We are in transition, having just completed a series of walks totaling about 150 miles on the Appalachian Trail in Vermont and New Hampshire. We are now visiting family and are on route to settle in at our new house on South Mountain near Arendtsville, Pennnsylvania. We still hope to find a few more birds this year, and in fact Chuck saw a first-of-year yellow-throated vireo yesterday, but other activities, primarily moving into and making improvements to our little log house, will take much of our time over the next few of months. Our hiking went well. There were many hours of peaceful walking through quiet forest and no major injuries. We joined our hiking buddies and past and future neighbors, Jane and Bob, for this walk which they had planned. Trail hiking is a gentle routine including wake up, breakfast, watching sunlight break through the trees, breaking camp, setting bearings, walking, stopping for snacks, lunch, and gathering of water, more walking, and making camp and dinner in the evening. This simple pattern may be interrupted by weather, encounters with other walkers or wildlife, “technical climbs” of peaks, road crossings, and even brief contacts with civilization – hostels, dining establishments, and general stores –, and hikers must adjust to whatever demands are imposed differently than do those practicing modern life. Whatever solution must involve the “shanks-mare” and that requires creativity and often acceptance of what would otherwise be considered unacceptable. On this walk the end of a section of one of our tent poles (an arched elastic-cord linked series of aluminum tubes) broke. The break occurred as we were assembling the tent and the sharp point left on the tube cut tent fabric as a compound fracture cuts flesh. We patiently pulled the section of pole back and managed to extract it from the sleeve. Then we used the basic hiker repair material, duct tape, to reattach the broken end to the section of pole tube and saw the repair survive the tension imposed by the stretch cord. Careful assembly each evening and a second repair on the last evening, enabled us to keep the tent functional until the end of the walk. The northern New England weather was variable, if a little warm, as is usual in September. Our initial walk from Hanover New Hampshire across the Connecticut River and on to Danby, Vermont started with a hot afternoon and another hot day followed by three days of rain, then two lovely days with chilly nights. The Green Mountains of Vermont provided moderately smooth trails with some vigorous climbs. The trail passed over the peak at Killington and past the White Rocks cliffs. We were able to buy three fine dinners along this section, the first at a general store, the second at a café and the third at an Irish pub. We stayed one night at a motel near where the trail crossed U.S. route 4. We paid three dollars for laundry service (one bag for the four of us), less than it would have cost to have gone to a Laundromat. We indulged in taking breakfast at the motel dining room before hitting the trail. A young couple from Czechoslovakia ran the “hiker friendly” establishment. The lady served us breakfast and the man drove us the two miles back to the trail crossing. Arriving at the trail crossing near Danby, we obtained another ride back to our RV from the campground proprietor. This was made possible by the miracle of cellular phone technology. At the campground we obtained a wonderful shower and settled in for an evening of recovery from the ordeals of hiking. Aching, but strengthening, muscles, sore feet, and backs tired of thin hiking sleep-mats enjoyed the comforts of padded seats and soft mattrises. Wine and hamburgers warmed our bodies at dinner and soft beds healed us at night. The next day we drove the RV to Hanover and recovered our dinghy there. Leaving Jane and Bob’s car at the Dartmouth parking lot we drove to the state park at Franconia Notch. Along the way we dropped our dinghy off at Kinsman Notch at the foot of formidable Mt. Moosilauke. We also stopped at Rutland to buy groceries and launder our again-dirty trail garb. We found our first “Wireless Laundromat” and checked our correspondence as the clothes rolled. The second walk was a two-day hike over the Kinsman range from Franconia to Kinsman notch. This was a tough seventeen-mile hike including a stiff climb and a challenging descent of Mt. Kinsman. It started well and we arrived at the AMC Lonesome Lake Hut next to the glacial pond in a couple of hours. We waited as the staff washed out the floor and then enjoyed hot beverage and wonderful fresh-baked gingerbread. We played with the idea of walking out at the end of the day. A few hours later that idea seemed laughable, but we reached the summit of Kinsman on a fabulous partly-cloudy afternoon and then made camp a few miles farther on. The end of the first day included long sections of steep rocky declines on classic White Mountain trail made of broken rock slabs requiring good balance, small and not-so-small leaps, and strong ankles and knees to support the hikers and packs. Day two should have been an easy walkout to the notch, but it was not. Instead the trail continued tough and over a second unnamed peak (Chuck nicknamed it Mt. Spud – from the trail acronym “stupid, pointless, up-and-down”) and finally wound its way down to the road crossing. We walked across the highway and then a few hundred yards