Country Justice

The below is a reconstruction of my time on the Northville Placid trail, based on the memory of my exhausted mind. If I were to guess, probably about 88% is true.

Prologue
Sunday evening, while catching up on some work, I received an email from MP, my co-conspirator of this grand adventure quoting marathon event advice.

"The nights' sleep before a race isn't nearly as important as the sleep you get 2 nights before. Not that I need to remind the coach, but as for me, it's gonna be an early night. For shizzle."

"What is he talking about?" I wondered. "Two nights before we take off is like next Sunday." Silence. Then I hear a click deep in my brain. "Oh shit, are we hiking this week?!" I jumped up and dug through my bag looking for a written letter MP sent me from Alaska earlier this week. I pulled the note from the envelop and read its suggested itinerary dates twice, maybe three times. Our trip was to start on 8/17, two days from today. I was a week off. In a bit of a panic, I dialed MP who was in Atlanta at the time. As the phone rang to his voicemail, I started laughing at myself and left him a message communicating my ridiculousness. After months of anticipation and planning, I could seriously not be able to go.

How can I make this work? I was determined. I turned to my outlook calendar and began my mental and schedule shift. Within minutes MP returned my call, deservedly laughing at me. "If you can't make it, it's ok," was basically his reply. He was letting me off the hook. But I didn't want to be let off the hook.

"Give me till noon tomorrow. I'll know for sure by then."

I spent the rest of the evening and night doing work and making a list of things I had to accomplish the next morning. I finally went to bed at 2 am. The next morning, I got to the office a bit early to finish off the last of my tasks- rearrange some meetings, finish work for some deadlines, and send out a bunch of emails letting everyone know I'd be unreachable. I wrote to Coach Jim telling him I'd miss GTS, and wrote to Katie letting her know I couldn't run with her on Wednesday. I let the guys know that I would be skipping yet another Yankees game. And I told Saira we'd be missing the movie in Brooklyn Bridge Park... Everyone was understanding of me blowing off our plans. I have been talking up this trip for quite some time. I will make it up to all of them. I owe Katie two 5:30 am runs now!

By 11 am I texted MP, "It's on, baby! It's on!" I had hours of work left, but knew at this point I was in the clear. I put in a full day of work, then rushed back to my apartment to finish packing. As the evening played out, my train upstate didn't take off till past 11 pm. My dad generously still offered to pick me up from the station, even though it was nearly 2am.

[caption id="attachment_180" align="aligncenter" width="225" caption="Albany-Rensselaer train station. The clock reads 1:50 am."][/caption]


Day 1: Bonus Round
"Good morning." MP whispers into his phone to me.

It's 4 am, I've had one hour of sleep and I know he hasn't had much more. So I suggest the obvious. "Think we should sleep a couple more hours?" In 30 minutes I'm in his car and we're off north. He didn't think so.

The car ride went fairly quickly. After a couple stops for breakfast and supplies, we arrived at the trail head and set out around 8 am. The first six and a half miles were familiar. We had done that stretch last year before our volunteer shift started for the Ironman. After crossing that point, MP quoted Samwise Gamgee from the Lord of the Rings. The next 6 miles were fairly treacherous. The trail wasn't very well maintained and beaver activity had swamped up lots of it. Our projected pace of three miles per hour was cut to one and a half. It would be a reoccurring theme.

[caption id="attachment_189" align="aligncenter" width="225" caption="Pumped and ready to hike"][/caption]

We reached Duck Hole (You're a duckhole) where we stopped for a quick lunch of salami and cheese in tortillas and peanut butter crackers. MP choose the menu. He received some great lessons and advice from his fiancee who just happens to be an expert backpacker, outdoorswoman, and makes a hell of a pie. Estimating we would cover 30 miles each day would mean burning probably 3,000 calories plus our normal daily allowance. I let MP do the math on how we'd recover that since carrying cheeseburgers and pizzas probably weren't an option.

