Author Archives: donsbrother4

After a rather mundane introduction to New Hampshire on yesterday’s hike, my buddies and I got the full welcome on Cube Mountain this afternoon. Finding ourselves close to tree-line, Banzai, Susquehanna Slim, Pilgrim and I realized that the Whites are just around the next corner, or should I say, just over the next ridge. With spectacular views from the south peak of Cube, we took our last lengthy break before tackling the 2000 foot descent over the final three miles. The less severe than we had anticipated terrain helped to alleviate some of the cumulative fatigue from a 16.0 mile, ten hour day. Still, when we arrived at NH 25A, we were all very tired.

Our day began at Dorchester Rd. near Lyme, NH. With light packs and cool weather (48 earlier this morning), we scooted up the first significant climb to Lambert’s Ridge in two hours. We were greeted with the first of several awesome views that we would experience throughout the day. Despite having to traverse several large rock slabs, the variation was nice. Large patches of squishy black mud detracted some; however, the somewhat challenging boulders didn’t pose any major difficulty. From the ridge we could see our next climb, Smarts Mountain and its fire tower in the distance.

The distance between the two locations was only two miles with about an 850 foot elevation gain. Surprisingly the climb didn’t prove to be very difficult. Arriving on Smarts Mountain just past noon, we took a break for lunch. Spoon had also stopped for a break. Slim climbed the tower to the enclosed top. I sat on a rock below and enjoyed a sandwich. At this point in the hike a jovial crowd we were. In fact, Banzai serenaded the rest of us with a chorus of Rawhide as we continued the walk. It appears that this may become our theme song. “Move ’em up, head ’em out, Rawhide.” So on we walked down to Jacobs Brook and then on toward the Eastman Ledges.

The ledges provided the four of us with some more difficult rock climbs, but the views were worth the effort. From the ledges we ascended to Mt. Cube where we took a final break on the south peak. Mike had hiked in to meet us and was waiting at the top with Banzai when Slim, Pilgrim, and I arrived. After hiking tentatively most of the day due to yesterday’s falls, I tried to resume my normal pace for the final three miles. Hiking behind the others, I still exhibited caution. When we all reached the road we drove in to Lincoln where we will set up a base camp of sorts for the first few days of the Whites. Then after a stop for pizza we headed to a motel, tired and dirty after another exhausting day on the Appalachian Trail.

Every day presents challenges on the Appalachian Trail. From rugged climbs to an often continuous sea of roots, rocks, and mud, I have to remember to focus virtually every step of the way. Twice today I lost that concentration and fell. Neither caused any harm; however, each just reminded me of how important it is to watch every footfall. The first occurred when I lost my balance on a wet, mossy rock. I was suddenly staggering forward unable to stop my momentum until I hit the ground. Slippery black mud caused the second. Or should I say my inability to stand on the slippery mud resulted in the mishap. Regardless, I’m reminded that potential danger is always lurking. With the Whites in my immediate future, I best be aware.

The day started at Lou’s Restaurant and Bakery, a mainstay in Hanover, NH since 1947. Located just a block from the Dartmouth campus, decor in the establishment doesn’t seem to have changed much over those 66 years. The gang and I ate heartily inside before adding a complimentary thru hiker pastry from the assortment outside. As we prepared to hike on up Main St. (by the way, Lou’s is on the trail), several other hikers walked up including Johnny Walker, Puffy, Spoon, and Gator. We would see all of them throughout the day as we began the first day in New Hampshire.

Today’s hike began simply enough. With a road walk up Main St. and then past the Dartmouth football stadium, we didn’t hit the woods again for nearly a mile. Friendly folks on bikes and in cars appeared to be headed to classes or work on a pleasant New England morning. When we did reach the woods, the trail only slightly changed elevation for the first six miles. At that point we commenced the climb up Moose Mountain for around 1500 feet. With less than treacherous terrain, the gradual ascent didn’t pose any real demands. At the south peak Banzai, Slim, Pilgrim, and I stopped for lunch. Several other northbound hikers had also taken a break including the group we had seen at Lou’s.

