Day: 85

Day mileage: 24

AT total mileage: 1,649.2

Time: 8 hours 

--

I was sound asleep by 2130hrs last night, and woke again for the first time at 0400. I'm not sure why my eyes opened that early, but I'm truly hoping it doesn't become a habit. I laid in bed for a while before emerging from my sleeping bag, the first person out of the 8 packed into the shelter to do so, and began packing up. At this point it was only 6 AM, but after the relaxing day before I figured I owed it to the trail to ride early and be hiking by a reasonable hour. With our group down to only four of us (at max, 7 and a dog) it was worth it to wait for the other three to be ready before hiking on. We departed shortly after 7, and began what would ultimately be a great day of foot travel on the Appalachian Trail. 

From the shelter we hiked a few miles downhill before beginning the only real challenge of the day, a 1,800 foot elevation climb to the summit of Stratton Mountain. It was 6.8 miles from the shelter to the fire tower at the mountain's peak, and we arrived there shortly after 9:30. The easy terrain before beginning the climb allowed us to travel quickly in our established line, hopping over mud and flooded areas doing our best to keep socks and shoes dry. It's a battle I'm bound to lose against the Trail, but since we took the time off early yesterday a surprising amount of rainfall has been absorbed by the earth. I couldn't bring myself to wear my soaking wet and muddy socks for a third day in a row, so instead I wore a separate pair that had been used for a day or two before the rain that were still somewhat dry. Upon reaching the lowest point after the shelter, the point where the 3.6 mile climb up Stratton would begin, we changed paces, slowing a bit as a whole but maintaining a strong stride uphill. It was at this point that I provided some group entertainment. A little known fact about me is that I can quote the script of the 1994 film Forrest Gump nearly verbatim. While it's not a talent that will win me awards or critical acclaim, it's still rather entertaining, and kept the group in good spirits as we hiked along to me reciting the famous Tom Hanks lines (voice included) of the movie, filling in less important scenes with detailed narration. It took over half the climb to complete the movie, but Rocket, Legs, and Dorothy each said they were able to see every scene I described in their minds, and that they had a great time listening. Despite our efforts to find another movie everyone had seen that I could recreate the experience for, we couldn't find common ground, and the idea disappeared as quickly as it had come. 

After two days of relatively upsetting weather, cloudy skies and rainfall of all sorts, there was an amazing feeling in summiting Stratton to a warm sun shining down and wispy clouds speckling a baby blue sky. We spoke briefly with a Park Service cabin caretaker, employed to maintain the shelters and cabins in the area, then headed up a 60' fire tower to see what views the wooded summit had to offer. Despite the wind, the views were incredible. Not since the Smoky Mountains have there been such incredible vistas, sprawling mountain ranges, and subsequent feelings of invincibility atop a peak. It feels so good to be back in the mountains, able to see for miles from atop a summit, immediately gaining the sense of hiking gratification that is craved after a long or steep ascent. The feeling of being on top of the world that comes with hiking 1,635 miles as if it were just for this moment. So there I stood, in a fire tower on the top of the mountain where Benton McKaye initially conceived the idea for a walking trail that ran from Georgia to Maine some 100 years ago, watching the clouds blow over the valley on a stiff breeze, truly happy with where I was and who I was able to share the moment with. Handsome Dan took a photo of Dorothy, Rocket, and myself before we head back down out of the tower, and upon my feet touching dirt again I turned my efforts to finding a new camera. My fingers are crossed that its solely the body of the dSLR that is broken, meaning the lens survived the water. There's no way to really know just yet, but I found an identical version of my Canon body and was able to have it overnighted to Killington, VT so that it will be there when we hike through on Sunday or Monday. Ideally I'd like to have it sooner, but beggars can't be choosers. In the end, as my dad keenly pointed out in conversation, it's quite amazing that the now dead camera survived 1,600 miles of mud, dust, pollen, rain, hail, snow, river crossings, rock rash, smashing into trees, and every other bit of daily activity it was subjected to while hooked onto the waist belt of my pack. I'm more than happy with the mileage (see what I did there?) that I got out of the camera, and in the end it's my 2nd backup body for when I'm actually photographing in the real world, so it's not a huge deal to lose it. I'll keep the bad camera and mail it home, perhaps being able to repair it upon my return later in the summer. Until then, I'll anxiously await the arrival of a new one a day or two from now, and will continue to marvel at Amazon's ability to get me a product overnight (sometimes even same day delivery) for less than $10 shipping. 

