Day 123: Déjà Vu

Northstar Magic

We boondocked last night at the Forest Road 10 trailhead parking area. An official-looking sign said overnight camping wasn’t allowed, but Northstar had met a Ranger earlier and he’d said that if we were gone by 8:00 am, no one would know.

I know that if I’d been the one asking, not only would I have gotten a firm and disdainful “No” from the Ranger, I’d probably also have gotten detained, strip-searched, and a lifetime ban from the National Forest. I’m starting to think it might be me.

Without the previous night’s midnight motorcycles, all-night airbrakes, and penetrating headlights, I slept like a rock. When I stepped outside to “stretch” at 6:20 am, I saw No Name hiking by. He’s an early riser and says he starts hiking by 5:30 am most days. I wouldn’t be ready for an hour, so I waved and said good morning, disappointed that we wouldn’t be hiking together today.

Goals

Today’s goals consisted only of knocking out 14.7 miles as quickly as possible so I could get my writing done and hang out with Northstar. When did 14.7 miles become an easy day? Six months ago, six miles was a long day hike, and 14.7 miles was an epic day. Not that 14.7 miles is easy, because it still takes half a day to complete, but somehow that distance seems inconsequential after four months and almost 1,700 miles of daily hiking.

Adventures with Gus

Gus showed no interest in getting out of bed until I grabbed my poles. Then, suddenly he was all in, jumping and wiggling around like he hadn’t hiked 18 miles yesterday. He likes the walking but hasn’t been thrilled with Vermont’s streams and lakes. It might be the tannic acid. He’ll climb in for a drink, but after a few sips he’ll look back at me like I’ve tricked him into something unpleasant.

The rust-colored streams don’t prevent him from wanting to swim or fetch sticks, which he brings back to me at every significant water body with a hopeful look in his eyes. I stopped to let him swim at Little Rock Pond, a pretty lake ringed by thick trees and overhung by low clouds. But the lack of fetchable sticks and swarms of pesky gnats had us moving on almost immediately.

The Return of No Name

A few miles later, I hiked up on No Name. We’d just passed through a fragrant pine grove where the trail lay in a wonderfully soft blanket of brown pine needles. Even better, the layer of needles was well drained, giving us a brief reprieve from the mud.

No Name looked at my muddy shoes and the shin-high mud stains on my pants and asked if I preferred walking though the mud rather than around it. I don’t, but sometimes it works out that way if I lose my footing or make a bad guess about what’s solid ground and what’s ankle-deep goo. But from the footprints I’ve seen, I think some hikers just march straight through the muck.

Near the end of the pines, we passed White Rocks, where hikers (or perhaps wood elves) have stacked granite rocks into hundreds of balanced Jenga towers. I found the display artistic and whimsical, though from what I’ve read online, such displays give some hikers fits.

The haters go on about how the little towers disturb habitat, mar the natural scenery, and destroy the forest ecology. I find that opinion odd since the trail itself, as well as all its associated infrastructure and activity, has a far greater impact than a few hundred square feet of inert natural material. The stacked rocks didn’t seem to have any adverse impact on the squirrels, birds, ants, or gnats we saw.

The Australians

No Name and I talked and walked until we reached the shelter where No Name planned a lunch stop. I hadn’t eaten yet, so Gus and I walked up to the shelter with him. As we approached, someone called out Gus’ name and gave him a friendly head rub. It was Hammer and Corky, an Australian couple Northstar had met in Hiawassee, Georgia.

I’d never met them, but Gus had, and they remembered each other. Northstar checks their blog from time to time, so I knew they were in front of me, but I never expected to ever catch them. In fact, I didn’t. They’d reached Vermont during the July floods and had flip-flopped up to Katahdin and hiked south. They planned to finish their thru hike tomorrow at Manchester, beating me by a month and a half.

So, How’s Your Hike?

When I asked how their hike was going, I got an earful. Hammer and Corky are accomplished long-distance hikers, having completed the PCT, CDT, and a host of other long international hiking trails. Theirs were not the rantings of an unhappy rookie.

Nor were their complaints anything I hadn’t heard or felt before. The long green tunnel, the lack of views, lack of switchbacks, mud, general condition of the trail, and PUD’s all got mentioned. Corky likened her hike to an endurance race in New York City that just goes around a single city block until the last man is left standing.

I think a lot of hikers are feeling the miles, the months, the weather, and their feet. I know I am, but I am resolved to keep running around the block until everyone else quits. And until then, I’ll be doing my best to find my joy in the woods.

Roll Call

Voices and Masters had also stopped in at the shelter but planned on hiking 2.6 more miles to next road crossing to deli blaze. Deli blazing means walking a road to a deli near the trail crossing. I heard them debating whether the distance to the deli would be worth the walk, so I offered them a ride if they could keep up. I’d planned to meet Northstar at that crossing anyway and knew she was already there.

A free ride to deli-fresh food was sufficient motivation for them, so we all packed up and left No Name cooking his big meal and airing out his feet. I’d seen Voices before, but never talked to him. He has a distinctive, 12-inch-long white Gandalf beard, and is hard to miss. I’d met Masters at a trail magic outside of Duncannon, but hadn’t seen him to speak to since.

A few minutes after leaving the shelter, we passed J-Mo and Lioness at an overlook. I hadn’t seen them since the day before Great Barrington, but after a brief hello, I hurried on to meet Northstar. They must have heard our plan, because they flagged us down as we were leaving the parking lot and joined us for a crowded ride to the deli.

Walmart Again?

We dropped off our passengers at the Goucheberg Farm Market and headed down the mountain in search of cell coverage. Once again, we found ourselves in the Walmart parking lot in Rutland, but this time we headed back to the trail at sunset to camp by the trailhead.

Regardless of whether overnight parking was allowed, this Walmart didn’t seem like a safe place. I witnessed two police encounters with vagrants and a raving domestic dispute while I sat in the van writing. And we when I threw a bag of trash in the dumpster, I heard a yell from someone living in there.

Back at the VT103 trailhead, we shared the parking lot with a feral Santa motorcyclist camped under a sheet of clear plastic over his bike while hundreds of truckers zoomed past and hitting their airbrakes. Ah, the joys of the vanlife.

Hadn’t we just done this?

Daily Stats

• Start: Forest Road 10 (Mile 1676.8)
• End: VT 103 (Mile 1691.4)
• Weather: Cool, overcast, humid. Trace of rain.
• Earworm:  Caissons Go Rolling Along
• Meditation: Finished Luke. You know how it ends. Think about it.
• Plant of the Day: Mushrooms
• Goals: Miles closer to New Hampshire
• Best Thing: Rock sculptures
• Worst Thing: Pack strap rash