Mike was also slack packing Johnny Walker, Puffy, and Spoon. Spoon decided to carry no pack. Banzai put Spoon’s water in his pack. At another break Spoon entertained us (or I should say attempted to entertain us) with a standup routine about thru hiking. The retired postman from Minnesota may have found a new career. After the show we continued to make good time to the north peak of Moose Mountain and then down to Goose Pond Rd. where a man and woman were cooking some hot dogs for the hikers. Banzai had hiked on with the other young guys, but Pilgrim, Slim, and I each had one. A southbound thru hiker was also enjoying the trail magic.

From the road we climbed a steep unnamed mountain to Holts Ledge. I don’t know why the 1000 foot climb over two miles had no name. It surely deserved one. From there we descended to Dorchester Rd. where we ended today’s hike. It was during this last downhill stretch that I had the falls. After going completely through Vermont vertical, it was disappointing to see my streak come to an end. Trying to stay positive, however, I think perhaps someone was sending a reminder that I need to always remain cautious. If there’s one thing I need to do it’s stay on my feet because there are many tough days ahead on the Appalachian Trail.

The text message at 6:15 this morning said, “Banzai asks do you really want to hike in this rain?” My response without even consulting Pilgrim and Slim was, “Yes.” With only a 9.9 mile day planned into Hanover, I wasn’t about to let a little rain interfere with reaching New Hampshire. It was only moderate rain. OK, the rain was coming down pretty hard. Regardless, I just couldn’t see forfeiting a day to weather. Slim agreed. When Pilgrim and Banzai finally bought in, we were off to a morning of slogging up the Appalachian Trail.

The trail today began and concluded with road walks. As soon as the four of us emerged from Mike’s car we were greeted with a steady drizzle. I wore my rain jacket with a light poncho that also served as a pack cover. Despite both, I got pretty wet as the rain fell with varying degrees of intensity for the almost four hour duration of our hike. Some of the trail was already saturated; however, the mud didn’t seem to be any more severe than other recent days. We did encounter two swollen streams. At the second I just walked through rather than risking falling on a wet rock.

The order in which we hiked varied with Banzai and I alternating in the lead. To take our minds off of the dismal weather I proposed that we sing rain songs. I offered up a verse of “I Wish it Would Rain.” Slim crooned CCR’s “Who’ll Stop the Rain” and then Pilgrim chimed in with “Davy Crockett.” Not quite sure where rain fit in with Pilgrim’s selection. It did lead me to bellowing out a little of “Rawhide.” Rolling, rolling, rolling, keep them doggies rolling, rawhide; through rain, wind, and weather, hell bent for leather, wishing my girl were by my side. Head ’em up, mov’em out, rawhide—-or something like that. Such is life on the AT, especially on a rainy day.

Alter my rendition of the theme song from the popular early 60’s western, I decided to put some distance between myself and the others. As I hiked ahead, however, I could hear an ongoing conversation between Banzai and Susquehanna Slim. With a new audience of one, Banzai was on a roll. I only heard bits and pieces of his discourse, but it also seemed that Slim was getting in his two cents worth as well. So on I sloshed through the standing water and mud up a quagmire of a trail toward New Hampshire. With minimal rocks and negligible climbs, I pounded out the miles in near record time. Eventually Banzai and Slim caught me. When we reached Elm St., which began a 2.5 road walk into Hanover, we waited for Pilgrim to catch up. Then we walked together as the rain increased.

As “Raindrops kept falling on my head,” I thought of another cold, rainy 21 mile day and a green poncho. That was over two months and 1000 miles ago. It could have been yesterday or in another lifetime. I hiked on toward the Connecticut River and the 13th state of the AT. When I reached the western edge of the bridge I noticed several rowing teams. We stopped briefly for the perfunctory picture of the etched VT/NH on the bridge. Even though a steady drizzle continued, I was determined to have this photo memory. After the pics we made our way on up the road into Hanover and onto the campus of Dartmouth College. The trail then makes a right turn onto Main St., moving through the center of the popular New England town.

Within minutes we had connected with Mike and the car. After a trip to the motel for a shower and dry clothes, we headed back to Hanover for lunch. Tonight we’ve been invited for dinner at the home of Short ‘n Sweet, a section hiker whose son, The Brain, thru hiked in 2007. Over dinner I hope to gain some knowledge of what lies ahead from Short ‘n Sweet and her husband, Graybeard. So tonight, July 23, I’ll celebrate my 4 month anniversary as I enjoy a meal and good company in a home directly on the Appalachian Trail.

