We stopped to lunch at Stone Memorial, the first of the three-sided stone shelters along the trail, and assessed our progress: six miles in under four hours. Hikers wanting a more leisurely, three-day trip could stop for the night here, on a hill above a rushing stream, but our destination was the Big Hill shelter, another five miles along the route. We stowed the remaining cheese, crackers and the mini jam jar, pulled on our packs and marched on.

Later that afternoon, the breeze that had dried the sweat from our necks and kept the black flies and mosquitoes at bay died down. Beneath the tree cover, the air became thick, and I swatted at the bugs around my face.

Just then, a darkening sky and a few cold drops announced a sudden downpour. We hastily donned rain jackets, but our socks and shoes were soon sodden, and the ground squelched with every step. The squall passed just a few minutes later, and the wet trees sparkled with sunlight. The bugs returned, but, I told myself, in fewer numbers.

We had the shelter to ourselves that weekday night and prepared thru-hiker standards — a Knorr Pasta Side and Idahoan powdered potatoes — over a backpacking stove. From our makeshift kitchen, we could see the bright lights of Manhattan.