Today I crossed my 5th state line, this time into New Jersey. The change of terrain was abrupt. Again the trail led up, into big rounded hills that looked out over a sea of green canopy, and a smattering of insular, upscale rural homes with checkered, fairway lawns.
Still hoping to lose sight of the power lines looming above the treeline. We’re not that far out yet, not quite as far as I’d like. Two high school kids passed the opposite direction today wearing rave sunglasses and muscle tees that reeked of weed. Maybe in a day or two we’ll be good and lost. But we’re not there yet.
Right now we’re hiking along the rim of an 80 square mile stretch of valley that had almost been flooded to make a freshwater reservoir. Some big company had petitioned the state for a new freshwater source. The appeal was shut down, but just barely. The view is something else.

It’s hard to imagine all those homes swept away by a wall of water. There’d be nothing left except stone foundations, and those would be hidden beneath murky water. In retrospect this place was only a few votes from becoming New England’s own inland Atlantis, which in turn would doubtless have become the centerpiece of America’s scarce scuba diving attractions, times being what they are.
And if that statement is too ambiguous and seemingly nonsensical here’s another: there’s a movie out about hiking the AT that is about as honest a representation of hiking the AT as a spoon is a stick (but I hear there are some Polynesian islanders who can’t tell the difference).
Hint – the nonsensical becomes sensible when you throw money into the mix.
Riddles — Nomad