Category: 2018 Appalachian Trail

We tried to sleep in, but it’s just not possible when our bodies are dialed into rising at 6:30.  We did make it until almost 7 with Bunny being the last up. Jeff had told us that two could stay in the house where they were and two had to move to the overflow room in the barn. I knew I was first out since I was the youngest (I still haven’t gotten used to eating at the adult table at Thanksgiving and Christmas) but there were questions as to who would be exiled with me. Bunny volunteered to go with me. 

There was a good movie, “Journey,” that we watched about the AT before heading into town for lunch. It really revived us and made us want to hike more (good thing since we’ve still got 540 miles to go). It was fun to see some people we know on the big screen. The movie was made just 2 years ago. 

After the movie, we got Duffie to take us to town so we could get lunch at Cilantros.  We swung back by the outfitter to get some advice about some foot issues I’ve been having. My right heel has been bothering me after 8-10 miles of walking. He was a little nicer than Bunny, but, basically said the same thing—“suck it up, buttercup. Rub your foot a little and stretch.”

Sassy and Bunny went back to the grocery store to buy steaks and fixings for supper. When we got back to the hostel, Sassy and Bear made supper while I worked my fingers to bone blogging. Overall, we had an enjoyable, laid back day off of hiking. After a zero day, we are usually ready to get back on the trail. I just wish Bunny would quit saying she wants to be done. 

EFG

Our group of 5 shared the cabin with a couple who have shown open disdain for us. I don’t know what we have done to merit their looks of hatred. Bear has even tried to get them to smile before. The last time we saw them was at the shelter of shame the day before yesterday. I had bet that they were going to get up at 4a and make as much noise as possible since they were already in bed when we arrived at 7:30 last night. 

I had terrible cramps in the middle of the night. I was so crammed in to the corner that there was no way I could get out to stand up. I writhed around in pain for what seemed like hours until they calmed down. To Bunny’s credit, she didn’t yell at me and tell me I was keeping her awake like she did in Scotland. Add in 3 or 4 middle of the night perimeter checks and I was not ready to get up when Bear was first up. 

I was mildly motivated to get to town today. We already had reservations for the night, but the earliest we can arrive is 1. That left us plenty of time to walk the 3 miles in, hitch a ride, eat lunch, and do a little shopping before calling for a ride. I was hoping to sleep in a bit this morning. To my surprise, the Mongrel-like couple were still in bed. Maybe it’s not us they hate, but life in general. 

It was a quick walk to the highway. We had set our selves up for a level to downhill stroll so each rise was an unpleasant experience. We met another hiker, Bumblebee, on the trail and talked with her a bit while hiking in.  She could come in handy at the road when we are trying to hitch a ride. I’m sure Bunny and Sassy can get the job done (women always get rides), but a younger woman will get faster results. (This is the analysis Bear provided me. I’ve seen Bunny get a car to change directions.)

Hugh (the Stratton Mountain caretaker) had told me getting a ride at the parking lot is easy.  I thought I’d try my luck right off the bat.  I borrowed the “Hiker to Town” sign and started sticking out my thumb. I got everyone else to stand further down the road. No luck.  I decided to show some skin by hiking my shorts a bit to show my pasty white thighs. This almost caused a traffic accident (and not in a good way). Cars started swerving into oncoming traffic to avoid me. Bear took me to the back of the parking lot to let the women shine. They got a ride in less than 5 minutes. We tried to get Chris to tell us which woman pulled him in, but he claimed to always pick up any hikers he sees. 

We all got dropped off at the grocery store. I didn’t have a good feeling about this because we were so hungry. We had a food shipment sent to the hostel, but couldn’t remember what we had in it. There was a very real danger we were  going to (and did) buy too much. I was upset that Bunny kept putting crap in the cart when I put better crap in. In the end, we kept all the crap and I knew I would end up suffering. Henceforth, only one of us will do the shopping (and it won’t be Bunny).

Now that we had about 20# of crap that we didn’t need, we decided to get some lunch. We are in pizza and burger overload so we looked for something different. We found a Thai place a few blocks away. We were a bit worried that it was too classy for dirty hikers but they never made us feel unwelcome. We did ask for a table away from everyone else to protect the innocent. 

What follows lunch? Bunny, Sassy, and Bear all demanded ice cream.  I tried to talk them into a nice, nondairy pastry, or even just skipping dessert altogether. I’ve never been one for sugary treats. They threatened my life, so I agreed to keep the peace. I even put up a good show of solidarity and ordered three scoops of ice cream to let them know there were no hard feelings. 

In the course of events, we also stopped by the outfitter to get fuel and a few other items before we called Jeff for a ride to the hostel. He gave us directions where to meet and said he’d be there in about 10 minutes. As soon as we got to the hostel, Bear and Sassy were ready to take a zero. I agreed when I saw the Ben and Jerry pints of ice cream for $1. I am a big enough man to not hold hard feelings about their threats to my well being. 

There’s a high percent chance of rain tomorrow and I will do whatever it takes to keep the peace. Even though we got all of our laundry and resupply done today, I will agree to a day of rest if only someone will be nice to me. Jeff was nice to everyone—close enough. 

EFG

We could clearly hear the ghosts from the crowd that Daniel Webster talked to in this clearing. It was kind of eerie until I realized they were not actually after us, but were merely bored with another long winded political speech.  The sounds of the crowd emanated from a single point. When I got up to pee, I was able to determine the exact center point of the crowd. As luck would have it, Bear and Sassy had set their tent up right on the spot. How they could sleep through the snoring sounds from the crowd, I’ll never know. 

Daniel Webster was a bit pompous and liked to make up words while he was giving speeches. His younger brother, Miriam, was so jealous of his older brother that he decided to write down and define every made up word his brother said trying to disgrace him. Instead, he stumbled upon a money maker of his own—the Miriam Webster Dictionary, complements of his older, pompous, ass of a brother. 

There was one other thru-hiker camped in the clearing last night and an RV.  The people in the RV loaned us a couple of chairs while we cooked. It’s amazing how a simple chair feels like a luxury after a few days out. The other thru-hiker was up and gone before we were stirring. We didn’t even hear her packing up.

