I never thought my biggest desire in life would be smooth dry trail, but right now, that’s all I want. The last two days have been decent as far as both smoothness and dryness go, but the last 100 miles have been a nightmare. We’ve had several summits with no views, slippery roots, wet rock climbs through never ending fog, and no sunshine. Have you ever gone 3 or more days in a row where all day felt like 5pm because of the amount of sunlight or lack there of? I have. Have you ever hiked two miles out of town with freshly washed clothes in a torrential downpour only to be soaked through to your underwear less than an hour later? I have. It’ll all put a damper on your mood, trust me. With all that being said though, yesterday the sun shone and I’m doing much better in the attitude department. I felt the heat of its rays burn to my bones and saw spots for hours from staring at it for too long, but it was good…. oh so good. We have about 105 miles of the Vermont Long Trail and it should fly by. We have one major summit left, but the hardest stuff is in the past. I’ve also left behind many tears, several falls, and few key moves that got me by (I may hold on to these for future use though.)
The tears. Those came every difficult descent, which in the last 100 miles…. was about every descent and every day. The summits were rocky. Most involved very large boulders that required climbing over, and I mean literal climbing with both hands and feet working together to get a body safely over. On the ascents, this wasn’t so bad. But coming down? With a 20+ pound pack on your back, causing an already ill-balanced human to be more imbalanced? Scary. Very scary. On some sections, the rocks required less bouldering as they were more slab-like. There’s nothing like steep, slippery rock slabs on the edges of a cliff to get your heart pounding and visions of death to swarm your mind. This is where the first few falls and the life-saving moves came into play. The first two falls were harmless but incredibly terrifying. Each was a slip on a slab ending with me flat on my back, or as flat as you can be with a pack on your back. Neither of these two slips ended with blood drawn or an unconscious body, so I suppose I win in the end, but the potential of death whipped through my mind as my feet were airborne beneath me. After these two falls, I really embraced the well known move called the Butt Scoot. Whether the rock was wet or not, I was on my butt if the grade was more than about 1%. The other move that I used excessively I have decided to call The Tree Hugger. This can only work if the steep rock slab is next to a mature tree. The way to execute this move is as follows: stand as close to the edge of the top of the slab as possible but also close to a tree. Wrap both of your arms around the tree and launch your body off the edge of the slab swinging your legs around while still clinging to the tree. You then allow yourself to slide down the tree until your feet connect with solid ground. It makes a little more sense in actual practice rather than just reading. The Butt Scoot and The Tree Hugger got me through some pretty difficult moments on the trail, but neither move could save me from the other several falls I’ve endured. These falls were caused by tree roots, bogs, steep downhills, and who knows what else. Like the slips on the rock slabs, none of these falls ended with blood, broken bones, or concussions, but they were still unfortunate. The most recent accident was last night as I cruised downhill into camp. The fallen leaves on this section of the trail were at least an inch or two deep, hiding small roots and rocks. My toe caught the edge of a hidden root and as I rapidly propelled forward, my trekking poles launched into the air several feet in front of me as if they were javelins sailing through the air. As I stumbled forward, losing the battle to regain my footing, a nearby tree shoulder checked me, stopping my momentum and knocking me over. The worst part, considering I hadn’t been hurt, was that after I picked up my trekking poles, I walked less than 100 feet to the shelter. I had almost made it an entire day without a fall. The other falls that brought me to the ground usually just left me in a tangle of trekking poles and limbs requiring the help of Wes to get me up and walking again. The bog slips typically allowed me to remain on my feet but the sounds of a distressed Wario never failed to slip from my mouth. A sudden banana peel while riding a go-kart and a sudden bog while walking are more similar than you’d think.
This last 100 miles should be a breeze compared to what we started with. The worst should hopefully be just the dance around the bogs. It’s impossible to keep your feet totally dry out here, but every time my foot slips into a bog or stream I’m just as upset as the previous time. I have many pictures to share as I didn’t share any during my last town stop, so please, enjoy!
Helmet Face 