July 27, 2011 (Stealth Campsite to Glencliff, NH) Daily Miles: 23.9 – Total Miles: 1,782.6

A sunbeamy picture I took on the hike up Mount Smarts.

Another sunbeamy picture I took on the hike up Mount Smarts.

Shortly after sunrise we got up and discussed our plan for the day. At first we planned on making it a shorter day and hiking around 18 miles. However, we heard the weather was supposed get worse as the week went on so we decided to push 24 miles to a hostel in Glencliff, NH.

Our first challenge of the day was a big climb to the top of Mt. Smarts at 3,200 feet. The last five hundred feet of the climb were hand over hand, and it was pretty damn steep toward the end. In fact, some parts of the climb were nearly veritcal. We were all full of energy and able to push through the morning fog and make it to the peak. At the top of the mountain was The Fire Warden’s Cabin. It was a fully enclosed cabin with a fire tower. We climbed the firepower and took in the amazing view of the surrounding mountains. I snacked on some granola bars for breakfast and then we pushed North on the trail. Right after Mt. Smarts was another climb to the top of Mount Cube. Even though the elevation of Mt. Cube was only 2,900 feet, the slick rock and hand over hand climbing made it a pretty tough little climb. As we climbed to the top of the mountain we got some nice views through the trees. On the way down the mountain, it was more, steep, slick rock. The day became more and more grey as we continued to the Ore Hill shelter, where the water was supposedly tainted by heavy metals. Since we had hiked a challenging 16.3 miles, we decided to stop there for a nice, long break. At the shelter the was some chubby little hiker who was happily drinking the water from the tainted spring. When we told him that it might be full of heavy metals he replied,”It tastes fine to me!” and kept chugging. I was pretty confident the kid would be dead by morning from mercury poisoning. No big loss. While looking for the shelter log we found a huge pile of random food stacked in the corner. There was: oatmeal, peanut butter, dried milk, tortillas, and dried fruit, along with some nearly full fuel canisters. The rolly polly little hiker said a boy scout troop had come through and had to ditch most of their food because it was too heavy. As he talked to us I swore I could see the lead glistening on his lips. Derek, Jeremiah and I immediately began gorging ourselves on tortillas, dried fruit and everything else. To this day I sometimes have horrifying flashbacks where I am sitting crouched behind a rock gleefully shoveling handfuls of dry, raw oats into my disgusting face. Maybe it happened, maybe it was just a nightmare. I will never know.

I led the way as we left our feast and continued down the trail. Shortly after leaving the shelter we passed a bunch of ten year old boys out for a day hike with some adults. The adults told the kids to “step aside” so we could go ahead. I glared at them like an insane person as I went hiked past them. I got a kick out of it. Thinking back on it now, I had just eaten some food that I found in a rodent infested shelter on the recommendation from a rotund young man who’s brain was no doubt irreversibly addled from ingesting huge amounts heavy metal tainted water. I had also slept in the foundation of a destroyed factory the previous night. So, maybe I was actually insane. That’s probably why it was so easy to pull off the look! We pressed on to the road in Glencliff that lead to the Hiker’s Welcome Hostel, also known as Pack Rat’s place. The hostel was a short 0.5 mile walk down a windy rural road. The hostel was a shanty of a house and did not look too welcoming, but apparently it was a pretty popular spot to stop.

As we stepped inside, it took a second for our eyes to adjust to the dreary interior of the old house. Pack Rat’s name was well deserved, there was stuff everywhere. Right after we walked in the door, some rambling character brought us to the bunks we could sleep in for 10 bucks. They were stained and disgusting looking mattresses packed into a nasty room with about ten other bunks. I decided to camp on the lawn for free. After investigating the accommodations, I bought a couple of Royal Crown sodas and 2 Mama Celeste pizzas to enjoy for dinner. As we explored the back yard we were happy to find Canadian Tom, also known as Little Knee, was also staying at the hostel. He was trying to fit all the food he shipped to himself into his smallish backpack. It was good to see Tom and I always got a kick out of how frustrated he got with everything on the trail. The rest of the people who were there were party type hikers. They would hike a little and then hitch to different hostels to smoke weed drink. When we first got there, there were about 7 of them eating some huge, disgusting looking burgers they had delivered. They all stared blankly at us and talked nonsense. I was not impressed. After their dinner, the partiers went out to have a bonfire and sing the choruses to Jimmy Buffet and Bob Marley songs. Seriously. I stayed inside and watched The Big Lebowski with some friendly strangers. When the movie was over, I got inside my tent that was set up under a clothes line. I needed to get my rest, we had a big climb in the morning!

July 26, 2011 (Hanover, NH to Stealth Campsite) Daily Miles: 19.5 – Total Miles: 1,758.7

It took a while for me to wake up after a quiet night of sleep in my private, basement storage room. No one was awake in the frat house when we grabbed our bags and walked back to the street to find the next white blaze leading out of town. Back on the trail, we walked through the city streets of Hanover and took advantage of free coffee from the bookstore and a free bagel from the bagel shop. We had heard that there were a few places that offered these free breakfast items, so we were happy to partake. We followed the trail as it wound through the streets of town, then behind a small baseball field and back up into the woods. As usual, it was great to be back in the woods. Jeremiah, Derek and I spent most of the day hearing thunder and going in and out of quick rain showers.

