Midnight on the Appalachian Trail: The end of Vermont.

I'm very behind on my blogging. I'll try to hit the highlights of the past week.

Ran into Squatch again, talked with him for a while. I figure there's a pretty good chance Gear and I will be in his next documentary. I expect to run into him again in Maine, but we'll see.

Stopped for lunch at the Mountain Meadow Lodge, was a lovely place. Apparently they do a lot of weddings there. Might bring my wife back there some day. While I was hanging out there, there was a singer and pianist practicing for a musical. It was fun to listen to.

I'd expected the shelter I was going to stay in to be empty, but there were two hikers there, Golden Bear and Fifteen. Golden Bear was a recent high school graduate who was "only" hiking 500 miles to Katahdin. Seemed like a good kid. I liked him. Fifteen was an object lesson. Last year he completed over 1800 miles of the trail, before taking a nasty fall and being unable to continue. He's finishing this year, but you're not done till you're done, and I need to remember that.

The next morning I checked out the Lookout cabin, a cabin built on top of the mountain with an observation deck on top. I hadn't realized hikers were allowed to stay in it until I got there, but there was a sign giving permission. Nice place, with a loft. I would have pushed on to there if I had realized. I met Carli and her three dogs there, a lady who worked as a guide for a women's hiking spa. I gather it's kind of like an adult summer camp. She gave me half of her sandwich and a peach, so I'm won over for life.

I ran into Golden Bear a little later, and we hiked together for a while. We made it to a little farm store just ahead of the rain, and we each ate a pint of ice cream and I ate a burrito. We sat around talking with the locals for a while, a good group.

Eventually we moved on, just to get caught in the rain again. We briefly considered taking cover in an abandoned house we walked by, but concerns over legality and horror film stereotypes kept us moving. In the aftermath of the rain, the scenery became glorious. I eventually found a spot to set my tent up, right at dusk. GB moved on.

In the morning, I got out of my tent to use the bathroom, and received a little assistance in the matter. Walking straight towards me down the mountain was a bear. That woke me up quick. I reached into my tent to get my camera, and then angled for a shot. By this time the bear had paused at an old low stone wall, looking for something. About twenty yards away. I kicked a stick on accident, and it sprinted off in a hurry, ruining my picture.

I passed Golden Bear soon after I left my bear infested camp. He had all of his stuff spread out in an attempt to dry it. I didn't think he was going to have much luck under the forest canopy, but I left him to it.

Later in the day I crossed the bridge that is sort of traditionally jumped off of. I wasn't going to do it. For one thing, I was by myself, so there was no peer pressure. I was hailed by a Randy Hart after I crossed it, who offered me a cold drink. He does this for all the hikers he sees, also allowing them to sleep above his garage and feeding them if they're cooking. He was a former Army guy, so we swapped stories, and while I pretended to be a gas station attendant for his grandson, he told me about his experiences and also some crazy stories about the tropical storms that had wreaked so much devastation in the north east. It sort of puts a more realistic face on it when talking to people affected and seeing the devastation that is still not completely recovered.

He also told me how he thought jumping off the bridge should be a rite. Sigh. A dad and two young daughters walked out on the bridge to jump off. Double sigh. So out I go, to the spot marked on the bridge as safe to jump from. I climbed the railing, and told myself "This is nothing. You jump out the backs of airplanes. Just shut down and do it." Then I looked down. Sigh again. If there weren't witnesses down below, I'd probably have moved on. But there were, so I jumped. I said a bad word on the way down.

Obviously it was fine, and it was quite fun. If I'd had friends around, I would have been tempted to repeat the jump several times, but I didn't, so I hiked on, munching on some cherries Randy gave me from his tree.

The hiking in Vermont was pretty awesome, if a bit muddy. Trail magic was pretty much everywhere, and people were ridiculously nice. I also saw my first open carried gun since the south, one day hiker was carrying a pistol on his hip.

Walking into Norwich the trail leaves the woods for a while. Almost as soon as you leave the trail, there was a house with a cooler out front. There was trail magic inside, but as I was closing the lid I noticed a note inside that said "If you're tired, stay with us!" I'd planned on another three miles, but I'd gone fifteen so figured what the heck, and walked up to the front door.

Warren and Toni Thayer are trail saints. They have a rather large, lovely home with a beautiful view. They were quite welcoming and I really enjoyed my time there.

The next day I walked from Norwich in VT to Hanover, NH. My next to last state. Maine is the only one left after I finish New Hampshire, however, NH is gonna be a challenge. Home of the White Mountains, supposedly the most challenging section on the trail.

Hanover is the home of Dartmouth College. College kids seem to be getting younger and younger. But their students do a lot of trail maintenance, and I'd run into them several times over the next couple of days. I really enjoyed Hanover for the first couple of hours, but the density of people began to wear on me and I had to move on after resupplying. It was really nice to get back on the trail. I hiked another eleven miles, for about fifteen total, and stayed at the Moose Mountain Shelter.