The Long Trail '07

Over the summer, I had the tremendous experience of hiking the Long Trail. The Long Trail is a hiking path that starts along the border of Massachusetts and Vermont and runs north to the border of the united States and Canada. The trail runs primarily north and south throughout Vermont and is 270 miles long. It took me 20 grueling days to complete the trail with 17 nights spent in the woods. It was the hardest physical adventure I have ever done in my life. After growing a beard, losing 15 pounds, surviving thunderstorms, hiking an average of 14 miles a day up mountains and through thick mud, I made it to Canada. I actually stood on the border between the two nations. A monument that recognized the Treaty of Washington in 1805 marked the border. That treaty established the border between what is now Canada and America.

My journey began the afternoon of Monday, June 25th and ended three weeks later on Saturday, July 14th. Out of the 20 days on the trail, it rained 13 days. You can always hope for good weather but you have to take what comes your way. The picture below is a picture I took when I reached the summit of Mt. Abe. As I reached the top of this 4000 foot mountain, fog, rain, and hail fell upon me. The weather left me no view of the beautiful surroundings and I had to keep hiking to avoid getting cold. Therefore, I took this picture to show how miserable I was at that point in the rain.

It wasn't all bad. The trail was hard but the hike was great. I typically woke around 5:30 and started hiking at 6:30. I stopped along the way to eat and rest but a majority of the time was spent hiking. I typically arrived at my camp site around 5:30 P.M. The first thing I did was set up camp, then make dinner, clean up, and finally be in my sleeping bag by 8:00 to read. Since there was no electricity at the camp sites and no heat to keep me warm, the sleeping bag became my haven. As darkness fell around me, my little head lamp was all I needed to read by. The picture below shows what a camp site typically looked like along the way. This one was my favorite. It had a spectacular view and a great porch. It was named Spruce Ledge Camp.

Other chores I did while at was organize my gear, sweep the shelter, filter drinking water, write in the shelter registry, and hang clothes to dry. My meals were cooked on a little gas stove that I carried with me. Although it was small, it could boil water quicker than any stove I have ever used. Besides, anything bigger and more fancy meant heavier weight.

While at camp and along the trail, I needed water to drink and cook with. Because drinking water from a stream without treating the water first can be very dangerous to your health, I carried a water filter in which I used to pump dirty water to make it clean and safe to drink. Although it took some time to set up, it was a great work out for the arm muscles.

Because I hiked the length of the Green Mountains, morning temperatures were sometimes cool. This made for tough mornings in which leaving a warm sleeping bag meant entering cool air. To combat the coolness, I always carried with me my winter hat. Having a winter hat allowed my head to stay warm. In fact, most of a person's body heat is lost through the head. Therefore, it is always a good idea to keep it warm during cool mornings. For me, morning hikes were the best. The cool air made for refreshing walks and the morning sun was glorious as it crested the hills and mountains around me.

Sometimes during the day I found little spots to sit, have lunch, rest, and enjoy the beautiful countryside of Vermont. The picture below is a great example. This was one of the best views I had. It was just outside of Clarendon, Vermont upon White Rocks Cliff. My feet were a little beat up from the hike so I taped my blisters with duct tape. IT WORKED! I treasured those moments since they were few and far between at times.

A few days after this picture was taken, I met up with a friend I had met earlier along the trail. He is a teacher from Wisconsin and his trail name was Red. You see, when you hike, you pick up a trail name. Since he admired the small woodland creatures called Red EFT, he acquired the name Red. After a long night near the summit of the second tallest mountain in Vermont, Killington, I hiked five miles down the mountain where I knew a little inn was waiting. And where there is an inn, there is hot coffee and hot food. After a very cold night where the temperature reached the high 30's and hail the size of peas sprinkled the ground, I was ready for a good meal. After a beautiful morning hike I made it to the Inn at Long Trail. I walked in, sat down, and had a beautiful breakfast. One of the best I have ever tasted. While there, I caught up with my new friend, Red. I had left him on day four of my hike near Stratton Mountain. We chatted for a while and after about five minutes, I had my trail name, Brace. I got the name because of the knee brace I was wearing. I desperately needed a brace for my aching knee and found one in North Clarendon two days before. Once I finished the meal, Red and I hiked together. We hiked the next three days together before we parted ways near the half way point at Middlebury Gap. I never saw him again.

