Vermont Magic

After a great time and good rest at the Notch hostel, we slowly stuffed our lives back into backpacks and headed for the road once again. We caught a ride without even putting our thumbs out as some of the employees from huts had recognized us from the days prior.

With heat advisories and long climbs coming out of Franconia Notch, the going was slow and incredibly sweaty. Having recently furnished our supply of food didn’t much help either. As one wise thru-hiker once said, “Food is heavy.”

After a couple of miles we came to our last hut in the White Mountains – Lonesome Lake.

About a week prior, while we were staying at Madison hut during a good storm, the employees there let us in on an ongoing prank. Apparently the folks from Lonesome Lake (roughly 50 miles by trail) snuck into Madison hut in the middle of the night and filled all their sinks with shrimp.

Decidedly the folks at Madison saved all this shrimp, and have been attempting to send individual pieces back with southbound thru-hikers. We qualified for such a mission, and left Madison hut with one ripe shrimp double-bagged and sealed in a plastic container.

Fast forward about a week and 50 miles… We arrived at Lonesome Lake in the late afternoon, and while most everyone was preoccupied with a dehydrated hiker and making dinner, one stinky shrimp landed in the tip jar. Mission complete.

We hiked out rather quickly, but the grade was unrelenting and we could only move so fast. We called it a day after a couple of exhausting miles and made plans to reconcile later.

We woke up with the sun in our attempts to make miles before the rumored thunderstorms picked up in the afternoon. By 6:30 we were some of the last ones out of the shelter, and from here we picked up our climb from the day prior to summit the Kinsmans.

The initial ascent went quickly, but as we came around Mt. Wolf, we seemed to climb unnecessarily over every ridge in sight. While we could see the notch that we needed to descend to, I’ve never climbed so much to get down.

With an ongoing heat advisory and a relative index well above 100°, we were mobile waterfalls, even when we were going down hill. At last we reached Kinsman notch, and there we found some much needed trail magic. In charge was Neon – a 66 year old super athlete, iron woman, and 2015 thru-hiker along with her 76 year old partner “Crusher.” Joined by another German thru-hiker from 2015 named “Brake-less, ” together they provided us with cold sodas, fresh fruit, and fluffernutter (a peanut butter – marshmellow fluff sandwich). After an hour in the shade with good company, we felt like new people when we finally departed.

The climb up and out of Kinsman notch to the last major summit of the Whites – Mt. Moosilauke, was one of the longest and hottest climbs to date. It took nearly two hours to go a mile and a half with nearly 2000ft of gain. After that, the grade mellowed out a little and our pace increased.

The day was getting late, but the forcasted thunderstorms had not yet appeared, and we were determined to catch up to some of our southbound friends several miles ahead. As we summited Moosilauke at 6:30pm, we were overwhelmed with emotions knowing that the trail had finished throwing its greatest obstacles at us. There may be more rocks, roots and mud in our futures, but the greatest difficulties now lay behind.

Our descent off of Moosilauke went quickly, and around 8pm we rolled into camp and surprised all our friends. After the longest 20 mile day, it was a great way to wrap it all up.

Sunset with Wags, Captain & Chimney

We slept in late the next morning, and finally awoke to the sounds of carpenter ants eating our shelter. Worried that something had gotton into our food bags, I jumped out of bed only to find a pile of saw dust.

After slowly getting our things packed up, we hit the trail and were surprised to find it in such great condition. Devoid of large boulders, mud pits and roots, we seemingly flew down the trail at a rate nearly three times faster than what we had become accustomed to.

Making excellent time raised our spirits, even if we were still doing our fair share of climbing. It is amazing how much faster one can ascend when you’re not constantly mavigating around natural obstacles.

After climbing atop Mt. Cube, we dropped down to the Hexacuba shelter, a hexagonal structure built by the Dartmouth Outings Club. Someone in the club must have had an obsession with shapes as all the structures around here seem to have a geometric theme.

Hexacuba Shelter

When we began hiking again the following morning, the skies were still spotted with blue, and we were hopeful that the rain would continue to hold off.

The trail climbed gradually in its improved condition to the top of Smart’s mountain where we found a fire tower and old ranger cabin that were left open as shelters. But about this time we could see the clouds darkening and our patches of blue sky had disappeared. Rain was coming and we didn’t care to be atop the mountain when it arrived. As we began down the other side the rain found us, gradually growing heavier as we descended.

