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July 20 – Lemon Squeeze: Conquering Tight Spaces
July 20 – Nearo – 6 miles; 1614 feet of gain
We wake up at the hotel, again, and get a late start again. We decide that platinum blazing isn’t the best thing for us to actually get out in the morning.
We pack and are ready to go by about 10:15. Unfortunately, we hadn’t prearranged the shuttle time, so the driver wasn’t there and wouldn’t be back for at least 30 minutes; it ended up closer to 45. Then we all had to check out and leave, so we weren’t at the trail until close to 11:15.
We hike up the gap, again. Yesterday we went south; today we go north. We get near Island Lake and see people camping out, but they don’t look like thru-hikers instead they are families with young kids. We hike on and over some hills. We finally arrive at the infamous Lemon Squeeze. We immediately see hikers using the bypass, but we’re not going to skip this named feature, so we hike down and into the squeeze. A solo hiker comes the other way. She says it’s a tight squeeze as she walks by, bear bells jingling. I want to tell her they are completely unnecessary and wildly annoying, but I let the moment pass and she jingles away.
Then we take some photos near the Lemon Squeeze before entering. It starts wide, then we have to walk through a tight crack in the boulders. I take the foam off my pack but then decide that’s not enough and take my pack off altogether. I carry my pack through the squeeze before hoisting it up to a flat spot above. Then I complete the squeeze and take a video of Flamethrower coming through. We both redone our packs before heading to the next obstacle. This one is a rock wall, maybe 8 feet high. There is no good footing, and I can’t quite throw my pack up it. I go up to it and investigate. The only footholds I see are higher than I’d like. Then I’d have to pull myself up and twist just right to try to get me and my pack into a good position. I feel for good handholds and decide there aren’t any.
I give up and tell Flamethrower I’ll be taking the blue blaze around this obstacle too. I’m worried about the purists here. This blue blaze really should be the AT, and the crazy climb should be the blue blaze. I guess they could also climb up and come back around for their packs. Or throw their packs up then climb.
Anyway, we pass the obstacle but still have a talus field to climb, so we get on that. Once at the top, the area opens up into primary forest with dispersed trees and minimal bushes or other ground cover. A bear would have a hard time staying hidden here, and so would a woman who needed to pee—just saying.
We hike on. We pass some granite ridges, some more rocks and rock fields, some annoying scree, and just plain rockiness across the trail. Just enough to slow us down. We also pass the point where we cross the NY Long Path, a trail that goes from NYC to Albany. This sign shows the next few points of interest for each trail as well as the terminus. Most notably, the AT sign calls out Kahtadin as under 800 miles away. This is wrong, but it’s still nice to see. Note the trail length changes every year so the sign was probably correct when it was first created.
I lose Flamethrower at some point and it turns out she lost the trail. I decide sit down to make lunch on a large flat rock and wait for her to arrive. Which she does as I’m cooking. It was a Knorr Spanish rice side, but I’m not a huge fan and it’s too much food, so I end up dumping it into an empty beef jerky bag and packing it out.
We take this moment to connect with our friend Nancy. We’re going to see her today. I sent my new shoes and stuff to her house and my feet are so angry that I really do not want to hike further without my new sneakers. We decide that she should pick us up in about 90 minutes about 2 miles up the trail. That area has bathrooms and water, so it should be a good area to wait.
The trail is pretty easy from this point on. We stop to pick blueberries and wineberries. We pass a shelter and later a water tower. The water tower isn’t for hikers. And there is a deep puddle on the trail our front. Flamethrower notices that it’s full of tadpoles. Also, as we near the road, Flamethrower points out that she knows the road is close because of the amount of broken glass on the trail. Yup, day hikers kinda suck with their litter.
We get to a road and head down to the pickup point. Along the way, we eat insane amounts of wineberries. We found a bush that was fuller than I’ve ever seen. We feasted. It was great. We then headed to the bathrooms and water refill station. We chatted with a park ranger, making plans for how to get in the car once it arrives. We end up just jumping in the car as she pulls up.