The trail went up and over Moose Mountain, and Holt’s ledge. Both of them were rather small climbs, but having a bit of challenge in the day was great motivation to push forward. The gray day continued as we came out of the mountains and down to a gravel road. The AT continued North on the road for a good piece and went past “The Ice Cream Man’s House.” The four of us stopped there for free ice cream of course! I was a little disappointed when I found that it was just an ice-cream sandwich. But a free ice-cream sandwich after a sweaty day of hiking is still pretty amazing. On the old porch of the small house, we encountered a few other hikers enjoying their own ice-cream sandwiches. There was one loud mouth there critiquing everyone’s gear. I thought, “Gear? Is someone is seriously still talking about hiking gear?” I realized he must have been a weekender or local, because thru-hikers that had come from Georgia didn’t really discuss hiking gear anymore. After a few minutes of hanging out in front of the house, the Ice Cream Man’s wife came out and asked if anyone could try to get her dog out of the basement. The afternoon thunderstorms had scared the dog into the basement. It was so freaked out that it just sat at the bottom of the stairs wimpering. For some reason I volunteered to help. I think I just wanted to see what the inside of the house looked like. The inside of the house was shadowy, musty and full of crystal figurines, dusty paintings and fringed rugs. I was led to the basement door and I could see the large dog at the base of the stairs. For a minute, I stood there and said nothing. Then I started talking to the dog like it was a person. “Hey, its time to come up stairs” then I snapped my fingers and it happily trotted up the stairs. The ice cream man’s wife was so happy she started laughing like a crazy person. So I guess I earned my Dr. Doolittle merit badge that day.

When I went back outside, the loud guy was talking about a campsite he had built. The guy was very excited about it and told us it was right around the corner. Since it was close, we decided to go investigate the campsite. He was pretty proud of it, but as far as I could see it was shoddy pile of rocks as the “fire pit,” and that was pretty much it. There was no path to it, no clearing, benches or even large rocks to use as chairs. He told us about how it used to be a factory a hundred years ago. He pointed out the pieces of the foundation that were still visible through the underbrush. Suddenly the campsite that I had judged so harshly a few moments earlier became pretty interesting. The sun had already started to set, so everyone began making camp. The rain started to fall as soon as I put the rainfly on my tent. As I stowed my gear inside the tent I heard the loud dude ask if anyone wanted a soda. Damn right I did! For the next twenty minutes we all stood in the rain, telling stories and drinking Dr. Peppers in the 100 year old dilapidated foundation of a destroyed factory. When my soda was gone, I cooked my dinner while leaning out of my tent. After eating my Pasta Sides, I went right to sleep.

July 25, 2011 (West Hartford, VT to Hanover, NH) Daily Miles: 9.6 – Total Miles: 1,739.2

Our packs sat outside while we stuffed our faces in the diner.

 

In the morning, Big Bad Tom, Derek, Jeremiah and I woke up, broke camp and walked about 50 feet to a diner/convenience store. We didn’t have to resupply because we were hiking into the city Hanover, NH later that day. All four of us ate ridiculous amounts of breakfast and topped it off with mediocre diner coffee before hitting the trail.

Under grey skies, we hoisted on our packs and followed the white blazes down the sidewalk and back up into the forest. Big Bad Tom was a little behind, but we were all heading to Hanover with a loose plan to meet back up later in the day. The hiking went quickly and the sky grew darker throughout the day. A 1,100 foot climb was the largest obstacle we faced in the ten mile hike, but we hiked quickly to try beat the storm that was brewing. On the back side of the climb we descended out of the woods and onto the pavement in a quiet neighborhood. We followed the trail around the outskirts of the town and into Hanover, New Hampshire.

Me, looking back through a veil of grease into Vermont as I crossed into my 13th state.

 

In Hanover there were no hiker hostels. We weren’t opposed to staying in a motel, but they were all either super expensive or far from the trail. As we explored the streets, we heard through the grape vine that one of the frat houses at the college might let us stay in their basement for free. Derek, Jeremiah and I poked around academic buildings for a bit and eventually located the hiker friendly frat house. The rumor was true. The guys and girls were super friendly and offered up their basement to us. There was plenty of space and since we were the only ones staying there, it was pretty quiet. The basement was basically a huge storage room for pool tables, road signs and party stuff. After stashing my bag, I went upstairs and took a shower. I used some girly shampoo I found and when I left the bathroom, I smelled like a field of daisies. Once everyone had cleaned up a bit, we went and got some pizza and beer at restaurant around the corner. I can’t say if the pizza was good because I ate it so quickly, but it was satisfying to sit and sip a nice frosty brew.

A photo of my jacked up old hiking poles before I retired them.

