Date: 2011-07-18
From: (101) Bennington Vermont and The Vortex

To: (102) Stratton Pond Shelter
Miles today: 29.3
Weather: light rain

I woke from where I had been sleeping under the pool table inside the hiker barn, sat up, and hit my head. I packed, said bye to Portrait, and began walking down the street. Despite the North¢s bad rep for picking up hikers, I was able to catch a ride in the back of a pickup truck before I had even reached the end of town. The couple who had picked me up drove into the mountains, and when I spotted the trail I banged on the side of the truck with my hand to let them know to pull over. I got out and thanked the couple, a thanks that I truly meant as it was one of the few hitches I had ever received where I wasn¢t fearful for my life (Most of the people who have picked me up think that they are driving a race car; oblivious to speed limits, sharp turns, and the double painted lines).Back on trail it began to rain, but I continued to hike through it until I was so soaked that I no longer cared (It¢s like jumping into a cold pool; once you are submerged you no longer notice). I ate while I walked, and took the last of my Lyme disease pills (Doxycycline Hytrate or whatever), I am cured!Having not hit the trail until 7:30am, I was planning on hiking until 7 or 7:30pm and see where I ended up. So instead of deciding that I was going to hike to a certain shelter and stop, I would instead hike until around this time, and then stop at whatever the next water source was. I wanted to do at least 25 miles despite the rain in order to gain some ground on Wakarusa.Eventually I escaped the downpour by entering a shelter, where I joined 6 or 7 other dripping wet hikers for lunch, many of whom I recognized. While eating the rain stopped, so I was able to continue on more cheerfully then before. The rest of the day was spent climbing up and down the many mountains of Vermont. The ground and surrounding forest stayed wet all day, and so did I (It was impossible to dry off as I kept stepping into mud puddles and getting hit by wet branches). Towards the end of the day it began to thunder and drizzle some. I thought about stopping, but a huge mountain lay ahead that the AT went over, so I decided to see if I could dodge the storm by hiking over it. I climbed the mountain for seemingly forever as the thunder boomed overhead and a blanket of icy fog began to settle across the land. At last I reached a fire tower and the summit, then started going back down the other side. . As I had guessed, the mountain was tall enough to block the storm. The rain stopped as I descended, and I even caught a couple rays of sunshine. I had hiked out of the impending downpour. I reached a place called Stratton Pond Shelter late in the day because of my decision to climb the last (and tremendous) mountain, and I was limping with soreness. The other hikers there asked me how far I had come, and I told them twenty some miles starting from the town of Benningtion. They all seemed shocked by what I had told them. Confused, I opened my book (which I hadn¢t looked at all day because of the rain) and saw that I had over-shot my goal and done 29.3 miles instead, through the mud covered mountains of Vermont, with a late start and tons of rain. I couldn¢t believe I had done such mileage! (It was very encouraging)My hike wasn¢t over yet, however. With the daylight lowering behind the mountains like the closing of a blind over a window, I raced to get water before being washed away in a wave of darkness. I grabbed my 2L platypus and then jogged down a blue blazed trail until catching up to a girl who was going back for more water, and who would therefore know the way. I talked to her as we walked and learned that she was a south bounder who had started July 20th. I was shocked to learn that South bounders actually start so late in the year. They are so new to the hike while us Nobos (hiker terminology for ¢North Bounder¢) have been on for months. I wondered if they ever look at us and see what is to come, or wonder what it will feel like when they themselves have been on for as long as us? I used to imagine myself at the end of the trail, and now that I am near, I look back at my old memories as almost a past life. I don¢t think that I have changed much personality wise, but I am without a doubt more experienced. To me, the Sobo (Hiker slang for south bounder) seemed a little too optimistic about certain things, but I suppose I was no different¢¦ Then again, why would anyone want to hike South? It¢s almost derogatory, the idea of hiking South. Civilized people hike North, everyone knows that! (I am joking of course. Nobos always pick on South Bounders for their decision to hike South, often implying that going South is a preposterous idea and that North is the only direction that makes sense)When we finally reached the water source it turned out to be a small spring running into a large lake (I would have never found it). The water was yellow, but the Sobo insisted that this was because of all the pine trees and that all the water farther North would look like this. As usual, I was in no position to argue and drank. It seemed thicker than most water, and maybe even a little tangy.Back at the shelter I removed my wet shoes to reveal the two dirt covered prunes that were my aching feet. I sat down to let them rest, and while doing so made some delicious Ramon noodles. After I had finished I used my headlamp to navigate my way through the dark shelter to a top bunk, where I hung my mosquito netting from a rafter beam and fell asleep.