After spending an appropriate amount of time atop Stratton, we began the 4 mile descent to the Stratton Pond shelter where we intended to have lunch. Hiking down the mountain wasn't obnoxious, and again we witnessed areas where the previously rushing water had been absorbed back into the earth leaving us with a slightly muddy trail to hike. Anything is better than the complete lack of care required to trudge through 4-6" of muddy water for hours on end. We got to the shelter around noon-thirty, a large post & beam structure with plenty of bunk and loft space for two dozen people, and probably even more in a pinch. Upon arriving we noticed a hiker had left clothes out to dry, and with further investigation we learned it was Deep Blue. Having parted ways with him back in Bennington two days prior, he had hiked through the night, arriving at 8 am after watching the sunrise from the top of the windy fire tower earlier that morning. He woke up and ate with us, ultimately deciding to hike on now that we'd all met back up. We left the shelter an hour after arriving, and began what would truly be an easy afternoon of relatively level hiking terrain for the next 12 miles. This section was substantially muddier than the morning, but even with careful steps we maintained a solid pace through the forest. The hours passed by steadily with fun conversation amongst the 5 of us, being intermittently disrupted by Legs as she walked into a fallen tree, then later did a 180 spin before plopping down into the mud due to a low & slippery wooden bridge of sorts. Around 1630 we hiked a half mile down a road, still 'on trail' before a wrong turn brought us out to a gorgeous rock face overlooking the valley below. We stopped for a moment, but ultimately found seats on the rock and stayed a while, listening to music and relaxing in the warmth of the late afternoon sun. Trekking on, we were a short 5 miles from our intended destination for the evening. An hour and a half later we emerged at the road crossing of VT 11/30, a fast paced four lane highway delightfully marked by the A.T. Conservancy with an enthusiastic 'Don't become road kill!' sign. Crossing quickly, we gathered in the parking lit at the trail head and split up. Rocket and Dorothy would go into Manchester, a town 5 miles west for a resupply while the remaining three of us hiked on the 2 miles to the shelter. Rocket secured them a ride from a woman leaving the parking lot (a day hiker we later learned had thru-hiked the Pacific Crest Trail just a few years prior). Legs and I headed up the next mountain, the puppy Naila leading the way, while Blue hung out by the road for a little longer. 

We arrived at a gorgeously built and completely empty shelter a shirt time before 1900hrs, cooking dinner and listening to country music as I explained to Legs my sadness about this weekend. Zac Brown Band, one of my absolute favorite artists and a band I would kill to be an audio engineer for, is playing two nights at Fenway Park in Boston. I'd considered many months ago about getting off the trail for either the Friday or Saturday show, but never followed through with finding tickets. Regardless, we cooked and ate, joined by Blue and shortly after by Rocket and Dorothy as well. They had picked up a bottle of Jim Beam while in town, and we had a nice Friday night on the trail in each other's company. At 2100hrs we piled into our sleeping bags, the massive double decker shelter to ourselves, and streamed a comedy on Dorothy's large smartphone from Netflix.  Quite the sight, I'd imagine; five hikers in their 20s, trekking the length of the Appalachian Trail, having an 'exciting' Friday night with a bottle of bourbon and a movie in the middle of Vermont's Green Mountains. Bed came next, but only after moving packs around upon the discovery of a half dozen mice running around. 

Tomorrow we'll do another 24 or so mile day, hopefully in equally gorgeous weather. I'm exceptionally happy with where I am and who I'm with, and now that I've got less than 30 days on the trail remaining, I look forward to experiencing the rest of it with this great group of friends I stumbled into. 

Onwards & steeply upwards in the morning. 

