Date: 2003-07-30
From: Upper Cold River Rd

To: Vt 4, Sherburne Pass
Miles today: 12.0

This morning, Mrs. Gorp's breakfast is scrambled eggs, OJ, coffee and French toast with real Vermont Maple syrup. It's going to be hard to go back to granola bars.Cindy helps me do some PO chores, as well as find some Shoo Goo for my new shoes. I am planning a preemptive strike on the rocks of New Hampshire. I know they are gunning for my rubber toe bumpers. So I will reinforce the toes BEFORE the rocks have their way.These shoes have been kind to me, allowing me to keep hiking. I was so foot-hobbled in Virginia it amazes me now that I kept going. But at the time, I thought everybody's feet hurt as badly as mine (and some, such as those of the White Brothers, did), so I just sucked it up and hobbled along. Now I would say to anyone with severe blisters and foot pain - find a boot and shoe-fitting expert, and keep looking till you do. Get the tight places punched out. Sure, my feet get tired and hurt at the end of the day. But no blisters or smushed toes. No one needs to walk in agony.That said, my bunions are still giving me fits. I show Cindy my right foot, where the little toe is twisted and bent left into the other toes; its joint with the foot is bulging and red. The toenail is black and will probably fall off. It looks deformed. The other side is similar, just not as dramatic. The problem is, I've stretched the synthetic fabric of my shoes as far as it will go. If it worsens, I will just have to cut a hole in my shoe for the bunion. I wouldn't wish for this to happen, to ruin my feet to the point of needing surgery, but there it is. Regrets? Only that I didn't know a little more about shoe fit before the aggravation started. Now the bunions are so large even great-fitting shoes have a hard time accomodating the bulge. Cindy's final act of kindness is to drop the guts of my pack at the Inn at the Long Trail, 12 miles away. Now I can hike over Killington Peak with only the essentials in the shell of my pack. I stop at the stone Governor Clement shelter. The ATC warns us not to camp here, as it is close to the road and there have been incidents with drunken visitors with trucks and chainsaws. Say no more. It is quiet at lunchtime, but I sign the register and move on. There is no pen, so I use a tiny stick from the fireplace. I want to be sure Chief knows I've been through.The hike up Killington is work, but not bad and very beautiful. This day is a stunner, sparkling and blue. I had not planned to go to the peak, but with this rare clear weather, I'd have to attempt the testy .25 mile uphill.First I stop at the lovely stone Cooper Lodge, where I read that folks have been leaving their packs here before climbing up. And I do mean climbing. Mrs. Gorp had said the trail resembled "LeHigh Gap," a stiff rock jumble back in PA. Ha! I thought she was having me on, but I must say, there were parts that went straight up the rocks.I met Typhoon coming down cautiously from the Peak, and he declared "it's worth it," so I pressed on. Sweating, I crested to a slab of rock and turned. Stunning! They say you can see five states and all the way to Canada from here. I will have to take their word, but I could sure see a long way over the green land. In fact, it is said, it was here the early French explorers crested and prounounced the state Verd-mont - the green mountains. I could see where the firs left off and the hard woods began. I decided to throw time out the window and go to the snack bar on the other side of the summit. There, the gondolas arrived and left, and hot food was served in a rustic, spacious restaurant. I ordered a cup of coffee, a pint of milk and a Ben and Jerry's ice cream bar and paid $6.50 for the privilege. I munched on my lunch from Cindy, collected my pocketmail from the pay phone, and soaked in the expansive views.As I was catching up on my journal, in walks Chief, Sparky and Zapman! They had caught me! Chief gives me a sweaty, nasty hug, and I am soaked. Still, it's great to see them. We caught up on the news. At one point, we were only six miles away. They all get some food and sit down.Shortly after, Anders and his crew comes in and order burgers. They join us and there we sit, a hiker congregation, yakking until the counter gal politely tosses us out well after the 4 pm closing time.We walk down the mountain in the slanting early evening light, chatting and dreaming of Shepherd's Pie. After the uphill slog from Hywy 4, we arrived at the famous Inn at the Long Trail. This long-standing, rustic wayside is a bit of a crossover and checkpoint for AT and Long Trail hikers. Most pause here to breathe, rest, eat, socialize and tip a few brewskis. The furniture is twig, log and slab construction.We got rooms and retired to the famed McGrath's Irish pub for supper. They have Guiness on tap, and can even draw the shamrock on top of the foam. Not much of a beer drinker, I ordered the hearty Guinness stew, which was thick and chunky and meaty. It came with large chunks of Irish soda bread - slathered with butter, they were to die for, better than any bakery yet on the Trail. I tried a Woodchuck Hard Cider, which was surprisingly dry and drinkable.I am glad to be here again. This is a checkpoint of sorts for me too. Last year, when Clyde and I stayed here, I wondered if I would see it yet again from on foot. And then, almost a year later, here I am. Here I am.