We had the biggest climb we’ve faced since VA. It was a 1700’ climb up the side of Stratton Mountain. It was not bad at all but we were slightly worried since we’ve had it so easy for so long. Soon, (but not soon enough) we will be in the Whites which are considered to be the toughest climbing we will face on the AT (other than southern Maine). Just before the top, we ran into the caretakers, Jean and Hugh, who have had the job since 1968. For 50 years, they have spent their summers on Stratton Mountain offering assistance and sharing knowledge of the area. 

Stratton Mountain has played a significant role in the history of the area and the Appalachian Trail itself.  I’m sure everyone is well aware of The Devil and Daniel Webster.  After the Devil failed to get control of Daniel Webster, he was feeling a bit down. Instead of heading to Georgia to try to steal poor Johnny’s soul with a fiddle of gold, he headed to the top of Stratton Mountain (it was much closer and quicker to get to since this was horse and buggy days). It was here that the Devil met a young James Taylor. 

Yes, that James Taylor. Many people are not aware of his true age or the pact he made with the Devil. James Taylor is credited with coming up with the idea for the Long Trail running the length of Vermont from Massachusetts to Canada. The Devil made a 3 pronged pact with Mr Taylor assuring him long life, prosperity, and credit for creation of the Long Trail. The Devil assured him that he would take care of maintenance of the trail for all time. This is a proven fact that every thru-hiker can and will verify. 

In addition, the Devil promised him that he would make him famous and beloved to generations of fans around the world. All James had to do was meet the Devil every 2 years on the mountain for his “payment.”  The payment turned out to be music and lyrics for a new song each visit. As long as James kept his appointments, he would maintain his youth. It was on this very spot that James Taylor’s hits were passed on to him. Ironically, the first hit passed to him from the Devil was “You’ve got a Friend.”  The truth behind the meaning of this song caused me to have shivers down my spine. 

Little known, but still significant, the second song presented to James 4 years after the initial meeting was “Steam Roller.”  James became enraged demanding to know what in the hell a steam roller was.  The Devil assured him that one day, every hiker would wish that the GMC would breakdown and use one on the trail he was credited for creating. James kept his biennial meeting with the Devil until he decided it was time to garner the fame he had been promised and had been waiting for all these years. In 1970, he stopped visiting the Devil and began performing. He has since began to age normally. 

Another significant series of events happened on Stratton Mountain, these involving the “creator” of the Appalachian Trail—Benton MacKaye.  There’s a myth around Benton MacKaye very similar to Issac Newton and his inspiration for gravity. It involves an apple falling on his head—it never happened. There’s a similar myth that Benton MacKaye climbed to the top of the fire tower and was so inspired by his surroundings that he came up with the idea for the Appalachian Trail. Like the Apple story, it never happened. 

I have dug around and discovered the truth. This may be hard for Benton MacKaye fans to hear, but the truth must be told.  There is one part of the story that is true. It happened on the fire tower at the summit of Stratton Mountain. That’s the only true point. Here’s the rest of the story because enquiring minds want to know. 

Benton was a drunk. He had obtained a 12 pack of local beer and climbed the fire tower to tie one on.  While up there, he was looking around and saw a ski area to the north and one to the south. He was inspired…to build “the best ski development of all time” on Stratton Mountain. As he stumbled down the mountain, he gut stuck in the mud, tripped over his own feet, fell, hit his head on a rock, and concussed himself.  Fortunately, there was a group of hikers that witnessed his falling and tried to help him. 

They asked how he was and all he could get out was “Longer trail.”  What he was trying to say was “The Long Trail sucks and needs longer hours of maintenance devoted to it” but he was very lightheaded. He could see they didn’t understand him, so he tried something else. They heard “George” thinking he meant Georgia. The hikers had so far gotten “Longer Trail from Georgia” when Benton was merely asking them to call his brother, George, who usually took care of him when he was too drunk to walk.  

Benton gave up hope of being understood. He tried again, this time only getting out “Main” when he was trying to say “Mainly, I just need a way home to sleep this off.”  Instead, the hikers pieced the three utterances together to get “Longer trail from Georgia to Maine” and declared him a visionary. Benton had never excelled at much and liked the idea of being called a visionary and let it go at that.

The sad truth is that if Benton MacKaye had gotten his way, the Long Trail would be the preeminent trail in the country, well maintained, and dry. Plus, the biggest ski development in history would be centered on Stratton Mountain. Instead, the AT was created because of a 12 pack of beer, a muddy trail (which hasn’t changed in almost a century), and a concussion from a drunk falling on a rock.  It’s funny the way history works. 

After having lunch at the base of the Stratton Mountain fire tower and absorbing all the history of the area, we just wanted to take advantage of rare dry trail and nice weather. We still had almost 9 miles to walk to get to the cabin for the night. We walked by Stratton Pond Shelter and Stratton Pond on our way down the mountain.  We were motivated to make time while the trail was good. I was mega-motivated to make it to the privy at Stratton Pond Shelter since Daniel Webster gave his speech to 15,000 people without a privy nearby. 

We made it to the shelter with enough time to set up tents before dark. The only drawback was level spots were not to be found. We were forced to stay in the cabin.  Sassy is deathly afraid of mice running over her body in the night, so we all agreed drugs were needed. We were trying to figure out whether to drop them in her drink or grind them up in her food when she said “there’s no way in hell I’m staying in there without something. I’m taking some Benadryl.”  Problem solved. As always, the trail provides. 

EFG

We just about pulled a “Daniel” last night. We woke up before 6:30 to the sound of hikers walking past our tent. We had managed to follow Mud Bug (aka Patches Redux) through the woods and camp less than 3’ from the trail. In our defense, it was relatively flat and we did set up an entire camp.  

It is the smartest thing we have done, including Mud Bug in our group. No matter how slow or late we are in the morning, Mud Bug is there to make sure we are not the last ones to leave camp. We improved our starting time by a whopping 3 hours over yesterday, yet, if it weren’t for Mud Bug, we would have been last to leave at 9:15. 

It was a short, easy climb to the fire tower on Glastonbury Mountain. The views were pretty good, but nowhere near spectacular enough to make up for the trail getting here. I’m reminded of Bill Bryson’s quote about Australia: “There’s a lot of great sights in Australia, but there’s a lot of Australia between the sights.”  We need more sights to payback for the running streams known as a trail. Perhaps a bear fighting a moose might be a good down payment. 

