Day 22: My Dirty Little Secret

September 25: Cindy left to go to work at the crack of dawn. I slept in a bit later. I wasn’t on a schedule. =)

At least I didn’t used to be on a schedule. I gave Amanda a call, though, and started planning my big finish. At this point, I figured I had less than a week before I’d reach the end of the trail and I needed to start thinking about how I’d get back home. It would be awfully convenient if Amanda had time to come out and just pick me up at the end of the trail.

So we discussed her schedule, comparing it to when I thought I’d finish the trail. I thought September 30th was a definitely maybe, but if the trail turned out to be more difficult than anticipated or the weather slowed me down, I might not make the date, so we agreed on an October 1st pickup. If I was ahead of schedule, I could always slow down easily enough. If I was behind schedule, though, it’s really hard to make up the miles.

So now I was on an official schedule: Canada and the end of the trail on October 1st! This also meant I knew exactly how much food I would need to carry—enough for seven days (including today) and six nights. And I’d eat every last bit of it.

I packed up my gear, and as I started putting away my toiletry bag, I remembered that I was running low on toilet paper. Toilet paper is kind of an inconvenient thing to resupply. Grocery stores typically sell them in large packs with anywhere from a few rolls to a dozen or more! I just want one roll. And even then, an entire roll is more than overkill. I need to carry this stuff on my back!

So I started doing something shameful: I started stealing toilet paper. I’m not proud of this habit. It started with hotel rooms. I’d get a hotel room, and there would be this absolutely perfect partially-used roll right there next to the toilet! So I’d take it. Ideally, it would already be about 80% used so I could just grab the little bit I’d need to get me to the next resupply point. In practice, the roll was often half full and I’d carry it for several hundred miles before using it up.

So I went to the bathroom to check out Cindy’s selection of toilet paper. First, to see how much was left on the “active” roll—which looked like at least half the roll was still there. Too much toilet paper. On the other hand, it was undoubtedly less than anything I’d find at the local grocery store. I also made sure that there was still another roll of toilet paper nearby. I’d hate to steal the very last roll! That could turn into a nasty surprise for Cindy! But I did see at least one other roll so I knew I wouldn’t be leaving her completely high and dry. Or not dry, as the case may be…

Then I stole the half-used roll. Confessions of the thru-hiker. I left a note, though, because—you know, I’m not a total monster. =) And I owe her now!

With my gear packed up, I left Cindy’s place and first headed to the grocery store. I needed groceries. Seven days and six nights worth of groceries to be exact, which wound up costing me over $100. It was more expensive than I had expected—when I bought ten days of food (nine nights), the bill came out to about $90. I wasn’t too bothered by the discrepancy—just a little surprised. At less than $15/day for food, thru-hiking is still a relatively cheap hobby. =)

I repacked all of my newly acquired food into ZipLocks in front of the store and disposed of the now empty boxes and packaging in a nearby trash can. A couple of locals entering the store looked at me suspiciously but didn’t say anything. Most trail towns I’ve been in usually have locals that are excited to see a thru-hiker, but none of these people did. Maybe there weren’t even locals. Maybe they were just tourists in for a little leaf-peeping? Or maybe not many hikers used Stowe as a resupply town? Absolutely none of the other hikers on the trail I talked to planned on coming into Stowe except for Purgy No More—and that’s only because his dad offered to pay for a room at a hotel.

My pack now felt painfully heavy again. Getting off the trail, I had eaten nearly every last bit of food I had so my pack felt like it was all but empty. No more… Seven day and six nights of food is a lot of weight.

Before I left town, I dropped by the post office where I mailed my laptop to the end of the trail along with some powdered milk. The only powdered milk I could find at the grocery store was a gigantic box of it—far more than I could ever use in a week, but I did need powdered milk so I grudgingly bought it anyhow. I divided it into three quart-sized ZipLock bags. One of the bags I packed away in my pack, but the other two weren’t really necessary so I packed them in with my laptop. I didn’t need powdered milk at the end of the trail, but I hated the idea of throwing it away and wasting it. I had to mail my laptop ahead anyhow—maybe as well send the milk along with it. It could even act as padding for the laptop. =)

And finally I headed to the edge of town to hitch a ride back to the trail. I stuck out my thumb and counted the numbers of cars that passed me. One… two… three…

After about 10 minutes, I noticed a couple of suspicious-looking people poking around a covered pedestrian bridge where I was trying to hitch a ride from, and I had a hunch I knew what they were doing.

