Stories from the International Appalachian Trail
Hey. Well met, I say.
It’s me again, your favorite not-in-the-neighborhood ne’er-do-well who does Lord-knows-what while being who-knows-where, and the only thing we all understand is that there is probably food involved because otherwise, dear reader, we would starve.
This one is really long
I am sorry
so sorry
Dear readers,
I just finished walking nine hundred miles through Quebec, from near the end of the Long Trail in Vermont, up to Forillon National Park.
Hmmk. From Lac-Beaulieu, we continue…
Hey!
You exist. Look at these cows.
…
Ok. No good internet. No cows.
Hello. Yes.
Happy Independence Day, fellow country humans. Happy recent Canada Day, Canadians. Happy…
Here we are. You, reading this and doing whatever it is you do. Me. Lying in my bivvy, listening to the mosquito horde about 6 inches from my face thirsting for my blood…
Hey, hooligans. Rain is falling again all over these hills, so instead of walking I am going to sit here and write to you. With coffee. I have a Pavlovian response to hot drinks, rain, and writing…
yep. zehr cool.
Dear y’all,
I was peacefully hiking along, enjoying this breeze and swatting madly at blackflies, horseflies, and the errant mosquito, when suddenly I was overcome by the awful gut sinking feeling that I always get when something horrible is about to happen because of something I’ve done… am currently doing…
Sail Away 