[at-l] day three

[Felix]

So, I slept on. Had a nice evening/night, in fact. That all would change. I 
woke up to a pleasantly chilly morning. Seemingly clear. I'd say the temps were 
in the mid 20s based on the amount of ice in my water bottle. some, but not a 
lot. There was a fresh dusting of snow and the ground looked pleasantly 
crunchy. I love crunchy ground. Crunch means, usually, not muddy. 

I got up to get my food bags and everything felt fine. When I reached out to 
retrieve the bags, however, something very painful happened. I assume I 
slept 'funny' (am sure of it, in fact) and when I reached out, something very 
bad happened in my neck and shoulder. As the weight of the food bags was 
transferred from the 'hanger' to my arm, it felt like someone had stuck a knife 
in my back. "That ain't good" was my thought. I was right.  I got back over to 
my sleeping bag and laid down. This may have been a mistake as getting up was 
nearly impossible. Though, I really needed to lay down.  

So, I cussed a little bit and tried to make the pain stop. In certain 
positions, it didn't hurt at all. Other positions caused sharp, shooting pains 
down the left side of my body. I couldn't even take my hat off. (it really 
isn't a hat. It's a balaclava. Not to be confused with baclava.) So, I made 
breakfast and thought out all of my options.  After I had breakfast done and 
most of my stuff packed up, I went to the privy (which is close to the 
shelter). I realized when I couldn't get out of the privy that I had a semi-
serious situation at hand. Something about the way I had to hold the door open 
and step down made the left side of my body sorta stop working.  So, I had to 
prop the door open and climb down backwards. 

Hmmm..."This ain't good" I thought again. I decided to finish packing and hike 
out to the trail (.17 miles) and see how I felt. Once there, it was about a 
half mile back to a road crossing where I could hitch back into Dalton. Or, I 
could go left, the direction I SHOULD have hiked, and see how I did. The actual 
hiking part was not bad. I had two huge 'holes' in the backs of me feet that 
hurt. But, once they were warmed up, they weren't much of a problem. I got to 
the AT and turned left. 

My plan was to hike to either Blotz Rd or Pittsfield Rd. If my neck was fine by 
then, I'd keep hiking as planned. If not, thumb out.

I got to Blotz Rd and it was snowing and my neck was still killing me. the 
hiking itself was fine. But, if I slipped (as one is prone to do when crossing 
wet, frozen rocks, roots, bridges and the like), the jarring to the body that 
resulted was excruciating.  There wasn't much traffic and I wasn't even sure 
which way I was supposed to hitch hike. It appeared on the map that Pittsfield 
Rd. was a little more heavily traveled than Blotz Rd. So, I hiked on. It was a 
little more than 3 miles from Blotz to Pittsfield and I made really good time. 
This made it even more frustrating to have to stop hiking. I hike 7-ish miles 
in less than 3 hours. That's not too bad.  

But, I knew that even if I made it to the planned spot for the night, Upper 
Goose Pond, that getting set up and the the nightly chores would be a real pain 
in the neck. (Hey! Look! I made a pun!!!) So, at Pittsfield Rd., I stuck a 
thumb out. Third car by stopped and I told the guy I wasn't sure which way I 
should be hitching. I told him that I needed to get to Route 20. "Oh, F***" he 
said. He proceeded to tell me my best plan, which was to go to Route 8 and then 
south to Route 20. So, I got in and he turned around and took me back the way 
he'd come from. Had a nice, expletive-filled conversation with him. He seemed 
to be an 'old hippy'. Nice guy. He dropped me off on Route 8 just south (I 
think) of Washington, MA.  It was in the middle of nowhere!

6 or 8 minutes later a young kid came by in a pick up truck. "Where you going?" 
he asked. "Route 20" I replied. "Wow! That's a long way." I was surprised to 
hear him say. "How far?" I asked. "About 6 miles." I guess he and I have 
different opinions of 'long way'. "Well, I'm not going that far. But, I'll get 
you closer." He ended up taking me all the way to Route 20. Nice kid.  

After standing on a seemingly not-heavily-traveled section of Route 20 for 
about 25 minutes, a guy with a Vermont license on an old, beat up Cavalier 
station wagon stopped. I got in and talked my way about 25 miles past where he 
was going. Another nice guy. He even paid two tolls on the Turnpike and 
wouldn't take any money. He brought me to within 5 miles of Pilot's house. She 
was just leaving for a speaking engagement and was able to pick me up and bring 
me back to her place. (The man's name who gave me such a sweet ride was Mike 
Walls, of Becket, MA. so, if you ever see him on the road with a flat tire, 
help him change it for me)

Once back here, I took a hot shower and went to bed. Before I knew it, I had a 
horrible headache, a fever, the shakes, the sweats and an upset stomach. I'm 
not sure what that was all about, but it made me really, really glad that I 
bailed when I did. 

Epilogue: Steak is best when eaten.  

-- 
Felix J. McGillicuddy
ME-->GA '98
"Your Move"
http://Felixhikes.tripod.com