Tex

Day: 83

Day mileage: 14.2

AT total mileage: 1,617.0

Time: 9 hours 

--

I woke up in the middle of the night to the unpleasant sensation that something was amiss. Sure enough, my sleeping pad and head were hanging over the edge of the elevated bunk, while my legs dangled off as well, my body restrained by a lone structural 2x4 bracing against my abdomen. Needless to say I spent a bit if time in the dark trying to rearrange myself to avoid falling to my demise in the fully packed shelter.  After falling back asleep, I awoke again at a more appropriate time, beginning to pack my stuff up and get ready for the easy 4 mile trek into Bennington where Santa and Rocket Girl would do a resupply, Blue would find the public library to write his family newsletter e-mail, and Legs and I would tag along for the ride. As I left the shelter a light rain began to fall, foreshadowing of the weather that would be present intermittently throughout the day. 

The hike to VT Route 9 was relatively simple, made challenging only by wet rocks on the steep descent to the road in the gap below the mountain ridges. It took me about an hour and a half to get to the state forest parking lot, having made a few phone calls on my hike and taking my time as I went along. Legs and Blue had arrived before me and were working on a hitchhike, one that would prove challenging due to being more than 5 miles from town. Eventually after quite a bit of trying, a woman in a small sedan pulled over to pick us up. With a small dog and a BMX style bike already occupying space in the car, there was barely enough room for Deep Blue & myself, let alone Legs and the puppy Naila. At this time Santa and Rocket emerged from the woods, rejoining the group, and Blue and I headed on into town. The woman driving was a young grandmother who was going to babysit her grand kids in town. She spoke (after my questioning) about the state of disrepair the towns locally were in, the poor job market, and the lack of presence of social workers for those who need government funding. We eventually arrived at Wal-Mart where Blue and I hung around after purchasing some small items. I charged my phone for a bit, then hiked the mile across town to Kmart where the rest of the group was able to hitch to. Meeting up with them again, I sat outside the store reading my book as everyone shopped. My only purchase would be an American flag, which I got as a second choice to a Red Sox flag in order to assist with hitchhiking. We left Kmart around 1230 in the back of a pickup truck driven by two high school girls on summer vacation. They were only able to take us a few miles back towards town, meaning a second hitch would be needed to get back to the trailhead. We walked through town to make it back to Rt 9 to at least be on the road we needed a ride on, but had very little luck getting anyone to pull over. This may continue to be the case with northern states. Waiting in a gas station parking lot, I was able to get a guy in a truck to offer us a ride, up until the point that he realized the bed of the truck was too full and he could only take two people. Santa and I had the girls & Naila go, and began trying to get our own ride. Walking down the main streets of a large Vermont town, trying to hitchhike, a large American flag held out between us... We were quite the sight to see. Although the flag didn't secure any rides for us, it got many honks and waves from drivers of all kinds, which I figure is at least a small start. Time shall tell how the flag helps. Anyway, we got a ride from a gas station when, ironically, Finn and Dorothy honked from the car of a local trail angel named Steve giving them a ride back to the A.T. so all worked out. 

Back at the road crossing shortly before 1500hrs we began a 2,500 foot climb over 10 miles towards the summit of Glastenbury Mountain. The plan was to hike to the fire tower at the summit, then another 4 someodd miles relatively downhill to a shelter that would end us with a 18.5 mile day on the trail. The climb passed by quickly as we conversed as a group, again back down to the comfortable foursome of myself, Santa, Rocket, and Legs. Around 1715 we stopped for a 'pack break' to relieve our backs, and made note of the storm clouds moving in. It was literally not two minutes later that all hell broke loose, with torrential downpours flooding the trail and soaking us through. We had 2.7 miles left to a shelter before Glastenbury's summit, and we were undoubtedly stopping there instead of pressing on the extra 4 miles to the next shelter. Santa and I practically ran the distance, arriving in 40 minutes, soaked to our cores. As we had quickly hiked along, we yelled at the rain and the thunder, cursed at the mud and the Trail itself, and generally had a great time being soaking wet and having nothing we could do about it. There's a phenomenal motivational phrase on the Appalachian Trail that states: "Embrace the Suck" - basically, there are going to be points where it is plain old awful to be out here, but it's all part of the experience so do your best to make the most of it. About ten minutes into the downpours, we were embracing the suck. All care was gone, and instead of trying to hike around newly forming rivers and massive puddles, we splashed through them, mud flying everywhere as we flew along the trail. We sang songs at the top of our lungs, and I screamed lines from Forrest Gump for no particular reason whatsoever.  If you can envision the Jim Carrey movie 'The Truman Show' you might remember a scene towards the end as he's on a small sailboat in a horrible storm, yelling at the sky 'is this the best you can do?!' - it was very much like that. We certainly made the most out of a situation there was absolutely no way of avoiding. 