 

After eating, I went to a small outfitter and bought some new trekking poles. The poles I had been using up to that point were cheap and had reached the end of their life. Walking 1,700 miles of rocky trail had actually broken off the tips and worn them down a couple of inches. I picked out some nice Leki poles to replace the ridiculous ones I had been using. They were about 90 dollars, but I figured it was worth the money to save my knees on the steep descents I would be facing in the White Mountains.

Our room for the night. Not a real hostel, but free, quiet and dry was all we needed.

 

In the afternoon as we walked around the city the rain started to fall. We resupplied at a small grocery store and did our laundry at a retirement home. As we waited for the dryer to finish I sat in the basement and read part of a ridiculous romance novel. With all of our chores done, we decided we needed some additonal food and entertainment. We ate at an expensive burger place that claimed the best burger in the country. It was pretty good I suppose. For our entertainment, we watched one of the Harry Potter movies at a local theatre. I don’t remember which one we saw but I think it was “Harry Potter and the Chalice of Melancholy, Part 3.” With our bellies stuffed and a our brains full of wizards and magical stuff, we went back to the frat house to settle in for the night. The basement was cool and quiet. Just before we were about to go to bed, Jeremiah started watching “The Edge” on his iPhone. Naturally, I had to stay up and watch it with him. After the movie, I found a little side room in the basement and set up “camp” on a long wooden bench. I was very comfortable.

July 24, 2011 (Stoney Brook Shelter to West Hartford, VT) Daily Miles: 26.5 – Total Miles: 1,729.6

Near a road crossing we came to some interesting trail magic. Tethered to a tree we found a mesh bag full of sodas submerged in the creek to keep them cold. There was even a Coca Cola sign nailed to the tree on the left.

Fueled on Pop Tarts, the day started pretty well. I could tell by the early morning temperature that it was going to be another warm day. The trail wound down off the mountains and through some fields. Most of the water we encountered in the morning was from runoff streams that were pretty gross looking. Jeremiah, Derek and I ended up hiking pretty closely together for most of the day. Around noon we crossed a huge hay field and came to a small, rural road. At the road crossing there was store that sold organic ice cream and meats. Having an unscheduled ice cream break was just what we needed on that hot, July day. As we came out of the store, Big Bad Tom appeared on the side of the road. The four of us all sat at the picnic table and took a leisurely thirty minute break in the shade. Tom informed us about a guy in West Hartford who would let you camp on his lawn for free. Even though it was a good piece of intelligence, it would have required us to push past our initial 21 mile goal by almost six miles. With the challenging terrain we were hiking over, 21 miles was a the high end of what seemed reasonable.

After our break we still had about ten miles to go to reach our goal of a 21 mile day to the Thistle Hill Shelter. The sugar rush from the ice cream helped propel me straight up the super steep hill that was immediately on the other side of the road from the store. For most of the afternoon we went up and over large oak and pine tree covered hills and through some large fields. We started to notice large sections of plastic tubing between maple trees that was for the collection of sap to make maple syrup. Around 3pm we came to something called The Lookout. It was a boarded up two story cabin with a huge fireplace and a wrap around porch. The bottom story was pretty well secured, but from the second story deck we could access the interior. There was nothing inside the cabin, but the views from the deck were awesome. We all snapped some photos and enjoyed the view for a few minutes before continuing North on the trail.

A nice view from the top of the hill where we found all the raspberry bushes.

An hour or so later, we climbed huge hill with hundreds of raspberry bushes at the top and amazing views of rolling farms. None of us really stopped at the top of the hill, we just slowed to a crawl as we ate as many raspberries as we could. At 5pm we rolled into the Thistle Hill Shelter and set down our gear. I refilled my water and used the privy. For the next few minutes, Derek, Jeremiah and myself sat on the edge of the shelter and discussed the situation. We talked about the possibility of hiking another 5.5 miles to West Hartford to find the house Big Bad Tom had told us about. That is why I enjoyed hiking with those guys. Everyone was usually on the same page and we were usually willing to push ourselves to the limit. Just as the three of us decided we were going to go for it, Big Bad Tom rolled in to camp. We told him about our plan, he was exhausted but decided to join us anyway. The four of us hoisted on our gear and continued over the hill. The sun was just starting to set as we went some good sized hills covered with tall grass. The cool evening air, the awesome sky colors and the sense of adventure, within and adventure put us all in a good mood. After a mile or two of hiking through the high grass in the golden sunset, we began our descent back into the forest. The warm colors began to fade as the sun started to go away, and we found ourselves moving through a shadowy, eerily quiet forest. We hiked quickly for next couple of miles until, with just a hint of light in the sky, we emerged at the edge of a suburban mountain town. We followed the white blazes on telephone poles down the sidewalk to the house where we could camp. As we moved into the back yard, we set off the motion sensing lights and immediately a middle aged couple was at the back door. They were extremely friendly people and basically said we could camp anywhere we wanted. Since it was dark, I just set up my tent in the middle of the grass. There was a southbounder on the edge of the yard who said he had been there for a week waiting for a package to arrive. I hoped there was more in that package than just a food drop. Everyone set up their camps. Some of the guys just had some snacks and went to bed, but I cooked a full dinner. I had just hiked 27 miles and I was starving. After dinner I asleep quickly, but woke up in the middle of the night when a trail went rumbling by a hundred feet from where I was sleeping.