The Appalachian Trail has sometimes been referred to as ” a footpath through the woods.” After having hiked for almost four months and over 1700 miles, this afternoon I finally found that footpath. Unfortunately, the AT only took this appearance for less than a mile. Yep, just as suddenly as the beauteous trail had appeared, it was gone. From a wide bed of soft, rockless, pine straw, the trail took a sharp right turn into the roots, rocks, and mud that we have been experiencing for most of Vermont. Still it sure was nice while it lasted.

Our day began with a stop at a country store for breakfast and a visit to an outfitter in Woodstock for a couple of items. Then at 9:20 Banzai, Pilgrim, and I headed back into the woods. With a shorter 13.9 mile day scheduled, we decided to take the later start and enjoy the day. As usual I hiked behind Banzai from the outset. Pilgrim followed, mumbling “ah, damn,” as we were immediately faced with an almost “straight up” ascent. Even with the climb Banzai talked. I listened until we crested the mountain. Then I contributed to the conversation.

As usual, the conversation, like the trail, travelled in many directions. Before long I found myself in a literary discussion. Banzai asked what novels I felt were most significant in AP classes. After mentioning a few, I found myself offering an analysis of Kate Chopin’s “The Awakening.” I’m not quite sure how we got there. I also suggested he read “A Prayer for Owen Meany” by John Irving. We talked of other writers and books for a few miles before he disappeared into the distance. The discussion did make the time go by more quickly and the climbs a little more tolerable. This helped me because I was hiking rather sluggishly from the start.

After Banzai pulled away I waited for Pilgrim to catch me which didn’t take long. When he did I commented that I felt like I had been walking uphill for the past two days. Pilgrim replied, “That’s because you have.” At the top of one of those hills Mike was waiting to warn us of some serious boggy mud. All of us tried to circumvent the swamp; however, it was downright impossible to avoid getting our shoes wet. With ankle deep mud and water, as well as head high foliage, we had no choice but to slosh ahead. Finally we again found the woods.

When we reached Pomfret Rd., Mike called it a day. My buddies and I hiked on to the Thistle Hill Shelter where we stopped for lunch. A few mosquitoes made their annoying presence known while we ate. Still we enjoyed the sandwiches and beverages we had brought with us. From the shelter Banzai hiked on alone, hoping to reach the road before his shuttling brother got there. I suddenly felt re-energized, so I also picked up the pace throughout the afternoon.

The trail at least provided me with some variety. From open fields to pine straw ups and downs, nothing seemed too difficult. Unlike yesterday, I didn’t feel lonely despite hiking by myself the last three hours. I thought about Owen Meany and his baseball card collection. Tomorrow I’ll walk into Owen’s state. Owen Meany certainly knew what the White Mountains were all about. I hope I can handle them with the same fortitude that Owen Meany displayed when faced with adversity. The mind goes to many places while walking solitarily through the woods.

When I reached Quechee West Hartford Rd., I stopped to wait for Pilgrim. We walked together up the highway to VT 14 where we saw a kayaker getting ready to put in at the White River. I borrowed his kayak for a pic, hoping I would see Steady again soon. Across the road from the river Mike and Banzai were waiting. Apparently Mike had thought this was a better ending location for today’s hike. So our day officially became a 13.0 which leaves a 9.9 to Hanover for tomorrow.

And tomorrow begins a new chapter of the DBP (Don’s Brother’s Plan, formerly the DBM). Susquehanna Slim has arrived in White River Junction and will join the caravan tomorrow. Pilgrim, Slim, and I got better acquainted over dinner at a Chinese buffet tonight. In the morning the journey continues as Susquehanna Slim adopts the DBP for the hike toward Katahdin on the Appalachian Trail.

As a young boy I would spend time each summer at the home of my grandparents in rural Alabama. My parents would typically leave me on a Sunday. My mom would return for me at the end of the week. Even though I loved my grandparents and knew that I was in for a fun time with them, it always felt lonely when my parents drove away. Today I felt that same Sunday lonely on the Appalachian Trail.

