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.
