Category: 2015

This morning Stratton Mountain loomed 3,940′ (1,201 m), the tallest peak so far. The air was cool but the steady uphill climb soon had is sweating.  Dennis and I long for indicators on the trail telling our location. Though the map indicates a stream or pond, there are enough of them to cause uncertainty. I no longer believe it when Dennis tells me that it’s not far now—he’s been wrong too many times.

Surprisingly, the climb was not as difficult as expected. I haven’t decided if that is because the slope was not as steep as other’s we’ve climbed or if we are getting our “hiker legs.” Also, there were a lot of switchbacks that ease the ascent.

When we reached the top, we met Jean, the caretaker. She and her husband have been maintaining the mountain-top lookout tower and the surrounding paths for several years. Even though they are both way into retirement, they walk the paths and go down to town for resupplies often. The beginning of the season requires more effort; within a short time, it becomes second nature. I guess there is hope for Dennis and me.

From the top, it was a steady slope making it an quick walk down to Stratton Pond Shelter. The trail traversed a deciduous forest. Puncheons helped us across wet areas, but there was still a lot of mud.

We slept in the large shelter along with about a dozen other people (the tent site was further away). When we arrived, we met “Downhill Dad.” He is 81 yrs old, hiking a nine-day loop with is son, Bill, and is carrying a pack larger than mine. I am constantly reminded that getting older does not mean acting old and becoming immobile. People can participate in physically challenging activities at any age.

I went for a swim in the chilly pond (on June 22  in Vermont!), and fully enjoyed the moment. Because of the rocks, I wore my Crocs and only did the backstroke. Afterwards, I basked on a bench in the warm setting sun, listened to the frogs and insects, and felt at peace. This was such a heavenly moment.

Dennis filtered water out of a stream that had small trout in it. I’m sure the water was pure, but, as my dad said, fish have sex in water. Better to be safe and filter it.

We had a freeze-dried prepared supper and I was asleep before dark. It was a long and rewarding day.

We’ve been on the trail for a week and have completed about 50 miles. We are just beginning to feel comfortable out in the wilderness. Dennis is stronger and more confident, but he had six months training on the AT.

During the week I have learned:

• Hiking poles are essential. Thank you “Talks-A-Lot.”
• Learning to breath is important. Initially I panted. I must forcefully remember to breath with my diaphragm—inhale through the nose, hold, exhale through the mouth with a one-two-three-four count. Over and over, this has become my mantra. If I am not conscientiously doing this, I return to shallow breathing, which slows me down. Thank you, Meigs, for teaching me how to belly-breathe.
• Look ahead to see what’s coming up next. At first, I was looking at my feet and trying to determine where to put each foot. When mountain biking, I learned to “look where you want your wheels to go, not at what you want to miss”. Incorporating this technique in hiking is helping build my speed. Somehow my peripheral vision knows what to walk around, step over, and where to place my foot and pole. I guess I am getting more technical in my hiking. I still take it slow when there are a lot of rocks and roots. I want to avoid falling.
• I am not in a race…I will get to the Canadian border sometime in the future. In the meanwhile, I am enjoying the walk.

Today’s elevation profile looks like bleeps on a cardiac monitor with many ups and downs. I feared that last night’s heavy rains would leave the trails gushing with water, but they were just ordinarily muddy. When Dennis came through here in 2008, the mud was knee-deep. At one point, the mud sucked off his boot, and he had to reach down into the mud to extract it. Guess I have no reason to whine.

At first, I tried to avoid the worst of the mud. After a while, it made little difference, and my feet got dirty and wet. My athletic shoes are not holding up to the rocks, roots, and rain. I need to replace them with more durable footwear.

We stopped at the Kid Gore Shelter for lunch. There, we met “Rusty Foot” and “Pub,” two hikers who stayed with us last night. Pub, in his late seventies, wanted to go on, but his companion wanted to stay. It was comical to see them make a decision—like old married couples. The shelter had a capacity for eight hikers and a beautiful lookout. I’m sure they were happy there that night.

We camped at the Story Spring Shelter. I took my first cold-water sponge bath, using soap for environmental reasons. Though I looked cleaner, I did not smell fresher. I’m looking forward to getting to town and to a hot shower with fragrant soap and shampoo.

Dennis and I accept that we are slow. We will get to Canada when we get there, no matter how long it takes. Not having time limitations is one of the advantages of being retired. I hope you will continue to follow along as we creep through the Green Mountains.

I’m still hacking away. Perhaps I should have chosen “Hacker” as my trail name instead of “K-Fun.” We are getting a little stronger each day and improving our time. Instead of a mile per hour, we are doing it in about 50 minutes.

With thunderstorms threatening, we decided to stay in the shelter. Since our two-person tent has a smaller footprint then two people’s bedrolls and the surrounding space, we put up the tent in the shelter to provide extra warmth and bug protection. At the time there were only three others in the shelter, and they did not mind. By nightfall, the shelter was full and several AT hikers complained about our having the tent in there. The guilt I felt from their comments kept me awake most of the night. Dennis didn’t have any qualms and said he had seen it done when he was on the AT, but I felt uncomfortable for not abiding with hiker etiquette. I later found that this topic is controversial on the Whiteblaze Forum.

