And that is the story Josh and my adventure through the woods of Vermont. Perhaps someday we'll walk the whole thing. Until, then we'll just dream.
Day 4. The weather from this point on was much less appealing, though very much Vermont. The day was overcast, cool, and windy. We were going from 1900' at the shelter to Camel's Hump at 4083' then back down to Cowle's Cove Shelter at 2520'. The way up the Hump was pretty rigorous. We climbed and climbed and the wind became stronger and stronger. We came to a clearing that was supposed to be for another shelter and noticed a dog running toward us. Shortly after, two women day-hikers were coming quickly up a side trail. We let them pass as we were slower going with our packs and previous days of leg-use. As the trees began to shorten and recede, the wind became much more fierce and the clouds were now among us rather than over us. We were walking in a big, scary, cold cloud and didn't want to be anymore. The women seemed to be in the same state of shock as one of them crouched and held on to the dog and the other zipped up her flapping rain jacket. We passed by in our foolish shorts and tshirts that we had just moments ago been sweating through and realized things needed to change quickly. We found a large boulder and ducked behind it. We both grabbed our rain jackets, threw them on, looked at each other and said, "Let's get the hell out of here." It might as well have been Everest in my mind. I was getting pushed around and had no form of shelter. We scrambled our little, vulnerable, human bodies off of that scary peak, over a pile of boulders, in and out of trees and finally into the shelter of the forest. After some time a sign read, "Montclair Glen Lodge 1.7 miles". Remember before when I mentioned the dreaded 1.7? Well, it's back. 1.7 is not short and quick. It is actually a vortex of sweeping distortion that sucks in both time and space and spits them out as a jumble of misinformation. When we finally defeated the 1.7 monster we sat outside the shelter, ate lunch, and talked to a few people that were there. One was the caretaker, a young fellow who hiked the Appalachian Trail last year with just a tshirt, shorts, food, and a sleeping bag. He said he took showers in his clothes to kill two birds with one stone. Hardcore. The other two were a couple probably in their 40s who had gone through a harrowing experience with the 1.7 the previous night and didn't get into the cabin until midnight. We deemed them the Smokers because they stood out as the only people we've ever seen smoking and hiking. We made our way to Cowles Cove another 5.1 miles away. Chris, the Bostonian from before, joined us there and said he stopped on Camel's Hump earlier for a snack. And yes, it was in the same condition as when we were up there. I guess it wasn't quite Everest to him. Day 5. And then the rain came. Water poured over our rustic lean-to overnight and only stopped briefly in the morning. Within, minutes of starting out, it began to pour again. This time it didn't stop. Josh and I had the mission to make it to Glen Ellen Lodge which was 9.2 miles away, over 3 mountains and across the Appalachian Gap. Right around the time of the Gap we realized we were both miserable. Don't trust your rain gear folks. It only works when it's not raining. Both my jacket and pants had soaked all the way through, rendering my body no different from everything else in that forest. After a couple minutes of debate at the road, I made the executive decision to hitch a ride to my house, throw things in the dryer, and get warm. But don't worry! This story does not end here. We were not content to abandon our hike to Lincoln Gap. All we needed was to avoid hypothermia (mostly me, as my body doesn't always understand that if it just kept itself warm, things would be much more enjoyable.) Anyway, an incredibly nice man driving the opposite way saw us walking down the road, told us to meet him at a nearby parking area and drove us all the way to my driveway. Out of his way in every way, shape, and form. It was incredible and yet another trip-saver. We hurriedly threw all our wet things in the dryer, ditched some stuff we would no longer need, I switched to dry shoes (I know, a luxury), ate a bunch of chips and cheese, and repacked to go back out. Two hours later we were back on the trail during a brief rain hiatus. 3.1 miles up the mountain we arrived at the Stark's Nest, a non-GMC lodge for hikers in the summer and skiers in the winter. Sweet gloriousness. The lodge was enclosed and spacious and came complete with our friend Chris. He jokingly claimed we weren't allowed in after our dryer scheme. Soon after, he walked with us down to the water source. It was halfway down a ski slope and was so small it could be stepped on without being noticed. We had to stick the end of our filter into a hole in the mountain just to get enough water to fill 3 bottles. It felt fairly ridiculous but hilarious. As we made our way back to the lodge the cold rain started back in full and we just barely made it back in time. We cooked dinner, talked, wrote, and eventually went to bed knowing that no bears or rain could threaten our happiness that night. Day 6. The last day on the trail! By this time we had not showered in 7 days, had worn almost the same clothes the entire time, ate just about the same thing every day, and only slept truly inside once. The weather was cold and cloudy but it did not rain and we were thankful. We had 9.1 miles to go and 5 peaks to summit and not enough food to carry us over to another day if needed. So we booked it. The trail over these mountains is generally kind enough to just walk the ridge between peaks making our trek easier than the previous 5 days. It was cold, however, and we were back up in the 4000' range. Ghostly ski lifts appeared periodically as we walked and overlooks were fruitless. We made it to our last summit, Mt Abe around 1pm or so and began our descent to Lincoln Gap where we would hitch a ride back home. The descent was no slice of pie however and guess how long it was: 1.7! It returns. Also, I'd like to know who the jerk was that replaced my 24-year-old knees with those of a 70-year-old. I believe I was having trouble with my iliotibial band which runs down the side of the thigh and rubs against the knee. Either way, it was slow going but it gave us a time to talk about our adventure and decide where we would indulge our appetites that night. Six days is not necessarily that long to be in the woods (compared to, say, 6 months on the Appalachian Trail) but even still it has a way of realigning our wants and needs with those of our predecessors. I became particularly aware of our need for shelter. In architecture school we designed buildings with crazy features, unique forms, and cloudy theoretical explanations. In the woods, buildings are designed with survival and basic amenities in mind without shutting people away from nature. A roof, a lift off the ground and a few hooks were a welcome sight at the end of the day. I don't think we should all live like that all year round but a simple abode can keep life simple as long as it does what we need it to do and is beautiful at the same time. It's raining right now on the small log house where I rent a room and how thankful I am for enclosure. Again, water can change everything. Shelter can keep you safe.
And that is the story Josh and my adventure through the woods of Vermont. Perhaps someday we'll walk the whole thing. Until, then we'll just dream.
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AuthorI spent a year in Vermont taking classes at Yestermorrow Design/Build School. This blog is about my experiences in the snowy north. Archives
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