One thing I learned today is that if you want to dawdle while hiking the AT, don’t plan a 22.3 mile day. Still trying to hike happy and enjoy all the sites along the way, I found myself trailing my buddies early in the day. For the first four miles the terrain was about as gentle as any the trail has had to offer. The day began with Fatty and Mike joining Pilgrim, Banzai, and me. At the trail to the Inn at Long Trail where the AT and the Long Trail split, Fatty left us to pick up a package. A little later Mike also turned to head back to the car. He plans to do a little out and back day hiking while serving as our support person.

Early in the day we walked through Gifford Woods State Park. Many weekenders were busy at their campsites. From there we soon passed Kent Pond. I couldn’t resist walking out on the dock for some reflection. Peering into the water, I hoped to see a fish. None were there. Canoes and kayaks lay on boggy grass near the bank. One lone canoe appeared at the far end of the pond. Since I took a long break I had to hustle to catch my friends within the next couple of miles. It was there that the first surprise of the day occurred, and it wasn’t a pleasant one.

I had thought that the AT in Vermont only had three significant mountains, Stratton, Bromley, and Killington. Somebody forgot to include Quimby. Everyone in our group agreed it was the toughest of them all. We ascended almost 1300 feet over just one mile. That’s a climb folks. After the struggle up Qwimby we walked at a steady pace to the Stony Brook Shelter where we stopped for lunch. While there Fatty joined us. It was the last time we would see her all day.

For the remainder of the day I just hiked, seldom even looking to see how many miles were left. Feeling often like the day would never end, I hiked alone for at least three hours. That’s when the loneliness set in. At one point I hummed “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.” Still I hiked. Even though there were no significant views, the climbs in the afternoon were minimal. I would go so far to call the final nine miles kind of boring. At the turn for the Lookout Banzai and Pilgrim had taken a break to let me catch up.

So for the final three hours Pilgrim and I hiked together as darkness approached. I commented that it was the right time of day to see a bear. We didn’t. We hiked without talking for awhile; we hiked and talked for awhile. Despite a hiking companion, that Sunday lonely feeling continued. I thought about having 465 miles remaining after today and felt lonely. I thought about having already hiked over 1700 miles and felt lonely. It was almost 8:00 when I finished what I can only describe as a day in which I couldn’t get past a feeling of loneliness on the journey to Maine along the Appalachian Trail.

When my home phone rang on the morning of July 20, 1993, twenty years ago today, I didn’t even know what states the Appalachian Trail went through. What I did know was that a friend was offering me four dugout level tickets to the Braves game that night. It took me about three seconds to accept. I then immediately called my brother to inform him that we would be sitting four rows behind the visiting dugout with our then seven year old sons for the Braves/Cardinals game that evening. I’m not sure why dates stick with some people. In this case it was because of the fire at the old Fulton County Stadium before game time. Fred McGriff made his debut in a Braves uniform as the Bravos overcame a 5-0 deficit to win 8-5. Even though the game didn’t begin until after 9:30 and concluded well after midnight, Don, Brent, Sam and I stayed for every pitch. So as I hiked today I relived that wonderful memory of my brother from 20 years ago today.

The day started a little differently in that our trio now has the good fortune of having a full time driver, at least for the next two weeks. Mike (trail name yet to be determined) drove up from Virginia to offer support for his twin brother Banzai and his buddies. So we cruised down to a local diner for breakfast before hitting the trail at VT 103. With rain in the forecast followed by a cold front, we didn’t even mind the humid start to the morning. After a rock scramble within the first half mile, up the mountain we went, climbing about 1000 feet to start our day. At the time I didn’t know it, but a really good day it was going to be. In fact, before the 18.4 mile day had come to an end I would be hiking happy exponentially.

Shortly after the initial climb we came across a detour predicated by Hurricane Irene. We had been prewarned of the road walk that prevented a potentially difficult stream crossing. Since it had rained last night Banzai, Pilgrim, and I chose to follow the advice of the trail maintainers and take the detour. It took us past several very nice rural homes. At one a Vermonter was tending to his horses. Eventually we arrived at where the trail wound back into the woods. We then walked a short distance to the Governor Clement Shelter. Two southbound thru hikers, Braveheart and Stretch, were taking a break. Stretch informed us that there were a lot of roots and rocks in Maine. Sorry to disappoint you Stretch, but that’s the entire Appalachian Trail.

