HVA to Belter’s Campsite; Distance = 11 Miles; People Met = 3
We lingered at HVA long enough to see the folks as they came to work. This was a really nice way to wind down the journey. I left HVA on the best of terms; I felt a calling to write and sing about humanitarian issues and they respected that. We had a nice photo opportunity before we left.
The gang at the Housatonic Valley Association
Our first stop was the Cornwall General Store, now owned by Dana. When my kids were young and I brought them to work with me we would drop in for deli sandwiches. Charissa claimed that was the reason for her joining us these last few days; we had to get a deli sandwich like old times. Though we never met before, Dana knew who we were before we got there. Someone called to anonymously pay for our sandwiches. My guess is either HVA or Ky; both knew of our plans for a deli stop there.
Dana, owner of the Cornwall General Store
The three of us had a pleasant walk the whole day; my intestinal problems had cleared up and we continued to enjoy our daughter’s company immensely. Given her lineage, Charissa knows full well what long distance hiking is all about and she came out with a mindset to provide us good cheer and full emotional support. The three of us shared her tarp together our last evening on the trail. I seldom did wrote anything other than brief notes in my journal, leaving the writing for the blog. On this last evening, however, I felt moved to write in my journal as in the old days. See below.
Cindy and Charissa on our last evening
This the last evening of our journey. I don’t feel like this is special, as in a momentous transition is about to occur. If mysteriously I miscalculated and realized we had seven more days to go I’d shrug my shoulders and get on with it.
Many thru-hikers confess they have trouble with transitions, both the transition of beginning a strenuous journey and getting on with “regular” life when the journey is over. I’ve never had such problems. Oh, sure, I’m excited at both beginning and end of a long journey, but with the exception of my first AT thru-hike I’ve never had apprehensions or relief at the prospect of life changing transitions.
Yet this journey is different from others because of the cause: drawing attention to both the abundance and necessity of kindness. We’ve changed people’s lives; that’s what we’ve been told. That is a heady reality to be transitioning away from. Or will there be such a transition? Can I continue to spread the “gospel of kindness” to impact others once we are home? I certainly will shoot for that goal.
Many long distance hikers embark on journeys to reboot their lives. That had never been the case for me in the past; it is now. Cindy’s career caused enough stress to affect her health; this hike was therapy for her but she likely will not be able to go back. My switch of careers to a writer and musician was unproductive to date; this hike was an opportunity to build an audience for me while figuring out other ways to maintain a sustainable income. We both feel like our lives have benefited immensely from the journey, but the “proof is in the pudding” once we return home. Perhaps I should be feeling more apprehensive than I am on this final evening.
We are at Belter’s Campsite, a stone’s throw away from Belter’s View, a place I know well from trail runs on the AT. For this last evening the three of us are sleeping together under Charissa’s tarp. A porcupine started towards us but I growled and he waddled back towards where he came before I had the foresight to take a picture.
We got to listen to the rain fall on our protective covering one last time, connecting us to so many other times. I recall the hardest rain, in Utah of all places, a rain that caused a 7 foot wall of water to flood gorges the next day, but we were perfectly dry in our tent. We will fall asleep listening to the birds one last evening; the calming chirps that come after an evening’s shower.