July 23, 2011 (Cooper Lodge Shelter to Stoney Brook Shelter) Daily Miles: 16.3 – Total Miles: 1,703.1

The morning descent off Mount Killington

The bright, warm sun on my tent woke me up pretty early. When I poked my head out of my tent I found Jeremiah and Derek were already taking down their hammock tents. After some quick breakfast, the three of us began the descent off Mount Killington as we continued North on the trail. I always hated big descents. They were slow, hard on the knees and dangerous. That being said, coming down off Mount Killington wasn’t too much of a challenge. I led the way at first, and the amount of spider webs was incredible. I couldn’t take one step without my whole head being thrown into the net. It was pretty annoying, especially first thing in the morning. For the first couple of miles, the three of us traded off web breaker duties. Finally about an hour into the hike we passed a weekender coming in the opposite direction. We all gave a very bright and pleasant, “Hello!” to the other hiker. Seeing them meant that they had broken all the morning spider webs for us.

It was another clear warm day and we were all thankful for it. We hiked about seven miles in the morning to a side trail that lead to a road. The plan was to hitch into Rutland, VT, resupply and hitch back to the trail. Unfortunately the trail went straight down for a half mile to where the road crossed. That meant a steep climb down and a tough climb back up once our packs were full of heavy food. After coming down out of the woods we were pleased to discover an Irish pub right where the trail met the road. All three of us knew we would be back to investigate, but first we had work to do. We got a fast hitch into Rutland in the back of a pickup truck. The dude dropped us right in the middle of town. We quickly found a Walmart and restocked our food bags for the next few days. While organizing our supplies, we heard of a bus that would drop us back at the trailhead for two bucks. As soon as the bus dropped us off we went into the irish pub for some food and beers. I got a hot pastrami and swiss sandwich on rye and a couple of dark beers. It was relaxing to just sit with some friends and have a beer. Because long distance hiking was always about going for a few more miles and pushing your body and mind to the limit, just enjoying a sandwich and some brews felt awesome.

After lunch at the pub, we hit the trail to do nine more miles to the Stoney Brook shelter. While climbing back up the side trail, we passed Tigger coming the opposite way. Tigger was very excited about the irish pub. He said he was going to get wasted and sleep at the inn next to the pub. A half mile after reaching the top of the ridge we came to the Long Trail/A.T. split. It was all Appalachian Trail from there to Maine. Just past the sign, I stopped for a break and the brothers went ahead and disappeared into the forest. The heavy lunch was slowing my pace a little. In the late afternoon, the trail went through a big camping park and along the edge of a resort. While skirting along the back of the resort, I stopped and took a break to see the very end of a wedding ceremony. I clapped and screamed super loudly when the bride and groom kissed. It was funny to see people glaring at some shadowy hobo violently clapping and then immediately melting back into the trees.

With the mid summer sun still high in the sky, I came to the only real climb of the day. My trail guide showed it as a fairly standard 800 foot ascent to the top of Mount Quimby. At only 2,500 feet, Mount Quimby was more of a hill than a mountain. That little random hill turned into one of the most frustrating climbs of the trail for me. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the thick irish beer in my veins, maybe it was the false peaks or the just the stupid name of the mountain, but it seemed like the universe was against me. I was still hiking by myself for the most part, so when I got frustrated there was no one to complain to, it was just me alone in the woods. The heat felt oppressive, and every time I thought I was near the top of the mountain, I would put the pedal to the metal only to find that I wasn’t quite there yet. This happened five or six times. I stopped more than once and had my own personal freakout session on the side of a stupidly named hill in the middle of no where. On the last false peak, I caught back up with Derek and Jeremiah. When I complained to the them, they told me they had experienced the same frustrations I had. Jeremiah came up with a strategy of listening to crazy Irish music to match Guinness in his blood stream. He told me that once he implemented that strategy, Mount Quimby became his bitch. While he was strategizing and destroying, I felt like a frustrated, sweaty little worm, angrily slithering my way to top. Finally we made it to the top and to the Stoney Brook shelter. There were about 4 people at the shelter when we arrived. I found a sweet spot behind the shelter to set up my tent. With everything in place, I made dinner by the fire pit. Big Bad Tom was there with a few others I didn’t recognize. It was another crazy day on the trail!

