October 18, 2007
Stratton Mountain to Goddard Shelter
LT Miles – 16.3
Total LT Miles – 248
Extra Miles – 0.7
When the day begins like this, you know it’s going to be special.
I lie in my sleeping bag on the dirty, wooden floor of the summit booth, and nibble on pop-tarts and fudge rounds. According to the radio it’s just after 6am, and the sounds of a young Bob Dylan fill the room. I’ve found a program featuring songs of his early years, with highlights from Bob Dylan, The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, The Tmes They Are a Changin’, and Another SIde of Bob Dylan.
I could not have scripted it better if I’d tried.
It’s less than a mile from the ski area to the summit fire tower. The path is mostly level along the ridge, and includes a long boardwalk.
There’s no sunrise to be seen from Stratton Mountain.
I reach the base of Stratton Mountain. The morning sun lights up the valley, revealing an autumn wonderworld.
The trail is silent and empty.
and the sign, said, long-haired freaky people, need not apply…
North of Story Spring, the path decides to throw some rocks my way.
I take a good long break here at this beautiful place and read over the register. It contains some Appalachian Trail hiker drama, all starting with an entry from a cranky guy who’s upset because he didn’t get a good night’s sleep… because two other hikers were apparently having sex in the shelter.
As you can imagine, nearly all the following entries contain comments about the event. Every sub-culture and circle of associates has its share of drama… “As The Trail Turns”
All of the excitement dates back to the August wave of AT hikers. The entries read like tales of passing ghosts as I’m alone in the woods, amid the living evidence of a dying season.
As always, the beaver remains elusive.
Lydia’s Rest
I reach Caughnawaga Shelter, which dates all the way back to 1931. The structure still stands, but it’s “closed” to overnight use.
The replacement is nearby – Kid Gore Shelter, with a nice view to the east.
One register entry reads of watching a moose in the above clearing.
Another, from Ronin (Who I last saw on Day 20), says something like “I spent the last two years wishing I was on the helicopter that crashed in Iraq, taking the lives of my whole company. Today I’m glad to be alive.”
From the shelter I begin the evening ascent up the north side of Glastenbury Mountain – a mystical place. I remember a particular sunset from the fire tower here in 2001. The wind seemed to whisper unintelligible words.
Six years ago I was a 20 year old boy. This is the sort of place I imagine ancient cultures sent their young men as a rite of passage.
for Yahtzee
Ropes are tied to neighboring trees in an apparent effort to preserve the integrity of the structure.
The tower was built in 1927.
According the the Long Trail Guide, the tower “Affords a 360-degree view, which includes more wild forest than can be seen from any other point on The Long Trail.”
Mysterious disappearances in the area have led some to coin the area as The Bennington Triangle.
Wikipedia: The Bennington Triangle is the colloquial term for an area of southwestern Vermont surrounding Glastenbury Mountain which is said by some to be a “window” area for paranormal phenomena.
I descend alone in the gathering dark to Goddard Shelter. The spring is dark, deep, and cold. All is silent – dead silent, except for three lonely crickets that persevered until October. Night falls as I eat macaroni and cheese, and contemplate the day’s return to Glastenbury. I had often thought of this place.
