Dispatch from Warwick, New York -- August 9, 2004

Hello finally to my no doubt anxious readership.

Every one of you must be worried sick since I have not sent a scrap of communication from the trail since Rutland, VT. But allow me to assuage your fears; I am alive and well, currently writing from Warwick, NY where I am taking a zero at my brother Michael's place.

I hooked up with my brother three days ago at the Bear Mtn. Bridge (Hudson River) 31 trail miles north of here and dragged him that distance to the nearest trailhead to his home here where we cleaned up and enjoyed soft mattresses. Big treat for me, of course, but also for my brother, who, though he only spent one night actually ON the trail, is so unused to this kind of treatment that he probably appreciated his bed more than I did his futon. And I'm a man who likes his futons.

Since Rutland, VT I have crossed both the 1/4 and 1/3 points on the trail. I am currently at 820 miles or so with about 1350 to go. It seems like overnight I went like feeling like I was just beginning the trail to feeling practically like I'm on the home stretch. Not to be overly attributive or cocksure -- I know much difficult trail lies ahead -- but ever since the beginning northbounders have been telling me to take my time and enjoy. "It'll be over before you know it," they whimsically and almost enviously told me. Now that I'll be hitting 1000 miles in a week or so, I know I'll be hitting 2000 seemingly immediately after, and then it's only another 174.1 to go.

State by state, here's my shorthand recollection:

Vermont, well, I take back just about anything nice I ever said about Vermont. This state marked the turning point from hanging on northbounders' advice and admonitions about terrain to realizing that, with northern New England behind me, I definitely had some bragging rights that they didn't. Vermont, with its short, wimpy climbs and few views had very few pionts of merit to justify the fact that 9 out of every 10 miles were an infernal muddy morass. But the northbounders seemed less phased by the mud than by these hillocks that they spoke of with apocalyptic dread. The mud was the far more loathsome demon. My new shoes from Manchester quickly vanished from my eyes. I actually forgot what they looked like due to the mud.

Good morning, Massachusetts, how are ya? Don't you know, I'm your native son! Mass actually amazed me in two respects. It has been so far the state in which I had the most effortless hitches into towns. On three separate roads I had the pleasure of the first passing car stopping for me and taking me right to the store where I was shopping. One guy even waited for me and drove me back to the trailhead. On top of this, Mass astounded me with its beauty. I never knew there were such beautiful mountains and blueberry-draped ridges in my home state. I spent one night at Upper Goose Pond, the best swim and most beautiful single lake I've had on the whole hike thus far. And I even had the prescience to hike in 6 tall Budweiser cans which I did not regret carrying 22 miles when I got to this elysian body of water. I met with my parents for the second time in Great Barrington, MA, after which I hiked the next day into the brief but rugged and beautiful state of Connecticut.

Connecticut surprised me with similarly impressive rocky tops, vast cornfield walks and great bird sightings. Anyone who knows what an Indigo Bunting is, eat your heart out: I saw one. The bluest bird in North America, high in the running for the most stunningly azure winged creature in the world. A few goshawks, one of which almost hit me in the head flying by, several beautiful owls, and the surprise loons on the nearby ponds all sealed my positive impression of this state in which I spent scarcely over 48 hours.

New York is the most singularly different state so far in terms of the narrowing of the trail corridor. Everyday I hear traffic, pass powerlines, see tons of airplanes, and stop at delis and pizzerias all of which are well within a mile of the trail. There were actually two shelters in NY at which hikers can order pizza delivered straight there. In case you pictured me out in the great green wild, consider otherwise. I am more in civilization than ever.

I guess there's not too much more to report, except that those of you who have not checked my companion website lately (or at all) should be elated to find out that I now have about 100 pictures posted, so you can see my hike's progress in full color. Currently posted are pics through Hanover, NH, but from there south are soon to be up.

http://www.susankunk.net/bjornhikes/

Check it out.

Postcards, fanmail, loveletters, and care packages can reach me by sending to my house where my parents will forward it to the next post office along the way.

Bjorn Kruse (Windsock)
"Forward to Trail"
48 Denton Rd.
Wellesley, MA 02482.

All my best. The walking starts again tomorrow.


Me, Bjorn.