In the town of Dalton, Massachusetts, there lives a man named Tom who loves hikers and loves people more than most other people do. His backyard turns into an oasis for many weary travelers, and I was fortunate enough to stay there.
I stumbled out of the woods onto the streets of Dalton, Massachusetts hot, sweaty, and ready for some lunch. The trail had been a slog over the past couple of days battling bugs, heat, and the infamous green tunnel of eastern deciduous forests. I was getting so close to alpine forests, 4,000 foot mountains, and cooler weather, and I could hardly stand to wait any longer. I had pulled every ounce of willpower out of the depths of my soul to trudge through the last 500 miles of trail, and it had been little town like Dalton that had given me the respite I needed when I was at my wits end.
Fortunately, the town passed right through the middle of this charming New England town which meant I didn’t have to wait on a hitch or call for a ride. I could simply walk straight to the restaurant to fill my empty stomach and the grocery store to collect my resupply.
The trail had popped out on the outskirts of town and led down a sidewalk through the local neighborhood. The houses were all older colonial style with quaint little front yards dressed in colorful flower beds and large shade trees. However, one house in particular stood out from the rest. As I approached the yard, I saw a small flower bed very near the sidewalk with a post stuck in the middle of it and trekking poles popping out all around through the flowers. The post had the iconic white blaze – the Appalachian Trail way-finding marker – painted on the top. As I looked across the yard, my eyes caught a picnic table underneath this house’s shade tree that had four jugs of water filled to the top.
This felt like more than just a nice gesture by a local resident. I pulled out my FarOut app to check the comment section to see what other hikers were saying about this place. As I uploaded the map onto my phone, I noticed that not only were there comments, but this house had its own icon. It read “Tom Levardi’s House.” No one seemed home, but being a thru-hiker, I felt like it would’ve been rude to keep walking when it was clear that this Tom guy had left water for hikers to use.
So I did what I do best. I made myself at home.
I slung by backpack on the ground, pulled my water bottles out of the side pockets, and sat at the table to enjoy myself for a few minutes. Next thing I knew, I looked over to see a few familiar faces walking around from the back of the house. It was Panda and Coaltrane. They had obviously come back from a resupply based on the Walmart bags they were carrying in one hand, but they also had Wendy’s bags in the other that they seemed pretty keen to eat.
“What’s up, fellas?” I asked, excited to see people I knew.
“Oh not much,” said Panda. “We just went on a resupply with Tom. What’s up with you? Did you just get into town?”
“Basically, yeah,” I replied. “I’ve probably been sitting here 10 minutes. Have you guys been here long?”
“Uh, yes,” Panda laughed. “We stayed here last night and just haven’t had the energy to leave. Tom is unbelievable.”
“Yeah tell me more about this guy?” I asked. “I’ve been reading about him in the comments, and I’m so curious.”
But before Panda had an opportunity to answer, Tom came walking around the corner of the house. He was an older gentleman, probably in his 70s, and as soon as he saw me, his next words told me everything I needed to know about the guy.
“Well hello there, friend,” Tom said with a smile. “I’m so sorry you don’t have any lunch. Can I make you something?”
“No, sir,” I said quickly. “I really appreciate it, but I was about to head on to town. I can pick up something there.”
“No, I insist. Let me go whip you up a sandwich and some chips real quick. I’ll be back,” Tom said, already making a heading for the front door.
Panda and Coaltrane proceeded to tell me how Tom was the nicest guy they’d ever met, and that he’d been doing stuff like this for years. I was so intrigued. What was this guy’s story?
Tom came out not long after carrying a literal silver platter with the biggest BLT I had ever seen with a bag of lays potato chips and a cold coke. I was stunned.
“Here you my friend,” said Tom, very happy to have me at his house. “What’s your name?”
“Tom, you didn’t have to do this at all, but I really appreciate it! Thank you. I’m Maverick,” I replied shaking hands with him.
Tom sat there and chatted with the three of us as we ate our lunch. He was so eager to learn about our adventures. We learned he had been doing this for decades, and never grew tired of helping hikers. He loved hearing their stories and helping them out along the way.
“Time for dessert,” he said, as we finished our meals. Back into the house he went, taking my tray topped with everyone’s trash. He returned several minutes later with four chalices of ice cream and four plates of cherry pie for all of us to share together.
“Tom, you have outdone yourself. This is so kind. Thank you,” we all said in one way or another.
“It’s really nothing,” he said humbly. “I love sharing moments like this, and I know how hungry you guys must be. It’s the least I can do. So guys, are you gonna stay the night again or what’s your plans?”
Panda and Coaltrane were planning on heading out soon, but I could already feel the vortex beginning to take effect on me.