As with any tough section of trail, fire tower or structure to climb, rock pile on mountain top, or rickety bridge to cross, Bunny is worried that it might fall with her on it. Bear told her that in New England, the standard safety factor applied is a factor of 2.5 to any posted limit. That means if the load says 4 persons on the tower at a time, then 10 can safely be on the tower. He was a NASA engineer and is not married to her, so, of course he is trustworthy (and quite full of privy matter), but he got to climb the tower.

I ran ahead with an unexpected benefit—the leaf litter on my boots was starting to dry and rain down on everyone below me. Leaf litter is to a hiker as stripper glitter is to a married man—a mark of shame to anyone not present but worthy of a knowing glance and smile from other hikers. Sassy was the largest beneficiary of my glitter. Since Bear was present, no shame needed. 

We continued on to Kid Gore Shelter to have a snack. Sassy has a strict guideline for people that hike with her that first snack is a minimum 1/4 of the way planned for the day and lunch cannot be eaten before half way. Of course there is one exception to this guideline; if SHE is hungry, to hell with the rules. 

We have already been hiking together for almost 9 days. Today, Sassy broke down and did what most women do within an hour of meeting me—fake a sickness to get away from me.  She was very insistent that I keep going, she really didn’t tell Bunny to keep going. To top it off, she even managed to dig into her emergency makeup stash and paint herself white. She was seriously wanting some space. I thought the leaf glitter looked good on her. 

It came to pass, as does all stomach viruses, that Sassy started expelling what sickness she had in her belly. There’s only two routes in and out with neither very pleasant for unplanned exits. She did not throw up anything. It was suggested that rather than run deep into the woods, she could just drop her load right in the trail. As long as she throws her tp off the trail, no one would notice another pile of crap in all this mud. If she was worried about detection, she could just step in it for good measure. I’m not sure if she took my advice, but I’m not going to touch her boots anytime soon.

The weather was the best we have had since crossing the border into this state. Bear quote: ”After a day of hiking in VT without rain and with nice weather, I forgive the trail maintenance workers in MA.” Could it be too little too late?  I will admit, Verdemort is my least favorite state so far. I’d rather crawl on my hands and knees in PA than do this state again. In the interest of full disclosure, I think PA was the easiest state overall and hikers have fallen into a mass hysteria and have convinced themselves that it was “rocky.” To those hikers I say “quit your whining you pussies” in the least condescending way possible. 

Even with a sunny day, we have taken to calling “Land Ho” if we spot a dry section of trail. Admittedly, we didn’t use that phrase much today. Verdemort has been kind enough to provide a trail level indicator rather waste time on trail maintenance. It’s very simple in its working, yet fool proof. If water is coming in your direction, you are walking uphill. If water is running in the same direction you are traveling, you are going downhill. If the water is not moving, you are on level ground. If you are standing on dry ground, there are two possibilities: 1) you are out of VT (the preferred option), or 2) you have taken a wrong turn and gotten off the AT. 

People come from all over the world to see the way not to maintain a trail. I’m not sure why the GMC doesn’t do a better job: maybe the membership is too old, maybe it’s apathy, maybe the membership is pissed that the AT is more popular than the Long Trail. Whatever the reason, I think it’s time for the ATC to get involved. I’ve hiked trails on 3 different continents and have never dealt with  a trail this poorly maintained before. I don’t expect dry, smooth trails (remember, I actually liked and defend PA), but water needs to be directed off of the trail. 

In an ironic circumstance, as Sassy lost weight, she gained sass once again. We were allowed to stop for a late lunch at the Story Spring Shelter where Bunny “we need to put in more miles” Tracks wanted to stop. It was at this point that a 70 year old wife of three slack packers passed us going south. The three of them were doing a 20 mile day and Bunny wanted to stop after 9.  We were shamed into continuing on.  

Prism had told us she was doing magic today at the road crossing we were heading towards. The average age of our group is 56 (with me being the youngest at 54, but it doesn’t really matter—I like old people.  That’s why I married one.), so we tend to move slowly. One of the things we are trying to prove is that the geriatric crowd can handle long distance hiking.  Even so, we were too late for magic.  We just filtered water then headed down the road to the Daniel Webster monument to camp for the night. 

Mud Bug caught up with us as we were filtering water, so the four of them tried to ditch me and headed to the field without me. They were even so kind as to tell me to go left while I was down at the river and couldn’t see which way they went. There I was, left all alone under a bridge next to a raging river without a map. Mommy, help!  I took my best guess and started down the road. Bunny got a pinge of guilt and came out to the road to guide me in (my only saving grace was that I had all the food and the tent).

There was a collective sigh of defeat as I walked into the clearing. The only people happy to see me were the 15,000 people Daniel Webster addressed here in 1840. I quietly set the tent up, crawled inside, and cried myself to sleep.  Isolated and alone I fell asleep while I heard the joyous chatter of the others sharing dinner. I know how poor little Cinderella felt going to bed hungry after a hard day’s work. I’m pretty sure I heard someone spit on my tent.  My attempts at being a bigger asshole are succeeding beyond all measure of hope. 

EFG

Bunny getting ready to dive into another mud hole at the end of a boardwalk

I got nothing ready before bed because the weather forecast called for rain until almost noon.  I had no intention of leaving the motel before mandatory checkout at 11. The four of us (Sassy, Bear, Bunny, and me) went down to Friendly’s for breakfast around 8. We were hoping that the cooking situation was better than last night. I was the first in and saw a waitress from last night and the same cook. She assured me things were fine this morning. 

We had a fun breakfast together before trekking back up the hill to the motel. It had stopped raining while we were eating, but the skies didn’t look much better. Bear arranged an 11:30 shuttle for our return trip to the trail.  There was plenty for me to do this morning to fill the time: shower, send an email to Hydaway, register my camera, and pack. Bunny claimed to have packed up last night, but we were both ready about the same time. 

At the trailhead, we saw a sign for a bridge out at Hog Hollow and a warning about crossing in the rain.  It’s only been raining for six of the last five days so we were duly concerned. There were several other hikers in the parking lot so I asked if any of them were sobos and knew anything about the bridge. No help from this crowd. 

