I once took three pepperoni pizzas and a huge bottle of root beer all the way from Kokadjo to where the AT crossed the B Pond Road at the bottom of White Cap. On a hunch, I went uphill - in dark and rain - to the Logan Brook Lean-to, not knowing if there would be anyone there.
But there were a few. They were totally asleep, but one of them woke up. I told him I had three pizzas for him. I told him ‘no spit’, or something close to it, just in case he thought I was joshing (the pizzas were wrapped in tin foil and my own beach towel which kept them quite warm).
He was either still half asleep or totally in shock and asked me where I had come from. I told him there was a road a little ways back (about 2 miles back, but I didn’t share that). And just like that, I left.
About two months later I went back to the lean-to around late October. I was just curious to read whatever comments they might have left, but alas, the register was missing. I continue to wonder what that guy thought of what certainly was in contention for a ‘mother of all trail magic’ award. I wonder what his pals thought, waking up the next day. I wonder if he left a message in the register at the next lean-to at either East Branch or Carl A Newhall. I wonder if he saved any for his pals. I also wonder if anyone he met actually believed his story or if they thought he was pulling thier leg (“Now lemee get this straight . . . 3 pizzas over 2 miles uphill at 8 at night in the rain . . . so where did he land his UFO, har har har har!”).
Anonymous