I've tried to divide my notes up into themes that are somewhat coherent. This section is a collection of shorter items that don't seem to hang in any of the areas I've put to paper (or is that electrons) yet.

Each day along the hike I found myself noting something of an observation for the day that might have happened any where along th trail but was something I wanted to remember.

Sounds in the woods can stir thought and emotions. Some times we miss them because we are too busy flapping our gums over some trivial thing. Other times a fleeting sound can stay with us and cause our minds to wander far and wide. Most of the sounds of this trail were not new to me but I report them here for completeness. On the tenth I have a note about the sound of wind high in the trees rustling the leaves. On days like that if you sit still in one place you can often hear the leaves rustle in the distance, then closer and closer like some animal running along the treetops. You can actually hear a gust of wind approach and then feel it as it bursts through the tress you are sitting amongst. It's a sound I've often heard in the fall while quietly waiting for a Whitetail Deer to approach. It also brings pleasant memories from preschool days when I would play on the windowsill in my mother's bedroom with the wind blowing the curtains into the room. The dominant sound along the trail was the constant squeaks and squawks of the pack with each step. After a particularly drenching rain the pack noise was joined by the squish of boots. Another sound from the notes is two woodpeckers working over a tree at Whitehouse. One bird would knock knock on the tree and then chirp chirp to its partner who would repeat the ritual, I watched them for 5 or 10 minutes when I was supposed to be finding a suitable campsite for the night. At first I thought they might be Pileated (I think that's how you spell it) Woodpeckers but after consulting a guide book today I think they may have been Ladder Back Woodpeckers (I am not an ornithologist.) On a coupe of evenings we were serenaded by frogs. At Lake Piseco Campground they were bullfrogs with long resounding roars - all night long. At Moose Pond the frogs had short chirps like spring peepers only deeper in pitch and they didn't stop at daybreak and were still chirping away as we moved on. On two or three evenings we enjoyed the sound of Loons calling - a sound I will always love and I am reminded of