Say Frommage

Bryant Ridge Shelter, Va., AT NOBO mile 756.0, Saturday March 22, 2014 — Ran into two self-described southbound “Frenchies” on the trail around noon. They’re two retired French army officers, Lionel and Laurent, on a multi-day section hike.

When some people hear you’re hiking to Maine, they go goofy and want to take your photo. So did these guys, even after the military macho secret handshake stuff we exchanged.

So what was the last word I heard before the flash popped? Why frommage , naturally. :-). (Sure hope that’s the correct spelling.)

The shelter tonight is a two story wonder built as a monument to a young man who died far too young.

The register mentions numerous bear sightings in the “front yard.” After my incident in North Carolina, I’m sleeping up stairs. It’s not that a bear can’t climb the ladder. It’s just easier to defend.

I would push on to the next shelter, but it’s a 2,000 foot climb over six miles and possibly another night hike. No thanks. I’ll eat that one in the morning.

Meanwhile I’ll work on that sleeve of Oreos I remembered to bring over a cup of decaf. Life’s good.





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