How It Ended

May 24-June 2, 2025

Pochuck Mountain Shelter to Canopus Lake Beach, NY

Mile 1429.5

Well, it’s been a minute.  This post will be a quick-and-dirty summary of my final week or so of hiking this summer, a few explanations about the radio silence, and my plans going forward.

When last I checked in, I’d spent a night alone in the shelter at Pochuck Mountain Shelter in New Jersey. I then pushed the pace to get to the meetup point I’d agreed on with my friend Tom on the phone.

The woods were close around me, but I could hear the noises of civilization nearby–it was a little odd to hear sound checks for a Memorial Day concert, or tailgaters getting ready for cookouts, and see nothing but trees around me. Just before hitting the meetup, I ran across Rainmaker and Reason, as well as a bit of trail magic, and I hit the crossroads where I was to meet Tom and his family with an ice-cold Gatorade and a smile on my face.

I didn’t have long to wait. I hadn’t seen Tom and Tara in years, and it was my first time meeting their awesome kids, Ellie and Soren.

We walked a bit of boardwalk and grabbed an ice cream at a local place before tackling the Stairway to Heaven, which was full of day hikers enjoying the holiday weekend. Ellie and Soren were full of energy, and more than equal to the challenge; they tended to like the rocky, climby bits far more than woods, bogs, or boardwalks, so this first stretch was a fun one for them. When lunchtime came around, I was deeply thrilled to find that they’d brought me fresh blackberries.

Blackberries for posterity

The plan was for us to make it to Wawayanda Shelter that night, then hike the next day to where their car was parked up on Route 17 before parting ways. It had been a long while since I’d kept pace on a hike with anyone else, and my mileage over the last few days had been middling. Even though I’d been on the trail for almost two months, even though I’d improved a lot, I was a little nervous about keeping up, but the conversation was lovely, and I got a ton of ideas, especially about resupply options and camp cooking. We made it to Wawayanda without too much trouble and set off fairly early the next morning, detouring at the state park for water and real bathrooms, but this day ended up being quite a long one.

I’m sure I slowed them down quite a bit, but in fairness, we were all bushed by the time we hit Route 17. Crossing into New York there were lots of lovely rocky ridges with cool views, but also lots of descents from each ridge into boggy crossings.

Beautiful, yes? But there’s a bog down there somewhere.

All the rain we’d been having meant rushing water in places and finding paths across, and getting up or down a ridge occasionally meant a tricky climb, a rebar ladder, or an abrupt drop. They call this area the ‘Little Whites” because it’s a lesser version of the more difficult terrain ahead in the New Hampshire White Mountains, and there were a couple of places I’m honestly not sure I’d have gotten through without help. I was so thankful to have Tom and his family along, grateful for their patience, and at the same time worried that I was holding them back and embarrassed that I wasn’t fully equal to the challenge.

They really were amazing

The last stretch was far easier, but by that point we were all flagging a bit. Everyone was relieved when we cleared the woods around dinnertime and found the car. Tom and his family were awesome enough to drive me to the hostel I’d booked nearby in Greenwood Lake, and we parted ways.

Rainmaker and Reason had told me they were heading to the same hostel, so I chose to take a zero day and wait (to meet up with them again, and also hoping to avoid another heavy downpour that was expected later). Once they arrived, we exchanged adventures, explored the town, took care of resupply, and had our fill of ice cream. Both of us were getting a shuttle from the hostel owner, but to different places on the trail, and though we kept in touch, we didn’t end up crossing paths on the trail again. 

Given the difficulty I’d had with the scrambles in this area so far, I’d opted to go around the infamous ‘Lemon Squeezer,” but despite the detour I made it to William Brien Shelter, and from there to Bear Mountain State Park, in fairly good time.

The shelters and trails were full to bursting, either because of the holiday weekend, or because this area is so close to the city–a perfect getaway for day hikers. Going into this stretch, I knew I wanted to walk through the Trail Zoo which was actually part of  the trail, and I had worried that I wouldn’t make it past Bear Mountain before the zoo closed, so I made a reservation at the swanky Bear Mountain Inn, right off the trail in the state park.

At this point I had pretty much decided that I’d call a halt to the hike once I cleared New York. As much as I’d improved, I wasn’t sure I’d be ready for the intensity of Maine or New Hampshire, and I wasn’t looking forward to the heat of high summer. And although I was still enjoying myself, it wasn’t quite as much, or as wholeheartedly, as before–my head was somewhere else. I’d found myself taking more breaks, wanting to get off trail more. If I could get to the New York/Connecticut border, that would be an even 500 miles–something to be proud of, with a clear starting point to come back to once I was ready. I figured I’d take my time in this last stretch, treat myself to a proper hotel room, make sure I could see the zoo, and hop shelter-to-shelter from there until I hit the state line. 

As it happened, I didn’t need to worry about timing–the trail heading into Bear Mountain was comparatively easy terrain, and I was much faster than I’d expected to be.

And the descent from Bear Mountain was all stairs and beautiful views.

I arrived at the Inn before check-in and was delighted to run across Trash Tye, who was taking a breather before heading onward.