[caption id="attachment_197" align="aligncenter" width="225" caption="MP excited to be crossing this pretty awesome suspension bridge"][/caption]

After about 40 minutes MP and I hit the trail again. At this point it was obvious we wouldn't make our original goal destination for the night, but there were plenty of lean-tos along the way so we choose a new goal. 3 hours in, we passed a lean-to with horse ties. We noticed on the map that there was a somewhat parallel horse trail. Seeing those horse ties on our trail didn't quite make sense. Did we somehow get on that parallel path? That didn't make sense. But if it were true, we'd still be headed the right way and they intersect at our goal. So we kept walking. 20 minutes later MP takes out his compass. Something just doesn't feel right to him. The compass confirm something is off. We're headed north northwest when we should be going west southwest. About 50 yards up was another lean-to that was actually labeled. It read "Ward Brook" something something... We found the Ward Brook trail on the map. And oh were we way off. A band of hikers confirmed to us we were on the wrong path, so we turned back. I like to think of that as the *Bonus Round*. All seven miles.

We didn't reach our goal that night, but did make it to a nice lean-to with a water source (river) just before we lost light or the day. My feet were killing me and I was exhausted. That lean-to was a very welcome sight.

Day 2: The Hill
Morning came too early, so we slept in a little. It was definitely needed. We hit the trail after a delicious breakfast prepared by MP and a nice cup of coffee. Behind by quite a few miles, out intention was to have a solid 30+ day. MP identified a couple lean-tos we would target as our end goal.

We were in the high peaks region of the Adirondacks and it was beautiful. We came across the occasional hikers going in the opposite direction, but other than that, all we could hear was the wind, rustling of critters in the brush, and the river rolling along. We reached Long Lake around 1 pm and rested for lunch. We were supposed to only take half an hour, but ended up spending a full hour. We took some time to soak our feet in the lake as we ate our tuna wraps and salami crackers. I sent out our first update via email. Service was sparse, so taking advantage of a couple bars was key. Leaving all technology behind is tempting, but the occasional update to family isn't just courteous to them, but a smart and safe thing to do when hiking deep in the wilderness. The old school method is to check in and out at each trail head. We did this as well.

[caption id="attachment_203" align="aligncenter" width="225" caption="MP checks us into the trail"][/caption]

Soaking felt great on my unconditioned feet, but it didn't last long. My marathon training translated very well in all other aspects except this- breaking in my boots properly and pounding the trail with 25lbs on my back. Knees? Awesome. Quads? Strong as ever. Back? Good to go. Feet? Oh my poor feet. Somewhere during this stretch I began to realize something other than fatigue and blisters was wrong. We kept moving forward toward our goal for the night. "Today will be the hardest day," MP had told me. You see, there was this hill... ok, it wasn't a hill. It was actually a mountain. We were in the mountains already, but had to climb another 1300 feet in elevation, about 800 feet of it squeezed into maybe a couple 1/4 mile segments.

[caption id="attachment_209" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Soaking our feet in Long Lake. We are so badass. "][/caption]

We had been in anticipation of this hill all afternoon. I popped some ibuprofen at one of our water/fueling stops for the discomfort in my left foot. That seemed to help. And so did that hill. We came upon it with little fanfare. Our conversation stopped and our effort levels shot up. This is something MP and I have in common that is unique to just us amongst our friends (except for maybe Brian who cycles now). We like this type of challenge. This strenuous physical challenge before us- it wasn't enough to just get up the hill, we needed to crush it. I'm not sure how fast we did it in we didn't bother checking time. Everything felt great in these few minutes (maybe an hour?) Heart rate was up, sweat was pouring, and I felt no pain. I was in the zone. This had to have been one of my favorite segments of our hike.

We got to the top, exchanged hi-5s, and took a brief break to refuel and change our sweat-soaked shirts. Dusk was upon us and we still had a good 5 to 6 miles left for the day. We would be racing the sun toward the horizon that evening. And the sun would win...

The pain in my foot began to return which slowed us down. This next hour was beautiful regardless. We crossed a bog and were again reminded of LoTR. Neither of us looked into the water for fear of seeing dead things. Despite it being a bog, it was impressively scenic. For hours we had been hiking in dense forest and here was a clearing, lit by a sky the color of a sunset. I had to take a moment to take it all in. About 15 seconds. Then we continued on.