By the time we got to Goddard Shelter, I was hypothermic and exhausted. Luckily Dennis was in better shape. He prepared a hot supper, after which I curled up in my down bag and fell asleep long before dark. No socializing for me.

During the night the winds howled and the storm pounded the shelter. By morning, there was only a mist, and lots of mud.

We left Bennington, VT, around noon. It only took us a few minutes of hitchhiking before Steve, a salesman on a cold call at the hospital, stopped to give us the 7-mile ride to the trailhead.

I enjoyed the walk, the sun peeking through the canopy, and the sense of accomplishment after plodding uphill. I sound like an old steam train getting ready to leave the station—a “choo” for each step up the hill.

I love how attentive Dennis is to me. Knowing I am sick does not mitigate his struggle, yet he waits for me on the climbs, helps me put on my backpack, and makes supper. I’ll be glad when I can do more of my share. As it is, it is all I can do to help set up the tent. The Hubba-Hubba two-person hiking tent is easy to put up and provides room for the two of us and our gear, which is nice when it is raining.

Near Split Rock, we met “Ruby,” a Canadian who is attempting to hike the LT in three weeks. At the Melville Nauheim Shelter, she nominated Dennis as mayor. He proposed raising taxes to build a water spigot near the shelter.

Dennis taught me how to purify the water using a Sawyer squeeze filter and how to light the camp stove. With these cold mountain streams, getting water is not always a pleasant task, but tonight, the water was cool and refreshing. I enjoyed soaking my feet in the bubbling waters while watching Dennis prepare the water for supper and tomorrow’s consumption. Unlike Cheryl Strayed’s experience in Wild, we have no water shortage. If we consume our two liters, we can easily find more.

I am grateful to Sue “Talks-A-Lot” from the Appalachian Trail Club of Florida and Dennis, who talked me into using hiking poles. I don’t think I could do this hike without them. I use them to climb, balance, and break falls. They have saved me innumerable times. I’m still not as proficient with them as the experienced long-distance hikers, but I am developing a stride.

During the night, I heard foxes, coyotes, prancing deer, and perhaps a fishercat. I have yet to see wildlife other than a toad.

You may wonder why Dennis and I are attempting to hike the Long Trail, the oldest trail in the US. Dennis, a seasoned hiker (having completed the Appalachian Trail), is doing it for the challenge, the pleasure of being in the woods, the camaraderie among hikers, and getting back to appreciating the luxuries of modern-day living. I still haven’t figured out why I am doing it, but this morning as I hiked I felt at home. The smell of the fir trees, the woodpeckers’s rat-tat-tat, the fecund earth stirred my spirit. Reconnecting with nature is like returning to a mother’s embrace, warm and comforting.

Part of my reason for doing this is spending time alone with Dennis. At home, life’s demands don’t allow us a lot of one-on-one time. Out on the trail, there is just us. When Dennis had his six artery bypass, the doctor’s give him five years. That was in 2007. Beating the odds gives us an opportunity to enjoy each other which we don’t want to miss.

The challenge to complete one the the US’s more difficult hikes is also a draw. I want to prove to myself that at 65 I am still capable of doing something physically and mentally demanding. Silver hair and leaden feet are not defining characteristics—I am still “crazy Jane,” just a little bit slower.

Perhaps with the solitude, I will learn something about myself and our relationship…or relearn something I have forgotten. Without all the external noise, will I be able to hear my inner voice. If so, will I have the courage to listen?

We shall see. I still have over 222 miles to travel.

Yesterday an Thursday we hiked about 5 miles in Winnekenni Park in Haverhill, Ma. I think my legs are ready for the easy first days on the Long Trail. After the walk on Friday, we picked up a pizza and I couldn’t resist this beer, just because of the name.

Today, it is rainy and cool (56 F), which makes me hesitant. But, it is what it is, and I will have to make the best of it. We should arrive at the B&B late this afternoon and we’ll have our last night in a bed for a while. Our ride to the start of the Long Trail in North Adams, Ma. is confirmed. Tomorrow, we will walk to the Seth Warner Shelter, at about 2000 ft. elevation. We plan to use our tents, unless it is lightening, then we’ll stay inn the shelter, if there is room.

I’m still apprehensive, mostly because of the weather. Long range weather forecast isn’t too bad, with chances of thunder showers for the next several days. Hopefully we will be in shelters when that happens, or at least below tree level. Since the first part of the Long Trail is also part of the Appalachian Trail, there should be lots of hikers around for the first 100 miles.

We plan to start slowly, walking only about 7 to 8 miles the first days. As we gain stamina, we’ll increase the distance. We hope to be in Manchester Center on the 20th, where we have sent a resupply box.  Perhaps we’ll splurge there for a bed and hot shower. There are many possibilities. That’s what makes this so much fun.