Once we bottomed out at the road and nearby creek, we setup our tarp and waited out the worst of it for a couple hours. Joined by Captain and Shoegoo, the four of us huddled under the tarp was an entertaining sight.

Once the rain let up a little, we packed up and made a break for the Trapper John shelter a few miles down. We found and devoured some wild raspberries along the way, the first we have seen. Mushrooms have also become abundant with the rains, and have found their way into dinner on multiple occasions.

We went to bed with hopes that we could wake up early to a blue sky, and get into the town of Hanover early in the day. But when I first opened my eyes, I could tell that wasn’t going to happen.

It rained through the night and into the morning. We patiently lay under the tarp for hours waiting for it to let up, but it only seemed to come down harder. After waiting for six hours that morning, the sky finally cut us a break.

We left camp and within an hour we could see new patches of blue appearing above. The conditions only improved from here, and by late afternoon we could hardly believe that we had just seen the end of twenty-two consecutive hours of rain.

We got into Hanover, New Hampshire, home of the ivy league university Dartmouth, around dinner time. We arranged for a stay with a local trail angel Greg, who took us in for the night and let do some laundry, take showers and gave us access to his kitchen. We made a massive helping of Nachos, followed with a half gallon of almond ice cream .

We took the next day off and enjoyed the amenities of Hanover. This culminated with being swiped into the Dartmouth dining hall for dinner, something that will never be forgotton. After vegan pizza, veggie burger, chili, onion rings, pasta, stir-fry, cereal , baked goods and sorbet, it was hard for us to leave. Later that night, I only dreamed of returning for more.

The next morning everyone in camp slept in, probably because they needed the extra time to digest. We made a slow departure out of town, mostly because we were sad to see it go. But as the trail followed main street down and across the Connecticut river into Vermont, we were able to enjoy a few last treats on our way out.

Trying not to be overly ambitious, we only hiked nine miles before calling it a day. It didn’t help that the chantrelle mushrooms were particularly abundant along the way providing for ample distractions.

We finished off the day by the white river, where we went swimming and a few brave folks jumped from the bridge. A couple local trail angels opened up their house to us, and let us camp in their yard and barn.

The next day was filled with so much trail magic it was overwhelming. Every four or five miles we found the distractions of cold sodas, ice cream sandwiches, and fresh pie. It was hard to make much progress, but we enjoyed the treats along the way and by the day’s end still made some twenty miles.

That evening, we hiked a little ways off trail to a private cabin open to hikers. We made our camp there for the night, and enjoyed a smokey sunset and subsequent sunrise from the lookout built atop the steep roof. At one point we had ten hikers on the platform before we began to consider the structural integrity in relation to our altitude, but thankfully it held true.

From here we made our way into one of the largest towns in Vermont, Rutland. For the past few weeks we had been hearing rumors of a hostel here, free to hikers but run by a religious commune that everyone says is a cult. Intrigued by everything we had heard, we decided we best investigate for ourselves…

When we arrived at the “Yellow Deli,” we were shown to our respective bunk rooms as the women and men all sleep seperate. The house rules were laid out plainly, and it was clear they were not interested in the wild party crowd. After introductions, we were invited to evening gathering, as they celebrated the end of their sabbath with song and dance.

Interestingly enough, many of their dances were reminiscent of ones I had learned in the synagogue of my youth, though the similarities did not end here. There were many close affiliations with Judaism such as everyone’s hebrew names. Despite this they still follow the new testament, but limit their prayer to songs of love and compassion in English.

After the singing and dancing concluded, we were treated to a fine meal of spaghetti in a home made sauce accompanied by warm and fresh bread.

The next day after breakfast we were invited to their community farm several hours away to help with some chores. Being treated to a free bed, shower and food, it seemed impolite to deny. Ten hikers all piled into the white van and away we went.

The farm was a large one, well over 100 acres. We got the nickel tour, and were amazed by the size and health of their crops. While everything is organic, they use fish ends from their processing plant in Alaska as an enrichment in the soil, along with a plethora of bio-defenses against pests. The results were onions the size of cantaloupe, and beets bigger than sweet potatoes. They grew root vegetables, squash, brassicaes, tomatoes, and fruits of every variety. Needless to say it was an impressive operation.