A dirt road marked the last mental check point for the day. From there it was only a couple miles to camp. We walked along the dirt road in search of the trail head on the other side. According to the map, it should be just about a 1/2 mile to the right. We couldn't find it. Darkness blanketed us. So we donned our headlamps. We spent maybe 15 minutes backtracking and searching for our destination. MP finally spotted it and we were on to our last leg.

My headlamp blinked three times. It had done this the first night too as a warning that the batteries needed replacing. And of course, neither of us had spares. "You better turn your headlamp off," MP said. Huh? "I don't know how much charge I have left in mine and we can't afford to lose both." Ok, that makes sense. "I'll lead us and we'll stay close." Sure, no problem.

I had little strength in my ankle/foot at this point. It was clearly a tendon issue and not just fatigue. That was upsetting. Now I was hiking pretty much in the dark, through some rough terrain filled with roots, deep mud, rocks, etc. Good stuff. our 2 mile per hour pace slowed to something I can't even calculate because the pain was too much for me to think. At some point MP convinced me to take a couple more ibuprofen. It may have helped, I'm not sure. Losing the trail may also have helped. MP walked into some brush into what seemed to be a field of tall grass with no obvious trail markings. "Are you sure this is right?" I asked.

He paused and began looking around. It definitely wasn't The grass was hiding more bog- there was no way around. The trail is marked with blue trailblazers that are nailed to trees along the path. The trick is to follow these blazers while also watching your footing- a challenging feat in the pitch black dark. There was no obvious answer to this riddle. Just behind us was a blazer. Ahead of us was nothing. I turned on my headlamp and searched. What do we do? "Let's go back," MP finally stated. It was a good call. If things don't seem right, we back track until they do. We would set up camp somewhere until dawn if need be. So we back tracked maybe 100 yards and found a peculiar thing. We had stepped over a bundle of branches that did not seem like a natural laying. Our interpretation of this was "trail end". It was here that we found a detour. With a big sigh of relief, we continued.

A couple of confusing trail signs later, we finally get to the lean-to. Both of us exhausted and the clock nearly at 11 pm, we started a fire for dinner. MP wasn't hungry, but knew better- we needed the calories so we both diligently ate our meals and refueled. Our ridiculous night-hike was done and my foot was all I could think about. I knew this pain. The familiar symptom was the lack of strength. Definitely a tendon issue and that was bad news. "I may have to bail tomorrow. I hope that's not the case, but the way my foot feels now- I don't think I'll be able to go on. I can probably get my brother to pick me up in the nearest town. That way you can finish it."

MP was having none of that. "Joel, we set out to do this together. If I were to complete it without you, where would that leave us when we try this again? I feel like we started it together so we should finish it together. If you have to bail, then we will bail together." I hated that I was potentially going to end the adventure, but I did appreciate the brotherhood. We decided to just see how things felt in the morning.

[caption id="attachment_229" align="aligncenter" width="225" caption="MP prepares breakfast at our lean-to the next morning."][/caption]

Day 3: Country Justice
I didn't roll out of my sleeping bag until about 9 am. MP may have awoken slightly earlier. Our original plan had us hitting the road by 6:30 or so every day. But knowing that with my foot we'd already have to cut miles back, we took our time and got some needed rest. The guidebook stated this lean to was one tenth of a mile from Tirrell Pond, but it wasn't evident in the darkness of the night. MP went searching for it that morning. We needed water. Other than the initial water we brought with us and some guys hose water from the prior day, we have been drinking creek, river, and pond water dosed with iodine tablets. Delicious.

[caption id="attachment_216" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="MP washes something in Tirrell Pond, using natural soap only of course"][/caption]

We had another nice breakfast and took time to wash up in the pond. MP and I committed to cutting our mileage. Today, we had a goal of about 20 to do. Along the way were many lean-tos just in case. I popped 4 ibuprofen and we set off at a slower pace. Within about 3 hours we reached highway 28 which led to Blue Mountain Village. MP suggested we take the 3 mile detour and walk into town to get some duct tape and bandages for our blisters.

