‘Ain’t no sissies on this trail!’
[In honor of the nap I just took in my 18 th floor, air-conned hotel room (and the strange, vaguely terrifying backpacking-related nightmare that accompanied it) I thought it time to put down my thoughts on hiking the Knobstone Trail, Indiana’s longest footpath at over 50 miles. Usually I’d write 20+ pages on such a trip, but I will endeavor, in the interest of readership, to keep it to one semi-lengthy blog. Enjoy at thy discretion.] When I met the older couple, late on my fifth day out, I was resting, tired after a brief climb but by no means as physically devastated as I’d been. I’d just had a great lunch stop and had been able to air out my reeking, aching feet, filter water, eat a packet of Saag Paneer with tortillas (beyond delicious) and linger over my map and a cup of mint hot cocoa. Unlike the previous three afternoons, no thunderstorms were looming. And, judging by the isobars on my topographic map, the absolute worst of my climbs and dips were behind me. Mile 39