Red and I did have a chance to hike for a few days and saw some really awesome sights. Shortly after leaving the Inn at Long Trail, we hiked to Mt. Horrid. The name was quite fitting for the terrain was steep, the hike was nearly vertical at times, and the cliffs high. When we arrived at the top, we mistakenly took a side trail to the cliffs themselves and did not realize our mistake until after. You see, peregrine falcons were nesting along the cliffs and if disturbed, they will abandon their nests and not return. We did see these beautiful birds gliding through the heat of the day and luckily we did not scare the parents away with our presence.

After Horrid, Red and I hiked for one more day together. After that, I hiked the rest of my journey alone. That meant 10 days of solo hiking for sometimes 12 hours a day. During those long hours, I always had an eye to the sky. Storms could creep in out of a clear blue sky. Most of those storms that did creep in were nasty. High winds, heavy rains, wicked lightning, and sometimes heavy hail were common during periods of stormy weather. Most of the times I was under shelter but on occasion I was caught out on the trail. A great example of this came at the end of my second week. It was around July 7th and I had just summited Camel's Hump, the third tallest peak in Vermont. As I summited, the weather changed dramatically. The skies went from beautifully blue and warm to icy cold and fog. The hike to the summit was very challenging but hiking the three miles down the mountain in cold rain and bitter winds was even more of a challenge. By the time I had made it the bottom of the mountain, I was drenched. Everything I was wearing was cold and wet. The problem that I immediately feared was hypothermia. You see, when your body temperature begins to drop below your normal temperature of 98.6 degrees, you begin to shiver. Shivering is your bodies mechanism to staying warm. If you are wet, cold and begin to shiver, it is a clear sign that the effects of hypothermia have started. Although I was not in any immediate danger, I knew that if I did not have dry, warm clothes and a sleeping bag with me, I was in trouble.

During the next three hours, my body occasionally shivered its way towards the base of the mountain. When I made it to the base, I called Mama Bauers Bed and Breakfast for a chance to have a warm bed, hot shower, and a good hot meal. During my call, I spoke to a woman on the other end of the phone. In her German-American accent, the 80 year old woman had disappointingly informed me that all her rooms were taken and that she had no room at the inn. She apologized for the inconvenience and I could sense a pang of sympathy coming from her voice. As a result, she kindly gave me the number of another person in the same town of Richmond, VT.

By the time I had ended my call with Mama Bauer, the rain had picked up and I was two hours between shelters at 6:30 in the evening. This meant that if I pushed on, I would potentially be hiking in the dark, in wet clothes, and without a tent (I relied only on the shelters during this trip). I had one number to call. I dialed the number on my cell phone and a sweet voice answered on the other end. I could tell by the way the she spoke that she was elderly. I explained my situation and requested a room at her inn. She promptly informed me that she did not have an inn but rather her house. You see this woman took in thru-hikers (those hiking long distances) when they needed a place to stay. I needed a place to stay. She gladly offered to drive out in the rain the three miles to pick me up. I gleefully accepted her offer. Marion came to my rescue, an angel I had never met before, helped me in a situation when I needed help. It was the happiest moment on the trail and she was the kindest person I had met who happened to live in the nicest town off the trail, Richmond.

After a hot shower, dry clothes that did not smell, and a spectacular meal, I slept in a wonderfully comfortable bed. I was truly blessed to have encountered such a wonderful person. I will never forget Marion nor the town of Richmond.

Two days later, Marion dropped me at the Jonesville Post Office, a frequent stop for thru-hikers, to receive my last and final package of supplies. I said good bye and thanked her once again then proceeded to unpack my package of supplies. The last leg of my journey was about to begin.

It didn't take long for the rain to return. After a beautiful morning, the afternoon turned violent. Thunder rolled in from the west and lightning hit all around me. Luckily for me, I had reached the first shelter after Jonesville and hunkered down for an hour before proceeding. After my break, I hiked again. My goal was to make it to Buchanan Shelter. I did. Along the way, however, I passed a group of seven girls and two counselors going to the same shelter. I knew I was in for a long evening, a small shelter, nine girls, and rain.