I soon discovered that hiking on pavement with a 30 pound bag on is no fun. MP already knew this and immediately started trying to waive vehicles down in hopes of hitchhiking. "Would you stop to pick up a hitchhiker?" I asked him, because he recently hitchhiked through Alaska. It's a different world up there. Such things are normal. Here in New York State, no one stopped for us. I gave up after about a mile. MP gave up soon after. With less than a mile left into town, we came across an ice cream shop. "Oh shit..." I wasn't sure if getting ice cream along the way was against the rules. What rules? Yeah, I don't know. Imaginary we-are roughing-it rules. But then, hitchhiking would probably also be against said rules.

[caption id="attachment_221" align="aligncenter" width="225" caption="Unscheduled, yet delicious, pit stop."][/caption]

The ice cream was delicious. As was the sub-par pizza we had in town while taping up our feet. I also had a coffee. We took maybe an hour for lunch, rebooted our feet, and were off again. I popped more pills, but was feeling pretty ok. The pain was tolerable so going on seemed to be a reasonable choice. Unfortunately this feeling didn't last long. It was only about a mile and a half to the trail head from there. By the time we reached it, my ailment was already piquing with pain. We went on. It had come and gone the prior day, so perhaps it would do the same.

The next few miles were miserable. We had only covered about 8 miles or so and I already was at my end. The drugs weren't helping. We were 12 miles off our target for the night. What to do? Being deep in the woods, there is no easy way out. If one wants to stop, one still needs to exit the woods so that he/she can hop in a car and go home. Could I go on? Yeah, I could. but for how long? The shortest distance to a town was the path behind us. The town ahead was a serious commitment. "Let's just get to the next lean-to and reevaluate," MP suggested. I agreed.

I'm sure I sounded like a whiny bitch for the next few hours... actually, probably last night too. I shouldn't have been out there at this point, but didn't want to give up. We arrived at the lean to with plenty of daylight left. This one was located by another beautiful pond, aptly named Cascade Pond. We dropped our gear and made our way to the water to wash up and get refreshed before making any decisions. Well, at that point we had already decided not to continue. It just wasn't the reasonable or healthy thing to do. We were now even further behind.

[caption id="attachment_225" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Through the trees, Cascade Pond"][/caption]

That morning already, we agreed to cut our trip short by 26.2 miles or so (fittingly, the length of a marathon) and arranged to be picked up in Piseco. Stopping here for the day put us 10 more miles behind. Piseco had also become unreachable in our allowed time. MP studied the map looking for a reasonable out. Still, going back would be the shortest route, but neither of us were ready or willing to do that. How could we continue forward and still have an out? We would not pass through another town, but there was a road crossing on our way. And from there to the nearest village? I decided to take out my iPhone and cheat with google maps. We were going off trail into territory not covered by our maps our guidebook. With barely two bars of service, it took the GPS feature some time to find us. The blue dot blinked confidently in a mass of green area next to a blue shape. No roads in site. It was a pleasing site. I scrolled to the road crossing and looked for our new destination town, Indian Lake Village. "It looks like it's about 7 miles from the trail head" I told MP.

Between us and that town lay about 11 miles. Very reasonable for one and a half days. We discussed exiting early tomorrow night or waiting for our scheduled Saturday noon extraction. I had nowhere to be and loved being out in nature. MP felt the same, so we opted to take our time and enjoy ourselves. MP was able to send a text to his fiancee, our pick up person. "New Plan; Joel hurt foot, down to crawl but can make Indian Lake Village (right on rt30) by Sat noon. Ok?" We received an confirmation text. Done. I was relieved. Sad that we couldn't finish, but relieved. My three big fears about this trip were 1) getting a serious injury that would mean the end of my marathon season, 2) getting an injury that would stunt my progress of Boston Qualifying in the fall, and 3) bear attack. In that order. As I type this, I'm hoping none become a reality.

