End in sight.
Hello from Stratton, Maine! I am just under 200 miles from Mt. Katahdin, the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail. It is a somewhat surreal feeling to be in Maine—“I’m walking to Maine,” is almost a fantastical phrase when you say it to people in Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee and Virginia. Then, in a blink, it becomes reality. “In a blink” is fitting because the record of this blog will show that I wrote a post when I was in Duncannon, Pennsylvania and then leaped ahead to Stratton, Maine. In between was most of Pennsylvania, its coal mining history, its brutal rocks and its Wawas; New Jersey, its stellar delis, its many bears that are desensitized to humans and my beloved Granny; New York, with similarly stellar delis, fewer bears and the city skyline in sight for many miles; Connecticut, its boarding schools, quaint villages and surprisingly stunning vistas; Massachusetts, with its marijuana dispensaries, its losing NBA basketball team and its pocket of boreal forest; Verm...