From the shelter we started the climb up Killington, the highest mountain on the AT in Vermont. The actual peak is 0.2 off the trail. Attempting to follow Blue Eyes’ suggestion, I tried to hike happy. For some reason I thought of Fatty, someone with a similar personality to Blue Eyes, that I had not seen since central Pennsylvania. “I’d like to see Fatty again,” I said to Banzai and Pilgrim, “but she’s probably over a week ahead of us.” Just the thought of the positive, vivacious young lady motivated me to keep trying to hike with enthusiasm.

Near the top of Killington the Cooper Lodge Shelter stands. Banzai was already inside the fully enclosed structure having lunch when I got there. Also inside were Roboticus, a 2012 thru hiker, and her friend. Pilgrim arrived shortly after. With a cool breeze blowing through the windows, we took a longer break than usual. Roboticus shared some miniature Hershey’s as we talked about our hikes. Just as we were about to leave, the door of the shelter pushed open. Banzai was the first to see the hiker who was about to enter. He indeed looked surprised. When the door fully opened, Fatty appeared. For me it was more shock than surprise. Bizarre might be an even more appropriate explanation. Only about an hour after I had mentioned her name she suddenly appeared.

So for the remainder of the afternoon I had the pleasure of hiking with one of my favorite people on the trail. She explained that she had gotten behind me when she went into New York twice. One time she did “touristy” things in the city; the other she went rock climbing for a few days in another NY town. With the cooler temperatures after the front had moved through, I hiked with rejuvenation throughout the afternoon. Fatty seemed content to follow me and chat. It was easy to hike happy with Fatty.

When we reached the road Banzai and Mike were standing by a car where some serious trail magic was occurring. Jen, a local resident, had an array of goodies. Most impressive was a cooler filled with Klondike bars. I had two. Fatty had four. We also partook of some cherries, raspberries, and cheese. After having spent the past nine nights in the woods, Fatty accepted our invitation to a night in town. When Pilgrim finally arrived at the road, we gave him time to enjoy a couple of ice cream bars before we headed into Rutland.

Tonight Steady and Spirit joined Banzai, Pilgrim, Fatty, and me for dinner at a local establishment. As we waited for out meal I thought about how fortunate I was to have these hiking friends. From California and Michigan, Oregon, Alberta, and Georgia, we had all set out on different dates to thru hike the AT. Good food and good conversation made this day one of my best. With a starting temperature in the 50’s tomorrow morning, I hope to continue hiking happy on my way to a mountain in Maine at the end of the Appalachian Trail.

During the course of this AT hike, my general attitude has fluctuated almost as much as the elevations on the trail. I’ve hiked with enthusiasm and excitement at times. At others I’ve walked with sadness or melancholia. Occasionally I’ve hiked with anger and despair. Yesterday I hiked happy. Today I simply walked with indifference. What little variety the trail offered seemed of little interest on another very hot, humid, uncomfortable day. The weather and bugs make it impossible to truly enjoy the sites along the way. As I write this in the early evening, the temperature outside is still 91. I thought Vermont was supposed to be cool.

There were a few highlights on a tiring 14.8 mile day. Early in the hike we passed another beautiful lake in a picturesque setting. Once again I thought of Don as I gazed into the calm, soothing water. I even took a pic and sent it to Brent in a text. He commented that the fish would certainly be biting. A canoe next to the pond indicated that someone surely had been paddling around. It possibly belonged to the caretaker of the nearby shelter. Spoon, who had stayed at the shelter last night, told me the caretaker hadn’t been in the area the previous evening.

Most noteworthy among today’s highlights were two areas that consisted of some rock artwork. Numerous rock structures of various shapes and sizes have been erected adjacent to the trail. Spoon commented that he wondered if some art students had been assigned the task of constructing the sculptures. I imagine that hikers have been contributing to the gallery, so I took a little time to create my own tiny masterpiece. Spoon was so captivated by the artifices in the middle of the forest that he shot some video. Banzai, Pilgrim, and I also lingered in the area for quite some time, honestly fascinated with all the varying creations.