We gathered firewood for a decent sized campfire. It wouldn't be a small efficient fire tonight. Sitting beside a camp fire is one of my favorite things and tonight we would take advantage of our extra time and lack of exhaustion. We prepared dinner and began to eat in front of our nice fire when it began to rain. It was the first rain of our whole journey and would be the only rain. I couldn't complain. We weren't on the trail and we had a nice lean-to to shelter us. But our time by the fire came to an end.

Day 4: The Search for Cedar River Road
We woke around 9 am, in no particular rush since reduced our mileage considerably. Breakfast was as delicious as ever. We set off at a somewhat casual pace due to my foot. After about a thousand yards we passed a hiker headed for the lean-to we just left. It was good timing. He was ahead of schedule and was going to spend the day lounging about. Good for him. The next lean-to soon passed and we came upon an intersection in the trail. Our detour yesterday took us off the NP trail and we were rejoining it now. Going left would take us back to Route 28. We were headed right, toward Cedar River Road. A sign marked the distances we should expect and read "Cedar River Road 7.2 miles."

"That can't be right," MP noted that it should only be about a 5k from there (that's runners talk for 3.1 miles). We continued on, puzzled by the sign, but confident the guidebook was correct. It was a 2007 edition and the math and maps hadn't failed us yet. My foot though, that was failing us. Or did I fail it? Interesting philosophical question I will come back to later. Either way, its tolerance for hiking was considerably less than the preceding days. I was making it worse with every step. Knowing we were so close to the road kept me motivated.

[caption id="attachment_239" align="aligncenter" width="225" caption="Genesee Cream Ale. These bottles are probably older than me."][/caption]

I had been stopping periodically to deal with the pain. It would build up to a point at which I couldn't willingly take another step. Stretching seemed to help. Wrapping it with duct tape for support did to. And the ibuprofen. And water. Water always helps. Hours went by. Were we really moving so slowly? I made us stop yet again and MP suggested I elevate my foot. It was swollen. "I'm going to scout ahead." He left his backpack and took off ahead. I laid down on the trail and raised my foot onto my pack. I probably looked really strange to a passer-by, if there were any. After a few minutes, I sat up and rewrapped my foot with more tape. MP returned. "It's about a quarter mile ahead." Finally. "It looks pretty abandoned. Hasn't been used in some time." Really? That seems odd, but whatever. We put our packs back on and continued.

MP wasn't kidding. The road had full grass growth on it. It could only be identified as a road because of the wheel divots. It wasn't likely ever paved. To our left- in the direction we intended to go- was a swampy mess. I suddenly had an eerie feeling, you know, the type of feeling you get when you suddenly realize that civilization as fallen to ruin and you find yourself in some sort of post apocalyptic reality. I expressed my doubts that this was the road we have been looking for. True, our road was well over due, but how could this be it? MP pulled out his trusty compass and tried to get a feel of the direction the road was leading in. It seemed correct, but I just wasn't feeling it.

We discussed what to do for probably about 20 minutes. Taking a left onto Cedar River Road meant heading to Indian Lake Village, an estimated 7 miles away. Taking a right meant staying on the trail. Our goal was Indian Lake Village... but was this really Cedar River Road? MP went to the right to scope out the muck we would have to cross. I took time to read the guidebook again and review the map. There were very specific clues that made me doubt. A) This intersection should have been the homestead of John Macaluso. We should have walked on his driveway, in fact. B) The map showed structures on the road and the guidebook suggested we would see some along the road. Where I was standing, I couldn't see that.

"It's a mess, but we can get through it," MP returned with his evaluation. I voiced my concerns. But our primary objective was water. According to the map, we should head left on the road to get closer to the river, about 1/8 of a mile. We both agreed that was prudent. We began to hike, looking for signs that we were where we thought we were. No river. No structures. No driveway. MP checked is compass regularly. There were a few offshoots to the road that could have been driveways, but it still didn't feel right. We stuck to the trail. MP's fiancee would be proud of us for that. We soon both became confident that this couldn't be the road we've been looking for.

