Dalton, Massachusetts

Over the past days we made our way down to Dalton, Massachusetts, through Cheshire, the Cobbles, North Mountain and Weston Mountain. The nights in the upper elevations have gotten much colder, down in the low 40s, with an even lower wind chill. By the time I got to Dalton, I just wanted to warm up. Forest didn't have his warm jacket yet either, it's being sent to our next stop after Dalton. One thing I've learned from this experience: I don't ever want to be homeless. I'm just too old to live like this long-term.

Speaking of Forest, he finally ripped a hole in his hammock. I can't really complain; it lasted almost a thousand miles.

I decided to take the friends of a friend up on an offer for food and a real bed. They picked us up and took us back to their house, where a private room and bathroom were waiting for us. After a long, hot shower, I felt more human again. Dinner was great, grilled salmon. I hadn't had that in a while. They even told me I could let Forest sleep in the bed, too. Good people.

I slept hard for 9 hours. I can't remember the last time I slept that long. And, I woke up to real coffee and an omelet. My hosts offered to let me stay another day to pack in some calories and do my laundry, and I decided to take them up on it. Tomorrow morning, they'll take me back to Dalton to the Post Office, where I'll pick up my resupply package, repack and head back out on the Trail.

Oh, and by the way—we've gone 1,330 miles, with 770 to go! Home is beginning to sound much more real now.