July 22, 2011 (Greenwall Shelter to Cooper Lodge Shelter) Daily Miles: 18.9 – Total Miles: 1,686.8

My goal for the day was to do 18.9 miles from the Greenwall Shelter to top of Mount Killington and and the Cooper Lodge Shelter. Getting an early start, Derek, Jeremiah and I set off from camp together. Even though it was still very early in the morning, the temperature was already starting to creep up into the mid 80’s. The first climb of the day was a hike up and over the 2,247 foot high Bear Mountain. If I had a nickel for every “Bear Mountain” or “Brushy Mountain” I summited on my thru-hike, I would have about 45 cents. Shortly after the top of the mountain we crossed a highway and decided to stop for lunch at a restaurant that was only a half mile from the trail crossing. As long distance hikers were were always ready to eat, but the chance of sitting in an air conditioned restaurant was more of a motivator. The three of walked down the the sweltering highway and eventually came to “The Whistle Stop Restaurant.” The diner was a strange train styled shanty standing all by itself on a desolate highway. We breezed through the door and plopped down at a cramped table. It was a dark dining room featuring mismatched furniture, greasy wood panelling and desperation. We were not too surprised to learn that they were out of most of the menu items. I ended up ordering the blue plate chicken dinner special. It was sufficient but not sublime. The three of us were joined in the cozy dining room by two other thru-hikers, Tigger and Big Bad Tom. Tigger was laughing and joking as he ordered beer after beer. Tom and Tigger were both solid characters and we all enjoyed our little break in the dank little restaurant. Although I was tempted, I wasn’t in the mood for beer. I knew how tired I could get in the hot sun after a few frosty cervezas.

When our meals were finished we sipped our drinks and enjoyed a little more interior, conditioned air. As we were getting ready to leave, a nervous little southbound popped into the diner. He went by the name of Crazy Feet. All Crazy Feet sat in the corner looking shifty and talking about how we needed to have Vibram Five Finger shoes to cross the rivers in Maine. He was a nice guy, but he just kept talking and talking. At one point he said, “You guys have the hardest part of the trail in front of you.” To which Jeremiah said,”Maybe. But you have hundreds and hundreds of miles of absolutely nothing in front of you.” I really enjoyed that response.

Concluding our drawn out lunch, we got some ice cream and walked back to the trail. As we approached the trail crossing we were all amused to see Big Bad Tom climb out of the back of a car. He hitched the half mile back to the trail rather than walking it. I wouldn’t have done it, but I had to respect it. When we got to the woods, we were treated to a picturesque little section of trail. The white blazes tracked right next to a fast flowing little river for a couple of miles. I was in relaxed kind of mood, the trail wasn’t difficult so I took my time. By the mid afternoon, Derek and Jeremiah had passed me and were long gone.

A great trail magic sight on a sweltering day.

After the river section, the trail turned into he forest and started to climb again. As I rounded a sharp bend something caught my eye. It was trail magic, and someone had gone all out. There was a cooler, a plastic patio chair and a wooden sign screwed to a tree that said “Katahdin 500 Miles” The cooler was full of ice cold sodas! I sat on the chair and slowly sipped my frosty root beer. My mind was in a weird place. Reading the sign I thought, “Wow that’s great, only five hundred miles to go.” Then I took a minute to think about how crazy that thought was. I had only five hundred miles of mountains to hike over to reach my goal. There was no way I was going to get to Katahdin by sitting in a plastic chair drinking Mug Root Beer. It was time to motor.

Immediately after the trail magic break, the climb up Mount Killington began. The summit of Mount Killington was just under 4,000 feet, but it was a serious 2,500 foot climb from the elevation where I stood. The incline of the trail gradually increased as I powered through the oppressive heat. Rounding a corner, I saw a building appear through the trees. It was the Governor Clement Shelter. The building was a substantial masonry structure complete with fireplace. There were some ratty looking southbounders lurking the back of the shelter. I could see their beady little eyes and smell the freshness of their gear from 30 feet away. I couldn’t blame them for sitting in the shade because it was still extremely hot outside. Taking a break, I sat with them for a bit in the shade. None of them talked very much, so I decided to get moving. During my break, I had some water and ate a snack to give me some energy for the big incline.

Sweaty self on the summit of Mount Killington.

The climb up Killington was one of those climbs where I just went and went without stopping. The steeper it got, the faster I hiked. I found my rhythm and just marched up the trail. Eventually the dirt road ended and the trail began to skirt around the mountain through a thick, pine forest. Even though I had to navigate a bunch of downed trees, I was thankful to be in the cooler shade. The higher up the mountain I got, the cooler the air became. Approaching the summit, the hike became a classic rock scramble. Overall, it was a challenging and beautiful climb. I was in good spirits when I reached the summit and saw the outline of Cooper Lodge Shelter appear through the trees. Surrounding the shelter were short pine trees and rocks covered with thick moss. Those types of alpine areas always reminded me of a movie set. While looking for a place to set up camp, I reconnected my buddies and met an old man who was trying to reclaim his record as the oldest man to hike the trail. I wished him luck, but he did not look like he was enjoying himself. Cooper Lodge Shelter was fully enclosed, and made of massive rocks. Although it was an impressive building, I decided to set up on a nearby tent platform instead of sleeping in the shelter. Jeremiah and Derek pointed out a side trail that went right up to the very peak of the mountain. My adrenaline was still pumping from the climb, so scurried up to investigate. At the very top of the peak was a cell tower and some ski lift equipment, but the view was amazing. The sun was setting and the sky was full of amazing colors. To the North I could see large mountains colored pink and orange by the sunset. That was where I was going next. It was insane. The mountains looked so massive and far away. The challenge was intoxicating. When it got darker, I scrambled back down to the shelter made some hot chow and climbed in my tent. There were some teenage girls on the tent platform next to me. So I deployed my earplugs in anticipation of late night giggling. I was asleep in a few minutes.

