Days 107-108: New York, New York

Day 107. July 28th: Wildcat Shelter to stealth campsite @ mm1393 – 12 miles

Our second day in New York is one of my favorite days on trail. The weather is cool and sunny, and we hike up a stony staircase alongside a waterfall. I feel like I’m in Rivendell. Throughout the morning, the terrain alternates between open grassy glades and brief boulder scrambles. Later we reach a famous AT obstacle known as the Lemon Squeezer. There’s a gentle, blue-blazed path around the steep and narrow rock formations, but except for skirting a couple hundred yards of waist-deep flooding at Watauga Lake in Tennessee, I have hiked every inch of white-blazed trail since Springer Mountain this year, and I’m not about to stop now.

The Lemon Squeezer is fun. Without a pack it would be straightforward enough to turn sideways and slip through the narrowest areas, but with our packs on, it’s tricky to negotiate. We take turns squeezing through and passing our dismantled belongings from person to person. After the narrow tunnel, there’s a sheer rock face we need to climb with the aid of a few rocks and roots, maybe eight feet high. As the rock climber of the group, Etienne scales it and then we pass our packs one at a time, and then haul each other up the incline.

That afternoon, we follow a paved road down to the crowded shore of Tiorati Lake, where we find ice cream vending machines and free showers. We eat dinner at a picnic table and then make our way back up to the trail, where we stealth camp on uneven ground because we’re too tired to hike any farther.

Day 108. July 29th: Stealth site to Graymoor Spiritual Center – 18 miles

The terrain stays challenging the next morning until we reach Black Mountain, where the hillside is covered in ripe blueberries and we can see the skyline of New York City to the east. From there, the trail remains well-maintained to Bear Mountain. There, we find great views, a couple offering trail magic, and crowds of people. The trail down from the mountain is recently reconstructed. Signs offer information about the countless hours of volunteer labor that created the stone steps down the mountain, and for the millionth time on the journey, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the AT community. My knee aches, but I lean heavily on my trekking poles and ignore it.

At the base of Bear Mountain, we weave through the crowds around Hessian Lake. Like when the AT neared the DC area, this part of New York is vibrant with a diversity that reminds me of what I like about cities, even if my daily life on the AT also makes me appreciate not being in a city. I buy junk food from vendors and then we follow white blazes through a tunnel under a road and into the Bear Mountain Zoo.

While I was in college, both my mom and my brother volunteered at a local zoo in Florida, and I learned to appreciate the conservation efforts that zoos are able to support. That zoo has spacious exhibits where the animals can frequently take shelter out of sight of the visitors. But here, this zoo leaves me with mixed feelings. The red wolf exhibit is marked by a track where these athletic animals pace endless, restless circles around the perimeter of their enclosure. The black bears sit in the sun, surrounded by people on three sides. Their coats are bleached reddish brown by the sun, so at first glance they look like small grizzlies. I know that the revenue from admissions and the interest that the zoo sparks in the public can support education and conservation efforts that are good for wildlife, but it’s difficult not to compare the bears in the enclosure before me with the two wild black bears I encountered in New Jersey just a few days ago. The difference is stark. I take one last look at the bears and keep moving.

My little tramily drifted apart throughout the day, but the five of us regroup at the zoo exit and cross the Hudson River together on a massive road bridge. Then we have a short, steep climb up to a viewpoint called Anthony’s Nose. We hike four more miles to the free camping offered at the Graymoor Spiritual Life Center.

Throughout the hike today, I notice that lately, when I’ve paused to step off trail for a bathroom break, the need to pee hits me with sudden urgency as soon as I unbuckle my hip belt. Huh, I think. I’m getting like Pavlov’s dog. I’ve conditioned my body to associate the removal of my pack with imminent bladder relief. Trail life is weird.

But I don’t think anything else of it.