(Continued from: https://swanhikes.com/2020/07/14/country-boy-meets-new-york/)
The people of Pennsylvania were wonderful, but I hated the trail there. The trail in New York was beautiful, except all the people and car sounds. Connecticut, well that is New York’s, suburb. We made our way through Great Barrington and camped out behind the rec center in Dalton, Mass. In Massachusetts, we found ourselves back in the mountains. What beautiful mountains exist in Western Mass. Mt. Greylock is a mountain that has inspired many literary giants: J.K. Rowling, Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Melville, to name a few. It is the tallest point in the state.
Growing up in Georgia, I often heard negative things about the Northern States. I have to say that what I heard about New York was accurate. Most of what I heard about Massachusetts came from northerners who moved to Georgia. They informed of the term, “Masshole”. I have to say that I never saw it. Maybe that is in the city, but even on my foray into Boston, I didn’t see it. The folks on the western end of the state kept their distance, but were nice and helpful. The people in Boston were distant, no matter how close the physical proximity, but one local picked us up and gave us a ride and we were not even hitching.
From the moment I met Rusty, I started keeping an eye out for where I might find art galleries along the Appalachian Trail. She is a very talented artist, working in oil/acrylic and ink. North Adams was the place to be. During our visit, there were close to 20 murals on the walls of establishments throughout the city. They even had brochures with maps on how to get to each one. The Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art (MASS MoCA) is located in the city with other museums of note nearby. We wanted to go to the one that had Renoir’s nudes, but being on foot, we weren’t sure if we could make it there. Mass MoCA was a couple blocks from the Holiday Inn we stayed at. We went there and another smaller gallery with cool geometric shapes made from hardware cloth that you pass through light to see different angles of trapezoids, parallelograms, etc.
Modern/Contemporary art and all the abstractions do not give me the pleasure that more real and impressionistic styles give me. Even so, we went because it is a world renowned art gallery. There was a pile of toys that a kid forgot to pick up. This is art. I had a million dollars under my bed as a kid and my parents never knew it. There was also the Mound People. It was an exhibit of paper meche mounds that you could go inside with creepy religious paraphernalia and adolescent angst. The artist created an entire comic book of over 500 pages based on the mound people. It was obvious that he had a very difficult time growing up in his fundamentalist religious home. It was creepy and creative and I was ready to leave. We left from that football field size exhibit to go into a room with colored lines painted on the walls. I found a nice bench to sit on. Another couple walked by us and said, “Is it bad that we think the benches are the nicest things in this museum?” We all laughed. It was an experience.
It wasn’t all like that. There were large staged photographs of veterans dressed in their uniforms, only back at home with their families. One illustrated a female veterans PTSD from being blown up in Iraq, by showing a pilsbury dough can exploding in her kitchen in between her and the children. The veteran was cringing and covering herself as the can exploded. Another photo showed a male veteran sitting beside his buddies covered in blood and his wife on the other side of the photo camping alone. It depicted the difficulty in their relationship because they used to love camping until the man was in Iraq, isolated with his squad, inside tents, until they were attacked and a squad members eyeballs rolled in front of them. It was moving and brought tears to my eyes, that I am thankful to have.
After the museum, we went back to the hotel. When you are on a long distance hike and rent a hotel room, the stink from the gear and your body fills the room. The smell becomes thick as smoke, although you can’t see it. When we opened the door, hiker funk hit us in the face. I feel sorry for the housekeepers. We left a tip. We were back on trail the next day.
A local shuttle driver (David Ackerson) who also is a hiker and outdoor rec worker took us to the hotel and gave us a ride back to the trail. He told us about some of the galleries nearby and offered to help us get a pass to see Renoir’s nudes, but we went to Mass MoCA instead. He was interesting to talk to. He was section hiking the A.T. and after he dropped us off that morning, he drove to his next section and left a bicycle on one end and parked at the other. He said he would hike to his bicycle and then ride it back to the car. The shuttle driver also said he likes to snow shoe and cross country ski Mount Greylock. It all sounded like a lot of fun to me. He dropped us off and we continued to hike north. Ever since I met him and heard his story, I have thought about about how cool it would be to work in a university outdoor rec department. Unfortunately, I don’t have a paper degree, just over a decade of personal expeditions, combined with self-study, short courses, and military training. I wonder what life would have been like if I went to school for an outdoor recreation degree.
I think that Rusty and I hiked away high from our time in North Adams. I spent a lot of money in North Adams wanting to spoil Rusty and show her how important she is to me. I think that after spending my monthly discretionary budget in 2 days to impress her made me realize that perhaps I was in love with her. The constant thought in my head was, “I really hope that this doesn’t end in a matter of days or weeks now. Gosh, that would really suck if I did all that and it doesn’t go anywhere. Oh well, even if it doesn’t go anywhere, I love art, good food, and nice hotels, and wanted to have a good time. I have all the food and gear I need, so it really doesn’t matter. I have to be ready to let her go anyway. I should just focus on the here and now and not all the what-if’s.” I know that she had a wonderful time and she profusely thanked me while encouraging me not to go all out like that, because I needed my money to hike on. She really is the best person I know.
Our time in North Adams over-shadowed our experiences from the rest of the state. It will forever be a fond memory of a place, time, and person. I don’t remember anything else after that until we arrived in Bennington, Vermont. Keep your eyes out for the next story in the series. Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine is where things got real in every sense of the phrase: love, weather, injury, sickness, and meeting the parents.