Date: 2009-07-21
From: Story Spring Shelter - Trail Mile 558.8

To: Stratton Pond Shelter - Trail Mile 548.4
Miles today: 10.4
Weather: light rain

Day 31[Watson & Holmes arrived. Reported they are "Safe & Drying out."Her journal entry:]Stratton Pond ShelterAnother late start. So late, in fact, that W&W are stopping in for their first break after covering the five miles from Kid Gore (they started at 7 am). Sneaks is the only one out later than we are (about 9:15 am) but he can easily make up the time. It's not a long day, either, so I'm not worried. 20 miles to Trail Magic, of which I had planned 15 today. The only big climb is Stratton Mountain, and we should be at the top in time for lunch. We would have, too if not for some rain and trouble, first:This day will forever live in infamy as The Day Jess Lost Harvey (Again)!!Luckily, no roads were involved this time!Following yesterday's tradition, H is roaming farther ahead than I'd like. I manage to keep him in check for the first 4-5 miles, until we cross our only road for the day. DZ&S and W&W all cross at the same time with us. Then we start to climb Stratton. It's a gentle mile to mile and a half, then a steep mile, then a bit of a ridgewalk and last climb up to the enclosed lookout tower where we'll all take our lunch. W&W are faster, but H&I manage to stay not too far behind for a while, enough that W and H can play. Once we hit the steeper section, though, W&W take off. H follows, but I slow down. I'm okay with this, as I know Wyrm likes H but would send him back if he weren't able to keep an eye on him. Every once in a while I think I hear a howl, maybe ahead, maybe behind. I think it's just an echo - if H were behind me he'd have to have passed me, right? I whistle back, but again am not worried when he doesn't come. I keep plodding along ('I'll get there eventually!'), when almost halfway up I feel some sprinkles of rain. I stop to put my packcover on (doing my best to avoid wet gear!), whistle for H so I can put his AG bag/poncho on, but still am not worried when he doesn't come, as it's only a light rain. Another quarter mile goes by, and I start to hear someone shouting below. I'm not sure what he's saying at first, but finally make out my name. It's Fly-By, and he's searching for me. Apparently Watson had run past him 10 minutes ago heading the other direction an looking frantic. All FB could think was that I was injured and he was running for help. (I wish H were that smart!!) I reassure FB that I'm fine, and while I drop my gear and gather his leash, my cell and wallet, and some treats, we figure H must have run straight down the mountain off-trail while I was on a switchback. Silly puppy! So, with many quick thanks to FB, back down I go. I pass Iron Man next, and then Apache, who had both also tried to stop H with no luck. He was a dog on a mission! I pass DZ&S, who also couldn't stop H. I pass a day-hiking family with their own dog. H slowed long enough to sniff tails and for them to read his tags, but they didn't realize I was ahead. I'm running downhill at this point, stopping every so often to whistle as loud as I can. In the humid air, though, the sound just doesn't carry well. We're almost back to the dirt road, when I finally hear the jingle of dog tags. H bounds up to me, pleased as punch that he heard the whistles and found me again, never mind that we're two miles (downhill!) from where he lost me! I'm trying very hard not to yell at him, because what in his mind, would I be angry for? I give him a chicken treat instead, for coming when I whistled, and put his leash on. His punishment, in my mind, is to stay on leash the rest of the day. We climb Stratton Mountain again, or rather he climbs and I am dragged. All the while I'm thinking this is karma balancing the fact that I slackpacked DOWN both sides of Greylock. Suddenly, though, there's more: a downpour!!! And our rain gear is another half-mile up, with my pack (which, at least, had a packcover on and which I had thought enough about to ask Iron Man to make sure was right-side up)! We're soaked by the time we get there, so I don't bother with the rain gear. I'm thinking it can't be that much further to the summit (not realizing there's a bit of ridgewalk and more climbing) and then we'll take some time in the firetower to get warm and dry over lunch. It turns out to be a long, wet, cold walk, but when we get there, the firetower is monopolized by the day-hiking family. I think about trying to sit down for lunch under a big pine tree, but no dice: I'm too cold and H just won't relax. So I put on his AG bag/poncho hoping he'll at least be a little warmer, and we push on the next three hungry miles to shelter.Finally there, I leash H so he won't run in and shake all over the other hikers. Luckily, this is a HUGE shelter with porch complete with benches and picnic table, 4 bunks along each side wall and two double-wide bunks in the middle, and a lift over the porch for additional sleeping space. Again, though, there are many hikers on the same stretch of trail leading to Trail Magic, plus a couple southbounders and some locals out for a few nights. Luckily, someone was just heading out to push on through the rain, so I snag a bunk in the lower level. I claim it with my tent-roll* and sleeping bag.I dry H as best I can with my packtowel, then put him to bed inside my down bag to warm and finish drying. I clip his leash to the bunk so he can't go after anyone's food, make sure he has his own food and water, and then look to drying myself off. I'm still shivering after changing into my thickest socks, baselayer bottoms, dry shirt, and rainjacket, so I eat my already-prepared lunch, which is filling but cold. I don't have hot chocolate, but I do have chocolate pudding mix. Deciding it would be a fine substitute if eaten warm, I grab my cookset and head over to the table on the porch where, lo' and behold, someone has left a half cannister of Ghirardelli mocha hot chocolate mix. The consensus is that it was there when we all arrived and so is up for grabs. I lay claim, but leave it out for anyone else who needs a hot drink during the downpour. I mix up the chocolate and add the pudding anyway for the thickness and the dry milk that Dad has already mixed in (thanks, Dad!), and then curl up in my down bag with H to try to warm up. Eventually it works. An hour later I'm warm, mostly dry, and feeling social.I chat with TT (in the bunk next to me) for a bit about dogs on the trail, and then move to the porch to meet SOBO (southbound) Fiddler and reacquaint with TopOfGothics and some others. TopO's girlfriend's name is Terri, by the way. Hi, Terri!, and I apologize for not stopping to chat when we met on Greylock - I felt I had to rush to make the 17 miles back to Dalton that day with such a late start.I'm wavering on making dinner - I had a late lunch and snack and have enough water for one meal. I'm hoping to avoid going out in the downpour (yes, it's still raining!) for more water. But TopO reminds me that I'll need the energy tomorrow, so I make the trek to the spring with my camelbak (on which the duct-tape and superglue repair job is holding up well!). On the way back, TopO has found cell signal at the junction of the AT and side trail to shelter. I grab my phone and try the same spot, but alas, AT&T doesn't cover Stratton Pond. After a yummy dinner and some admiration by other hikers of my awesome home support and their freeze-dried meal additions, I help Hellbender figure out how to use L-Train's jetboil stove (she's not feelig well) and listen to some more fiddling by Fiddler (yes, he actually brought his fiddle on the trail). Finally, we all turn in. H and I sleep particularly well.Note added 8/3/09:At the beginning of the (first) Stratton climb, Wyrm recited a quote about the definition of trudging from Disney's A Knight's Tale... Does anyone know it? Five points and a beer to the first one to post it as a comment!!(*FYI- I roll my groundcloth, tent, fly, and closed-cell RidgeRest pad all together to save time and keep the fly on top in case I have to set up in the rain; in shelters I simply lay my sleeping bag on top of the whole mess. Mom even sewed a custom bag for the whole thing out of red rip-stop nylon. Unfortunately we didn't think to wash the new nylon bag, so the backside of my hiking pants is now a dull red-green pattern. Ah well! I'm still very grateful for the bag and all the prep-work for this hike!)43° 6' 1.4" N 72° 57' 48.94" W, 2690 ftFor HarveysMom by Harvey's GrandPop