"Where the hell are we?" My foot screamed out loud. The sign we had passed hours ago was most likely correct- the road must be 7.2 miles from there and the guidebook must be wrong, however unlikely that seemed. So we kept going, knowing that at least we were on the trail so we weren't technically lost. Our pseudo-road suddenly became paved. Interesting. And a handicapped accessible camp site was on the right. My foot repeated itself. "Where the hell are we?"

"There are fresh tire tracks. This road has to lead somewhere," MP suggested. Yeah, but where? We followed. The pavement soon disappeared and became dirt. I was hoping it wouldn't turn back into grass. Then suddenly on the right we could see water. "The river." MP pointed. We were both excited, but the river should have been to our left... Guess what my foot said. But it didn't really matter at that point, we needed water. "I bet this path leads right to it." We followed the path toward the mystery river. It led us to a camp site and I was excited.

"I think we're staying here tonight," I said even before knowing where we were. We continued a few yards further to the edge of the pond. Pond? Yeah, pond. MP pulled out the map and studied it. "I think this is Sprague Pond." We must have cut north of it some how. Sprague Pond was our tentative goal for the day. It would leave just 3 or 4 miles left for the morning. Our plan was to hike up to it and set up camp. If this was Sprague Pond, than that was excellent news.

[caption id="attachment_237" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Hikers at a pond. But which pond?"][/caption]

I had a look at the map. "It could be Wakely Pond..." It was the only other pond within reach, but it was considerably father. How far have we come? Hard to say. But we needed to be sure. MP dropped his gear and returned to the trail to scout again once again. I took the time to resupply our water. He returned quickly with knowledge of exactly where we were.

"It's Wakely." I laughed. I guess we did hike pretty far. And the trail was obviously rerouted since 2007. MP had waived down a car to ask our location. The driver also estimated we were 12 or 13 miles from Indian Lake Village. That's a lot more than the 3 or 4 we were hoping for. After briefly flirting with the idea of continuing to Sprague Pond, we decided to stay put for the rest of the day. "We're have to really wake up at 5 am tomorrow." Our pick up time was noon and we had to cover 12 to 13 miles by then. At the pace we were moving, this was the only way to insure we make our rendezvous in time.

After taking a dip in the pond, I sat on a log in the sun and contemplated life.

We saw a beautiful sunset that night and turned in shortly after dinner before we had lost all light. It was about 9p and we'd be waking in 8 hours for our last stretch.

Day 5: The Road
We rose out of bed in darkness. MP went straight to the fire and started boiling water for breakfast. I packed up my stuff, then prepared coffee. Boy, did we need that coffee. We had been traveling with MP's French press which yielded us fantastic coffee, nothing like the instant stuff Kim and I used to drink while camping. We thoroughly considered how to cut weight from our packs, including leaving a tent behind. But there was no way we were going to give up the press. Up at 5 am, we hit the road at 7 am. That's 2 hours. We had always planned on only taking one hour, but we never achieved it. This morning we were fairly efficient, but still overshot our goal by an hour.

There were two particular things that delayed us. Our intention was to have a whisper lite stove to cook with. It would have been much quicker than building a fire just to boil water. On the first night, the stove appeared to be leaking fuel. MP couldn't get a good seal on it. So we went the camp fire route which worked out just fine. Plus I love camp fires so I didn't mind at all. The other thing was pooping. We didn't schedule pooping time. That's time to hike into the woods, dig a hole, do our business. We also had to wait for each other since there was only one trowel for digging. I consider myself an efficient pooper. I have my running regimen to than for that. But it still took us over half an hour for us to collectively take care of business. Too much information? Yeah, well, there's really no such thing when backpacking in the wilderness. But I'll move on.

[caption id="attachment_247" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Wakely Pond at 6 am. Breathtaking."][/caption]

With our gear packed up, we headed out an onto Cedar River Road. The first few miles were dirt which was easy on our feet. I needed all the help I could get. My foot hurt from the minute I woke. We had to cover 12 or 13 miles in 5 hours- an average pace of 2.5ish miles per hour. That ordinarily would be no problem on the road, but this morning would be an exercise in pain management. MP stuck with me, but if it appeared we wouldn't make it, he would go ahead in order to arrive on time.