“So what are you guys up to?” I asked.

The guy looked startled for a moment, trying to think of an answer, but then admitted that he was looking for a geocache. There was a break in the traffic, and I went over and looked for a couple of minutes myself but didn’t see anything obvious and quickly gave up. “I need to hitch a ride back to the Long Trail,” I explained to them. To be perfectly honest, I had absolutely no interest in finding a geocache, but I figured it didn’t hurt to introduce myself or at least do a cursory look. Maybe if I found it they’d offer me a ride back to the trail? That’s what I was hoping for, but nothing panned out on that.

They continued looking for the geocache, and I went back to trying to hitch my way out of town.

After about a half hour and 30 cars later, a large, dark vehicle pulled over. I said I was going to the Long Trail and the guy waved me his vehicle and off we were headed. My driver was Frank, who owned a small plane nearby where he was learning to fly. Which kind of amused me—I figured most people bought planes after they had learned how to fly, but he decided to buy the plane first then get an instructor to teach him on his own plane. I was a little envious too. I want to learn how to fly. I’d love to own my own plane to putter around in. If the lessons weren’t just so darned expensive I’d have done it years ago!

So we talked about planes for a while, and I told him about my hike on the Long Trail and that I was taking photo of the hike for http://www.walking4fun.com which he thought was a brilliant idea. Hiking and working—at the same time! Yes, I’m rather fond of the concept myself. =) Though admittedly, it doesn’t pay very well at the moment. “I only started the website earlier this year,” I told him. “All of the other websites I built took a few years to really ramp up, and I expect this one will be the same.”

In our discussion, I almost forgot to watch out for the trail, and when I realized I had stopped paying attention to the road, I briefly panicked that we had already passed it, but we hadn’t. I saw the trail come up seconds later, though, and Frank pulled over to let me out.

I took my time getting back to the trail so it was already well into the afternoon by the time I got started hiking again, so I decided just to go to the next shelter at Sterling Pond—a mere 3.8 miles away. I figured it was okay to do such a short day, though, since Amanda wasn’t expecting me at the end of the trail until October 1st. That wasn’t a very ambitious schedule!

The trail up from Smugglers Notch was steep but otherwise uneventful. With a pack loaded down from food (and more toilet paper than I really wanted), each step required a lot more effort. The weather was cloudy and overcast, but at least it wasn’t raining. It was a little chilly, though, so I went to pull out my buff to put it on and... I couldn't find it. It wasn't in the pocket where I usually left it. It wasn't in any of the mesh pockets of my pack where I often stored stuff like that. I hoped it was in my clothes bag, deep in my pack, but I had a bad feeling that the buff was gone. I couldn't know for certain until I emptied my pack and searched the clothes bag, though, and I wasn't going to do that on the middle of the trail.

I passed nobody on the trail until I reached Sterling Pond where I saw two day hikers on the shore admiring the view. I stopped only long enough for a few photos then pushed on to the shelter just beyond it.

The first thing I did was take a photo of the shelter. The second thing I did was throw out my ground sheet. And the third thing I did was empty my pack to search for my buff. I so wanted my buff. I wanted it to keep my ears warm and my nose covered. I emptied my clothes bag but found nothing, so I emptied it again and checked every article of clothing. Maybe it got stuck in a sleeve when I laundered it?  But again, I came up empty. The buff was gone.

I tried to remember the last time I saw it. I knew I used it going over Mount Mansfield the day before, and I knew I took it off before I reached the road after the sun came out and the temperature started warming up, but what did I do with it? I put it in the front pocket of my pants. Then what?

And I drew a complete blank. I had absolutely no recollection of ever seeing that buff after I stuffed it in the front pocket of my pants. Did it fall out onto the trail? Did it fall out of my pocket when I was at the library? Or at the diner Cindy took me out to? Or maybe I left it at Cindy's place? That would be ideal--I could still get it back someday if I left it there, but I was pretty certain I had packed everything up before I left. Wouldn't I have noticed a buff sitting all by itself on the floor?

I was a little sad and mourned the loss of my buff. I didn't have it long, but I was already missing it.