“I’ll probably stay. I wasn’t planning on it, but now that I’m here, I really don’t want to leave,” I said. I was – and still am – a sucker for getting pulled in different directions. I probably needed to hit the trail, but this lunch had been so nice. I was really eager to see what a night at Tom’s would be like.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” said Tom. “I just have a few rules. You can’t come into the house. If you need to use the bathroom, let me know and I’ll let you. It just get crazy if everyone starts coming inside so I ask that you stay outside. You can camp anywhere around my lot, and for the fellas, if you need to pee, you can use that tree in the back corner behind the bushes to pee on. Easy enough?”
“I can definitely abide by that,” I said appreciatively.
The afternoon carried on into one of the most wonderful days on the trail. Panda and Coaltrane eventually moseyed on down the trail, but new friends kept coming to take their place. Soon, the entire yard was filled with hikers setting up their tents for the night and hanging out around the picnic table.
Tom gave me and a few of my friends some loaner clothes while he washed our hiking clothes for us. He also told us about free showers at the community center about a half mile down the road. A few of us went over to take advantage of it. Unbeknownst to me, there was a day camp for 10-years olds swimming at the community center that just so happened to be using the same locker-room where I was showering. For those that don’t know, some guys’ locker-room showers are large open spaces with shower-heads around the walls. There’s no privacy once you walk in, and not one of those kids were prepared to see me standing there when they came in from the pool. Likewise, I was in shock myself hoping and praying this wouldn’t be reported.
I walked back to Tom’s with the people I had gone to the community center with to find that there wasn’t a spare space left in Tom’s yard for a tent. There were hikers everywhere. Many were familiar faces, and we all had a great time catching up and enjoying the evening. Tom was right in the middle of all of it. He was getting to know everyone, and he genuinely seemed so excited that each person had made the decision to stay at his place.
When I woke up the next morning, I found my clothes folded and ready for on the front porch. I quickly changed, and got together with some of the other hikers lingering around the picnic table. We all decided to get a bite to eat down the street, come back to pack up, and then keep heading north.
Before finally saying goodbye, I had one question for Tom.
“Tom, thank you for letting everyone stay. You were a wonderful host. I do have one more question though,” I said.
“Whatcha got?” said Tom.
“You said yesterday that we could stay as long as we want. Has anyone ever actually taken you up on that offer? How long was the longest stay someone has had?” I said. Hikers sometimes do crazy things like stay in one place for days or weeks at a time. I was expecting two weeks, tops.
“That’s a good question. I had one fella stay a year with me,” he said nonchalantly.
My jaw dropped along with all the friends nearby who heard Tom’s answer.
“Ok well, now we’ve got to know the story. Why did someone stay that long?” I asked.
“Well it’s a sad story,” began Tom. “He wasn’t a hiker, and he was just a teenager. He had ridden his bike into town, and needed a place to stay for the night. He didn’t have any money, and someone from town knew I did this kind of stuff for people, so I was glad to let him camp in the backyard.
Well one night, turned to a few nights, and before I knew, this kid had stayed two weeks. He was riding his bike to his girlfriend’s place. She had moved with her family, and he had no one, so he was going to go stay with her. I could tell he wasn’t sure about what was going to happen, but he was a good kid. He camped in the backyard the whole two weeks, and he was helpful around the house so I kept letting him stay.
He eventually made his way on down the road to go to his girlfriend’s place. Well a month or two went by, and next thing I knew, he was back at my doorstep. Things hadn’t worked out with his girlfriend, and he had nowhere to go. So I told he was more than welcome to camp in the back like before. It was still summer so he stayed in the backyard, and got a job in town that he’d work at every day.
Eventually, fall and winter rolled around, and he continued to stay and work and help me around the house. Eventually the weather was getting far too cold, so I broke my rule and let him stay in the house.
By the time he had saved up a fair amount of money and felt like he could go on his way again, it had been a full year since we’d first met.”
That was a sad story, I thought to myself.
“Have you heard from him since?” Someone asked.
“Yeah, he wrote to me a few months later, and said he’d reconnected with some family members and gotten a job. I figured he’d probably come back if things weren’t going great for him. He’d always have a place here if he needed it.”
“Tom, you’re a saint,” I said. “It was an absolute pleasure to get to know.”
“Likewise,” said Tom with a smile. “It’s always a joy to help others out.”
And with that, we said goodbye and made our way down the trail.
It was harder than I thought to walk away from that house. This hadn’t been a normal transaction. I had met someone genuinely kind and hospitable. Someone who never asked for anything in return. Someone who truly found joy in being a helping hand. It wasn’t just walking away from another stranger. It was walking away from a house that somehow in 24 hours had turned into a home. I would cherish my time with Tom forever.
Oh to be like Tom, I thought heading north.
More than the miles, the mountains, the adventure, or the achievement, this moment was the true spirit of the trail. I climbed hundreds of mountains, each unique and special, but I only found one Tom. And he was worth more than all the mountains combined.
– Ralston Drake
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved experiencing it and sharing it. Be sure to subscribe for free below to be sure you get a notification whenever I post a new article. Thank you again! I hope your next adventure is one to write about some day too!
Wandering with Ralston 
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