Eventually we hiked on to VT 140 where we took a lunch break. Spoon joined our band for the meal. I walked down to a stream near the road to wash my face and hands. The cool water felt refreshing on the blistering day. I was always grateful for the occasional breeze that temporarily supplanted the heat. Unfortunately, the wind was often short-lived. Still I appreciated the brief respites. I always offer up a prayer of thanksgiving when they occur.

After lunch we were faced with a 1100 foot climb up and over Bear Mountain. This is the third Bear Mountain we have encountered. New York and Connecticut each have one as well. Were it not for the heat, this climb would have proven rather insignificant. With the heat it was tough. I stopped often to drink and at one point almost was walking in place. When we crested the mountain and started down the other side, we took one final brief break at the Minerva Hinchley Shelter. While there Banzai noticed a posted message on the wall offering rides to hikers needing to go into Rutland. I put the number in my phone before we resumed the hike.

The final highlight of the day occurred on a rock outcrop with a view of the Rutland Airport. From there I called the ride number. Tom said he would meet us at the road in half an hour. On the descent over soft, minced pine straw, with an occasional slick rock blended in, Pilgrim fell twice. There’s always a potential fall around every corner on the AT. After we crossed Clarendon Gorge over a suspension bridge, we easily made our way to the parking lot. Tom arrived a couple of minutes later.

We drove into Rutland, got two rooms, cleaned up, and went out for a good meal. Tomorrow our plans take a new turn as we will have a full time support person for a few days. Banzai’s brother drove up from Virginia today to lend a hand. With a car at our disposal we will have more options for better planning where to end each day. Cooler weather is also in the forecast, so with better hiking conditions, light packs, a car for shuttling, and a team, all looks positive for further advancement up the Appalachian Trail.

Blue Eyes, a pretty section hiking physics teacher from Minnesota, told me last night at the Green Mountain House that I needed to hike happy. She suggested I take more time to essentially “stop and smell the roses.” Or according to AT lingo, sit and enjoy the view whenever one occurs. Banzai doesn’t like to do “extra credit.” Blue Eyes thinks we always should. Today I tried to remember what my new friend said. I hiked happy, or at least I tried to. My newfound positive attitude carried me through a moderately challenging 17.8 mile day.

After a quick stop for breakfast, Jeff shuttled Banzai, Pilgrim, and me back to the trailhead off VT 11 at 7:00. One of two major highlights of the day occurred during the first three miles. The trail travels up a ski slope on Bromley Mountain, with supposedly a view of five states from the tower at the top. The morning was reasonably clear; however, I wasn’t sure which distant mountains were in which states. Remembering what Blue Eyes had advised me, I did take some time to actually “play around” on top. I walked out on the gondola platform for some pics and spent some time talking with Jamie and Marcia, section hikers from Tennessee. Banzai eventually informed me that it was time to continue the hike.

A little over two miles later we reached Mad Tom Notch. No one seemed to know who Mad Tom was, so I decided I would equate him to Pilgrim in song. The tune is to “Big John.”
He stood 5 foot 10, weighed 135;
Had to change his plan, just to stay alive, Mad Tom
Came from California across the great divide
To hike the AT before he died, Mad Tom. Mad Tom, Mad Tom, Old Mad Tom. Pilgrim seemed to be a good sport about my unpoetic drivel. It sometimes amazes me to think of the depths to which we have sunk to find ways to entertain ourselves on a hot, humid, sweaty nine hour day of hiking. Mad Tom?

The next view of the day at Styles Peak required a climb of about five feet. It took me approximately 20 seconds. When I tried to persuade my buddies to join me on the outcrop, both opted to remain on their perches below. I fear that Pilgrim may be adopting the “no extra credit” philosophy as well. As for me, I was hiking happy, and getting some nice pictures to share with friends. While the morning passed into afternoon I continued to embrace the “hike happy” theory. It reminded me somewhat of “serenity now.” I hope the final results are more positive.

A final spectacular section of trail greeted us at Baker Peak. Although the elevation was lower, the gorgeously clear views were the best since Race Mountain in Connecticut, at least according to this happy hiker. Northbound thru hiker Spoon had been hiking with or around us all day. On the slanted jagged rocks of Baker Peak I followed him and Banzai to the top. Pilgrim followed. Again I took my time to just enjoy and appreciate. With the White Mountains of New Hampshire in the not too distant future, I was actually glad to have a mildly technical section for practice. Exhilaration describes the fifteen minute ascent well. I was grateful it wasn’t raining. That would have definitely been a dangerous climb in wet conditions.