We helped pick over 800 pounds of beets while we were there, and even had time to weed the carrot the beds. In return we were fed several more times, complemented with more fresh pumpernickel bread. We even got to take a few garden fresh tomatoes for the road.

At times, some of the members of the community would go out of their way to explain the reasons why joining the community was so meaningful, but this was the extent to which they tried to get us to join. In the end we decided that the “Twelve Tribes,” of which the Yellow Deli is a part, was a lot like the Amish, but with a distinct hippie – Christian flavor. After two days of being well fed, we packed our bags and hiked out.

After a great night of rest brought on by the dull roar of the nearby river, we hiked out and didn’t stop for over seven miles. In this strtch we crossed our five-hundred mile mark, decorated with green leaves. When we finally took a break, it was because we came upon a great swimming hole in the river that we couldn’t pass by. With high temperatures and humidity, it couldn’t have come at a better time. We spent a couple hours in and out of the water, soaking up the sun, and eating our first lunch before finally moving on.

We climbed a couple more mountains that afternoon, highlighted by massive collections of rock cairns that populated the trail in a couple spots. Built of every size, some of which were quite creative, the cairn gardens were found in places relatively devoid of rocks. While some were the traditional stacks, others formed arches, or were counter balanced off the branches of trees.

A little further down the trail we finished our day at the little stone pond shelter, where minutes after our arrival, the skies opened up and began to rain. At times like this, we couldn’t be more thankful for the shelter, transforming the storm into an enjoyable show.

We had heard rumors of trail magic just a couple miles from here, so we left the next morning with a pep in our step, eager to validate the rumors.

The two miles went by quickly, and soon we found Steve & Chris’s blue tent of glory. After making our introductions, we were given cold sodas and snacks, while veggie burgers got thrown the grill. Beer was also plentiful, to which many of folks we’d been hiking with took advantage.

Soon the magic turned into a vortex, and we trapped nearly every hiker who passed by indefinitely. With nearly seven other people into our trail family now, there is no shortage of characters. With this we had such a good time that we nearly convinced several north-bounders to turn around and start hiking south with us back to Georgia.

As Mandalynn’s birthday was the day to follow, we considered this to be part of the pre-celebration. After only hiking two miles and spending the entire day with Chris and Steve, we decidely stumbled down the trail just before sunset and setup camp a mile or so down. Many of the north-bounders were sad to see us go, and promised to get in touch after they finished hiking.

We did our best to get an early start the next day, eager to get into town seventeen miles away for Mandalynn’s birthday. Along the way we passed over Bromley mountain, a ski hill where we took our afternoon break. We ate our lunch a the top of the ski lift before running down the other side and instantaneously catching a ride into the town of Manchester, our last town in Vermont.

Here we got a room at a local hotel and split the cost with our hiking companions. It was nice to stay somewhere that didn’t feel like a hiker hostel, as the lush green lawns and white fences made us all feel like we were in the land of luxury. We spent the afternoon swimming in the pool and playing a few intense games of corn-hole before wrapping up with a bonfire that took us into the evening. It was a beautiful use of a day, and by the end of it we were all throughly spent.

We enjoyed our complementary breakfast in the morning, and said farewell to one member of new trail family as “Hambone” departed for a nearby family reunion.

As we were walking through town getting ready to hitch, we started talking with a local outside the gas station. One thing led to another, and before we knew it, all six of us crammed into his pickup and he got us down the road. Hitting the trail around noon, we didn’t make too many miles, but still made some decent climbs before ending up at Stratton pond. We enjoyed a nice swim before the sunset, and went to bed early for the first time in recent memory.

After studying the maps for some time, we decided to follow the old Appalachian trail out of camp, taking a much more direct route than the official route. Our trail family departed in a staggered fashion, with ourselves somewhere in the middle.

Our alternate was a great one, and we had no difficulty connecting back into the official route. But when we stopped a couple miles further at one of the shelters, we were surprised to learn from some of the north-bounders there that they hadn’t seen anyone all morning. Soon our friend Captain arrived, and despite being the last to leave, never saw anyone either.

