Date: 2013-08-18
From: Joanne & Ed's House, VT 103

To: Joanne & Ed's House, VT 100 Giffords Woods St. Par
Miles today: 20.5

I slept so well, and I did NOT want to get out of bed. But we wanted to be at the trail by 7:30 a.m. Joanne fixed me a delicious omelet on a croissant. She drove me back out to the trail. There was a light morning haze that hung in the trees and in the folds and crevices of the hills. The mountains looked especially tall. I've realized that from afar, they look imposing and intimidating. But from the rail, where the view is obscured by trees, you don't get a full appreciation of the vastness of the mountain. You just see the trail in front of you and whatever hints of the climb or descent that the trail might be willing to divulge. But from the car, you see the whole picture. I thought, uh-oh. I've got 17 miles of mountain to climb over today.We pulled into the parking area. There was a hiker picking through the remnants of the trail magic Joanne & Patty had left. There was nothing left. I chuckled. I would have dug through the same pile of trash if I had been him. I tried to think of any other time in my life when I would have so hopefully have dug through a pile of garbage in hopes of finding some little something that might be edible. Out here on the AT, it's as instinctual as breathing. Joanne gathered what was left of her offering, and we hugged. Then I set off. There was a rocky climb up to Beacon Hill. I could see a covered bridge and the roofs of a couple of houses. I wondered if one of them was the family farm. There was a lot of evidence of damage done by Hurricane Irene. Trees that were down, river banks that were washed away, pieces of lumber that used to be bridges. I passed a SOBOer. He told me of an upcoming detour, but that the trail was easily passable and the rivers were easily crossed without the need of fording. Good to know! I got to a register station. A nearby tree had a wooden sign nailed to it. It read: Katahdin 500 miles. Woohoo! The first 500 miles had seemed so hard-won. Certainly the next 500 miles will be as well, but the actually volume of miles don't seem so overwhelming. I tromped along for another 3/4 of a mile. There was a river crossing. A large tree lay across the river and two smaller trees lay across at a different angle. They were tied together in one of the worst examples of a bridge I'd seen to date. There was no way I was going to try to cross using that. Instead, I walked down to the water and easily picked my way across the exposed rocks. I got to the other side, dropped my pack and went to pull out my directions. They weren't in the belt pocket where I usually keep them. I dug through every possibility. They weren't there. I looked back towards the river crossing. I had a sinking feeling. There were two days worth of directions in that ziplock baggy. I tucked my pack between two rocks, and I grabbed my poles. I started back tracking, scanning in every direction. The last place I remembered having them was at the Katahdin sign. Sure enough, there they were. Phew! I was worried someone might have picked them up thinking they were garbage. I looked back up at the Katahdin 500 miles. I wasn't as excited to see it this time around. I worked my way up Mount Killington. The trail functions as the AT in the summer, but in the winter, snow-shoers, cross-country skiers and snow-mobilers criss-cross over its surface. Yep, this mountain wears many hats. The trail was never too steep, and instead it worked it traversed its way up to the top. It narrowed with lots of rocks and roots, but I was unencumbered with my light pack and it was glorious! This slack pack is such a treat- like eating a cupcake for breakfast My feet were a different story. They aren't really enjoying the new boots. Luckily I didn't develop blisters, but I can feel some pressure points that are a little less than ideal. I miss my Montrails. But at least these guys are gripping the rocks. I got to the top of Killington and had lunch. It was still pretty early, and I only had 6 miles to go. I called Joanne and asked if she would mind picking me up 3 miles farther than we had previously arranged. She was a great sport, and said no problem. I plowed down the mountain. My knees were so grateful not to be burdened with the extra weight. I sang songs to myself, and I thought about the trail and the people I'd met. I wondered how many of them I'd see again when this adventure came to a conclusion. I hope that we stay in touch.I got down to US 4, and there was a Styrofoam cooler full of freshly iced sodas. I grabbed a Coke and drank it as I walked. I crossed the road and climbed into the woods on the other side. I marveled at Vermont's unending beauty. Just a few hours ago, I was boxed into a dense spruce forest, now I was walking in an open deciduous forest. I crossed Maine Junction, and realized that I was leaving the Long Trail. It was here that the AT and the LT part ways. I felt a little sad. About a quarter of a mile later I passed a Hasidic Jewish man and his young son out enjoying the woods. They asked me about my hike and my gear. They were so friendly and curious. I walked away feeling good about being able to share this experience with others. I also got a few peeks at Pico Mountain and Killington. They looked so steep and tall, especially with the racing stripes of ski slopes streaking down their faces. I got down to Gifford Woods State Park, and I realized that I had just officially crossed the 1700 mile mark. Where did the last 1000 miles go? It seemed like only last week I was passing the 700 mile mark. I saw a bright blue car driving towards me. Fingers waved from the top of the window. It was Patty & Joanne coming to scoop me back up. They've been the best trail angels one can hope to encounter! They had a sandwich waiting for me. We got home. I showered and ate. I got to talk to Steve & Elaine and to Tom. By then I was pooped. I crashed in my bed like a ton of bricks. I didn't get any of the trail journals updated, but I did get in 20 miles :D