During the final five miles of the day, the trail passed three shelters, two of which were directly on the AT. We took a short break at Lost Pond Shelter. At Big Branch Shelter I remembered the night Alton, Ponder, and I stayed there on a section hike. The gushing stream in front of the shelter made for some good sleeping. I had wanted to continue hiking happy by taking off my shoes for a soak; however, since we only had a mile to the road and a ride, I kept going. Sorry, Blue Eyes.

When Pilgrim and I reached Danby-Landgrove Rd., Banzai was already at the SUV talking with Jeff. We had picked up some soft drink trail magic just prior to the road, so once again, I enjoyed an ice cold Mountain Dew on the trip back to Manchester Center and the Green Mountain House hostel. On the way Jeff stopped for us to pick up some groceries. I purchased the ingredients for spaghetti and cooked up a pot for the group. We invited southbounder Rooster to join us. After supper I just relaxed, anticipating another “hike happy” day tomorrow as I work my way through Vermont on the Appalachian Trail.

In July three years ago I spoke with my brother several times a week. We talked about baseball, our families and our futures. He took his bass boat out regularly and spent hours walking in the woods. Life was good. Two years ago in July Don and I rode bikes we had bought after his ALS diagnosis. He said riding made him feel like a kid again. We hoped progression of the illness would be slow. He talked of death and dying. I listened. Last year on July 17 I sat with my brother after he had lost his ability to talk. I spoke of life and death. He listened. Six weeks later he was dead. Today when I walked past Stratton Pond, quite possibly the prettiest lake on the AT, I thought about my brother.

Our day began with another shuttle back to the trail from Steve. Banzai, Pilgrim, and I walked back into the woods at 8:00, beginning a 19.5 mile day. Like the first two in Vermont, isolation dominated the day. Banzai chose to hike ahead for much of the morning, and I also put space between Pilgrim and myself. I suppose we just didn’t have much to share with each other. Even when hiking with companions, sometimes it feels good to be alone. Today I hiked in a solitary mood, contemplating on various aspects of what waits ahead, on the trail and in life.

The trail remained the same. It consisted of mud, rocks, mud, roots, mud, rocks over streams, footbridges, mud, leaves, mud, and dirt. There were uphills and downhills. As Pilgrim stated yesterday, it’s the sameness that gets to you. Other than Stratton Mountain with its lookout tower and Stratton Pond, there was nothing noteworthy the entire day. The gentle terrain made for a reasonably comfortable day even though the heat, humidity, and biting flies detracted from any potential enjoyment.

The climb up Stratton Mountain in the morning highlighted the day. At the crest we met the caretaker Hugh who enlightened us on some of the history of the Long Trail. It was here that Benton MacKaye conceived the idea for the Appalachian Trail. Pilgrim and I climbed part of the way up the lookout tower for a view of Greylock to the west and Killington to the north. Banzai chose not to do the climb. He has decided to avoid what he calls “extra credit.” Past the mountain we stopped at Stratton Pond Shelter, another nice one, for lunch. Then we passed Stratton Pond. I paused and took some pics before moving on.

Throughout the afternoon we continued to hike alone. Banzai stopped at Prospect Rock to let Pilgrim and me catch up. From there we steadily made out way to VT 11 to Manchester. Needing to hitch a ride into town, we were fortunate to get a lift from Walter, a day hiker from the area. When we reached town we ate at an Italian place before getting a ride from Jeff to his Green Mountain House hostel. Other hikers are here including Spoon and Blue Eyes.

So after today I have 538 miles remaining on my AT thru hike. If all continues to go well, I should finish my hike in around six weeks. Six short weeks. Six long weeks. Six weeks of beauty and grandeur. Six weeks of potential distress and loneliness. Six weeks to define existence. Six weeks to realize the fulfillment of a promise. Don lived six weeks after that hot afternoon last July 17. Six weeks to reach a goal, a destination, an end. Tomorrow starts the final push. Six more weeks on the Appalachian Trail.

