Gateway

New York to Massachusetts.
July 23

On the Pacific Crest Trail, the Bridge of the Gods acts as a gateway to the Pacific Northwest. Psychologically, I felt it made a difference, suddenly I was in Washington, land of rain and berries, 500 miles left...

The Bridge over the Hudson River was similar for me this year. After what seemed to be like forever in the Mid-Atlantic, I encountered rain and lush greenery again. The day before crossing the bridge it rained... hard. It was that hard pelting, driving, buckets, red-on-the-Doppler sort of rain. Clothes were completely soaked beneath my poncho.

After the bridge, it was a relatively short jaunt to the Connecticut border. Just over the border, streams flowed and greenery grew over the trail. The towns of Kent and Salisbury were dominated by white houses with peaked roofs, manicured yards with neatly trimmed grass and hedges, large old healthy hardwoods, quaint business, and the signs of old money... Rumor has it that Alec Baldwin wished a hiker luck in front of the grocery store in Salisbury, which, might I add, had endive, radicchio, and beluga lentils! The first time I have seen this trinity of yuppy bobo foods since... Maybe the San Fransisco Bay Area!

Suddenly I have traveled from the Mid-Atlantic to New England.

And then there were mountains. Great tall, exposed cathedrals of stone. Well Out here they are. 4000 feet is a beast of a peak in this neck of the woods. I have discussed the differences between mountains of the east and west. Before another discussion, I will have to experience New Hampshire.

But Race mountain and Mount Everett at a paltry 2500 feet towered over the idealic lowlands and vast forests. This was another gateway. The gateway into the north east.

My saunter has been re-energized by the passage into new and different territory. I await treeline.