Date: 2009-08-21
From: Mt Wilcox South Lean To

To: Upper Goose Pond Cabin
Miles today: 15.8
Weather: light rain

Today, was one of those unexceptional days on the trail, much, I suppose, like unexceptional days you get in every walk of life - not, in short, the sort of day I am likely to recall in coming years as I down a beer or two. Maybe, in fact, this is the sort of highlight devoid day, the cumulative effect of which, I can imagine has, over the years, convinced more that one or two people that trail life is not for them. But its also the kind of day that those of us not unduly troubled by a lack of the exceptional can use to regroup, to be content and to be at peace. The sort of day when you realise that unexceptional is a long, long way from bad.I was up and away early in what seemed surprisingly gloomy light and dondered before stopping by a stream for a bit of breakfast. Breakfast was good but the trail goes on and so did I. On this occasion on to a road where I sought out a promised spring. Someone had left some jugs of water by the road but I persevered with my reconnaissance and was rewarded for my efforts by the discovery of a gushing spring, thoughtfully piped and cascading into an old bathtub which itself overflowed onto sodden ground.I filled my bottle and greedily gulped it down, being too lazy (and a little out of practice) to go to the effort of filtering.By and large I do filter my water. Not because I fear that pestilence and disease lurks menacingly in every mouthful but because I don't have many pressures on my time, I'm certainly not in a rush and while I am more than aware that I am probably doing nothing more than 'turning' perfectly good water into, well, perfectly good water, I find it relaxing; taking 20 minutes out to sit down, zone out, breath deeply, listen, think, and all of this while slowly (it is slowly) replenishing my stock of that wonderful, wet, cool, life giving elixir that we in the west take for granted and that people the world over recognise as water. That said sometimes I get lazy. Instant gratification it seems has its place and here besides this bathtub seemed to be just one of those places.The trail led onwards and up 'the cobble' where there were views, warmth and few bugs, a combination that whispered 'lunchtime' inside my head. Jabberwocky passed again, the latest of our near constant leapfrogging since Great Barrington and then the day continued through some meadow like stuff with its share of bog boards to keep us out of the worst of the mulch. There was little to catch the eye but I did notice a number of frogs (all of which were noticeably bigger than those I had passed over the last couple of weeks) and a lone deer who disappeared off into the woods.Then the rumbles began, or more precisely what seemed to be an almost constant rumble, the wind picked up and Jabberwocky commented on the coming storm.I'd been making steady (if unexceptional) progress but now the storm threatened to overrun me and beat me to the cabin. The rain started. No more than a sprinkle but to me these drops were harbingers of doom. I picked up the tempo. Four miles to go. Maybe my hustle would prove to be in vain but then again maybe 5 minutes would make all the difference.I kept walking, the rain kept sprinkling, the thunder kept rumbling but what I couldn't tell was whether the odds were lengthening or shortening on my prospective soaking.Finally, the trail to the cabin lay before me and I turned to follow the ponds edge the last half mile to safety. I was still nervous, you can get pretty wet in half a mile but, as it was, my luck was going to hold and today I would outrun the storm. The cabin was sweet and might have been a nice place to stay but tonight it would not be an option. The caretaker had taken a tumble and so the cabin was temporarily closed. No problem for me, I was going to camp anyway but there would, no doubt, be a few disappointed hikers until normal services could be resumed.Jabberwocky arrived moments before the heavens opened and we sat on the porch, sheltered from the rain watching as the pyrotechnics lit the sky over the pond. I read the journal. which until very recently was full of tales of relaxing swims in the lake, of hot suns, of leisurely paddles in the cabin's canoe and of breakfasts of blueberry pancakes. A hot sun and some canoeing sounded appealing but they were not to be my experience and my memories og Upper Goose Pond Cabin would just have to be different.