Date: 2009-08-27
From: Goddard Shelter

To: Stratton Pond Shelter
Miles today: 19.3
Weather: clear sky

If Wednesday night qualified as chilly then last night was positively Baltic. Most definately the coldest since Erwin. Back then though it represented the final throw of the departing winter, a low water mark from which things could only get better. Now its late August and rather than signalling winter's demise it seems an ominous sign of things to come. Evidence of the gentle ebb and flow of the seasons and that, unfortunately, nothing lasts forever.I'd gone to bed in t-shirt, fleece, shorts and socks. At 2am I added my hat, curled up and pulled my sleeping bag over my head, my warm breath to providing some natural heat but also creating a somewhat suffocating and claustrophobic environment. Things were quiet though, a shuffle here, a snuffle there and at least one of my bunk mates was sleeping well, evidenced by the low bass rumble of snoring. Once again I was glad of my earplugs, even if they could only muffle and not completely block out my companions efforts.Sleep returned but when I awoke at 5:45 it seemed easier to just get up and get going rather than to cling hopefully (or is that hopelessly) to the little warmth remaining within my sleeping bag cocoon.Preparing for the off I couldn't help but notice that the man who knows everything seemed to have suffered more than most. He may have been boastfully light weight the evening before but this morning it seemed that his fleece blanket (and lack of awareness - or is it respect) had been no match for the potent combination of weather, latitude and altitude.He had lived to tell the tale though. I felt sure he would.It was time to get moving though and I was thankful for the short, sharp blast up to the summit of Glastenbury Mtn. It got the blood flowing and then the sunrise contributed to warming my heart, if not my extremities. So, this unplanned and, maybe, even unwelcome early start had brought its rewards. I arrived at the summit as the sun, a vivid orange ball of fire, peaked above the tree line, and then, once I had climbed the fire tower, I could look over the trees to the lakes and mountains beyond, and to the dawning of the new day.It was fantastic, the promise, I hoped, of good times ahead; but it was also, and please excuse my french, f**king freezing.I scuttled away, my fingers blocks of ice but my mind content. Sometimes good times are neither comfortable nor easily won. This morning there was little I would have been more sure of.The sun worked its magic though. As it rose I unfroze. Gently defrosting over the 2 hours and 4 miles of trail leading to Kid Gore Shelter. Grump was there and I enjoyed chatting with him as I sat at the picnic table, eating my pop-tarts, enjoying the views and letting the sun, work its own brand of magic on this weary hiker. Is there anything better than feeling the warmth of the sun on the back of your neck? This morning I would have answered a categorical 'no'.This was the life; carefree miles; and that translate into easy miles, easy miles that led on to Story Spring Shelter where once again I was fortunate to find exceptionally good company, this time chatting to a couple of newly weds out for a honeymoon hike. They were in no hurry and spent time letting their kit dry out but eventually it was time for us to head off in our respective directions.The afternoon involved a long but pleasant climb up Stratton Mountain, eventually emerging at the base of the day's second fire tower. I dropped my pack and started to climb. Rising above the trees the views were more than a little special and I was grateful, but ....I couldn't help but be a little sad that I was enjoying all of this majesty through the glass windows of the towers observation deck or peering between the steel girders of the tower's supports. Long live the fire tower but it did give me the feeling that my experience, that all this natural glory, was being filtered through the hand of man. Of course, without the fire tower there would have been no view but I did allow myself to dream about how phenomenal Stratton Mountain would be if it was 'bald'. If the scene emerged gradually as you climbed, the views evolving and then altering as you wandered its ridges. If you could choose your own viewing platform and enjoy it without the iron, steel and glass of human intervention. Not a complain, just a thought.