The cell tower at the summit of Mount Killington.

Some pretty sunset colors at the summit of Mount Killington.

July 21, 2011 (Manchester Center, VT to Greenwall Shelter) Daily Miles: 24.6 – Total Miles: 1,667.9

An awesome lake where we stopped for dinner and an evening swim.

In the morning, Derek and Jeremiah (the two brothers from Florida) and I decided to leave for the trail at 7:00am. The guy who owned the hostel drove us right to the trail head so we could hiking right away. It was another beautiful sunny day. Immediately after getting back into the woods we faced good climb up to the top of Bromley Mountain at 3,260 feet. As soon as I hit the trail I felt strong and ready to hike big miles. Only about ten minutes into my day, my stomach started gurgling. Stuffing my face with junk food the previous day had caught up with me and my body was trying to reject the poison. At first I thought about looking for a nice spot to “dig a hole.” However, my body decided it could not wait,and the situation became critical. I dropped my pack and dashed behind a tree. With sweat dripping down my face I dug a quick hole and did my business. After exorcising the demons, I felt back to my old self.

At the top of the mountain I reconvened with Derek and Jeremiah. Bromley mountain was apparently a ski mountain in the winter. The three of us took a hydration break as we inspected the area. Aside from the chair lift and other mechanical equipment, there was a strange warming house filled with abandoned ski equipment. I guess we could have taken something, but we were thru-hikers and extra weight was always the enemy. It was all a bunch of old junk anyway. We finished our break and continued along the ridge. For the next few miles we kept encountering eager south bounders asking about the “alpine slide.” We had no idea what they were talking about. In one instance when someone asked me about it, I just stared at them blankly and walked into the woods.

The three of us hiked at a similar speed, so for the rest of the afternoon we were not far apart. Coming off the ridge we happened upon a flooded section of trail with random floating bog boards. At first I tried to just stroll across the moldy old boards, but it quickly turned into a backwoods “Legends of the Hidden Temple” situation. At first it seemed to be alright, but every third or forth board would sink into the muddy water. We had to be creative to get around the swampy muck. The sun was still high in the sky when we came to the shelter where we had planned to camp. After a quick conversation, we all decided to press on another 8 miles to the next shelter. We were motivated and the weather was gorgeous, so the decision to move on was not a hard one. Around dinner time we came to a small side trail that led to a huge lake. The area was gorgeous, but there was a fee for camping. All of us decided that paying to camp was silly, so we just ate dinner and went for a swim. With our stomachs full of Rice Sides and Snickers bars we found the next white blaze and pushed forward as the sun started to set.

Jeremiah (left) and Derek (right) investigating the piles of white rocks at the top of Bear Mountain.

 

After about 30 minutes of hiking we encountered a guy going South and asked him how far it was to the shelter. He thought for a second and answered, “Its about a mile.” That was great news, because none of us wanted to hike in the dark. We continued through the darkening forest to the top of Bear Mountain. The top of the mountain was covered with tall white pines. Seeing the orange of the sunset through the massive trees was an excellent sight. After the top of the mountain was an area where hundreds of white rocks were arranged in piles and sculptures. The whole area would have been interesting during the day, but in the fading light the whole forest felt very eerie. As we marched down the mountain a small shelter appeared through the pine trees. The guy who told us it was “about a mile” to the shelter was off by about 300%. It was at least three miles, but we were just happy to be there. The shelter was full, so I just walked around in the dark and felt for a flat spot to set up my tent. Its as the end of a long day I just wanted to rest, refill my water and hit the sack. The water source for the shelter was interesting. It was just a trickle coming down the rocks. To find the trickle you had to walk back up the side trail and listen very carefully for the sound of water. After following the sound, you had to find where someone had put a leaf to help direct the tiny, dribbling, stream. During the day it would have been a challenge, but at night it was twice as hard. I found it, filled my water for the next day, treated it and hit the hay. I was out like a light.

July 20, 2011 (Spruce Peak Shelter to Manchester Center, VT) Daily Miles: 2.8 – Total Miles: 1,643.3

The birds chirping woke me up at 7am. I was in a great mood because I knew I only had to hike 2.8 miles into town that day. Having a short morning hike into town for a nero or zero was one of the greatest feelings in the world. It was the closest thing to coming downstairs on Christmas morning that I have felt as an adult. I quickly packed up my gear and found the first white blaze. The trail climbed up to the top of a tree covered peak and then down to the notch where the highway cut through the mountains. Near the top of the small peak, I tore the crotch on my pants while stepping over a downed tree. I was not happy to have split my pants, but I knew there was an outfitter in town where I could by new ones. So I just enjoyed the breezes on my undercarriage and kept on trekking.