Nancy mentioned bringing cold drinks. Tara and I talked about this but decided we were still going to ask to find a place with slushies on the way to Nancy’s house. This turned out to be unnecessary because Nancy brought a cooler with slushies. I’ve never been happier about anything in my life. We’re also handed cookies, but we don’t eat those until later.
We get to the house and get the grand tour. Nancy swears we don’t smell too bad – take that Kat!. We have been platinum blazing, so it’s possible that daily showers have robbed us of that not-so-pleasant thru-hiker musk. We don’t miss it.
I open my package and hug my new sneakers and camp shoes—my old ones were in bad shape. I also have a new pair of hiking shorts, a new rain poncho, rubber tips for our hiking poles, and even a new pair of socks. I’ll be returning my old rain jacket to REI. Good riddance! I hated it and have wanted to return it since before Erwin, but I couldn’t find a replacement—not that it rained anyway. I ended up with the Sea to Summit rain tarp poncho. That’s a 4-in-one and can serve as a tarp, a ground cloth, a poncho, and a few other things. It’s also half the weight and goes over my pack too. Slinky and Bean have them and recommended it. Out here, nobody likes their rain jacket, so any positive feedback is great.
After ‘hiker Christmas,’ we try to decide what we’re doing later. Nancy reports that she yogiied us two pool invites. One is an above-ground pool, the other is in-ground. We can also hang out with her friend “Hot Sex Larry,” named evidently for his favorite activity; he is the owner of one of the pools.
We need to eat, so when Larry calls we all agree to meet for Mexican food. Larry is an entertaining fellow with goofy glasses and a twirled mustache. He’s here with his girlfriend, while his wife is out of town—it seems like this arrangement is long-standing and accepted by all. He is very extroverted and jokes with the folks at the table and the waitresses for most of the meal. I end up with fajitas with steak and shrimp and about 7 refills of my water glass. I order fried bananas and ice cream for dessert.
Then we’re invited back to Larry’s pool. It’s clothing-optional. All of us ladies will choose to wear clothing. Larry will not. We know this, but we go anyway. We are also promised there will be dogs. The puppies definitely deliver. The pool ends up being a bit too cold for me. My feet really hate cold—due to Reynolds. I still hang out and even get in briefly. We all chat and have a good time. The youngest pupper, Elsa, keeps coming over and licking me—life is good—so long as I can shower later.
We already decided we’re going to zero tomorrow. We don’t really want to because Flamethrower’s mother is going to come back to town and she’ll need to spend a few days off trail. But her body needs a break, and so do my feet.
We head home in advance of hiker midnight. I set up my air mattress downstairs near the air conditioner. I receive two pillows and a flannel sheet to help make things more cozy. They’re awesome. Flamethrower is in the guestroom upstairs. I fall asleep while relistening to the audiobook Pride and Prejudice.
I wake in the night several times. My feet hurt so bad they keep waking me from sleep. They are injured and cramping. Eventually around 3 am, I’m awakened in agony. 7/10 both legs are screaming from just above the knees down. I’m almost frantic to stop the pain. I debate a Percocet or a muscle relaxant, but I realize it’s the nerves that are screaming. This feels like fibromyalgia pain. I doubt it’ll help, but I take 600 mg of ibuprofen. I also switch my head to my foot position to get my legs further from the air conditioner. I turn my quilt into a mummy bag to further protect my legs. Drafts can cause my nerves to scream, or so I’ve learned. I eat two cookies to protect my stomach from the meds and try to get back to sleep. I eventually drift off.
By morning, the extreme pain is gone, replaced with considerably milder, but still bad, foot pain/cramps. I nevertheless approach standing with care, first rising to my knees, then standing up carefully with both feet flat. This is reminiscent of how I got up when my plantar fascia was torn earlier in this journey.
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