Tenmile River in Connecticut.

Location, location, location: above a falls and the Housatonic, which, whilst polluted with PCBs, is scenic.

In a fog in Connecticut.

Luckily, I went down these steps (and their many blazes) just before it started to rain.

Lots of blazes.

Big maples along the Housatonic.

Big trees indeed.

These were probably planted when the road was laid out, oh, 200 years ago.

With the recent rains, none of the brooks in Connecticut were dry. In New York, they all were.

A purple mushroom?

Through the rock, young man.

The first birch grove of the trail. More to come, I'm sure.

In the sun, Connecticut isn't half bad. Looking north towards Bear Mountain and Massachusetts.

Falls Village. The wall in the background was part of a canal system which took years to build and leaked horribly upon completion. It was Bechtel's first major project.

Another iron bridge, but not as cool as the one in Pennsylvania.

This isn't the falls, is it?

Nope. Here are the Great Falls of the Housatonic.

The Great Falls of the Housatonic.

The Great Falls of the Housatonic from above.

Giants Thumb along the Appalachian Trail

Mushrooms collecting the rain.

Look close and you shall see the stars.

Lights in the Connecticut clouds, viewed from Lion Head. Not the Lion head on Mount Washington.

At about 6:00, the sunrise was barely visible through the trees. But in sixteen seconds, it was beautifully reflected in the flowing waters of Brassie Brook. Five minutes later — it was gone.

Brassie Brook sunrise.

Oh what colors over 16 seconds.

Amazing how that works.

Five minutes later, the water was yellow, not pink.

Then back to lavendar.

Birches and sunrise.

Sunrise over the Housatonic Valley.

Twin Lakes and sunrise.

Twin Lakes, Connecticut. View from Bear Mountain. On to Massachusetts!

Eearly sunrise over Massachusetts.

Falls in Sages Ravine.

I was enamored with this falls in Sages Ravine. The stream comes down the side of the valley and then spills off a six-foot-high ledge right in to the other stream. It is breathtaking. Magical.

So needless to say, I took a lot of pictures of Sages Ravine.

I would not sleep until every angle had been explored.

Sages Ravine was almost inexplicably my favorite single point on the trail, except, maybe, the top of Bigelow and Katahdin in Maine. It is just beautiful.

Falls in Sages Ravine.

Another view of the Sages Ravine falls.

One more shot of Sages Ravine.

Welcome to Massachusetts. You are now a mile past the border. Then you paralleled it for a mile. Now you turn north again in to the Bay State. Not that you'll see any bays. (This sign was taken down in October.)

Mount Greylock in the distance on the flanks of Race Mountain.

2500 feet. The air seems so thin. The vegetation is so sparse. Mount Everett at 2600 feet is still to come.

The Catskills. The trail doesn't go near them, but they are visible across the Hudson Valley.

Proud to be a Masshole.

See how helpful (the trail is pretty dry through here) and resourceful (Paper would tear in the rain. But not birch bark. Or, for that matter, the Rite in the Rain I had.) thru-hikers are?

Ernesto's Clouds above a cornfield near the Shay's Rebellion marker.

When the clouds broke, the lighting was dramatic. There was little, if any, rain.

The ponds, which begin in earnest in Massachusetts, provide much different scenery along the trail.

After my dad insisted we should not take the shorter, easier route I advocated, he got to clear brush on the road he and my mother had driven in on Beartown Road.

Another red eft. Well camouflaged.

My parents, dressed for success (if not hiking), cross the Mass Pike. (I-90 for those of you not in the know.)

So why are we taking pictures on a road bridge? Because, first, the bridge is rather impressive (look how wide it is!) and second we have driven under it so many times it made sense to spend some time up top, scoffing the drivers.

Everybody now!

The sunlight was fleeting all day.

Very red mushrooms, and a very red eft!

New shoes! Wahoo! Only about (well, just shy of) 1000 miles on the old ones. Look at the shine! Look at the mud! This third pair would carry me through to Katahdin.

One of many blowdowns. Usually, when a tree has fallen, there is a well-trampled path around it. Not when they all fell yesterday.

Bubbles.

A large root system shields the trail, almost.

The phallic war memorial on Mount Greylock. The fog was thick up top, but there were some views further down.

Nick Carter, after hosting me at Williams, demonstrates proper typing methods, with my three water bottles on the desk to his left.