This is the ninth of my series of 2025/2026 transcriptions of the journal from my 1976 Appalachian Trail Thru-hike. The journal was compiled from my original trip notes in the time between my finish of the AT in August, and before I headed to college in September. An introduction to this trip is stored at: AT Intro. Photos are scans of my original prints. (My post 1976 comments are in parentheses.)
 |
| The NJ and NY Guidebook. |
June 10, Brinks Road Shelter, 24.2 miles
The
trail through New Jersey differs little from that of Pennsylvania. I guess it
is ridiculous to assume things will change just because I’ve crossed a state
line. These changes come, but only slowly. The rocks are still there, but there
is one difference. In New Jersey we’ve left behind the ridge and valley system
of the Appalachian Mountains. The low peaks of NJ and NY are a transition zone
between the ridge and valley province of PA and the higher peaks of the Taconic
and Berkshire ranges to the north.
Another
first in New Jersey is Sunfish Pond. This little mountain pond is the first of
many that will be seen as the trail continues north. I didn’t stay long at the
pond as I was eager to catch up with Buddy and Tim. I spent all morning trying to
catch them, having little luck. I trucked along through awesome heat while
sweating like a pig (this was my first major bout of hot weather for the trip).
I finally gave up the chase around noon and stopped for lunch. After a quick
munch I was back on the trail and caught the pair a half hour later at Camp
Mohican Road. My habit of stopping just short of where they would break for
lunch would set the tone for the next two months of walking.
After
lunch we walked, more or less, together. “Together” consisted of Buddy and Tim
rambling along while I tried to keep up. There were a few surprises such as
deer (in New Jersey!), and a new shelter. The new shelter was down a side trail
about a mile south of the Catfish Fire Tower. I did not take the side trip to
see it.
The
three of us ate dinner at a little spring 17 miles north of Delaware Water Gap.
After dinner, Buddy and Tim were still up for hiking the seven miles to Brinks
Road Shelter. I decided to tag along mostly for the company. (Getting extra
miles after dinner was a new strategy for me, and not something I ever did much
of). Tim went off like a shot while Buddy and I took it as slow as we dared. We
passed a girl camped in her tent. I think I met her again on the trail, and
that she was a friend of Eric Heinrich.
After
taking a picture of Buddy with the sunset in the background, we were off again.
The photo turned out to be one of the best of the trip. The sunset should have
been my clue to hustle up. Down went the sun and I was still on the trail. I
got frustrated with the dark and my now slower pace, but eventually I made it
to the shelter. I had managed my second 24 mile day.
Buddy at Brinks Road Shelter.
(This
was my second longest day of the trip though it goes almost unnoticed in my
journal. Perhaps after 20+ miles, one or two more makes little difference, at
least compared to those days where the footing, climbing, weather, or route
finding are more difficult).
June
11, Mashipacong Shelter, 15.2 miles
I
woke up tired from the long day before. As soon as we started out, my right
foot began to hurt. I had to stop a couple times to take my boot off and rub my
foot. My feet were in a long process of settling into my boots. They would
generally hurt for the first mile of the hike and then be OK until much later
in the day. When they decided I’d gone too far, they would begin to hurt again.
I
told my feet they’d soon get a break when I went by Route 206 and Worthington’s
Bakery. But the Bakery would not be open until the next day. Buddy, Tim, and I
moved down the street to the gas station for a hit of junk food. Just before we
left, a car pulled up and out jumped Hugh McGowen, backpack and all. Hugh (whom
I’d met on June 5), lived in Katonah, NY and was on a trip to hike the NJ and
NY AT sections.
The
three of us (HR, Buddy, and Tim) ate a huge pavilion on Sunrise Mountain. It
would have been a great place to sleep, but it was exposed to the wind. I spent
most of the meal wondering where Eric Heinrich was. We had passed a fire tower
earlier in the day which had a trail register, but there was no entry from Eric
in it. Eventually I figured that he must have been behind us. While at home on
break, I received a postcard from him. He mentioned hurting his foot, so it
made sense that the injury had slowed him down.
Buddy at Masipacong Shelter.
When
I pulled into the Mashipacong Shelter Buddy and Tim had already decided to stay
there. I was ahead of my schedule already and decided to quit for the day as
well. According to our faithful fact sheet we’d done 15 miles. But, according
to the guidebook, we’d only covered 12. I’d found the error while sitting at
the gas station and I imagined that we got in the extra three miles while
eating pies and drinking cokes. It was the easiest three miles of the trip!
