Here I Go Again

September 24
Canada to Jonesville

In 2010, the Long Trail is celebrating its 100th anniversary. As I found myself back east in fall with a month to go before the weather typically gets thoroughly unpleasant, I figured, “why not hike the Long Trail?” This would be a solo endeavor. A way to decompress from this summer’s experiences and adventures on the AT. It would also prove to be a spectacular fall hike through colorful deciduous forests and rugged terrain.

I started September 18th. A friend of mine, who we figured out has been at the northern terminus of all my major hikes, drove me to the northern terminus of the Long Train at the Vermont, Canada border. We hiked together the first three or four miles south of the border swath, a narrow corridor of cleared brush at the Canadian border. Then I was alone, for the first time since the southern AT.

Hiking by my self, there is not much to do but walk. I started talking to my self again, not in an unhealthy manor... And so I walked about 10 miles after an afternoon start. My first shelter of the trip had one other occupant and a couple of guys hammocking outside.

It rained the night of the 18th, soaking the ground, making the glacially polished rocks slick. I walked carefully about 20 miles on the second day, not quite making my planned destination. After the quickly moving storm, the temperature dropped and on the night of the 19th, the temperature dropped below freezing. I slept on a thick bed of dry leaves under the stars.

I saw my first north-bounder on the 20th. He reported a bear sighting! I haven’t seen a bear since Pennsylvania... and still haven’t. The bear at Butternut Mountain eluded me. Maybe I smell a little too much like a human.

Many people talk about the Long Trail being fiendishly difficult. The trails are supposedly steep and rocky, often requiring scrambles. I didn’t scramble until Mount Mansfield. After a successful short hitch hike into Stowe for extra food and an all you can eat CHinese meal, I was back on trail, dragging myself up a suddenly steep section of trail, deep fired chicken sloshing uncomfortably in my stomach. The final 300 feet to the top of Mansfield, the tallest mountain in Vermont at 4300 feet, I encountered a chimney with steps cut into the steep wall. This was the scrambling I have been told about.

I enjoy a challenge. Instead of looking at steep trail as a chore, I find it an interesting diversion from all the walking I do. Steps, ladders, rebar staples, boulders... It feels like a different activity.

After a windy summit, darkened by ominous clouds, and a hint of blowing moisture, I descended to Butler Lodge, a four walled shelter run by the Green Mountain Club. I was alone again here. I sat at the table, looking out the window over Lake Champlain to the mountains of New York. I felt like Edward abbey, alone in his fire tower, or Thoreau in his cabin. I wrote by candle light until after dark.

The next day was rather wet so I put my head down and chugged, making quick miles, stopping only to pick up a post office box full of food shipped from home. Next up would be the 3500 foot climb up Camel’s Hump, the biggest climb on the Long Trail going south.