I made it to Buchanan just before a wicked lightning storm moved through. With it came pea size hail and strong winds. The girls didn't make it in time. They had to weather the brunt of the storm on the trail. After managing around the small space, I managed to squeak out some sleep on the surface of a picnic table (it was the only space available for me to sleep). I woke the next morning, left a goodbye note for the girls and despite poor weather, I began my journey towards Mt. Mansfield.

By late afternoon, I had summited the three peaks of Mansfield; the forehead, the nose, and the chin.

Upon leaving the chin of Mansfield, I hiked a wicked stretch of terrain towards the shelter of Taft Lodge. Along the way, I passed another group of middle school and high school kids hiking with their two camp counselors. They were heading to the same shelter as me. These kids were GREAT! Although the hike was hard, the accommodations sparse, they never complained. They just loved being outdoors and with others who loved it to. We talked for a long time and I shared some stories about my journey and asked them questions about being young and some of the troubles they have and what qualities they think I as a parent should have in the future. Their advice was priceless and I recorded all of it in my journal.

The lodge was really big and could sleep 24 people. We all had enough room to spread out. The next morning, I was gone. I never saw them again.

From here on out, my journey was coming to an end. I had about 80 miles left and I was determined to make it to Canada on Saturday July 14th. Carin, my loving and understanding wife, had promised to pick me up along the border of Canada if she could find the old gravel road. I had to make it out.

From here on out, the weather was unpredictable and unstable at times. At one point as I hiked towards the summit of Haystack Mountain, I stopped hiking because two lightning storms in a matter of one hour had passed just north of me. As a rule of thumb, hikers should never hike vertically in a lightning storm. Lightning tends to seek the path that provides the quickest access to the earth. This is why trees are often struck by lightning as well as mountain peaks. The higher something is in the air, the more likely it will be struck by lightning. The lower something is to the ground, it is less likely to be struck by lightning. Therefore, I stopped hiking and sat on my sleeping pad along the trail. Sitting on a sleeping pad provides some insulation between you and the ground if by chance lightning strikes near you. Remember, lightning doesn't just strike the earth but travels out as it does. It is better to be cautious rather than stupid in a storm like that. Never hike up in a lightning storm.

Once the storms had passed, I pushed on. I finally made it to the last shelter in which I would use along the trail. I was twenty miles from Canada, a long day's hike. Between there and Canada was Jay Peak, a famous ski mountain in northern Vermont. The next day, I would have to cross it. Before that, I called Carin and arranged the time to be picked up, 7:10 P.M. on Saturday, July 14th. I knew I had a long day but I was confident that I would make it out. Lucikly for thru-hikers, getting lost along the trail is not easy. The trail is pretty well marked along the way. I always knew I was hiking the right path due to the blazes. A blaze is a pinted rectangle that indicates what trail you are on. In the case of the Appalacian Trail and the Long Trail, the blaze used to indicate the trail is white. All side trails that connect to the Appalacian Trail and Long Trail uses a blue blazes. The white blazes were beacons along the way. They helped guide me to my journey's end.

Sometimes along the way the trail was very difficult to find because I crossed over ski trails or the trees in which the blazes were placed had fallen down. Other times, the fog was so thick, you could only see thirty feet in front of you. But no matter what, the Appalacian Mountain Club and the Green Mountain Club did an exceptional job at marking the trail. I was always impressed with their work.

With one day left, I had to hike up 3700 feet to the summit of Jay Mountain then hike down to Canada. Jay was awesome! It was a beautifully bright day and one of the only views I had had from a high peak. I sat there for an hour watching the horizon and soaking in the sun. It was rare occasions for me to soak in the sun. Sometimes rain or clouds would obscure the sun but more often it was the "green tunnel" that kept the sun from me. The gree tunnel is the Long Trail and is aptly named because the trail is surounded by trees. Rarely did I need eye protection from the sun while I hiked. I was more often able to observe evidence that the sun was truly shining. I did this through watching shawdows. Shadows were everywhere! And where ever they landed, they were beautiful.