At Mashipacong Shelter.
June
12, NJ Route 94 Hotel, 16.0 miles
Ick,
blah, more road walking. If Pennsylvania is famous on the AT for its rocks, New
York should be famous for its road walking. Around Unionville, NY there is a 15-mile
stretch of roads. Buddy, Tim, and I got up early to make the Unionville post
office, which was only open early on Saturdays. There was no way to tell
exactly when it should close. On the first five miles of road walking, I came
down with my spring disease, hay fever. I was constantly sneezing and coughing
and was in lousy shape. The coughing was often violent and I’m sure Buddy
thought I might be seriously ill.
But
I managed to get along and even got to the Post Office on time. I did my usual
chores, bought groceries, called home, mailed some stuff back, and then settled
down to lunch. Mine included a contact (OTC Drug) for my hay fever, some cake,
and a Genese. I was going to add some pretzels with the beer, but I figured the
cake would go better.
Our
next ten miles were almost all hard surfaced roads. There was only one break,
and that was a relocation up Pochuck Mtn. We managed to get totally lost. I
wasn’t even sure which state we were in most of the time. Usually when I got
lost on the trail it was a simple matter of retracing my steps back. But this
time we had gone too far to turn back. Finally, we spotted a farmer and tromped
across his field to ask directions. He set us out in the right direction, and
we found the trail on the north side of Pochuck Mtn. The last few miles of road
walking were tough on my feet. A full day of hard pavement got them too sore
for more walking. By the time we reached NJ 94, both Budy and I were hurting.
Just
up the road on NJ 94 was the Appalachian Motel. Tim was waiting there for us
with bad news. The place didn’t open until 7PM. There were no shelters in the
area so all three of us voted for the hotel. Sure enough, at 7 the manager
arrived and rented us a room. The room cost $20 and wasn’t worth $10. But we
did get the chance to shower and watch a little TV. (Buddy, Tim, and I would,
by coincidence, often spend Saturday nights in a hotel in a trail town, and
would often watch the Bob Newhart Show). This was hardly the lap of luxury, but
we were happy to be off the road. I even won the coin toss for one of the beds.
As
a footnote Buddy and I saw some people camping out on NJ 94. Tim had talked to
them and found out that they were just hiking for the weekend. The section they
had chosen was south to Unionville and included all the road walking we had
just found so horrible.
June
13, Roger’s Place Bivi, 13.0 miles
There
was a relocation off the road north of NJ 94. The merciless pounding of asphalt
was exchanged for wandering around the relocation with no idea where you are.
But the terrain wasn’t bad with only a few muddy and boggy areas.
On
this part of the trail, we were very close to New York City. I knew I wouldn’t
be walking under any factory smokestacks, but anytime you are this close to
civilization, you can’t expect to feel like you are in the wilderness. But surprisingly
we didn’t see the direct city impacts from the trail.
It
wasn’t until we were on a long ridge above Greenfield Lake that our proximity
to the real world became clear. Buddy, Tim, and I were walking quietly when we
heard low rumbles in the distance. Behind us on the trail came three trail
bikes amid an explosion of noise. I told the riders that they were on the AT
and they shouldn’t be on the trail. Off they went. The bikes were tearing big
chunks of turf out of the ground. Buddy and Tim threw a few logs across the
trail in case they made a return trip. Return they did with a few
uncomplimentary words from us. Without question trail bikers then (and still now?)
remain some of the least considerate people I’ve met.
Greenwood
Lake also gave us another first. From an overlook we did see the Big Apple. We
couldn’t have been more than 30 miles away. 
Buddy and Tim near NJ 94.
Eric
Heinrich told me about a guy along the trail in New York who put up hikers for
free. While walking along the ridge we came to a side trail, with a trail
register marking the junction. The
register invited us down to “the Oasis” for iced tea. The sponsor of the Oasis
turned out to be the man Eric described. Roger operated the “Appalachian
Cottage” in upper Greenwood Lake Village, about 200 yards down from the Oasis.
Unfortunately, he was not there when we arrived. Having nowhere else to go we
set up camp in his side yard. It seemed strange to set up camp in the yard of
someone you had never met, assuming that he wouldn’t mind (but that was the
AT), but that’s what we did. Lucky for us it didn’t rain.
Tim at the Oasis.
Roger
did not have water, so Buddy and I went after some. We heard some good gossip.
