It was another sleepless night. Around 11pm or midnight, I gave up tossing and turning and got out of my hammock. By the light of the moon, I found my way to the bear box and then to a lovely sitting log. With nothing else I could think to do, I sat on the log and ate a bag of sour patch kids. I was still hungry when I finished that so I ate a power bar and washed it down with a liquid IV drink. As far as sleepless nights go, this was one of the better ones. Or at least the best fed. 

When the morning came, I knew I just had 12 miles to hike until our get out point. And to make it even easier, 3 miles in was a coffee shop. Today, in other mode, should have been easy mode.

I plodded along through my chores and took forever to pack up. Everything felt foggy in my head. But once I was ready, it was like a switch was thrown. I was no longer in packing mode. I was now in walking mode. And my trail legs took over. 

When I first started, I kept hearing everyone talk about “trail legs” and I thought it was the stupidest sounding thing I had ever heard. “Trust me,” they all said. “Once you start walking long miles every day you’ll get trail legs and then you won’t even feel the distance. Your legs will just walk it for you. You’ll wake up after 30 miles and feel ready to do it all over again!” Again, it sounded dumb. 

But as I walked along today, barely able to keep my eyes open, thoughts muddled into a jumble of nothingness, I felt my trail legs take over. It was as if they hadn’t spent the whole night awake nd eating candy. They rushed me right along to breakfast at a faster than 3mph pace. I would’ve have thought that was crazy if I had the ability to think. But at that point my brain was too tired for complex thoughts like that. 

As I got to the coffee shop I saw two older guys, Sam and Don’t Do sitting at a table and they invited me to join them. After getting a coffee, a smoothie and an egg bowl, I did join them and we started chatting. Don’t Do had been having a tough time. He had gotten pollops in Virginia and had to go home. And since coming back to the trail, he hadn’t been much enjoying himself it seemed. 

He and Sam had been taking a different approach to hiking since coming back to trail. One of them would drive Don’t Do’s minivan 10-15 miles up the trail and then start walking south. They’d meet in the middle, swap keys and then whoever finished at the van would pick up the other one. Don’t Do’s van was only 9 miles up the road and he was considering just driving it back home to Connecticut after today. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be out here any more. 

We talked about that for a while and I gave my standard advice (don’t quit) but then the conversation veered in different directions. Dad showed up and it continued to veer. All in I sat at that restaurant for close to 2 hours I think. I had a lovely time. 

The four of us walked off together through a stretch of trail that walked through town. With the softball game to our left and the senior center to our right, we continued to chat until we hit actual dirt trail. With that I bid the old folks adieu and sped up the hill – happy to be back in my element. 

The rest of the walk was a blur of exhaustion. There were trees and rocks and hills and dirt, I think. There may even have been a stream or two as well. But honestly, I didn’t really pay attention. I just shut off my mind and let my trail legs take me onwards. 

I came to town and chatted with a guy named Bolt at the local ice cream / hot dog place. We chatted for a while about our hikes, knees (he’s just coming back from knee injury) and packs (his weighs 55 pounds!) before a woman joined our conversation. “Where are you going?” She asked. When we told her Maine, she looked like she didn’t believe us. When we said we started in Georgia, she looked like she was ready to tell us it was rude to lie to a stranger’s face. 

But eventually she bought our fantastical tale. She said she had driven here from Florida one time and would never do it again. “What you’re doing? No way.” I couldn’t argue. But she had lived in Spain for a while and she had heard of the Camino – that appealed to her. “Do it,” I told her without a doubt. “That one is fun. This…” my voice trailed off. “This is different.”

Dad, Sam and Don’t Do had hiked together the rest of the way. They were about to get ice cream when the sky started to darken. Apparently some time between waking up and now, Don’t Do had decided not to go home today. He very kindly offered us a ride to our hotel so we could shower and nap before mom and Yas show up!

Key stats:

Miles: 12

Elevation gained: 1900 ft

Mile marker: 1585

Yas is: In Massachusetts!