Look at this swanky place

We traded stories in the hotel lobby for a while, but I’d committed to stay, and she was heading on. There wasn’t a shelter within easy distance, but a Franciscan monastery in the area lets hikers camp on their baseball field–she was making for the ball field that night, and I intended to camp there the next day. I was almost as excited about the monastery baseball field as I was about the zoo.

I timed my departure the next morning to coordinate with the zoo’s opening time, but it did mean getting started a bit later than usual. The trail zoo was nearly empty in the mizzing rain, but it was a cool little place, and I was through it before much time at all had passed.

The zoo: cool, but also a little sad.

Then it was across the Hudson River and on to the ballfield.

Like New Jersey, in New York I was regularly reminded that civilization wasn’t too far away. I’d trek through quiet woods only to emerge onto busy street crossings.

As the afternoon crested, I stumbled out of the woods onto a double street crossing and saw the deli that I knew to be just a half mile or so from the ballfield.

Once again, it seemed I was making great time. I had a leisurely lunch, refilled my water stores, and had an interesting conversation with a man and his two dogs before heading back into the woods. There were signs clearly pointing to the monastery road, but the ballfield itself was about a mile off-trail.

When I arrived, Trash Tye was there–she’d ended up taking a zero day to handle some foot pain. (I was delighted to see her, but sorry that she was having trouble.) There were also a few section hikers there, and later the man from the deli showed up–as it turned out, he and his dogs had been hiking the trails for a week or so, but were getting off trail shortly due to injury.

One of the perks of something like a ballfield is that it’s incredibly flat, and the lawn near the woods was lush and thick. There was a pavilion near the field that had a hiker box, a spigot, and an outlet fit for charging up power banks while we talked. Good times.

I was the last one out, and it felt twice as long getting out the next morning as it had getting in, but eventually, I was back on the trail proper. My goal for today was Fahnestock State Park–there were several potential places to camp in that area, so I had a few potential stopping places, depending on the difficulty of the day.

I’d been in touch with Ali, a college friend who lived in southern Massachusetts, and I was hoping to meet up with her near the CT border at the end of the week before heading home. So far, I was right on schedule.

There weren't a ton of big rocks in this area, but lots of little, craggy ascents and descents, and a number of places where the trail was hard to make out. I got turned around a bit, but ended up finding my way. In the late afternoon, I was making my way down a jagged little hill when my boot got stuck between two rocks, and I lost my footing. I slid for about 5 feet, but the fall had wrenched my ankle as my boot pulled free, and it was pretty slow going after that. I ended up taking the first option to camp, at Dennytown Road Campsite, hoping that I could simply wrap the ankle and continue, but the next day it was clear I’d done something to the ankle.

Made it to Canopus Lake Beach, still within the bounds of the park, but it had taken me so long to get there that I had to sit down and think about my options. After some thoughts, I decided to arrange a pickup and get to an urgent care. The shuttle driver took me to a town called Fishkill, and the doctors there confirmed a severe sprain, recommending I stay off it for a few weeks. I was incredibly bummed–I felt I was so close to the goal I’d set for stopping, and to be stalled only a few days’ hike from the end was disheartening. But I couldn’t see much point in renting a room in the area for days or weeks only to complete a couple dozen more miles. I thought about just finishing on the sprained ankle; I’d hiked with blisters and light sprains on this trip, after all. That night I stayed in a Holiday Inn in Fishkill; I called the fam and Ali to give updates. To no one’s surprise, Mom and Dad were strongly against the push-ahead plan, and as it turned out, Ali was passing by on her way back from a wedding in NYC in a day or two, and offered to be my ride to the train station. The pieces seemed to be falling into place. 

So it turned out that my final days on this hike were spent in the random town of Fishkill, New York, which is not really that close to the trail at all. I did have a lovely lunch with Ali when she arrived, and then she dropped me off at the Amtrak station in Poughkeepsie.

Another amazing person I hadn’t seen for far too long

A long overnight ride brought me to Cleveland, where the fam picked me up.

And that’s how it ended—for now, at least. I didn’t, and don’t, have regrets about stopping—I’m pretty proud I made it as far as I did, actually…not quite 500 miles, but fairly close, with boots in 6 out of 14 states. But the way it ended, with a severe sprain and a hotel stay, felt a little abrupt and less final than I wished. I know I’ll be going back out to do more.

I lost a few weeks to ankle recovery, and a few more to post-hike blues, and then got swept up in the process of finding a place to settle. I eventually found a quirky little apartment in the small town where I used to teach, and I’ve embarked on the next phase, experimenting with semi-retirement and seeing if it’ll take. Before I knew it, the leaves were turning, and the prospect of summing all this up felt like a huge wall to hurdle. This summer’s hike has been the story of my year, and it still looms large in my thoughts. I also still hear from some of the people I met there. I’ve checked in with section hikers like Trash Tye and Calculus. Ralph got back on trail, but didn’t make it as far as Maine; he’s thinking about trying some other trails closer to home. Fairchild made it to Katahdin, and sent pictures. Rainmaker (now Rainwalker) and Reason did too, and I got to meet up with them again before they headed back to West Virginia to complete the southern half of their hike. My mind these days is full, and in with all the plans and projects, I can see the hikes to come. I plan to be ready when they do.