 |
| RPH Shelter interior--amazing how I remembered this shelter as grubby and everyone kept going on and on about how nice it was. It was nice. The pizza was nicer. |
So I write tonight as I have not written since my beginning night, camped alone in my tent, lit by red headlamp. Tonight the highway croons to my left. I am camped at a New York state park on the first summer weekend. How odd that I have to come to a campground crowded with car campers for solitude.
That's how crowded the trail is. Even today, at the concession stand, I met four thru-hikers. None wanted to stay here, close to the highway, with no shelter. It's supposed to rain tonight, and already it is raining.
I was lured by the state park's hot shower, not by camping alone. But I showered and pitched in the gravelly, trashy spot reserved for AT hikers, all alone, finally and for once. Rain pattered and I zipped myself in, alone with my books and notebook and leftover pizza. But even then at dusk, two hikers zoomed up, shouting hello to my zipped tent, guessing which of their friends was here.
It's just me, a lowly Southbounder. They looked cowed and went and camped at the other site. I don't mind, really. Maybe civilization is the only place to be alone anymore.
No comments:
Post a Comment