, some granola bars and three packs of Gaitorade mix. Today’s walk is through fairly open woods and some overgrown fields. One long upgrade leads to an overlook atop of Ten Mile Hill, which commands a nice view of adjacent country. The trail then plunges steeply down through hemlock stands until it reaches Ten Mile River, a wide stream of swiftly flowing water. Numerous anglers were fishing along its banks. One landed a brook trout as I stood by. I poked around the river for a while, finding a route around a big snag so as to stand on a sand bar that afforded a good view. Two of my hiker friends helped me locate Ten Mile Shelter, which is set back from the river via a side trail. It is on the edge of a wide field – unfortunately one that is crawling with poison ivy! After resting briefly at the shelter, I continue north, planning to return later that afternoon. The AT crosses Ten Mile River via the Ned Anderson Memorial Bridge, just as it flows into the Housatonic River. The Housatonic was roaring as I passed, full of rapids and waterfalls. I thought at first that this was its normal state, but was to find, tomorrow, its level to be much lower and less powerful, so I must have arrived during a dam release. The AT then swings away from the river, and follows a road past a pond, across which I could see Schaghticoke Mountain, my destination. Yellow irises were blooming along the shore of the pond. The trail departs from the road and heads up the mountain by a series of switchbacks. The rock here is some sort porphyritic granite, which in places shows considerable metamorphism – quite distinct from the mica schists exposed along the Housatonic River. I took the ugrade slowly, for it is substantial, and was passed by a group of four women, all with belt packs, who were going at a much greater speed. I later overtook them while they were having a rest, though, and soon reached a broad rocky ledge that afforded a wonderful view of the Housatoic River valley and neighboring hills. I spent about a half hour at the overlook, enjoying the view and the sunlight, and then headed back. I did not walk the final quarter mile up to the summit, deciding to reserve that for a hypothetical hike through the AT in Connecticut. On the way back to the shelter, I passed several whitewater kayakers, both playing in the river and carrying their boats back up the trail. I pitched my tent at the Ten Mile River Campsite, beneath a hemlock grove. It is right on the bank of the Housatonic, about a quarter mile from the shelter. I washed up in the river, ate a dinner of rice and Spam, and then wandered around the river bank, enjoying the late afternoon’s sun. One other hiker arrived in the early evening.

May 22, 2009. I ate my last package of rice and Spam for breakfast. My pantry has now been reduced to two granola bars and three packs of instant Gatorade. I hung around the campsite until 10 AM, and then packed up and walked out. I took country roads through the hamlets of Dogtail Corners and Webatuck. I crossed Ten Mile River once again, by an old building now used as an antique dealership. I reached the larger town of Wingdale, New York at about noon. I bought lunch at a deli there, and then walked south on Route 22 to Pawling, NY. I passed several interesting buildings, including the campus of the Trinity Pawling School. Dallas met me at about 5 PM, by a little graveyard at the corner of Route 22 and East Main Street.

Total distance: 57 miles on the AT, from Bear Mountain bridge to Schaghticoke Mountain, plus about 5 miles of backtracking and side trails, plus 12 miles on roads to Pawling, or a total of 74 miles in 8 days.