“I just peed for the forth time dude!” Getting excited about your friend’s urine and bowel movements is something that occurs when you’re hiking in 90 degree weather. Both of us had experienced a loss of appetite to some degree, but Tater’s constant ingestion of water without need to pee, had us both a little worried.
In all reality, this was great news. We were fully sweat-soaked by the midday sun. Our third of such days thus far.
My cousin Ian and I had to bail off a short thru hike of the Foothills Trail in South Carolina due to the oppressive heat. I should have been keeping a closer eye on his “in’s and out’s” and by the time I was it was too late. We had been doing larger miles than we probably should have, and by day three we were both pretty cooked.
When Ian was still feeling terrible after an hour at a swimming hole, we told me he wanted to head home. I’m so glad we made that call when he did, because little did we know at the time our egress was nine miles with 2700ft of elevation gain. All this via a forest service road, where we had zero info on water sources.
Thankfully Ian is a tough dude. Thankfully too, our other cousins Will and Charlie, were more than happy to come get us. It was a rough go though, one that has me vigilant. Tater is extremely experienced too, and so we’ve been listening quite attentively to our bodies.
Today we met Frodo, Sam Wise, and Grass while ducking some rain at a shelter. Two are Georgia Southern grads, and Grass has stepped away from his lawn care business to pursue the trail. They’re typical young, bright-eyed, and virile thru hikers. Nevertheless they expressed the typical vulnerabilities, asking us dozens of questions about the Whites and Maine, as soon as they learned we had seen them before.
We took our time leaving after that long lunch break with the guys. The weather abated and we capitalized on the lowered air temperature.
We caught a gorgeous evening view off the side of Schaghticoke Mountain, where we met Richie Danger, an older thru from Richmond. He has a remarkable resemblance in both tone and looks to Les Stroud. He assured us it was a college nickname and was “quite insured” these days.
We continued on down St. John’s Ledges, which are a great preview of the White Mountains. More like little arm floaties for an Olympic swimming lap.
There’s a lovely stretch of trail near the Housatonic River, and we made it there by six in the evening. We passed a bald eagle on the far shore eating prey, and continued to able on slowly.
When we made camp we pitchd in the “besties share vesties” arrangement, a throwback to my friend Casey Jones who came up with the phrase. Basically, our doors faced each other so we could converse bug free.
We slept like rocks.
Dirty Girl Hikes 