The shelter has a caretaker assigned to it but for whatever reason, the caretaker wasn’t there so I wasn’t charged $5 for staying there. In fact, absolutely nobody was at the shelter. Not when I arrived, and not after the sun went down and things got dark. It was a shelter I would have completely to myself. =)

While writing in the shelter register, I sat on a bench in front of the shelter when I saw a fast-moving animal run behind the shelter in the corner of my eye. I looked up, but the animal was already gone. It seemed like it could have been a cat. Perhaps a little larger than a house cat, but it seemed to move like a cat. A bobcat? A lynx? What the heck is the difference between the two anyhow? I had absolutely no confidence in my identification of the mysterious animal, though, except that it seemed to moved in a “cat-like” manner. Very quiet—I hadn’t heard a thing—and very quick and agile.

I was intrigued enough to put down the register and see if the animal was still hidden behind the shelter. It could have run off into the trees once it was out of my view. I had no reason to think that it had stopped behind the shelter—I just hoped that whatever it was was still there.

When I walked up the side of the shelter then poked my head around it to the back and a small animal dashed off to the other side of the shelter and out of view. Damn it was fast! I still couldn’t figure out what the heck I had seen except that it confirmed the original cat-like movements I had seen. I didn’t even hear any of the leaves on the ground rustle. This animal knew how to move quietly despite its speed! I only saw a blur. I ran to the other side of the shelter in the hopes of spotting the animal again, but I only caught a small blur far in the distance before it disappeared into the trees for good. Shoot. What the heck was that thing?!

Some questions, alas, may never be answered, and this will likely be one of them.

Looking down towards Smugglers Notch.

Moose prints!

A couple of day hikers admiring Sterling Pond.

We’re in another ski area?! Seems like we’re passing
through a lot of them!

The Sterling Pond Shelter was the locale of the
Great Mystery Animal Sighting. =)

Day 21: Mount Mansfield!

This is called the Needle's Eye, and the trail runs right between and under these boulders! Which pretty much marks the start of the hard part of the trail up the Forehead.

September 24: Upon waking up in the morning, the very first thing I did was look out the windows. Please, I prayed to myself, let the weather be nice! I’d already lost an entire day of hiking by slowing down to wait for the bad weather to break, all so I could summit Mount Mansfield—the tallest mountain of Vermont!—on a nice, clear day! The weather was supposed to have cleared up two days ago now. It’s time for a nice day! And even the evening before, it looked like things were starting to improve.

So I looked out the window of the shelter and was immensely disappointed to see nothing but fog. It wasn’t raining, but I could barely see 10 feet out the window it was so foggy. Argh!

I briefly considered waiting for an hour or two to see if things might improve, but I was tired of waiting. I spent the last two days trying to wait out the weather with no success. I ate my last dinner the night before, and I was about to eat my last breakfast this morning, and I had a handful of snacks left in my pack to get me into town. I definitely had to get into town today, and I didn’t want to delay my arrival anymore than I already had.

So I quickly ate breakfast, bundled up, and decided to wear most of my camp clothes while hiking today. My camp clothes were warmer than my hiking clothes, and it looked very cold and exposed outside. And since I was going into town today, I didn’t have to worry about keeping my camp clothes dry.

I left the shelter and headed up Mount Mansfield in the cold, bitter wind.

Mount Mansfield, apparently, if you look at it from the right direction, looks like a face, which is why the individual summits on the mountain have names like the Chin, Forehead, and Nose. The Chin is the highest peak of them all, but apparently I was travelling along the face upside-down because before I got to the Chin, I had to conquer the Forehead.

The Forehead might not sound like much, but it strikes fear into everyone who’s familiar with it. There are more ladders on this section of trail than anywhere else on the Long Trail. It is steep, following alongside steep cliffs that, if one were to trip or fall, could mean instant death. In good weather, it’s been known to make grown men cry. In bad weather, some people would call it suicidal, which is why there’s a bad-weather bypass.

Stevie, the caretaker at Butler Lodge, suggested that we should not take the bad-weather bypass, which came somewhat as a surprise to us all. The wind was howling, probably pushing a steady 20 to 30 mph with gusts even higher, on often slick and wet rocks. If this wasn’t bad weather, what did it take before it could be considered bad?! But she told us that it’s actually easier than the bad-weather bypass and that the only good time to use the bypass was if there was thunder and lightning in the air. You wouldn’t want to expose yourself to lightning on the exposed trail up the Forehead. Wet, cold and windy were no reasons to use the trail, though, and we took her at her word. She was the only one of us familiar with all of these trails, after all.

I left the shelter about the same time as Purgy No More and his friends/family did, which, when I reached the Forehead, I was happy to have them around. If the worst should happen, I wanted people nearby who could help. I didn’t expect the worst to happen, but if something did happen, this would certainly be a likely place for it!

