Music on the Mountain

New Jersey

I bolted down the trail in New Jersey - it was already 3PM so I had to hike fast to get to the shelter twelve miles away. I was exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster that was Lionheart so I zoned out and walked. I snapped out of it when the sun started to set and I still had five miles to go. I was afraid to night hike alone.

As I walked up the mountain I heard music faintly in the distance. Was I going crazy? It sounded like live music which made me think I was definitely going crazy because it was a multi-instrument band which you don't just happen upon in the middle of the woods. I could distinguish the sounds of a fiddle, multiple guitars, an upright base,

a banjo, and a harmonica.

“Okay I’m definitely going crazy,” I thought. It was plausible for people to hike in guitars but an acoustic base? No way. I heard singing too.

I summited the peak and emerged from the trees to find a pavilion on the bald. There was indeed an eight person band jamming and singing. They were all older and too clean to be hikers. They spotted me and called me over. “We saved a seat for you!” they pointed to the one empty chair in the circle of musicians.

“I must be dreaming,” I thought.

“And we brought you the food you like,” one woman said and motioned towards a table abundant with fresh fruit, chocolate, cheese, crackers, chips, guac, and so much more.

“There’s a cold beer in the cooler or sparkling water if you’d prefer,” an old man with silver hair said.

“Where did you all come from?” I asked.

“We’re called Music on the Mountain. We’re a local group of friends and musicians who come up here to play once a month for a few hours. We’ve never run into any thru-hikers before though so you came at the right time!” The man with the hat said.

Wow, once a month and I just happened to catch them. What were the odds? The trail really does provide.

They encouraged me to eat and not be shy, which is a dangerous thing to say to a hungry hiker. I made a plate of fruit then sat and listened. They played bluegrass and sang as the sun set in the most beautiful pink and orange explosions across a periwinkle sky. If I was dreaming, it was a lovely dream.

The man with the hat was excited to play a song he wrote. He told me I had to memorize it and spread its gospel down trail. “Promise?” “I promise,” I blindly responded.

He did and eight count then launched into,

Pissin’ outsiiiiiiiide,

Pissin’ outsiiiiiiiide

Ya don’t know what yer missin’

til’ ya start pissin outside

So be a back to nature, saturated

Do it like the wild creatures do

It will keep you sane

It’s the sort of synergy

A synchronistic energy, when you’re peein in the rain!

Over in France it’s no holds bar

They pee on walls and the sides of their cars

That’s why they call em euroPEEans

So if ya wanna get cultured just start

Pissin’ outsiiiiiiiide,

Pissin’ outsiiiiiiiide

Ya don’t know what yer missin’

til’ ya start pissin outside

Oh the grass is always greener when ya water with your Weiner outsiiiide

I laughed so hard. There were more lyrics I can’t remember but I sang that song all the way down trail and taught it to everyone I knew. The best part was it was relatable. Peeing outside is better.

“Make a request!” The fiddle player shouted.

“Do you know any Pete Seeger? Or Bob Dylan?” I asked. “Which song?”

“What about Forever Young?”

They looked up the music so they could play it.

“You sing!” They said. My eyes got big. “Me?”

“Yeah you know the words. You sing.”

What the heck I thought.

May God bless and keep you always

May your wishes all come true

May you always do for others

And let others do for you

May you build a ladder to the stars

And climb on every rung

And may you stay

Forever young

May you grow up to be righteous

May you grow up to be true

May you always know the truth

And see the lights surrounding you

May you always be courageous

Stand upright and be strong

And may you stay

Forever young

May your hands always be busy

May your feet always be swift

May you have a strong foundation

When the winds of changes shift

May your heart always be joyful

May your song always be sung

And may you stay

Forever young

I started crying halfway through so the man with the hat took over and did his best. When he was done he said he had never played that song and he hadn’t heard it in years. He was glad I picked it.

“Let’s play Angels,” he told the band. “I changed the words to this one a bit,” he chucked as he looked at me.

I hope I see you later - ‘cause it’s time for me to go

That’s my ride that just pulled over - and it sure was good to know you

So go answer your calling - go and fill somebody’s cup

And if you see an angel falling - won’t you stop and help them up

We are each other’s *trail* angels - we meet when it is time

We keep each other going - and we show each other signs

Sometimes you’ll stumble - sometimes you’ll just lie down

Sometimes you’ll get lonely - with all these people around

You might shiver when the wind blows - and you might get blown away

You might lose a little color - you might lose a little faith

We are each other’s angels - we meet when it is time

We keep each other going - and we show each other signs

*And this is when I completely lost it*

The man with the hat got choked up as he was singing and we locked eyes, sobbing. He could feel how much it meant to me and it was as if I was homesick but in that moment when we connected, I was home. I looked out at the horizon. I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

The jam session ended and we all hugged. One of the musician’s wives asked if we could all get a picture together. I may never see those people again but they will always be family no matter where I go.

As we said our goodbyes the sky turned deep purple and stars started twinkling. I walked on and decided to stealth camp because I didn’t want to night hike to the next shelter. It got dark too quickly for me to find the perfect grassy patch so I stopped on an overgrown fire road and laid out my gear.

I decided to cowboy camp for the first time this entire hike. I was exhausted and the climate was temperate. I checked my phone and turned out I had service! I had a message from Sparky asking how I was doing so I told him I was excited to try cowboy camping. He replied, “In the rain?” As if I was in a comical scene of a movie, at that exact moment, I heard a clap of thunder and the soft hush of the rain hitting the top leaves in the forest canopy. I didn’t have much time before it tricked down to me and became a torrential downpour. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I said to myself and quickly rolled out my Tarp Tent. I had barely used it and certainly not in the rain because of the availability of shelters. I didn’t know I had to seam seal the tent myself so needless to say, it was not waterproof.

Though I rushed to set it up, the loose New Jersey topsoil had already turned to mud and my trekking poles that are meant to hold up my Tarp Tent didn’t stay up. They both leaned to opposite sides and the walls of my tent kept collapsing in on themselves under the weight of the water pelting it from above. The warm fuzzy feeling I had gotten from the ”Music on the Mountain” folks washed away with the rain.

When I finally got my trekking poles to stake in the ground well enough to support the weight of the tent, I crawled inside. Rain seeped right through the walls and dripped right onto my body. It was hot rain too. Hot, humid, New Jersey summer storm rain. Everything sucked.

My sleeping bag was soaked and it was too hot inside it anyway. All my gear got wet while I was frantically setting up my tent so there was no point bringing it inside. I lay on top of my damp sleeping bag and felt the rain pool beneath me. I didn’t have a tent footprint either because I didn’t even know what that was at the time. There was so much I didn’t know that I learned the hard way.

I took off my wet clothes because they were sticking to my skin making it hard to sleep. As soon as I removed my clothes I realized that I wasn’t the only one who sought refuge from the rain in my tent. “Could this get any worse?!” I screamed as I angrily slapped mosquitoes biting me all over my body. Could it get any worse is a dangerous question to ask in the middle of a storm because the answer will always be “yes.” I cried myself to sleep.