I was amazed at all the different varieties of shadows. There were long shadows in the morning and evening. Short shadows at mid day and these really neat spots of lights I called spotlights that were some how created as sun light pushed its way through the tree tops and hit the ground in near perfect circles. Then there was my shadow. Since hiking involves constantly looking down, I always observed my shadow. And, since I was hiking north a majority of the time, my shadow moved from right to left. On sunny days it would show up and then disappear behind the leaves and trees. During some days, I did not see it at all because of the clouds. But when I saw it, there was always a comforting thought it was there. I even wrote a poem about my shadow entitled simply My Shadow.

My Shadow

In the morning I walk towards you

In the afternoon I walk with you

In evening I walk from you

Another poem I wrote was about the tree roots. In many spots, the trail criss crossed hndreds of tree roots. These roots sometimes caused havoc on my walking. If was not paying attention, I would end up on the ground because I tripped over the roots. This poem is entitled Pine Root

Pine Root

Upon the ground I lie and wait

A tired hiker's feable gait

Without a move a move I make him fall

I am a root of the pine so tall

Brook

You run gently now

Your waters roll smoothly past the rocks

There was a time, long before I knew you,

You roared as you ran past my camp

Come Spring you'll roar once more

In fact I thought of many poems along the way but seldom took the time to write them down. I believed they were all wonderfully composed and simplistic in meaning but when I reached for the journal and pen, they were gone. It didn't matter though. They were beautiful at the time when I needed them the most. In fact, I was amazed how sharp my mind became during my journey. I had no television on the trail, not many folks to talk to, and plenty of time to think and observe. I noticed the shadows, thought of poetry, sang songs, told stories outloud to myself, and simply walked quietly amongst the sounds of nature. I was wonderfully satisfied each and every day that I heard and seen nothing but nature.

There was plenty of distraction but not the kind we encounter in our daily lives. Cars, commercials, street noise, people, radio, music, games, none of whichI had along the trail. On occasion I would cross a road and hear cars or at times I would stop in a small town and hear the familar sounds of civilization but most of the time there was nothing but wilderness that surrounded me. I never missed those distractions. I sometimes looked forward to watching baseball or listening to music but I never wanted them on the trail. I only wanted what was around me. I was amazed at how quickly I adjusted to life on the trail. It was easier. It was simpler. I miss it.

Jay Peak. I made it there in mid afternoon. The sun was shining. The air was luke warm and the sights were spectacular. I smiled profusely as I looked north and saw Canada. A tremendous feeling overcame me. It was a feeling of pride, confidence, joy, determination, all rolled into one amazing feeling. I felt bigger than the peak I stood upon. I was almost there. I had set out a goal and there I was about to accomplish what I started out to do. Inbetween the large goal of finishing the trail, I had set smaller goals that I reached along the way. Everyday I set a goal as to how far I wanted to hike. Like my own life, it is my goals that guide my success. Without them, success isn't possible. Yes that feeling I had while standing upon that mountain just ten miles from Canada, was a feeling I earned through hard work and determination. I could not have found that feeling any other way. I had to earn it.

At 6:15 on July 14th, 2007, I touched Canada. After struggling through physical pain at the start of the hike to severe weather towards the end, I made it to Canada, 270 miles from where I began my journey. In typical Long Trail fashion, there were no flashy gimics, no big signs, and no spectacular monument marking the end of a long journey. There was only a sign that welcomed "sobos" (south bounders) to the trail and another sign directing where to leave. And inbetween was a simple monument marking the border between two countries. In front of it was a small plaque commenorating the Treaty of 1805. That was it. Simplicity. Amidst a country where simplicity is sometimes hard to find, the Long Trail showed me that spectacular places do exist here that require only the simple means of walking to see them. The earth I walked upon in Vermont for the most part was protected by private citizens, state government, national government, as well as local towns. That meant that no one could destroy it without fear of punishment. It was sacred ground that would be there long after I and those that follow are around to enjoy it. The trail is simply there, surviving in a world that changes quickly. For us, it is a reminder to slow down and just walk. I need more days like that.

Michael Gow