We climbed up the series of ladders, but it was a couple of exposed surfaces where we hugged the rocks for dear life and wiggled our way across that made up the scariest part of the Forehead. Full body contact because crawling across the rock on all fours just wasn’t safe!

Once we got past the Forehead, the trail leveled out significantly and things got easier. The trail was now largely above treeline so the weather got worse without many trees to break the wind, and on the few patches of trees that did survive at these elevations, thick layers of rime ice had formed.

Which was actually a new experience for me. I’d never seen rime ice up close and personal before. I had heard of it, and I’d seen photos of it, but I’d never been anywhere to actually see it for myself and I found it absolutely enchanting. At least it would be if it just weren’t so freakin’ cold out!

And while walking past one of these patches of trees covered with rime ice, I learned about a new danger that I had no idea existed: The strong winds that formed rime ice would also blow off large chunks that would pelt my face. Argh! I started protecting my eyes with my left hand as I quickly stepped through the patch of trees.

I didn’t dare rest for more than a few seconds at a time because the bitter wind would suck the heat right out of me if I did. I simply pushed onward, through the fog and wind. And kept my spirits up with the thought that at least it’s not raining. Thank God it’s not raining!

The Long Trail doesn’t actually go over the top of the Nose, but a short side trail leads to the top. That side trail, however, was closed to hikers at this time and signs warned that the radio frequency waves on the Nose exceeded federal limits or something to that effect. So I didn’t go that way. There wouldn’t have been a view anyhow.

I soon reached the Visitor Center on Mount Mansfield, a large building that seemed out of place all by itself. When I walked in, I found Stevie already there—she had left the shelter nearly an hour before the rest of us since the shelter was essentially her night job. During the day, she manned the visitor center.

But I was most surprised at how small the visitor center was. The building was substantial, but the visitor center only filled up the lobby, a very small portion of the building. Stevie told me that the rest of the building is used for other purposes including, once upon a time, as a radio station.

After a brief look around the visitor center, I headed back into the elements for the final climb to the top of Mount Mansfield.

I soon caught up with another hiker, which surprised the heck out of me. Who in the world would go out in weather like this except thru-hikers?! He explained to me that he was just out for a day hike. Originally, he wanted to do a hike in the White Mountains of New Hampshire but because the weather was bad, he figured it would probably be safer and easier to stick to the Green Mountains instead. He offered to take some photos of me, though, which I gladly accepted since otherwise I wouldn’t have any decent photos of me at the top of Vermont’s tallest peak. =)

We didn’t really talk very much. Over the wind, you really had to shout to be heard, and shouting gets tiring very quickly, so we kept our conversation short.

We passed the trail junction for Profanity Trail, another bad-weather bypass around the highest peak of Vermont. I couldn’t imagine how bad that trail must have been if it was called Profanity Trail! I’d already used plenty of profanity, and I wasn’t even on the profanity trail! But I liked the name of that trail. Truth in advertising, no doubt! =)

When I reached the summit of the Chin—the highest peak on Mount Mansfield—I hadn’t even realized I had reached a summit because it came up so gradually until the day hiker actually told me this was the top. “It is?!” I replied, surprised.

He pointed down towards our feet. “That’s the geographical survey marker that marks the peak!” he yelled over the wind.

Two other hikers had been sitting down, back-to-back, just under the summit and protected by a boulder as a wind break, and I was once again astounded that there were other hikers up here. Even more surprising, they were staying up here in this miserable weather.

“What are you guys doing up here?” I yelled down to them.

They were the caretakers, though. They stayed in Taft Lodge over the night, on the far side of Mount Mansfield just like Stevie was the caretaker for Butler Lodge. And just like Stevie watched over the visitor center during the day, they watched over the mountain itself during the day. I was a more than a little impressed that despite weather like this, they were still out there to keep watch over the mountain.

I took some photos, but I didn’t linger. Still too cold and windy, although there was a strange lull in the wind at the very peak as if the wind was blowing around both sides of it rather than over the top.

Heading down from the Chin, the trail turned steep and treacherous again, and my progress slowed significantly. No ladders this time, although a few of the slopes certainly could have used them.

And a short time later, I re-entered below the treeline and finally got out of the wind.

I made a quick stop at Taft lodge—the largest shelter on the Long Trail with space for 24 people—ate a snack, then continued onwards.

