Date: 2017-07-24
From: Clarendon lean to

To: Lost Pond lean to
Miles today: 18.6
Weather: light rain

"Damn this flat trail!"That was not a comment I ever expected to hear from someone who'd hiked across Maine and New Hampshire, but on a cold wet day Pouffey was hoping for a hill to help warm her up after stopping for too long at Minerva Hinchey lean to. At that exact moment the trail decided to be flat and easy . We'd have salivated over this weeks before, but it wasn't doing much to improve any of our body core temperatures.Eventually our route headed up Bear Mountain at an angle sufficient to warm us up. So far I'd mostly avoiding walking on rainy days, but being entirely within the tree line meant there was no safety reason not to hike through the drizzle. And, in truth, it was just nuisance drizzle rather than anything serious. We also had the benefit of Squeaky supporting us at each road crossing, although this was not as appealing as the previous day because the conditions were such that we wanted to have the safety options provided by carrying a full pack.The rain started around 6.30am or so, late enough for me to take down my tent before more than a few drops got through the overhanging trees, but such was the well-developed sense of slothfulness of this group that we didn't start hiking for another two hours. This was a stark contrast to the 6am starts I'd heard they'd been doing back in the 100 mile wilderness. We reached the road, where Squeaky had parked his car and loitered around under the scant shelter of a trail sign. Suddenly the cold sodas didn't sound quite so appealing.Then a car pulled in and some familiarly skinny-looking young guys jumped out. "Are you hikers?" one of them asked. "Do you want a soda?""Um, we've got sodas here," I replied, trying and failing not to sound ungracious and overentitled."What about Honeybuns? We have Honeybuns!""Oh, in that case..." and we headed over.The main guy was called Two Socks. He'd thru-hiked the AT last year and had just done the Long Trail this year with his buddy, whose trail name seemed to be My Friends, and on their way back home they were dispensing as much trail magic as they could at every road crossing of the AT.The irony of having two lots of trail magic at the same time was not lost on us, nor was the fact that there was little enthusiasm to head into the hills. But having done just 1.1 miles by 9.30am, we eventually found the enthusiasm to continue.The trail down and across Clarendon Gorge was particularly scenic and the climb up the ridge on the far side was enough to keep us warm, until we stopped at the shelter 2.6 miles in. As usual, Poppins and Pouffey hiked at a pace I couldn't begin to match but they then matched that with breaks that were far longer than I usually took. Particularly on a wet day, and particularly since Poppins didn't wear a rain jacket, Pouffey was wearing a windbreaker rather than GoreTex and Rare was clad in FroggTogs, the $20 WalMart classics chosen by all cash-strapped hikers.This was when Pouffey cursed the flat easy trail and we slogged through steady drizzle for another 3.6 miles to the next crossing, where Squeaky was waiting for us. This time he'd augmented his cold sodas with a grande meal of Taco Bell burritos, which he was generous to dole out to us. Rare was clearly feeling the cold and immediately hopped in the back seat. Pouffey and Poppins, who'd got there before me, were sheltering under umbrellas. Rare talked about "being OK" with heading back to Rutland to shelter from the rain and I began suspecting this was likely to be the end of onward movement for them for the day.Even clad in proper gear, I was chilling off so headed on, wondering if I'd see them again today. Since I was fully self contained, it didn't really matter either way, although I'd enjoyed my time hiking with them.I stopped at a stream crossing, where some soul with excess energy on a presumably less-unpleasant day had stacked rocks into artistic pillars, and when the rocket-walkers of Poppins and Pouffey didn't catch me there, I was pretty sure I was on my own for the day.The rain was scheduled to continue through until lunchtime the following day, which might have played a part in the others' decision, but it began easing off and then stopped. By then, my clothes were damp but I'm used to this from Kiwi tramping so I knew it was well within acceptable limits. I was very glad not to be wearing FroggTogs in this.Little Rock lean to was a paid site with a sumptuous porch. With the Long Trail walkers, who tended not to have their mountain skills as well honed as the AT hikers, there were twice as many people aiming to sleep in its shelter as there was room, which made for an awkward tenor. Among those who had called it a day early on were Sweets and Boss, who I hadn't seen since the Wildcats, at the start of the Whites.I pushed on, in part because hiking would help my clothing dry out. Once more, it was easy trail using an apparent old logging road to the next highway, where the absence of Squeaky finally confirmed their decision, and then three miles in to Lost Pond lean to. I was surprised to find it entirely empty on such a dismal day, but I certainly wasn't complaining because I wouldn't need to pitch my tent. Part of the reason I suspect was the profusion of shelters on this part of the trail, with four in the space of a little over 10 miles.Life is good.AT fact of the day: I'm less than 15 miles out from the road into Manchester, where I'm told by the nobos there is a particularly good hiker hostel. I remember when 15 miles was a full day -- or, in the Mahoosucs, a distance that was too far for sensible travel -- but now it feels like it'll be a nero.