farther down the flat trail leading to Mt. Moosilauke before turning out into the parking lot and finding our little car. It took us again back to our RV and another celebration of victory over the trail. The next day we relocated our camper again, this time dropping the dinghy off at the south side of Moosilauke (Glencliff) before settling in at a private RV park in North Woodstock, NH. There we took a day off and enjoyed an evening video, Evita, and a soft night’s sleep. The next morning the proprietor met us at dawn and drove us back to Kinsman notch. There we looked up at the formidable north wall of Moosilauke and the infamous Beaver Brook trail. A few minutes down the trail it went vertical. A pair of “through-hikers” had set up camp there after an evening descent off the mountain. They commented that the descent had been difficult and slippery. We marveled that they had dared to come down the mountain in the dark. Chuck remembered making this descent in the late ‘60s with his sister at the end of a day hike over the mountain. They did not realize how difficult it was and his sister, wearing only sneakers, could almost go no farther as daylight faded. So, while this was only a ten-mile day hike, we approached it cautiously. We planned the early start to give us plenty of time, and we hiked north-to-south so as to ascend rather than descend the steep Beaver Brook Trail. As it turned out, the hike went very well. The weather was grand, clear, cool, and breezy. The Beaver Brook Trail has recently been much improved; steps and iron bars now make passage across many of the slick rock faces much easier. We were in great hiking shape after completing some eleven days of backpacking. So, we ascended quickly from the northern mixed forest into the spruce-fir forest. By noon we crossed the tree line and walked across an alpine meadow to the summit. We sat on the summit rocks, lunched, and admired a 360 degree view of the Whites. To the north and below us stood the formidable Mt. Kinsman that we had surmounted days before. To the northeast shined the rocky peak of Mt. Lafayette on the east side of Franconia Notch. Behind it in the distance stood Mt. Washington with its usual lenticular cloud halo and the Presidential Range. To the south were Mt. Carr and to the southwest was Mt. Cube that would be our next climb when we continued our backpack to Hanover. On the summit itself were the remains of the foundation of the old mountaintop lodge. We shared the summit with a few other hikers including a young woman who had completed a through hike earlier this year and an older couple that had walked up the old carriage road from the Mt. Moosilauke Ravine Lodge. Yellow-rumped warblers and American pipits were catching insects that began flying as the day warmed. Autumn color was now beginning to appear. Birches were turning yellow and red maples were becoming more so. The descent was long but except for a few sections was much less rocky than the trail off of the Kinsmans. The trail crossed old fields that now sported blue asters and yellow goldenrod. Many monarch butterflies floated above them. We were back at the car by four and returned to the RV for another relaxed evening. We took yet another zero day and did another laundry in downtown North Woodstock, NH. The following morning we drove our Ford Focus back to Glencliff and began a final four-day walk to Hanover. As Chuck had guessed, the trail south of Moosilauke was qualitatively and quantitatively different from that of the White Mountains. It was still not easy, and Mt. Cube had some rough sections, but overall the run was only difficult and not rough and “technical.” Being a four-day walk with no breaks, we had to start with a good load of supplies and heavy packs. The weather had warmed a bit and we sweated plenty on the first two days. This gave us that gritty sticky feeling that made going to bed uncomfortable for us softies. On the second night we camped on a mountaintop and felt and heard the wind roar as a cold front pushed through and swept away the warm humidity. The next morning was spectacular. The clearing air provided grand views of the now multihued deciduous forest in the valley below. We moved sprightly now through the breezy forest. The next and last day of the final walk too was beautiful. Our hike took us over a last hill and down into the town of Hanover and past the campus of Dartmouth College which was full of young people actively beginning a new semester. Reaching our car in mid afternoon, we released our feet from the hiking shoes into sandals and took a celebratory drive in Jane and Bob’s Prius back to Glencliff to get our little car and return to the RV for a final post-hike cleanup. We dined at the lovely North Woodstock Inn and slept well. On Tuesday, September 25, Jane and Bob returned to South Mountain. Anne and Chuck took the RV and dinghy to Schenectady for a visit with the Woods clan. Everyone’s feet rested. We stopped at a small stand along the road and bought maple syrup, paying “by honor.” Arriving late, Anne still managed to prepare a wonderful vegetable soup at the Douglas Road house. We returned to the RV, parked in Rexford, before eleven, but were still very tired at the end of the first day off the trail. Strange how one can be so tired from doing so little after so many days of vigorous exercise. We found our bed refreshing and rewarding, being on our own again.