The dirt soon turned to pavement. We started seeing structures regularly- old barns, farmhouses, and soon normal homes. An occasional car or truck passed us. We caught the attention of a dog in a driveway. He started toward us wagging his tail. His owner called out to him and he obediently stopped. "They're just hiking sticks! It's ok!" She laughed. "I don't think he likes your walking sticks."

"Hi," MP greeted her. "How far are we from town?" She gave us a fairly precise estimate.

"Well, it's about 6 miles to the end of this road and another two to Indian Lake." 8 miles left. "Are you coming of the NP Trail?" We answered affirmatively. "I used to see hikers pass by all the time, but the changes the path."

Oh yes they did.

"Yeah, we discovered that last night. When did they make the change?" I asked.

"2009. They were working on it all summer." So our 2007 edition guidebook was outdated. We chatted a bit longer, talking about the trail and our mix up, then continued. We were on pace to arrive by noon... if I could keep up the pace.

[caption id="attachment_248" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="About half way to Indian Lake Village."][/caption]

Mile markers appeared when the pavement did, every half mile. We arrived at mile 6 (counting down) moments after we left the woman and her dog. I started clocking our splits. The first one we did in 9:35. If I could keep that up, we'd easily make our deadline. I couldn't. I had to stop to stretch and we stopped to fuel and hydrate. We were still making over 2.5 miles per hour though, which is what we needed.

[caption id="attachment_250" align="aligncenter" width="225" caption="Working on my putting at the Cedar River Golf Club"][/caption]

This walk toward town was a gradual reintroduction to civilization. We soon came to a golf course. As we approached the end of Cedar River Road, traffic increased. It ended at route 28- the same 28 we tried hitch hiking on two days ago. We passed a motel, then a lumber yard. We passed a school, and antique store, and more homes. MP took his last outdoor piss in the bushes of the local department of transportation. Then came the pulled pork joint. Oh how tempting that was. But I wanted to finish our hike and so did MP. We were maybe 500 yards from the end. My paced slowed considerably and I was stopping more often. It took us 4 hours to do the first 11 or 12 miles, then about an hour to handle the last two.

We figured the town was small enough so that we could find the center and be found by our ride. We imagined that center would be at the intersection of Route 30 and Route 28. It was. There was a park about the size of my stoop in Brooklyn that had two benches and two trees. It was clearly visible from the road and we could see traffic coming from three directions. Perfect. We took off our backpacks and sat down at exactly noon. 91 miles completed.

[caption id="attachment_251" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="End of our Journey. Country Justice indeed."][/caption]

Epilogue
MP's fiancee found us in the park ten minutes after we arrived. We picked up her father from the Adirondack Museum (tore him away actually) and made our way by car to Northville. MP's family was having a barbecue at his grandparent's lakehouse. This was the reason we had but 4.5 days. We wanted to make the party. Everyone expected to see us arrive on foot (or on all fours), but it was a Honda Element that delivered us. After a round of greetings and hellos, I took my first shower in days. I'm not convinced I was actually clean after that. I think it took two showers to get the grit out.

It was a grand barbecue, great food, great company. A fitting conclusion to our adventure. Well, to this part of the adventure. We still have yet to complete the Northville Placid Trail in its entirety and are already scheming our return. Can we do it in four and a half days? Yeah, we can. I'm confident of that now. But should we? Without my foot issue, we would have pushed through and done 30 miles a day, taking most of our daylight, and leaving us exhausted. An endurance test only. Because of the foot, we found ourselves with some precious free hours that we used to chat, recharge, and relax. We also discussed completing it, then running a marathon at the end. Perhaps we were a bit delusional.

So today marks a week since the hike and my foot is getting better, but is still tender. I'm stretching, icing, massaging, rolling, drugging, and not running. So my part of the tale is not quite complete. The day I lace up my running shoes and hit the pavement, will be the day it comes to an end. I see that day coming soon.