We became a little concerned that the rest of our party had taken a wrong turn somewhere, so we hung around the shelter for a couple hours until we reconnected. Turns out that between the six of us, we took three different routes out of camp. Some found trail magic, while others passed around it. All’s well that ends well.

We hiked a bit further to the Glastonbury fire tower where we concluded our day. We’ve heard many mysterious rumors of something called the Glastonbury Vortex, kind of like the Bermuda triangle of the Appalachian trail. We figured the fire tower must be the center of this vortex, as everyone seems to get turned around the closer we get. Of course it doesn’t help when the forest around the tower is littered with wrong way signs in every possible direction you could hike.

We woke up at the tower just in time for sunrise, a great start to another great day. We hiked a little ways before stopping into the nearby Goddard shelter where we topped off our water and made use of the outhouse. After a quick ten miles, we hit highway 9.

Looking at the maps, we could see that our climb up from the highway was going to be a steep, so five out of six of us opted for an alternate route that would make the climb more gradually. Smudge opted to follow the official trail, and the rest of us headed down an old snow mobile road in search of our alternate.

We didn’t get very far before the ladies, Mandalynn, Wag and Appalachian Gail, decided they weren’t terribly interested in the alternate, and would rather skip to town altogether. With this they put together a rough plan to hitch-hike into town, grab some extra supplies, and then hitch back up to the trail 10 miles south where we had planned to camp.

This left Captain and I as the only ones on the alternate, which soon degraded into a foot trail littered with signs warning us of storm damage ahead. We pushed ahead nonetheless, and eventually we came out the other side into some high end private camps. Our maps indicated we were still on public roads, but we kept our heads low and continued walking, and from here the roads continuously improved. After about four miles, we reconnected with the trail, but after our deliberations and distractions, Smudge had already gotten ahead.

Shortly after this we got word from the ladies that they were back on trail. Captain and I hiked on as quickly as we could, and were blown away when we came up on the forest road just before the shelter and discovered the ladies hanging out with Steve, the man who had so generously provided us with trail magic earlier in the week.

Apparently he had received word that a few ladies were in the town of Bennington looking for a ride. When he heard one of them had an English accent, he gathered that it was probably the same group he had met earlier in the week, and quickly scooped them up and shuttled them around town to run various errands. By the time they got back to the trail, they were loaded up and waiting for us with enough cold beverages and snacks for a small army. On top of getting to see Steve again, it was quite a magical end to our day.

As things were winding down and the sun began to set, some four-wheelers passing by informed us of a dumpster fire just down the road. As Appalachian Gail had never seen such a thing before as an American dumpster fire, we drove down the road on a quick mission to check it out. We arrived just ahead of the volunteer fire fighters and engine which provided us with a great show. Afterwards we reluctantly put our packs back on and hiked a short distance down to the Seth Warner shelter where we at last called our day.

It was a quick seven miles the next day before we crossed our next big monument, the Vermont / Massachusetts border. While it usually feels like an accomplishment to cross out of one state an into another, Vermont was so good to us that we all wished that we could stay a little longer. But as thru-hikes go, eventually you have to keep walking. So after a short celebration, we hopped, skipped, and jumped down into the town of North Adams where we rented an Air B&B with the rest of our trail family. Excited to have a full kitchen at our disposal, we’ve been fantasizing about what we will cook in mass quantitity.

From left to right: Stump, Mandalynn, Wags, Appalachian Gail, Captain, Smudge

The air B&B in North Adams turned into a great time, as our host was kind enough to help shuttle us around town and give us a tour as a kind gesture. We ended up hanging out with him quite a bit over the course of our two days there, making for one of the best Air B&B experiences to date.

After multiple trips to Wallmart, the post office, the thrift store, library and beyond, we were feeling content as our last evening in town was upon us. But after a couple drinks, our host talked us into catching the last hour at the largest contempory art museum in America, conveniently located just around the corner. We stormed the gates and convinced the ticket office to let the lot of us in, and what an hour we had. Blown away by scale of the installations, most of them defy words. Needless to say, it was a unique highlight of our trip that will never be forgotten.

Contemporary Art Museum

Just passing our 600 mile mark now, we still have about 1200 miles and 11 states to go. But with less than 140 in the next two states combined, we should be crossing them off quickly. Time to hike on!

Cheers from the trail

Stump & Mandalynn