Today I hike for Mike Church. He is a man who hikes with the Greenville Hiking Club. He made it as far as Dalton, MA in 1990. I hope for him to finish the trail past Dalton one day.
  Today I’m in Dalton, MA. I woke up to a beautiful sunrise this morning on top of Greylock. I’m glad I took the chance to sleep up there. I am missing no opportunities on this trip. I walked fast all the way into town. It was a 1.5 mile road walk, back to walking the hot streets. There are two guys in Dalton that offer free stays, Tom and Rob. Tom I had heard more about, so I passed up Rob’s and walked to the other side of town. When I got there I was greeted by all the SOBO’s (southbounders) I had been following for a while, 'Dreamer,' 'Rambo,' 'Teapot,' and 'Twix,' and a few NOBO’s too. All were drinking the best beer for hikers, good ole’ Pabst Blue Ribbon. I later met Tom. He stuck me as peculiar. He is nearly 60, and his house reminded me of a grandma’s, neat, clean, nice furniture and things. Not at all like a hostel for dirty hikers. I figured it was time to celebrate the mark that I had passed on the trail. I got lunch and a bottle of Makers Mark. I had a good relaxing night,
  I found out that Tom’s personality matches his neat house. He seems not to want hikers inside his house. Of course I spilled a drink on the carpet, and never could clean it to his liking. I could see that it stressed him pretty strongly. There were no beds, so I slept in the floor.

Day 48 0 miles Dalton
  Restless night on the floor. I didn’t like sleeping inside. I have grown accustomed to the outdoors. I had a breakfast of pancakes and French toast. The waiter was surprised that I had ordered both. I was back to the house by 9:30 and the drinking had already begun. “Partying up the trail” I thought, this crowd really wasn’t for me. I didn’t feel like making the effort to go to the other hostel.
  Tom had some bikes, so I ran my errands, PO, library. I got the parts for my trekking poles and a jar of pickled beets grown by my Mom and jerky made by my dad. Both are great! I brought the packages back to the house. Tom didn’t want me to bring them inside, because it would “trash up his house”. I was close to having enough of Tom.
  About an hour later 'Stayin’ walked up. It was good to see him. He had just been hiking like me. I told him about Tom’s place and his “neat” personality. 'Stayin’ took a look at the drinking crowd, and said “let’s go to Rob’s”. Looks like 'Stayin’ wasn’t stayin, and that’s the motivation I needed to go to Rob’s.
  We went to the Shell station where directions are to Rob’s “Birdcage”. I was happy to see some of my trail friends, 'Solar', 'Lunar,' 'Mr. Cowpie,' 'Twisted Sister,' and 'Tange.' It felt better here already. Rob is a laid back 50 something guy who loves hikers. He said he would always see hikers in Dalton, but not think that they needed help. One rainy day he saw a hiker turned down by the local motel, no where to go. Rob said "the boy was broken”. Rob went over and offered him a hot shower and a place to sleep. The hiker’s eyes lit up. The rest is history. Rob does not advertise. It is only by word of mouth. He had 70 hikers the first year, 230 the next.
  Rob cares for his hikers. He takes a picture of each and puts it in an album. He writes a short note about each. He drove us to the local buffet. I ate plenty. I almost pushed it too far, but I pulled through.

Day 49 17.7 miles Beckett Mt.
  I slept good at Rob’s, fat and happy. I packed up and headed out. I needed to drop off a letter for Becky, everyone else needed to go to. As we were walking, Rob pulled up and offered us a ride to breakfast. My pack headed back to Rob’s, I headed to breakfast. Ah, the power that food has over me. I hit the trail by 11:30, said bye again to 'Stayin.' Rob gave me a hug, and I headed back into the woods. I can't explain how good it feels to take that first step back into the woods. It’s like taking that first step back into the house you grew up in.
  I stopped about halfway by “The Cookie Lady’s” house. She makes cookies for hikers on her blueberry farm. She confirmed what I had been hearing. A lot of people from TN are on the trail this year. She told me that “none have talked as country as you, though”. I told her thanks. I could tell that she had a real hard time understanding me. I thought it was funny. Just another reason I love being from Johnson City.
  I pitched a tent on Beckett Mt., 1.6 mi from the road to Lee, MA where I will take a bus to Boston. I had planned, before this hike began, to take a trip to see my cousin Jonathan Crowe, who is also from Johnson City, went to school at Appalachian State, and now works for a publishing company in Boston.

Day 50 1.6 miles Boston
  It rained all night. I later found out that this same storm that rained on me is the one that flooded New York. I could tell. There was a big puddle under my tent. “Waterbed” I thought. No leaks though. It started lightning and there I was lying in a puddle of water at the top of a mountain.
  I hitched into Lee, got my bus ticket, and sat outside an abandoned house, out of the rain. Next door I noticed a man on his front porch. I went over and struck up a conversation. He had a cleft tongue, hearing aids, a MA accent, and a great personality. He told me all about paper mills, the building of the turnpike, history of the immigrants who built the town, etc. I later found out his name is Herman.
  I got on the bus about 11, it was pretty full. I could see the look on a few faces, telling me “please don’t sit here”. I had one transfer and then I was on the “Boston Express." My journey has turned into a voyage. Many facets of happenings and goings-on. So here I ride, on my way.

Day 51, 52, 53, 54 Boston
  My time in Boston has been great. Jonathan has shown me a great time. This is the first time we have spent any time together as adults. We went downtown and saw all the historic buildings, swam in and across Walden pond, experienced the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, ate in Little Italy (that lived up to every Italian movie I have seen), ate at a hole in the wall Moroccan place (I thought the woman was going to beat her staff), negotiated the trains alone, and have just been shown an awesome time.
  It was hard on me to go from the woods straight to the subway. The subway, to me, is an uncomfortable, reeling experience. The hustle and bustle of all the people was truly overwhelming. I had a fear of being run over in crosswalks for a while. I can feel the want to get back to the trail and the pull of the woods. I have really, really enjoyed my time here. It’s has been good time off, and it is time to go back to where I feel at home.