Hope Mauran and her friends had been by. One had hurt her ankle badly. Buddy
figured it was Joanna, because she had been complaining badly about her ankles while
in PA. The lady who had given us water had driven the four girls to a hospital
in nearby Warwick. That would have put them a day at most ahead of us, assuming
the ankle was OK, and that the group had returned to the trail.
June
14, Fingerboard Shelter, 20.0 miles
Like
all parts of the trail, New York has had its surprises. While most of the
natives are probably used to moving around by subway, I spent most of my day
climbing up and over unnumerable hills. The trail had stopped following the
main ridgetops, made a major turn, and went over every possible hill. The most
memorable section was called “Agony Grind”. It would have been less colorfully
called a cliff.
At
the top of Agony Grind we came across a rattlesnake basking in the sun.
Undoubtedly, the snake was just waiting to prey on some exhausted hiker dragging
themselves up the cliff. Luckily, we were just getting ready to descend, so the
snake tried to avoid us. We were able to get pictures before it slithered off.
To add to my wildlife collection, I saw two deer just past the entrance to the
Palisades Interstate Park. Who would have thought that New York would be one of
the best places for wildlife viewing on the trail? The snake I saw on Agony
Grind might have been the only one I saw on the trip.
The
oldest parts of the AT are in the Palisades. I was amused to see that the
beginning of the original section was hard surfaced. But the pavement only
lasted a short distance. The sections of trail over fifty years old were a
great change from the relocation that surrounded them. It appears that the only
parts of the trail in New York that were safe are those on public land.
Afte
20 miles of climbing up and over ridges we came to Fingerboard Shelter, our
destination for the night. Fingerboard was typical of the NY trail shelters,
those few that were still up anyway. There was no water, except at a polluted
lake which was a good way away. The roof also had a bunch of holes which
prompted a considerable amount of rearrangement when it rained during the
night.
Some
other hikers later pulled into Fingerboard. Phil Graveline, just back from a three-day
vacation, was hiking from Shenandoah to Maine. I did not see him again on the
trail. Ralph Dehart and Ron Keal also pulled in. Both averaged over 20 miles a
day. Ralph planned to meet his girlfriend the next day at Bear Mountain. Both
Ralph and Ron finished the trail.
June
15, Graymoor Monastery Hostel, 16.5 miles
Some
days on the trail start out bad, get better, get worse, and so on. This was
unfortunately one of those. Ralph and Ron woke up early at some ungodly hour
(even by my early morning standards). It was still dark and they woke everyone
else up. Just when the rest of us were getting ready to leave, it started to
rain. Old Mother Nature didn’t go to the trouble of putting on a big display,
just enough to make us all good and wet.
The
rain lasted an hour and a half. When it stopped, we were only concerned with
climbing our daily allotment of hills. On top of West Mountain, I took a bad
fall, I was inching down some hardpacked mud when my feet slipped out from
under me. I slipped and rolled down the hill until I was stopped by a rock in
the trail. I was having a hard time getting back up, so Buddy offered to come
down to help. Then he fell in the same spot. His was just a little slip, but I
saw the whole thing while lying on my back while thinking “Oh God, he’s going
to fall right on top of me.” Between the two of us we managed to get me back
up. I had a few cuts and scrapes, but the only real damage was to my glasses.
The plastic lenses had major scrapes (no croakies in those days). While walking
down the mountain I thought I’d need to get new lenses soon. (The scraped lens
looked bad, but I don’t remember it affecting my vision that badly. I also do
not remember if I was able to replace the lens, or if I wore the scraped lens
for the entire rest of the trip).
I
caught up with Buddy and Tim on the summit of Bear Mountain. While they went
off to find the trail, I went to the rest room to wash up. Bear Mountain was a
tourist peak, with a roadway to the summit. Once I was done, I could not find
the trail either. The guidebook was no help, but eventually I asked a ranger.
But
the ranger couldn’t, (or wouldn’t) tell me how to find the AT. I think he could
have led me by the hand to Macy’s, but the AT was beneath him. He kept
recommending other trails, while I kept insisting on the AT. I headed off on my
own, hoping I wouldn’t get too confused by the Ranger’s instructions. I
followed a trail that led to a road that (Voila!) led to the AT. Merrily I
followed the trail downhill until I reached the road that cut between West
Mountain and Bear Mountain. The only problem was I was hiking down the trail
that I’d just hiked up. I felt like crying, it was the low point of a bad day.