Coming off the top of the mountain I started to hear the noise of the road through the trees. When I got to the pavement, I crossed the street and started to hitch. It was not the ideal area to get a ride because the road had a blind turn where the cars would come around at about 50 miles an hour. In order for them to have stop, they would have had to slam on their brakes. Since there was no shoulder to walk on, the best plan was to stay at that spot for a while and hope somebody was going slow enough to stop. Twenty minutes after I stuck my thumb out, a guy in an old Toyota Land Cruiser stopped and I jumped in the front seat. The rusty old truck was packed with fishing gear, and the exhaust made a loud rumble as we pulled back into traffic. The guy was very talkative and strong opinions local politics. I just agreed with his ramblings and laughed at his jokes. Suddenly the conversation took a strange turn when he started to talk about his family and his ex-wife. It was funny how much information people wanted to unload on a hitchhiker. I was fine with people unloading their thoughts into my head. I was always just grateful they weren’t a murderous maniac unloading a revolver into my head.

Since I had some errands to run, I had the guy drop me off right in the middle of downtown. Although it always felt like nice break from hiking, stopping in town was usually quite a chore. My first order of business was to resupply. I hit the local supermarket and got some food for the next few days. As I came out of the store, I met some south bounders who were milling around outside. They were a friendly group and the lead dude told me they were also headed to the Green Mountain House for the night. I told them I needed to get my breakfast on and said I would see them later. As I walked toward the main drag, a guy in a brand new looking truck stopped me. He said that he was the owner of the Green Mountain House and offered to take my pack to the hostel so I could finish my errands. Normally, I would have said to him, “Thanks chief, but you can pry my pack from my cold, dead claws.” But the situation it seemed legit. There were other hikers in the truck, and when I heard his voice, I knew he was the guy I spoke with the day prior.

Without my pack, I floated down the sidewalk and into the Eastern Mountain Sports. I headed straight for the pants and replaced the ones I had torn earlier that morning. I also bought some fuel for my stove (I figured a big canister would get me through the White Mountains of New Hampshire.) With my shopping done, I went and got some breakfast at a small, hidden little diner. I sat at the counter and enjoyed some orange juice and a pile of bacon and eggs. For “dessert” I had a huge corn muffin that was grilled on the flat top, and about 4 cups of coffee. It was great to just sit and enjoy my breakfast without the spectre of another day of hiking hanging over my head. Seeing what I did to that breakfast must have horrified the locals.  With a full belly, I wandered through some bookstores and went back to the Eastern Mountain Sports to get some more Super Feet insoles. I figured if I bought one more pair and saved them until the right time, they would last me until the end of the trail. Shortly after leaving the store, I met back up with the guy from the Green Mountain House and he drove me back to the hostel.

The legends were true! The hostel was beautiful. It was basically a brand new house, with two bathrooms, a full kitchen, laundry facilities and a big screen TV. And all of it was at our disposal for just 20 dollars! Plus, everyone got a free pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. I took a shower and poured myself a glass of soda. Sitting on the front porch, I saw some familiar faces arrive. I didn’t know the brothers from Florida too well, but they were good guys and I was happy to see someone I knew. We traded some stories and then we all watched Star Trek before hitting the hay.

July 19, 2011 (Story Spring Shelter to Spruce Peak Shelter) Daily Miles: 18.3 – Total Miles: 1,640.5)

I slept great. The soft grass nest I made under my tent worked well as a mattress. The comfy ground combined with the cool weather caused me to sleep past 9am. Completely out of character, I lazily packed up camp and then went over to the picnic table to observe the weekenders in their natural habitat. There was one couple who were cooking pancakes and sausages in a frying pan over a gas flame. I never understood why someone would want to bring all that heavy equipment into the woods, but I figured, people will just do what makes them happy. That was the funny part. I watched them struggling with their camping kitchen equipment, fully sized coffee pot and other strange things, but they seemed frustrated and angered by it all. I jammed a couple of granola bars into my face and hiked on down the trail in the warm sun. The whole day was focused around a rather large climb up to the top of Stratton Mountain at nearly 4,000 feet. I felt rested and strong, so the hiking was pretty enjoyable. Since I got a late start, some other poor sap had already broken all the morning spiderwebs that criss cross the trail. I reached the top of the mountain by late morning and decided to take a quick break. Stratton Mountain was beautiful, and I was really enjoying the Vermont section of the A.T. At the top of the mountain there was a look out tower and a small utility shed. While chugging some water I flipped through my trail guide. 13.6 miles from where I sat on the summit of the mountain was a road that led to Manchester Center Vermont. In Manchester Center was The Green Mountain House Hostel. From everything I had read, and all of the people I had talked to, The Green Mountain House was one of the best hostels on the trail. I took stock of my situation. I was rested, (reasonably) clean, and I had enough food to last a few more days. I really wasn’t in need of a stay in a hostel. While I was contemplating my situation, I decided to call Courtney. Talking with her always helped clear the cobwebs from my brain and sharpen my resolve.

A photo of the utility shed near the top of Stratton Mountain. Did I get a shot of the beautiful view of the valley? No, but here’s a utility shed.