 

I’m going to introduce a new game for blog readers today. I’m going to show a series of 4 pictures, and you have to decide if I’m showing you a picture of the trail or of a stream. The answers will be provided at the end of today’s post. Enjoy your guess as much as we did taking the pictures. 

We stopped at the first shelter we came to which was just a couple of miles up the trail.  I needed a snack since it was almost 1 and we had eaten breakfast at 8. Five hours between waking food stops is Draconian to a thru-hiker. Section hikers, on the other hand,  are capable of going days since they still have home fat to burn (coincidentally, Bunny and I still have some left, although I wore 32” waist shorts yesterday and they were too big on me—at my greatest girth, I wore a 40). 

Prism and her dog were in the shelter reading the log book. Yes, the dog was very into the log.  We had seen her in the parking lot, but didn’t talk to her. She lives in MA and thru-hiked the trail last year. She thought we were all lowlife section hikers, but when she discovered Bunny and I were thru-hikers, she became more animated and asked our names. She never asked Sassy and Bear their names. It’s not that section hikers don’t matter, it’s just that they are second class, at best, in the trail hierarchy. Prism will be doing magic tomorrow and we expect her to have rocks for the section hikers. 

Bear is a retired NASA engineer, so we have a lot in common in how we act and think. He was a mechanical engineer (even NASA has a hierarchy with engineers so Bear is used to his second class standing). I was thinking of the big differences between electrical and mechanical engineers. Electrical engineers have to learn the entire system or process whereas mechanical engineers only have to learn one subset (and not all that well, knowing that a EE will be following and will clean up the mess left for them). Also, electrical engineers tend to marry any woman that will sleep with them, whereas mechanical engineers will marry any woman that will talk to them (not to detract from Sassy).

Verdemort has the distinction of leading all the other states along the AT in one very surprising category. There are more “F” bombs dropped on a daily basis in this state than in all the other states combined. Just today, it was estimated that 6 figures of “F” bombs were dropped, and that was only the four of us. When you expand it out to include all the other hikers, you are getting to a number approaching Avogadro’s number in scale. For you non-scientific third class readers, trust me, it’s a really big number. Even more than the number of guns in the USA—seriously big. 

Bear pointed out the bias inherent in the trail hierarchy and noted his second class standing. Bunny and I pointed out that we are very willing to associate with such lowlifes on the trail—we are very open minded and inclusive of our lessors.  He started to tell us what section hikers think of thru-hikers and I stopped him in his tracks. I told him I was well aware of their feelings, but if we were going to be hiking together to Maine, I did not want his hero worship of me. I am more than willing to consider him my somewhat lesser equal. He said “You’re amazing. You are so…” and then, apparently stepped in a deep puddle because the “F” bombs really started dropping. I smiled to myself and tried to bury my superiority deep inside. Even though he’s a mechanical engineer and a section hiker, I like the old guy. 

Not a lot of people passed us today. I don’t think it was due to our blinding speed as much a our late start. We were surprised to not only find the shelter full, but all the level tenting spots taken as well. The bubbles are definitely intersecting. 

Mud Bug had just gotten here when we arrived and had found a spot large enough for her tent. We were considering going on after we filled up on water, but Bear and Sassy found a spot big enough for their tent near the shelter while Mud Bug showed Bunny a spot up by her. We all decided to stay here since it was getting so late. 

We set up as fast as we could, hung bear bags, and cooked supper, but it was still well past dark before we got in our tents. At the time of this writing, it’s the equivalent of last call at a bar and I am getting kicked out. Yes, it’s past 10 and I’m the only one awake. 

Mud Bug is going to hang with the four of us for the next several days. We’ve lost track of Echo, but she was just another section hiker so she wasn’t going all the way to Maine. It’s taken us a long time to find another couple to take the place of Lady Bug and Stickers. We hiked with them for almost 800 miles. They just texted us that they jumped ahead of the Whites because of weather and will come back and hike the Whites once they finish Katahdin so there’s a chance we may get to hike with them again. 

Luck 59 and Pepper Pot finished the trail yesterday. They started 2 days after us and finished a mere two months before us. I think Mizman is here in the shelter tonight but we were too late to talk to him. We are out here to have a good time and meet lots of people. We have a great tramily forming. We are glad to be hiking with Bear, Ass, and Sassy. They are as good a fit with us as Peter and Marcia, or Joan and Tom, or Axel and Heike.  I truly am thankful for all the great trail friends we have made, even the second class ones. 

EFG

P.S. In case there was any doubt, they are all pictures of the trail. Verdemort sucks a big one so far. Chad the Dad was right, it needs to get out of our way. 

Even though the rains didn’t come as predicted last night, it didn’t change our initial opinion on Verdamort (the state whose name we must not speak). Bunny woke up at 6 and pretended to be asleep when I rolled over and looked at her. Being the good husband, I pretended not to notice she was awake and forced myself to go back to sleep. I gave her the pleasure of forcing me to get up at 7, knowing she gets a superior feeling when she believes she is the first to get up. 

Bear and Sassy were already nearly packed while I was cooking breakfast for my lovely young(ish) bride. I really had to visit the privy, but I cannot attend to personal functions until I have officially been released from spousal duty. Since we are just in the beginning stages of hiking with another couple, the demands on my time are more intense. Bunny’s duties have not changed. Really, mine haven’t either, but Bunny’s time expectations on me have gotten more stringent. 

Today was, in theory, an easy day of hiking.  We only had a short climb to the top of Harmon Hill (big time NCIS fans in Verdemort). Bear made the phone call to the motel from the top because we knew there was no service down at the Gap where we were to be picked up.  He told us he would pick us up in 70 minutes at the parking lot—we felt the pressure to perform now. As in all pressure situations, I immediately went limp (minds out of the gutter, I’m talking my legs, although, technically, you were probably thinking the third leg).  

Something else immediately happened when Bear hung up—the rains started.  I was willing to think that our ritual of a few days ago was the cause of the downpour on Bear and Sassy when they were descending Mt Greylock.  Something I haven’t mentioned before was that it also poured on them coming down Mt Everet. Since it was pouring again, I have come to the conclusion that Bear has done something to really piss off the rain gods.  

