Down The Trail

Hike North______________The Long Trail______________Hike South

The Long Trail End-to-End Journal (Southbound)
October 2, 2007
Bear Hollow Shelter to Taft Lodge
LT Miles – 12.6
Total LT Miles – 67.2
Extra Miles – 0

Papa Rose and I wake simultaneously, and pack our things. Soon I’m strapped in, and ready to hit the trail south. “Whiteface, here I come!” I say in parting.

I feel good today – eager to stomp up Whiteface Mountain – which is a steep hike. The trail is muddy, and I misstep at a switchback turn – sinking up to my knees in it! I haven’t really said too much about the mud so far. The Long Trail is very muddy, even in the fall. Often there are wide pools of it that need to be sort of circumnavigated, like blowdowns. Some hikers refer to the state as “Vermuck.” In one register, a hiker referred to being an “expert on the load bearing capacity per square inch of Vermont mud.” Sometimes dead leaves mask the mud-trap-quicksand-pit that awaits any unsuspecting hiker.

So I begin the day with it caked up to my knees, but it’s no matter. The morning breeze rustles my leaf-canopy ceiling. Every time the wind picks up, it rains leaves. They circle their way to the forest floor.

Whiteface summit rewards me with my first clear, dramatic sighting of Mount Mansfield – the highest point in Vermont. It’s a stunning morning view. I linger here a while, and watch the high clouds brush past it.

Madonna Peak is visible to the left, with the ski trail.

Whiteface Shelter sits a half mile from the summit, with an excellent view to the south. Here I meet three northbound thru-hikers – Ballpahk, Lonestar, and Moxie. “Ballpahk!” I exclaim, “You were on the Appalachian Trail in 2002!” We met at the Trail Days Festival in Virginia in May ‘03. Immediately we’re firing off names of mutual friends – “Do you remember so-and-so? What ever happened to him?” “Last I heard, he was going to hike the Pacific Crest Trail in ‘04.” Some names I had forgotten, and bring a smile to my face – for instance “Smurf, the World Traveling Redneck.”

I hold my water bottle under a trickle from a nearby rock, and gulp it down with my mid-morning snack. The others only stop for a brief snack as well, and Moxie and Lonestar head up the trail. Ballpahk is the last to follow, and as he fastens his shoulder straps, he says “Duct Tape, This trail is kicking my ass,” as though in confidence between former AT hikers.

The trail follows the ridge over Morse Mountain to Hagerman Overlook, then descends before heading up Madonna Peak – part of Smuggler’s Notch Ski area. Several signs warn skiers of crossing boundary lines and entering the “wilderness.”

I nearly miss this aged sign, tucked away several feet off the trail. I can only wonder how old it is – the man who nailed it to this tree could likely be underground.

ascending Madonna

Vacant ski huts crown Madonna Peak, and I rest in the sun for a lunch break. On top of this mountain, I look around and can’t help but think how lucky I am to be here this October afternoon. In an Appalachian Trail DVD, a friend of mine talks about how hikers have the fortune of eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner in three different locations every day. So true.

Don’t miss the next page! (This day continued)

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