At just before 1800hrs we arrived at the Goddard shelter, a newer one built for 8 hikers, packed to the brim with people escaping the downpours. With ourselves and the girls we had at least four more people to try and fit in, so it would end up becoming a Tetris game to see how many we could fit. We ended up with 12 people and the dog on the platform of the shelter, and Dorothy strung his hammock across the beams of the structure allowing himself a space to sleep without occupying floor space. I cooked dinner quickly, and with a quasi damp set of clothes was tucked into my sleeping bag by 1930hrs. Reading for a bit, I'll try and make it to bed relatively early tonight. I'm absolutely exhausted, despite having done such a short mileage day. I'm hoping that in the next few days we'll avoid stops in town as it really seems to alter the course of the day and the desire to hike. 

I'm not sure how far we'll trek tomorrow, but I'm hoping we make up for the few miles we stopped shy of today. The rain will supposedly carry on a bit longer, and we will unquestionably have some challenges in the thick mud and running rivers on the trail that will be present after the heavy rainfall overnight. 

You likely questioned the blog title for today... I shall explain. The children's poet Shel Silverstein wrote a poem called 'Glub Glub' that went like this:

He thought it was

The biggest puddle

He’d go splashing through.

Turns out it was the smallest lake –

And the deepest, too.

Rather applicable.

Texaco

Day: 82

Day mileage: 24.5

AT total mileage: 1,602.8

Time: 9 hours 

--

Leaving the shelter at 7:30, I began the remaining 3 mile climb towards the summit of Massachusetts' Mt. Greylock.  Over the course of those 3 miles there would be another thousand feet in elevation gain, which was both challenging and fun for first thing in the morning. I had left before everyone else, and would end up being on the summit for 45 minutes or so before the rest of the group arrived. The initial part of the ascent, shortly after leaving the shelter, was much alike every other bit of trail for the past 1,300 miles. It was when the elevation crossed over 3,000' that things took an amazing turn.  It was as if the red carpet was being rolled out to welcome me to New England. Climbing Greylock was picturesque, the vegetation changing rapidly to more robust plants and much shorter pine trees, all capable of surviving harsh winds and snowy, frigid winters. With a strong breeze blowing and the scent of pine needles filling the air, this was exactly what I wanted and expected from my first +3,000 foot summit in the northeast. 

The last mile of climbing was typical of New England, with rocky surfaces jutting out from the ground and pine tree roots protruding and grabbing at anything they can hold on to. As I got closer to the summit the wind picked up exponentially, leaving me even more motivated to push on to the top. To give some background story on the importance of Greylock in my life, my maternal grandmother lived nearby in the town of Williamstown for my entire life. She was a huge proponent of wind power as an energy source, and as such I always think of her when I see them. In 2007 during my cross country cycling ride, she got very ill and passed away mid-July. A mountain that has always been visible from her home, it was a tad bit emotional for me to have the wind pick up near the end of my climb, exit the woods and see panoramic views of the Berkshires, with ridgelines in every direction speckled with windmills. Luckily at this point I was there alone, so I took a few minutes to myself and had a quick conversation with said grandmother. She'd have been thrilled to know I was hiking the Trail that ran right through her figurative backyard. I sat in the wind, having put my North Face jacket on, for quite a while before the rest of the group arrived. We hung out listening to music, talking, and kicking around a soccer ball, taking refuge from the wind and soaking up the brilliant sunlight before continuing on and beginning the descent down into Adams, MA. 

