Day 49: Harriman, NY. 806 miles from Katahdin, 1300+ from Springer

We talk about food a lot. We are both about 20 pounds lighter than when we started. I, prudently, brought along 20 pounds to lose, but Forrest is slowly crossing the line from skinny to invisible. Our calorie-rich diet is pretty monotonous: baby food for breakfast and dinner (oatmeal & instant mashed potatoes), toddler food for lunch (finger food), and snacks every two hours.

Forrest mentioned that he can't wait to cook a moose steak dinner when we get home. I told him, sorry, but we are all out of moose in the freezer-- collateral damage of going walking during hunting season. 

Connecticut, which is a suburb of New York, placed there to provide a buffer between New Englanders and New Yorkers, was completely covered with acorns, topped by a layer of leaves. When you step on this surface going downhill (which is about half the trail) it's like stepping on a roller skate someone left on the stairs. Somehow we made it through the 50 miles of Connecticut without breaking our necks.

Our one stop to resupply in Connecticut brought us to the home of an Italian widow who came to the States after marrying an American soldier during World War II. She gave us clean clothes to wear while we washed ours, drove us to and from the store, laundry, dinner, trail, etc., and even dried our shoes and fed us apple pie. She's hosted almost 200 hikers this year and treated them all like family.

In New York, we were promised lots of bears, but the first we saw were where the AT winds through the Bear Mountain Zoo, about 30 miles outside Manhattan.

Forrest wants to eek every walking minute out of every day, walking in rain, wind and snow, so one morning I was surprised to wake up to his concern that we get off the trail and find a hotel. He was watching the weather on his phone (running down precious battery), and storm remnants of a southern hurricane were headed for the New York woods. Our tent is decent, but wasn't crafted by Noah and can't protect from flood conditions.

We put on our rain gear and considered our options. We were at a weird point in the trail almost 35 miles between shelters, we crossed a road every 5 miles or so, but they were rural roads leading to nothing. We walked in increasing winds, and then light, then steady rain.  After nine hours of walking, we got to a road where our guidebook promised a deli within 2 miles. If we could get there, we could charge our phones and call a cab to take us to a motel. It was the best plan we had. It was raining harder. We saw no traffic.

One truck came over the hill and I stuck out my thumb. He slowed and rolled down his window to say, "Sorry, I'd normally give you a lift, but my driveway is just here..."

Forrest looked over my shoulder and saw the guy was wearing an Alaskan beer sweatshirt. "We live in Alaska!" 

The driver said, "Alaska! No way! Get in!"

We crammed our soaking wet selves into the back and told him our plan. He told us he hunts and fishes in Alaska every summer and was happy to take us to the deli. When he dropped us off, he gave us his number and said, "If you can't find anything, call me." He drove away.

We dried off and ate pizza and charged our phones to search for lodging. We were in a deli in the middle of nowhere. Before we could find anything, our driver walked back in the door. He said, "I changed my plans for the evening, I've got bunk beds in my guest room. You can come stay at my house. I'll drop you where I picked you up in the morning on my way to work."

His house was a taxidermy palace and we dried our shoes by the fire and swapped Alaska tales and photos with our new friend. When we were all settled in his home, he said, "Since you guys are here from Alaska, I'm gonna thaw out some moose steak-- killed it last fall in Alaska."

It rained 2 inches overnight. Multiple trees came down. We sat inside by a fire in rural New York and ate moose steak.