The trail descended rapidly and I eventually got out of the fog. Even more remarkably, the sun started to come out! The first time in three days I had seen the sun! Above and behind me, I could still see the clouds and fog enveloping Mount Mansfield, but ahead, things were looking bright!

Eventually, I stopped to change into my usual hiking clothes since my camp clothes were now too warm. Without the wind and with the sun coming out, I was getting positively hot.

The trail comes down towards Smugglers Notch where it crosses Vt. 108—and the point where I’d get off the trail to resuppy in Stowe.

The trail follows the road west a short ways before re-entering the woods, and I could see parking on both sides of the road in that direction, so walked to the forward edge of the parking lot to hitch a ride. I figured that would give anyone who was willing to stop to give me a ride plenty of room to pull over in the parking lot.

As I walked by the parking area long the road, the bright sun was blinding. In the trees on the trail, it wasn’t a problem, but alongside the road, there wasn’t any shade and the sun was absolutely blinding. I needed to pull the sunglasses out of my pack! When I had packed up backpack early that morning, I did not imagine that I’d be needing sunglasses before the day was out!

I reached the point where I wanted to hitch a ride and was about to put down my pack when I spotted a car driving up the road. I stuck out my thumb on the off chance it would stop, but it drove on by. A second car just behind it pulled over, however, before I even had a chance to put my pack down.

“Where are you going?” a woman in the passenger seat asked me in a very thick, hard-to-understand accent.

“Stowe!” I told them, and they encouraged me to jump in the backseat. Wow! This was awesome! I literally hadn’t even had time to put down my pack before I nabbed myself a ride! That was a new record for me!

The couple that picked me up, I learned, were Canadians from Montreal out to do a little leaf peeping, but they were actually from Thailand before they moved to Quebec which would certainly explain their thick accents. They weren’t familiar with the Long Trail, so I told them a bit about it as they gave me a ride into Stowe.

They dropped me off at the post office where I had had Amanda mail me my laptop after she left Rutland. Then I walked a few blocks away to the library where I figured I could get online with it and let people know that I was still alive and well. =)

I emailed Amanda and my mom to let them know about my arrival in Stowe, as well as Cindy who lived in Stowe and had offered me a place to stay while I was in town. She soon emailed me back saying that she was working until 7:00 or so but that I was more than welcome to help myself into her place. I looked up the directions online and her place didn’t seem far, but since I was already comfortable and online, I decided to get a little work done on this blog and catching up on the more important emails I had gotten.

By 7:00, I was still at it and Cindy eventually came by to pick me up at the library. I was perfectly okay not walking to her place. =) Before we went back to her place, though, we walked over to the Malt Shop where we ate dinner. The burger was good, but they have absolutely amazing fries, let me tell you! =) And they played old 60s music through the diner which I liked as well. =)

Then we headed back to her place where I showered off 10 days of grime and dirt and settled in for the night.

Rime ice formed on the patches of trees near the top of Mount Mansfield.

But you had to be careful around it since the wind
would pelt you in the face with the ice!

Remarkably, given the severe wind and cold, I found
these flowers thriving on the trail!

The Nose is closed due to radioactivity!

The visitor center on Mount Mansfield in is a pretty large
building, but only a tiny lobby in the front is actually
used for the visitor center. The rest of the building is
used for other purposes.

Rime ice can also form on rock, but these weren’t
high enough for the wind to pelt me in the face with it!

I’m nearing the summit! The thing to notice in this photo is
how puffed up I look. That because the wind is getting
in under my jacket and pants and puffing them up like balloons.
Also note that I’m using the shiny new buff I bought for the
trail as a balaclava to keep my face warm. =) Love the buff!

Yeah, I can think of a few words right now…

The day hiker who I summited Mount Mansfield with
is just up ahead of me in this photo wearing a blue
jacket—but he’s hard to see with all the fog!

One last push to the summit…

…and we’re here! The highest point in Vermont! =)

It might be the highest point in Vermont, but the view SUCKED!

The trail down from the summit was treacherous and steep!

Taft Lodge—the largest shelter of the Long Trail with space
for 24 people!

Not far below Taft Lodge, the sun started to come out
and I could even see patches of blue sky!

Vt. 108 at Smugglers Notch. The trail leads about 1/10th of a mile
down this road before re-entering the woods on the right.

Cindy and I ate dinner at the Malt Shop. Two thumbs up! =)

I saw a bear! I saw a bear! And nobody cared…