Boardwalks in New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts were usually an indication of wet trails. Here in Verdemort, it indicates the exact opposite.  A few years back, the ATC mandate that the Green Mountain Club do something about all the complaints coming from hikers.  They wanted action and they wanted results.  The ATC demanded that boardwalks be put in.  The GMC will not be forced to improve the Long Trail by the young pups at the Appalachian Trail Conservancy. By gawd, the Long Trail is older, and, by definition, better.  The ATC even stole their white blazes to mark the trail.  

The GMC was backed into a corner, though.  The ATC wanted boardwalks. Hell, they even paid for the wood.  The GMC acquiesced and installed the boardwalks.  There was only one minor detail, the ATC forgot to tell the GMC to install the boardwalks over water-soaked sections of the trail.

With all the water we have walked through on the trail, we were shocked and scared the first time we came upon a boardwalk.  It must be wet as hell if the GMC has installed a boardwalk.  We put our walking sticks in the trail beside the walkway and discovered…dirt.  Dry trail! Now we know whenever we see boards in the trail, we are on dry trail.  99 times out of 100, the boardwalk will end at the edge of a wet section of trail. The GMC discovered it was much quicker and easier to install the boardwalks on dry trail. They didn’t want to stand in water or mud to install boardwalks—that’s a lot of work and your feet get wet. 

We made it to the parking lot in 68 minutes. I think the guy at the Catamount has dealt with hikers before. I had gotten out front because I am always worried that if I’m last, everyone will forget about me and just take the ride into town. Bunny might notice the next day, when she wants the tent set up, that I’m no longer around. I’m sure that she would eventually remember that she was married but I’m not willing to push my luck too far. Everyone else was talking to Micky who lives up in New Hampshire. He promised us a shower and a place to stay when we make it up there. 

While waiting for the most dynamic ride of our trip, we met a Jehovah’s witness handing out apples to thru-hikers. He seemed like a very nice guy, but I didn’t bite into my Apple until I saw that neither woman fell into a deep sleep first.  Bear just outright refused the apple. 

Both of our rooms were not ready, so we dropped our packs and walked to town. There was a nice Mexican restaurant down the street for lunch.  After eating, we decided to try to resupply since everyone knows you don’t go shopping on an empty stomach. For a hiker, this is especially dangerous. You could easily end up with an 80# pack.  

The main reason we headed to town today was to avoid the rain which we didn’t quite manage to do on the way in or, even now.  The reprieve for lunch had been rescinded.  We ducked into a Dollar General but couldn’t get all we needed.  Instead, we bought a couple of super cheap umbrellas to use while we figured out where and how to catch a bus to the Satanic House of Worship (aka Walmart). 

The rain and full bellies took it out of all of us. It was extremely difficult to make it back to the motel without falling asleep, but we managed. I suggested ice cream as a pick-me-up trying to cheer everyone up. Who doesn’t get excited thinking about ice cream? The three mean-ass soulless hikers I’m traveling with—that’s who. After a short nap, I was able to persuade everyone to get up and go to Friendly’s for a bite. I was worried they were all running a caloric deficit which was why they were so tired. Friendly’s may not have been the best choice on this particular night.

The place was packed; one of the cooks must have flipped out and quit. The manager was frazzled. Customers were grumbly. People were standing up front waiting for “to go” orders. We had front row seats right next to the register. We kept quiet the entire time trying to figure out the sequence of events which had turned Friendly’s into Unfriendly’s. Eventually a cop even showed up. Thankfully, they got his order right. As a reward, we got a free appetizer and free sundaes all around. Free ice cream is worth the building terror that an upset customer is going to pull a gun and start taking out people. America is always good for a show with the potential to kill. 

We’ve been trying to contact Peter and Marcia to work out details of them joining us on the trail. They had bad news for us. They won’t be able to join us because their apartment got sold from underneath them. In the next month, they have to find a place, pack, and move. The lucky thing for them is that they had scheduled time at the end of this month to hike with us. Sucks for us, but we will get to see them at some point this year. 

EFG

A salute to the trail maintenance crews in VT

Since we found out Bunny’s boots were at the P.O., a wrench was thrown in our plans. This is the third time on this trip that FedEx has lied about deliveries. I will never voluntarily use them ever again. Nothing pisses me off more than being lied to. It turned out to not be too big of a deal when Max agreed to take us by the post office on the way to dropping us off at the trailhead. 

After exchanging Bunny’s boots and mailing a little crap home, we swung back by the hotel to pick up Bear, Ass, and Sassy.  Mud Bug texted us that she was trying to hitch a ride to the trail and would be just a few minutes behind us. Round About has decided to not return to the trail because her Achilles’ tendon was hurting too bad. She was already planning to get off in less than 3 weeks to go to NC with her son and grandkids. We will miss her.  She was fun to hang around and was always happy. 

Today marked several milestones for us. 1) We have officially hiked more miles this year than we did on all of the combined trails we hiked in Europe last year. 2) We passed the 1600 mile mark on the AT which means we are below 600 miles from finishing. 3) We entered our 12th State, Vermont. We have high hopes for Vermont as we will be getting into “real” mountains once again. We are hoping for cooler temperatures and fewer bugs at higher elevations. 

That was the hope. The reality is that Vermont sucks. I know we have only hiked 11 miles of the state today so it’s probably not fair to judge the entire state by our limited exposure, but I stand wholeheartedly behind my assessment. Vermont sucks. It’s a bigger letdown than Damascus was to us.  

Our Vermont experience is comparable to the Trump/Bush effect. Trump sucks so bad that everyone I know looks back on W with fond memories. His popularity has never been higher. New Jersey’s and New York’s polling numbers are already skyrocketing thanks to Vermont being so crappy. 

So what’s wrong with Vermud, Versucks, Vermuck, Vershit?  Bunny and I have walked close to 4,500 miles of trail since we’ve been together, and this is THE WORST MAINTAINED trail we have ever encountered. Maybe it’s intentional. Maybe they want us to look forward to the Whites of New Hampshire. As Chad the Dad said “Vermont is just another state that’s in the way of Katahdin.”

