Good will for sale.



Everyone was on the run today because we were headed to a hostel. I was excited to get to Woodshole. No one had mentioned staying there, but by the time I arrived everyone was settling in to food and showers.  Just Mike disappeared at this point. I didn’t see him for awhile, but had a lot of fun catching up with him after trail days. The hostel was a sort of pretentious hippie commune hostel. It was expensive, which gave me the impression that I probably should have skipped out too. The showers and privy were new, and we were asked kindly to help with the garden. We hauled buckets of mulch and spread them over a reasonably large garden. I would have been excited about this, but I was tired from hiking and the money thing was really getting to me.

In the afternoon we did “yoga.” It felt more like mocking than healing. I was getting a little out of place when dinner rolled around and we were asked to stand in a circle and give thanks for dinner. Part of this ceremony involved bringing out Miami Vice and publicly announcing that he would not be eating dinner with us. Dinner was not inexpensive and I had seen him just a bit before eating cold ramen out of his mason jar. Maybe he was just standing his ground about eating when and what he wanted to eat, or maybe he was saving money, either way this place was not chill. The very thing I was learning to love about people was devoid in this place. So we all held hands and gave thanks for something.  I gave thanks for the people who make the Appalachian Trail possible. I gave thanks to be able to walk from GA-ME .

On a happier note, I was told that there was snoring in the hostel that threatened to shake the walls down. I slept through it, so the running joke was that I was the one snoring.


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