Climbing down Greylock was a 6 mile hike, at some points very steep and slippery. Legs ended up on her butt more than once trying to navigate pine needle covered rocks down severe inclines. Around noon we reached the bottom of the mountain, having sung our way down with a chorus of songs from Grease, Beauty & the Beast, and Frozen. We crossed out of the woods and after a mile of back roads ended up at the intersection of Massachusetts Rt. 2 that runs horizontally across the state. This was also a road I cycled on during my cross country trip 7 years ago. Stormy clouds looming over the valley, the plan was to hike a quick mile off the trail to find a Friendly's restaurant for lunch. Much alike a Perkins or Denny's mixed with an ice cream shoppe, it's a small New England chain that I grew up enjoying and still have fun occasionally eating at. Myself, Blue, Rocket, Legs, and Santa, of course followed by the four-legged Naila, made our way to the restaurant and got a booth. We ordered quite a bit of food, and would spend nearly two hours sitting around the table laughing and joking, being stared at by other customers as we went along. I think our wardrobe, general appearances, and arriving with large backpacks that were nearly lined up on a bench outside were the catalysts behind the staring, but we had fun regardless and didn't think twice of it. I personally ordered a croc of clam chowder, boneless buffalo wings, a bacon cheeseburger, and an ice cream... I've got to get protein in somewhere! Lunch was delicious, and after splitting the bill up for everyone in the group, we went outside and laid down on their grassy front lawn. Afraid of falling asleep, and knowing full well that we had nearly 2,500 more feet of elevation gain before reaching the shelter we were aiming for, I got up and put my pack on, ready to begin the walk back to the trail. Luckily Legs was able to get a hitch for us, and we were quickly delivered back to the trail by a local guy. 

The terrain from town literally just went up. Crossing over a set of railroad tracks and walking through a home's back yard where the Appalachian Trail has an easement of sorts up the driveway, we disappeared again into the forest. The first climb was 1,400 feet in elevation gain, done at a relatively slow speed. Rocket, despite being an exceptionally strong hiker, believes she's slower than the rest, so we put her in front to set the pace for the group to be one she was comfortable with. Eventually reaching the top of the first climb and crossing over a rock garden, the trail leveled off for a few miles before beginning to climb again. During the stretch of more level ground we officially crossed over the MA/VT state line, having completed the 11th state of the Appalachian Trail and entering into the 12th. What a feeling that is, and what a long way I've walked. We snapped some photos before carrying on, debating out loud between hiking 3 miles further to the next shelter or 10 miles further (with another 1,800 someodd feet in elevation gain) before deciding to stick to the original plan and go the longer distance. Our caravan moved on at a good pace, conversing about everything under the sun. We came up with a rotational game where one of us picked a conversation subject and each person had to tell a story that fell under the genre. We talked about previous relationships, work, and medical issues/broken bones as we went along. The beauty of hiking in a group like this with conversation is that you find yourself distracted from the large climbs. Before you know it you're at the summit of whatever peak was necessary to trudge over, and you're descending again.  It was at some point in here that we hiked over the 1,600 mile mark on the northbound hike of the Appalachian Trail. Time passed quickly by, and around 2000hrs we stopped for a break with a mere 2 miles left to go. Legs and I kept our break short and hiked on, as Naila had hiked faster than the group and was likely at the shelter already, having followed the scent of another hiker that has been in the same large group of people we've been with for the past week. Conversing about life, family, and 'the real world', the remaining mileage flew by. Despite the sun setting and the darkness in the woods due to tree cover, I followed her steps and didn't bother stopping to put my headlamp on.  We pulled into the Congdon shelter at shortly before 2100hrs, finding the shelter half full with section hikers who had been fast asleep for nearly 2 hours. Bear Bait, a guy who has hiked in and out of our group for a while, was also here with a fire blazing and Naila napping next to him. We quietly figured out sleeping arrangements, everyone wanting to be in the shelter due to the threat of rain. I skipped on dinner due to a full stomach left over from lunch, but sat around and talked with everyone as we each unpacked for the night. 

In what's becoming a bit of a comedic habit, everyone retired to their sleeping bags, each then pulling out headlamps and reading their respective books. I didn't get more than 10 pages further into mine before deciding I was tired and ready to sleep. Tomorrow we'll hike into Bennington, VT so that a few can get some resupply food, then hike on out of town, likely ending up with a 19 or so mile day. 

The 1,600th mile and the 12th state up the eastern seaboard on my 82nd day. Not bad for a long walk in the forest. 

Onward, upward, etc. 

Texaco