(Daily Mi: 15.2) Gross. Hot. Sticky. Bug eaten and bitter. Woodman and I stopped to refresh water about once every three miles. Ran into Spyder who I had met then heading south at the NJ/NY line. She is now heading towards Mt. K and ended up pitching near us this PM.

At one point on the ridge about 2 miles short of camp we find a view from a wind glider launch ramp and discover the relentless sawing noise we have been hearing from the valley for the past odd hour is in fact a race track. We stop and watch two or three formula 1 cars whip about for a few minutes and then soldier on against what appears to be an approaching storm...

...which hits with tree shaking winds just as we make the campsite forcing us to pitch tarps in a frenzy and then batten down. The rain is forceful but intermittent. Twenty minutes on, tweny minutes off for the next few hours.

The mosquitos have found a way through the homemade bug netting on my tarp. When the rain is falling they go dormant massing on the roof of my shelter. When it stops they descend. The DEET stops them from actually biting, but they still hover in a feckless, buzzing cloud near the most potent source of CO2 in the area. Me.

At 10 pm there is a break in the rain and I climb to the top of the nearest peak to call my friend Choo Choo's home support. Get the report that she has seen a doctor and is apparently still layed up in Kent, CT about 30 miles back.