Vermont on the Appalachian Trail

Vermont gave us more water, bigger climbs and better scenery than we�d had in a long time. We were soon up to 4000ft again and gazing at the Whites in the far distance. We also got shortening days and cold nights � cold enough that, after a few hours shivering in my sleeping bag I decided I really had to wash it in the hope it would get a little warmth back. Thankfully Manchester Centre was our next stop and contained all the goods and services we needed for a zero day. The prospect of a �zero� always got us excited and we would usual painstakingly plan our itinerary for hours over the proceeding days to ensure we got the most out of our time. Having camped near the road the previous night, we were up early and brandishing our hitching thumbs at the morning traffic. Within minutes we were loading ourselves into the front of a pickup truck for yet another memorable hitch. I�m so glad �normal� people rarely stop for hitch hikers � the colourful types we met added so much to the journey. Our ride this time was courtesy of a very nice, very friendly guy who looked wholly out of place in the nice prissy little towns we�d been encountering since crossing the Connecticut border. I think he may have been a southerner trapped inside a New Englander�s body. Unlike local law enforcement, he considered seatbelts to be an undesirable option for driving, but beer to be a necessity. He had one on the go and handed me a cold one from a full cooler beside him. It was 8am.

As far as we could tell, Manchester Centre is a town built to house a bunch of outlet stores. We had no use for discount Levis or anything from the Ralph Lauren summer collection, but we did have a choice of fast food venues, outfitters and laundrettes. We got everything laundered, bought our fourth and final pairs of shoes, and ate enough fast food to wreck Billy�s digestive system for days to come. The ride out of town couldn�t have been more different than the ride in. We were whisked back to the trail in the leather seats of a millionaire�s wife�s Audi TDI saloon.

The next couple of days had us climbing some more big hills. We were now far enough North for these to be ski mountains. It is kind of odd to see ski runs and lifts in the summer months � they look quite out of place. The air up high on these peaks was lovely, cool and pine scented � exactly as a Glade commercial might have you imagine your toilet could smell. Thankfully there was absolutely no resemblance to the smell in my own lavatory.

Now though it was Billy�s turn to come down sick. For the first time all trip he was visibly struggling. I was now in the novel position of hiking ahead and waiting for Billy to catch up. It was clearly time to get off-trail again and let him recover. After a night in the very nice, but hugely mouse infested Cooper, we made our way through the rain to US4 and tried to get to a motel. Once we got there, soaked and miserable, it was soon clear that no one would pick us up for the 10 mile ride to Rutland. We trudged on a mile to the Edelweiss Motel � nice enough but there were no services in the area and we needed to eat. The afternoon was spent, ravenous, desperately trying to get somebody, anybody to drive out of town to deliver us food. It was 6 hours from when we checked in before we got somebody to accept some extra money to drive a couple of already expensive pizzas out to us.

The next day we figured out the bus system and hopped on the first service into town. We checked into a new motel a convenient stroll from Wendy�s, MacDonald�s and the rest of civilisation and let Billy recuperate � or at least recuperate as well as is possible on a diet of Wendy�s and MacDonald�s� In the end we were in town four nights before Billy got back to anything like his normal self. Even then his appetite would be off until a ways into New Hampshire. Getting back to the trail was a challenge in itself. We wanted to catch the bus back the way we had come in, but there seemed to be some ambiguity as to where the stop was. We spent hours rushing from venue to venue. It was like a game of Treasure Hunt. We�d get to a possible stop-site hang around there until it became apparent no bus was coming, and then searched for a clue to a new site. Even the locals didn�t know where we should be � and we asked plenty of them. Eventually though, the day�s frustration was over (or so we thought) and we were back on the trail before 3pm. Things were looking rosy again and even the rain had stopped for us.

Hiking the AT requires very little in the way of navigational skill � you follow the blazes and put one foot in front of another. There are not a lot of other trails that can be easily confused with the AT. In fact I knew of one and had known about it for hundreds of miles. The AT had been running concurrently with the Long Trail for a while now. Eventually it splits off towards Canada, while the AT continues further East up into Maine. The split happens at Maine junction and we reached it shortly after getting back on trail after our mini-vacation. I knew we had to take the right fork, I�d known it for weeks. We arrived at the junction skimmed the posted notice and headed Left. I still don�t know why and don�t care to dwell on it. The blazes for the Long Trail were identical to the AT blazes so we didn�t suspect anything until we got to a shelter 4 miles from the junction. My suspicions were aroused by signs referring only to the Long Trail and confirmed by a couple who seemed to know what-was-what. We walked back toward the junction dejectedly. Before we made it back to where we had been almost three hours previously, a storm blew in and unleashed a deluge that wasn�t to stop that evening. The trail was again turned into a stream. We pitched the tarp in the failing light while enduring the very worst mosquito attack we had experienced all trip.

The next day had us back on track and making up the lost miles. The rain brought back my chafing problems, but also brought out an amazing and colourful array of fungus. We went to sleep with the satisfying knowledge that it was a short walk to food and then on to Hanover and New Hampshire. We are lazy people and while our fellow hikers were usually up and out by 6 or 7am, we would tend to laze about until after 9 - unless, that is, there was the prospect of a meal. Possessed by hunger and ruled by our stomachs we were out early that morning and hiking like demons By 8.20am we were happily sat at the counter of a West Hartford diner awaiting our large cooked breakfasts and knowing that a few hours later we�d be eating our lunch in whichever of Hanover�s eateries took our fancy.


Photos of the Vermont section of the Appalachian Trail:

Baker Peak vista

Ben on Bromley Mountain	Bromley Mountain		Kent Pond

Observation Deck	Observation view	Peru Peak vista

Prospect Rock vista	Roaring Branch	Roaring Branch beaver	Rock castles

Stratton Mountain vista	Stratton Mountain vista	Stratton Mountain vista	Stratton Pond

	Trail to Baker Peak	Maine Junction