The long trail is the oldest trail in the USA. It predates the AT by decades. I’m pretty sure the state was pissed off at the idea of the AT and just said “Fine, you can come through our state, but we’re not putting any effort into building the AT or going to do anything to make the experience pleasant. You can use the Long Trail, but the only work we’ll put into it is to make it muddy as hell.  Those water drains that most trails have, don’t count on them at all. In fact, we’re going to do everything we can to convert the trail to one giant stream.”  They have succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. 

We’ve only seen two shelters so far, but they appear to be the oldest and crappiest on the trail.  No picnic tables or bear boxes. Level spots around them are minimal.  As I’m writing this, I have a giant root running under my sleeping pad. On the plus side, there is a roaring stream outside our tent, so I can count on getting up probably 5 times tonight to pee. 

Vermud was expected, but we thought that meant muddy trails, not streams for trails.  Bear’s dad was a mountain man, so he used to give Bear advice. “If you ever get lost in the woods, find a trail and follow it down hill. But don’t be a damn fool and walk in the stream, that’ll tear your feet apart.”  Someone needs to pass this tidbit along to whoever is supposed to maintain the trail. I say supposed to maintain, because they haven’t walked the trail in years. My guess is that it’s a couple of old guys that are bedridden (or possibly deceased).

For this trail to be so well known around the world and to be this bad is an embarrassment. It has done one thing that’s made Bunny happy beyond belief. It’s made me give up the idea of ever doing a yo-yo from Katahdin. Once I get out of this shithole state, I never want to come back. 

Each state has its own character: Georgia: secretly hard and catching newbies off guard and making them quit. North Carolina: holder of the Smokies and the worst managed NP, but also the home to several outstanding balds. Tennessee: wanting to maintain a primitive experience as close to nature as possible.  Virginia: flat Virginia, a long but easy state (my ass), well maintained trails with a broad variety of experience, 1/4 of the trail in one state.  West Virginia: historical, short, and home to the ATC. Maryland: an under appreciated state that really tries to enhance the experience for thru-hikers. Pennsylvania: aka Rocksylvania, a few rough sections that everyone paints the entire state for, but really one of the easiest states in terms of elevation, and the best shelters. New Jersey: boardwalks and swamps (I forgive it for the miserable heat and bugs). New York: the best maintained trails along the AT, but why so many f’ing puds? Connecticut: gateway to New England, short and underestimated. Massachusetts: the start of individual mountains again, great streams. New Hampshire: the Whites, real climbing after 600 miles of easy going so everyone forgets what it is to put effort into the trail. Maine: the home of Katahdin and the hardest mile on the trail. Vermont: shitty little muddy Vermont. The only state that I can’t imagine going back to. 

We did make it to the shelter by 7:15. It took us 10 hours and 3 good breaks to travel the 14 miles. It wasn’t because the climbs were huge although we did climb well over 3000’ today. It was because we foolishly thought we could walk around and pick our way through the mud pits which are called a trail here. Once we accepted this was wasted effort, we picked up speed. 

In most states, coming to a level section is a good thing.  Not in Versucks. Level means standing water 6” deep with mud a foot deeper. Occasionally, there are stepping rocks to keep you from sinking in.  More often, though, there are leaves on top of the mud/water that look like rocks which lure you into stepping…and sinking up to overflowing your boots. The only thing that could make me hate Vermont any more is if Big Agnes was headquartered here. 

EFG

Over the course of nearly six months on the trail, we have developed a ritual we perform whenever we take a zero day.  Bunny started it, but I am a willing follower (the good husband ALWAYS does as told).  It’s very simple to perform.  Bunny lights 6 candles and places them in a circle around us in the hotel room.  She grabs a pair of scissors and commands me to stand naked in the center of the candle circle. With the scissors in her left hand, she grabs hold of the first appendage of mine she can reach and invokes the goddesses of the clouds to come forth with all their might, and smite the other hikers still on the trail. She then starts to cut the appendage in her right hand (usually my left thumb—I’m obedient, not stupid). To seal the deal, she then chases me around the building 3 times with the scissors raised to stab me. If I win the run, it will rain.  If I don’t win, well, you can see the scars on my thumb and count the number of times I’ve lost. 

We slept in not waking up until after 8. We had to walk all the way across the parking lot to the office to get our breakfast. It was starting to sprinkle already. By the time we were done eating, it was a full downpour. Bunny had performed her magic once again.  I felt sorry for our friends still on the trail, but, when we get behind closed doors, and she lets her hair hang low, Bunny is the scissor lady.  

There is no better sleeping than a full downpour when you are inside all dry and comfy knowing you are safe and all your friends are miserable and jealous. I slept like a baby until Bunny tried to take my temperature. 

The agenda for the day only involved sleep, opening packages, and repacking. When we checked in yesterday, we had four packages waiting for us. Christmas morning on the trail, again. First was our food box we had shipped ahead, no surprises there. Next was a new pair of inserts for our new boots.  Bunny is very influenced by total strangers telling her how great products are when we have had success with a competing product for years. This time, it was inserts. Mule had told us Birkenstock inserts were far superior to SuperFeet even though we have been using them for years. I’ll try one pair before switching back. 

I opened the box of boots from Merrell expecting to find new pairs for both of us, and there was only mine. I like Merrell and don’t want to switch, but this could be the last straw for Bunny.  They screwed up shipping on her last pair as well. She called them, but we couldn’t track where they were until the end of the day. 

I’m sure everyone has noticed a highly reduced number of beloved selfie photos and pictures of people we meet on the trail. My Olympus camera has had an issue from day one and I finally sent it in for repair only to get screwed by the great Satan on Olympus. Today, I got a new Panasonic camera and immediately liked it since it didn’t have Olympus on it. 

Round About called while we were napping and opening boxes. She had managed to make it into town before the rain started. Our feeling of joy were slightly diminished when we heard she had avoided the rain, but then she told us she had walked 2 miles in the downpour to get to the Post Office. Bunny became happy again.  A little later, we got a call from Bear and Sassy that they were in the same hotel as us and had spent the morning trudging down Greylock in the rain. Bunny was ecstatic. I felt sorry for them, but Bunny slapped me and told me other people’s misery only makes us stronger and that I should revel in it as she does. I am a good husband…

We went out for food with Bear and Sassy and made plans for the next few days. They think they want to hike with us, but they don’t know Bunny’s diabolical nature. I try to cover for her as much as I can. It’s getting harder and harder for me to be a big enough asshole to make her look good.  I can only do my best to make my wife look good.  As everyone says, I am a good husband. 

