Tuesday 16th October 2018 (updated)

Another day which to fill with memories.

I looked at another website: a rock ledge with fine overviews. Why not? And if that wasn't enough there were a few more just a few miles walk along the ridge; why not?

Well, it was a steep hike by all accounts, and that is if we found the trailhead. And you know how hard that was yesterday.

But first, Breakfast.

And then trains.

We went out via the rail road museum, sadly it was closed, but still being able to wander round and snap the locomotives and streamliner set was good enough. Sadly, next day it is running we will be on our way back to Boston, so, not on this trip.

Best of all they had a streamliner panoramic set of carriages. Sorry, coaches. And just see them was great. From the rail road museum it was a 15 minute drive to the town of Big Indian. Yes, you read that right. Along wide and sweeping rods down heavily forested valleys, over bridges that leapt over shallow rivers.

The directions I had for the trail head was great, other than it was on the wrong road. We go up a road, via a diversion, but it was clear it wasn't the right one. Even if driving under red and golden leaved trees beside the babbling river was quite pleasant.

So, after driving round for half an hour, I see the signs for the trail on the main road, so we follow the sign up a long and twisting road to a hairpin bend, where opposite the trail started.

The path started easily. At first. And then it began to kick up. Most of the marked trail was through boulder fields, boulders between trees, it was hard going. And at the top, you went round a tree or large boulder and there was more boulders to walk through. The website had called this a "scramble". Which is what it was. Although it felt like we were crawling sometimes.

The path was at an angle of about 45 degrees, and went round and over boulders, streams and via rock cut steps. All around were trees with leaves of green, gold and a few red, sunlight shone through the leaves, and we were getting hot despite it being a very cool morning. It would have been pleasant for a walk on the level, but we were huffing and puffing well.

We stopped at regular intervals, catching our breath, while other fitter and younger hikers powered past us. But we carried on.

After 0.7 of a mile, although it seemed further, we reached the junction of trails, and from now on the going was going to get really though. It said point seven of a mile, felt like many times that, and I really didn't trust the directions on those bloody signs. Anyway. Onwards.

For a while the path lead over flattened boulders and slabs through a bog, a few climbs between, but just as we thought there could not be much more, the trail really took off and up.

The guide book called this a scramble. That defined it, an angle of 45 degrees, through boulders and up gullies, it never seemed to end. We could see people at the top, so we knew we had to get up there, I mean we felt so close, we couldn't give up now, could we?

People who had passed us going up, now passed us as they went down. Is it far to go, we asked? Nearly there we were told, just one last scramble and then it flattens out.

Sigh.

So, up we went, if we carried on we would touch the sky!

But it did level out, and through another bog and there to the right we saw clear blue sky. A woman sat with her dog admiring the view from the ledge. She left us, and we took her place, like looking out from an eyrie on nothing but trees and mountains, and nothing made by man could be seen or heard.

We had this place of peace to ourselves, for a while.

But we had to be get going. Back down. And down.

It took two hours, hurt our knees as did our legs, but we did it, in two hours, all the way down until we could hear the stream tumbling down the gulley near to the car park. We had done it, were tired and hungry. But were not letting being old or fat restrict us.

We passed other just starting out, at two in the afternoon or later, with not enough time to do the climb in the remaining daylight, or so we thought. We climbed into the car, and I took us back to the main road, back along the valley road we had travelled the previous day to Hunter, and then onto Prattsville to the diner, where we feasted on burger, fries and Coke. We had earned it.

We got back to the hotel at half five, just as the last rays of the afternoon sun left the top of the tallest mountain top.

Phew.

I watch more baseball, we eat snack food and drink beer, or cider. And so the evening fades, and our poor legs and knees complain of the pounding we had given them the previous two days.