July 27th, Balsam Inn, East Pharsadia, NY

July 27 The Balsam Inn, East Pharsadia
(read -- any neighborhood bar in Wis., or the Doyle Hotel on the AT)

On the hike into town, a car pulled up beside me and the man asked me about my hike. I told him about the FLT and how far I had hiked and my plan to do the rest of the trail. He told me he was a Jehovah Witness making visits to various homes. He also told me he does long distance biking, so he could appreciate the mental aspects of doing a long distant hike.
The Balsam Inn, I had already heard from my ride yesterday is an institution unto itself. It is a bar, restaurant, inn, gathering place for bikers and snowmobiles, and parties. It had a very old bar, a couple of pool tables, a very large rebel flag on the wall, a place to set up a band, and a lounge area in front of a fireplace. The stairs leading up to the bedrooms was as steep as some of the paths on the FLT, but more narrow. The floor upstairs in the bedroom had a slant one way while the bed slanted to counter the floor, HEY who cares; there was a bathroom, shower, and a washer and drier. Plus the lady at the bar kept giving pitchers of ice water. This is the second place that did not take a credit card. The $50 cash cost, left me with $15 cash of my own. I called Gina, and asked her to send cash to me at my next stop in Bainbridge. There was also a very playful black Lab who wanted me to throw a ball for him to retrieve. I continued to be in a Verizon dead zone, so I had to use the bars phone to make an outside call. Payphones no long exist, at least in my travels so far. When I asked if the food box I had mailed out of Ithaca 2 weeks ago had arrive, no one on the day shift knew about the box. nor Later in the afternoon, the Balsam Inn's owner arrived and she said that she did not have my food box. I started contemplating creative ways to get enough food to hike to Bainbridge. After a few minutes, the owner asked one of the women at the bar, it was $1.50 beer night, if there was a box for me at the post office across the street (I could not tell that it was the post office), she said she would go and look. She came out of the PO with my food box; I gave a sigh of relief, had a beer, and went to my room to begin repacking my meals.

Besides being, beer night, it was also biker's night, which meant that around 7pm, there would be a cook out with food for everyone who was at the outside bar. I appreciated the hot dog, snapper (a brat with jalapenos), and beans. When I went back into the bar, the afternoon and evening clientele started asking me some things about what I was doing. Once they understood, I found myself being asked more specific questions about the hike. A man offered to buy me a meal (I took a beer, I was already full), and talked about some of the trips they had taken. Later before I went upstairs to bed, and older lady, who had been there throughout the afternoon, started talking to me. She said that she use to own the Balsam, that she had many fond memories of the place, and found herself feeling very attached to the Inn. She said it was still like home to her. Later, I made up another hitchhike sign for in the morning.

While hiking into town this morning, I saw a medium sized black bear, (dead) on the back of a sheriff's SUV. That is the closest I have come to a bear so far on this hike.
I felt out of place at the bar, in part because I was and outsider, it was clearly the local crowd. I am familiar with the dynamics of a local group; I grew up in one back in Indiana. I, along with Billy Joel, recognized both the pleasant and not so pleasant aspects of such a group/individual dynamic.