EFG

 

Now I remember why we don’t sleep in shelters that often. It’s not just the bugs (although if they are thick, forget it) but it’s also the luck of the draw on shelter mates. Last night, we lost the lottery. Tab could immediately fall asleep (which is good), but he immediately started to snore—loudly. I tried everything to fall asleep. I found the best result was getting up to pee and “accidentally” bumping into his bunk. After 5 times of using this trick, I just couldn’t even fake a pee any more. The next best result was to slap the walls. It worked, but also woke up everyone else in the shower (if they were lucky enough to be asleep).

The idea of getting up early to catch the sunrise on Mt Greylock went by without comment when Tab got up before 5. Maybe it was his alarm clock that turned Bunny off. Tab farted a lot and not the cute ones like me. I try to save mine for just Bunny as she does for me. Tab had no fart filter. When he started tooting before 5 (tooting sounds too cute, he was rip roaring), Bunny and I both turned away and buried ourselves deep in our quilts and tried not to make loud gagging noises. Being buried so deep, we fell back into deep sleeps that only became restful upon his departure. 

When we did finally get up, not only the dream of sunrise at the summit gone, but so was the idea of breakfast at the lodge. It was a little over 3 miles to the top, so lunch was still a possibility.  We were the last thru-hikers to leave the shelter, but not the last people. There was a group behind the shelter that looked to be struggling getting it together. We never saw them again. 

As soon as we got to the summit, I was ready to eat. We had skipped breakfast thinking we’d get to the Lodge in about an hour and a half—that was two and a half hours ago. Like most park restaurants, there is a food “dead time zone” and we nailed it. We got there in the half hour window between breakfast and lunch, perfect timing!  I accepted the situation for what it was, an opportunity. I bought an ice cream bar and attached to WiFi. 

We ordered our lunch when Bunny was ready, and not one second sooner. I was ready to place my order right at 11, but Bunny was dragging her feet as usual. We didn’t get our orders in until almost 11:05. I’ve learned in our 25 years of marriage that you can’t rush Bunny.  

As we were heading out, I saw Ambassador come in.  We had met her a couple days ago at Tom’s when she dropped by to drop some stuff off. She is from London and had tweaked her knee forcing her off trail for almost a week. Tom was supposed to pick her up and he hadn’t so she was worried that something might be wrong with him (he’s been a reliable trail angel for 39 years). It turns out that Tom was at the hospital with Freeman when they were checking him out for his heat exhaustion. We let her know what had happened. 

At the summit of Mt Greylock is a Massachusetts War Memorial. It’s a tower over 9 stories tall. It always amazes me that Bunny and her kids always question if it’s worth a climb up to the top of something—will the view be any better than what it is down here. The answer is always “Hell yes,” but they are all genetically afraid of steps. 

The views were more than 89 steps better. We could clearly see multiple steps as well as the mountains of Vermont where we are headed. It’s clear to see that we will be climbing once again.  The mid-Atlantic states have been pretty flat and easy (but that doesn’t stop people from creating the illusion that things are tough…Rocksylvania clearly comes to mind.  Damn crybabies!).  We will soon have to start climbing again and after 600 miles of level, everyone has forgotten what climbing is. The Whites are not as tall as the Smokies, but New Hampshire doesn’t believe in switchbacks, so it will be a bit tougher. 

Guthook does a great job of exaggerating climbs in the mid-Atlantics so people still think they are climbing. By Virginia definition, any grade lass than 500’/mile is level. Guthook displays 100’ elevation gains on the same scale as a mile of horizontal walking. This means the 2800’ we are about to descend over the next 6 miles looks like a steep drop. Bunny has started to psych herself out and gets upset with me when I tell her it’s not going to be bad at all. “How do you know? Have you walked it before?  You don’t know.”  The same argument she uses on me if I predict how a person is going to react. I listen and pay attention.  Past incidents predict future behavior. I have listened to several hikers who HAVE hiked this section and everyone says it’s exaggerated. 

We hiked down to town and then Bunny said “That wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.”  Is it any wonder I have no hair left? Just 2 short decades ago I had a full head of hair.  Now, between aggravation and overactive cerebral action, the forest has been thinned to the point that flying insects want to absorb the energy and knowledge directly from the source. Very similar to warriors eating the heart of their enemies to gain their strength. 

One thing that happened as we got closer to the bottom, the gnats returned to remind us what true aggravation is. I had almost forgotten the misery of NJ, NY, CT, and southern MA. It was a relief and gift to have them back with us. Bunny has been talking of yo-yo so their return has successfully killed those delusions of hers. 

As we were approaching MA route 2, we called the Motel we are staying at tonight. He said he’d be there in 6 minutes. We were still 2 blocks away and questioned whether we would be able to hiker hobble there in the same time frame. As it was, we arrived almost simultaneously. He took us right back to the hotel and our room was all ready for us. We have a king sized bed, a full kitchen, and a bathroom with a porcelain toilet that we don’t have to share. 

After being a week on the trail without a shower, the first order of business was, of course, food.  There was an “all you can eat” Mexican restaurant across the street. It wasn’t a buffet, but made to order with a choice of enchiladas, tacos, or burritos. The twist is that you have choice of what was inside your choice. I am a thru-hiker and I walked away full. It was great. 

Lastly, we would like to inform the concerned citizenry of Cheshire that, yes, we did shower and do laundry before we went to bed. Your concerns were real as when I went into the enclosed bathroom after Bunny got out of the shower, I noticed that having the door closed before she showered was enough to cause the paint to peel. We regret that our 1600 miles of hiking caused you inconvenience and created a delay for you when you took the time to tell us we stank.  We are sure this delay caused you to not be the first in line at the “all you can eat” buffet where you obviously dine daily. Our sincerest apologies. 