After talking with Courtney, I decided to call the hostel to see if they had any room. They said they would take me the next night. So my plan was to hike 13.6 miles to the shelter and then in the morning, hike three miles to the road and hitch into town. As I hiked off the mountain, the trail came to an old dirt road that skirted the side of the mountain. The weather was clear, so as I hiked down the mountain, I could catch glimpses of a small town in the valley bellow. In the mid afternoon I passed The Caped Crusader who said, he was going to take the road all the way to town and go to the hostel that night. I didn’t know The Caped Crusader too well, but he was a friendly dude with an awesome trail name, so he was good in my book. As followed the white blazes, the book indicated a scenic over look right before the trail turned back up into the woods. I found the overlook side trail and about 25 feet down was a rather spectacular overlook of the surrounding mountains and the town below. I could see there was some places where people had camped and even a couple of little fire rings. I was still 3 miles away from my shelter goal, and I debated whether to camp on this beautiful ledge and hike six miles the next day. It would have made my morning hike only a 2.5 hour day and still nearly a zero. As I considered my options, I became dissuaded by what looked like fresh tire tracks on the road. I wasn’t scared of people or anything, but I knew it would affect the quality of my sleep just thinking about cars driving up the mountain, so I decided to press on. I got the spruce peak shelter around 4 pm. It was really neat looking structure. The building was fully enclosed and it had a wood stove and bunk style sleeping areas. The inside was dank, and I could see bugs crawling around on the floor, so I decided to tent it.

A trail in front of the shelter led to an area where it looked like space was being cleared for a new shelter, or possibly a bunch of tent platforms. There was one tent platform, so I set up there. I thought I would be the only one at the shelter that evening. I put on my mosquito proof gear, (Baseball cap, long pants, rain jacket with hood pulled up and gloves). I filled up my water bottles at the piped spring, just 50 or so yards from the shelter. As I was getting situated, I saw some people coming up the trail toward the shelter. It was the Caped Crusader friends (as I called them).When I was hiking with Seth and Freight Train, we got some sideways looks from them, but when I met up with them in Massachusetts they seemed like good people. I told them about where there were more good tent sites, and they set up their gear. As the sun started to set we all sat a the picnic table and made dinner. I told them about how I ran into The Caped Crusader about three miles back. They told me about how he got his trail name. Apparently he carries around a cape that he sewed himself and plans on wearing it up Khatahdin when he finally makes it to the end of the trail. They talked about him like it was childish Idea. I was actually jealous of it. I cooked my rice side and made my way to my tent to escape the mosquitoes.

July 18, 2011 (Congdon Shelter to Story Spring Shelter) Daily Miles: 23.3 – Total Miles: 1,622.2

A nice view in the afternoon after the storm passed.

I slept pretty well in my strange little spot next to the trail. When I poked my greasy head out of the tent, the air was warm and the sky was gray. A storm was definitely on its way. I packed up my campsite in about 5 minutes and jammed a pop tart in my mouth as I started trekking into the dark, green forest. I could hear thunder for about an hour before it started to rain. I put my rain jacket on and continued to trudge forward. The trail became extremely muddy. Slipping and sliding over moss covered rocks and slick roots kept me on my toes. Even after hiking through 13 states in four months, the rain still stirred up some fear in me. Fear of trench foot, fear of slipping and injuring myself, fear of soaked gear and hypothermia. But as Gene Wilder said in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, “You cant go back. You have to go forward to go back. Better press on.”

After a small dip in the morning, the hike was a long 2,200 foot climb to the Goddard Shelter, near the summit of Glasterbury Mountain. It rained all day, my feet were wet and I was sweating inside my rain jacket. With 15 soggy miles behind me for the day, suddenly the canopy opened up and I spotted the Goddard Shelter perched on the edge of a cliff. As I approached the small, three walled structure, I could see there were a few people sitting in the shelter. They were waiting out the storm and talking loudly. I knew some of them in passing, but none of them really knew me. I was just happy to sit and hang up my jacket to dry a bit. The topic of conversation quickly turned to gear. I thought it was pretty funny to hear thru-hikers still talking about gear. Near the beginning of the trail there was a lot of comparing of gear, and discussing the benefits of certain tents, jackets or boots. As the weeks on the trail turned into months, everything that could have been said about hiking gear had been said. I listened to the conversation and dined on some peanut m&ms. 15 minutes into my break, the rain stopped and it felt like it was time to get going again.

A few hours and a few small climbs later, I reached the Story Spring Shelter after having hiked 23.3 miles for the day. It was late afternoon, and the rain had been replaced by warm sunshine. There were about 8 or 9 people camping in and around the shelter area. I saw a few familiar faces, but again, I don’t think anyone knew me. It was fun to meet new people and then never have to see them again. 50 yards behind the shelter, I found a flat, grassy spot to set up my tent. With my camp all squared away, I went to the picnic table, where I ate a spicy Korean ramen and washed it down with a Snickers bar. The people camping there were mostly short distance hikers out for the weekend. I could tell they weren’t thru-hikers because their eyes were filled with hope and joy. After dinner, I went to bed with the sun still out and fell asleep quickly on the soft ground.