At
this point I committed a sin; I stuck out my thumb. Luckily, I wasn’t picked up
for a while and was there long enough to realize that I was still headed in the
wrong direction. Once I turned myself around, I got a ride from two ladies that
I had passed while hiking. They told me they usually didn’t pick up hikers, but
they couldn’t figure out what I was doing at the bottom of the mountain. They
drove me to the other side of Bear Mountain, while I had to rationalize my
decision to hitch the ride around the mountain rather than hike up and over
again. I had skipped 1.2 miles, but I’d probably have confronted that ranger if
I’d seen him again. (I also didn’t want to lose Buddy and Tim as they seemed
like the most promising hiking partners I had seen since Eric had left the
trail.)
The
ladies dropped me off at Bear Mountain State Park where I hit the trail and
started to look for Buddy and Tim. I had taken me two hours to “cover” 1.2
miles, so I was sure they would be wondering where I was. I found them sipping
a beer at a refreshment stand. Over some munchies, I told my story. It seemed
like an appropriate place to skip. It was a zoo, the whole mountain was covered
with people. The park even had a real zoo, and its bear den was the lowest
point on the Appalachian Trail at 115’ above sea level. (I would not see
another bear on the trip until we saw a bear crossing the highway ahead of us
as I drove home from Katahdin with my parents.)
After
passing through the park, I paid the ten-cent toll to cross the Hudson River,
Traditionally the toll was a nickel, but the man in the booth indicated the
price had gone up.
Hiking
to Graymoor Monastery I managed to get lost one more time. Graymoor is a rehab
center for alcoholics, but recently they started taking in hikers. I was given
a sandwich for dinner, as I’d missed the regular dinner. I got a bed for the
night courtesy of the Monastery. Everyone was really nice.
June
16, Torrey Memorial Shelter, 14.6 miles
This
was a nice 16-mile walk to Torrey Memorial Shelter. Though summer was still
five days away the heat and muggy air meant that I was sweating a lot. The
hiking was nice, only one long section of road walking after Canopus Valley
Crossroads.
The
people at Graymoor allowed all the hikers to eat with their early group, so we
were all on the trail by 8 AM. We had a nice meal of eggs, ham, toast, and
juice.
Buddy,
Tim, and I had a nice long swim at Canopus Lake. We were in a state park and
weren’t supposed to be swimming. Their ranger came by and was really nice about
our transgression, Since we hadn’t known we were in the state park everything
worked out alright. But the chance to swim was great. The weather was super hot
and humid, and the lake so refreshing.
Hope
Mauran and friends, appeared in the trail registers. They had pulled ahead of
us, while we had not seen them signed into the registers. I’d given up any hope
of catching them. They moved faster than I was willing to push myself.
Buddy,
Tim, and I had Torrey Memorial to ourselves. The shelter was scheduled for
possible demolition. But the shelter was nice and it would have been bad to
miss it. Since we’d only gone 14 miles, we had the afternoon to relax. The rest
of the NY AT promised to present lots of road walking and little water.
I
got my weekly ego boost just south of Canopus Lake. Buddy and I were walking
together when we came upon two couples walking. After the usual pleasantries
they asked how long we’d been out. I’d just been trying to figure that out, and
replied “1,300 miles.” One of the girls gasped and almost passed out, We
excused ourselves and moved on.
June
17, Holmes, NY Private Home, 17.2 miles
Sometimes
it seems it only rains when I’m sleeping under a roof that leaks. It was my
luck last night to wake and realize I was under a large leak. Then, while
trying to find a dry spot deck, I partly fell off. I finally found a dry spot,
but not until I woke up Buddy and Tim.
Fortunately,
the rain stopped by breakfast time. I ate a huge amount of oatmeal, which I had
been accumulating from my supply drops, while eating my breakfast bars instead.
After stuffing myself, I headed out ahead of Buddy and Tim. That was a mistake.
The trail hadn’t been cleared recently so all the small limbs and bushes hung
over the trail. Bashing through the brush I got as wet as if it had been
raining. Luckily for me, the rest of the hike was either dirt or paved roads.
We
all got into Holmes early. We had our usual gorging at the store. Our plan had
been to spend the night in town, but there was nowhere to stay. Luckily Buddy
and I ran into Mr. and Mrs. Ben Henry of Holmes who told us that in a pinch we
could stay at their house. Their house was right on the AT in Holmes, so we
headed on up there. These friendly people gave us dinner and let us use their
garage for the night. Along with the Evans of Pine Grove, PA they were among
the nicest people we met along the trail.