EFG

When we started getting up about 7, Tom already had a pot of coffee and three boxes of donuts waiting on the picnic table. We sat and talked with him while our tent dried up.  We had been wavering on whether to pick up our food drop at the post office, or bump it forward. Tom convinced us to bump it forward and not carry the weight. We’ll be passing through another town, Cheshire, in about 10 miles where we’ll be able to eat and get some resupply if needed. We’ll also be going over Mt Greylock which has a Lodge and restaurant at the summit. 

We headed back to the Shamrock Motel to connect with Round About who is going to hike with us today. After getting our P.O. business done, we swung back by Freeman’s room to check on him. He was talking with his daughter and grandchildren and let us talk to them since they speak English better than he does. Of course, they are all worried about him but he’s doing better—much closer to his old self this morning, but still a little pale. We will miss him and hope to see him and Nonna again when we visit Switzerland to hike the TMB with Axel and Heike. 

Bunny wanted another cup of coffee and some protein before hitting the trail so we stopped by the coffee shop. Sassy and Bear were in there so we sat at a table near them to spare their noses now that they are clean and civilized. Bear was trying to think of a name for his new mascot we found yesterday. I suggested “Ass.”  Bear immediately liked it realizing that they would now be known as Bear, Ass, and Sassy. Bunny and Sassy weren’t as amused as the two of us were. 

ORound About joined us at the coffee shop for one last mocha. After Bunny and I got our porcelain time, the three of us headed back to the trail. We had an ominous start—we missed the turn on to the trail, and then when we did get on it, Round About tripped over a rock and fell. Bunny got ticked at the rock and threw it off the sidewalk (barely missing an elderly gentleman who now has a chip on his shoulder for thru-hikers). Round About’s fall was not nearly as graceful as the splits she performed when she slid off the planks yesterday. You’d think with more falls under her belt, her scores from the judges would be on the rise.

Bear had told us that Sassy was making him go to the urgent care clinic to get his foot checked out. I encouraged him not to go knowing a doctor is going to cover his ass and tell him not to walk on it. We got a text from them telling us that Bear did not have a stress fracture and that they would be hiking out of town to rejoin us in a few days. Had they listened to me, they could have saved $80 and still walked out of town tomorrow. I guess I should start charging for my advice so people will value it more. I could use the extra $1,000/day it would generate and still be a bargain for all parties. 

We met Flying Crow way back at the RPH Shelter when he was working and we were chowing down on free food.  We ran into him again Saturday morning when he started a weekend hike. Echo invited us to join her and a bunch of other hikers for a beer last night and Flying Crow was there as well.  He also camped in Tom’s yard last night. All this is a roundabout way to say Flying Crow and Mud Bug caught up to us on the trail on the way up Crystal Mountain this morning.  We walked as a group all the way to Cheshire where we stopped for some food and ice cream. Flying Crow’s mom picked him up there (poor guy has to work tomorrow).  He is going to be up at Mt Washington the weekend of August 25,so we might see him again.

Mud Bug and Round About decided that they were happy with the 9 miles we had already hiked today so they were going to stay at the local church that allows thru-hikers to camp for free. It’s also conveniently located close to a liquor store. We had met a little kid at the ice cream place that was collecting hiker autographs.  Mud Bug and Round About were on the fence about going on until he told us he and his parents were providing magic at the church at 6. They both bailed at that point.  We have to go on because we have reservations for a hotel tomorrow night.  We really need showers and laundry. 

On the way out of town, we decided to stop by Dollar General to pick up a few essentials: tortillas and bug spray. Cooking tip—Off works better than Pam for no stick cooking, but be careful, it’s highly flammable. Bunny wanted to use the bathroom. While I was looking around for what we needed, I was quietly carpet bombing the place (middle aged man, banana split, lactose intolerance, and the fact that we were walking with a group all day so there was massive build up internally make for a deadly combination). 

As we were packing up outside, a local concerned citizen decided to perform a valuable public service.  He came over to tell us that he was following us in the store and we really stink.  Normally, this is followed with an invitation to come to their house to shower and do laundry. This concerned, obese gentleman did not extend such an invitation but emphasized that we stink so bad his eyes watered. 1) we are thru-hikers and do not shower as often as we would like (as in daily, and thanks to Bunny, we passed up an opportunity just yesterday); 2) we have hiked over 60 miles in the last 5 days of heat and high humidity; 3) obesity raises everyone’s insurance rates, maybe he should join us on the trail for a while to get his weight problem under control (we don’t say this because we think it’s obvious and possibly rude, but maybe our smell has overpowered our higher reasoning ability). In the end, we just thank him for his ability to grasp the obvious and state it so eloquently. 

This does raise a few questions in our minds. How does the smelling process work? Do smells have to be so bad to overcome our own odor before we smell them? Does our own odor become the “odor threshold” that must be surpassed before we can smell something.  We were standing next to a very smelly trash can that even we found mildly offensive when the concerned citizen approached us. Could he have just smelled the trash and thought it was us. If he was following me in the store, I was carpet bombing the place, as I mentioned. Maybe it was just my farts which bothered him. After a good amount of milk products, I even make my own eyes water. Could Round About and Mud Bug just want to get away from us because we stink so bad? They said they would catch up with us Wednesday evening—after we showered! 

We had 5 angst filled miles up the side of Mt Greylock to get to the shelter. The only thing that diverted our attention was the confusion we felt when we encountered rocks in the trail. What in the hell is this? Did we take a wrong turn and circle back to PA? If this isn’t PA, how did these rocks get here? We passed 4 people on the trail up. We tried to step back to not overpower them, but we did watch their eyes to make sure they weren’t watering. We were surprised that we could smell another sobo over us. Are we odor blind to ourselves? Does this mean privies will no longer stink for us?

It cooled off quite a bit as we climbed up.  Mt. Greylock will be the first time we have been over 3,000’ since VA. We decided to risk it and stay in shelter since it was cool and no bugs. Passenger was already in the loft. Tab was going to sleep in a lower bunk. Bunny told me the guy at Dollar General was right and she was going to sleep on a different bunk than me. She also told me people on trail are only nice to me because they don’t know me. I cried myself to sleep and vowed to be a bigger asshole so as to not get preferential treatment from strangers any longer. 

EFG