I’m tired. Really tired. Too tired to write tired. It’s been a long day on the Appalachian Trail. Banzai, Pilgrim, and I are waiting for a shuttle at Forest Service Rd. 71, essentially “in the middle of nowhere.” It’s the first road we’ve crossed all day. It’s the only “out” if we want to continue with Don’s Brother’s Method. Knowing that a shower, meal, and bed are in our immediate future, we are happy to wait. It’s 7:40. This is the latest I have been on the trail the entire hike. Hopefully, Steve will arrive at the pre-determined time. I didn’t bring my head lamp. Pilgrim has his. Darkness is still an hour away. Biting flies and mosquitoes have infiltrated our space, or are we the interlopers? I’m really tired.

Earlier this morning Banzai asked, “What state are we in?” “It’s the damn sameness of this thing that kills me,” Pilgrim grumbled, as we took a short break after about five miles of a planned 20.6 mile day. We could still be in Georgia based on the redundancy of the terrain. With only twenty-five percent of today’s hike complete, we’re all already a little edgy. It’s hot and humid even though it’s still morning. Isn’t Vermont supposed to be cool? What state are we in?

We walk on, still grumbling about the mud, bugs, and humidity. Even Banzai isn’t as eager to lecture today. I eventually mention Tennyson’s “Ulysses,” and the discussion is on.. Miles go by more quickly with conversation. So we hike and talk. Pilgrim lingers fifty yards behind. We pause occasionally and he catches up. He adds a comment now and then. We hike toward the first shelter of three we’ll pass today, three AT thru hikers caught somewhere between happy and miserable. Time passes……time passes…….time passes

At the Goddard Shelter we stop for lunch. We each have a bag of McDonald’s hamburgers that we purchased in Bennington. I have a root beer as well. The shelter is one of the nicest I’ve seen. If it were later in the day and I had all my gear and my gear included a sleeping bag and I had more food, I might even enjoy staying here. We eat leisurely. Pilgrim leans against the back of the shelter with closed eyes. Banzai suggests we make it a long lunch since we aren’t getting picked up until 8:00. We eventually decide to continue the hike before Pilgrim falls asleep. I save one burger and half my root beer for later.

What state are we in? The trail looks the same. We stop at the Glastenbury Mountain lookout tower. Banzai and I climb the metal steps. Banzai reaches the top. I stop two rungs short when a strong wind rocks the structure. Pilgrim waits below. Banzai and I take pics and then descend the steps. This would be our only view of the day. The trail in fact is so remote that there is a six mile section in the thru hiker’s handbook that has no listings. No roads, no streams, no shelters, nothing to write about for six miles. We are definitely miles from nowhere.

We hike on to the next shelter, Kid Gore. This shelter has a reputation as being a haven for porcupines. We see none in the mid-afternoon. James, a section hiker who has only been on the trail three days, plans to stay the night. I warn him about the porcupines. He says no one has mentioned them in the registry. Maybe they’ve moved elsewhere. I eat my final burger and finish my root beer. Banzai thinks we should take a longer break again. We do. I’m already tired and we still have six miles to hike. A rare breeze momentarily replaces the hot, humid afternoon. The biting flies continue to annoy. What state are we in?

We hike over rocks, through black mud, across streams, avoiding roots and swampy areas. As the afternoon diminishes, fatigue increases. My two buddies and I stop at another shelter for a final break. Story Spring Shelter offers a picnic table at which to rest. I’m bordering on exhaustion when I remember a new bag of jelly beans in my pack. I tear open the package and share them with Banzai and Pilgrim. With only 1.6 miles to the road and the end of the day, I pick up my pace. Banzai hikes ahead. Pilgrim maintains my pace. The jelly beans are working. At least temporarily, I’ve regained some strength.

Steve Labombard arrives with a cooler of soft drinks. We head up the gravel road for the hour drive back to Bennington. Steve comments that he saw a moose feeding on the way up. The moose is still there. We stop. I get out for a pic. The moose ambles away. A baby suddenly emerges from the marsh and follows. Steve offers a informative lecture of his own on the drive. Banzai is captivated by Steve’s knowledge of the surrounding area. Agreeing to stop for us to pick up food, Steve goes beyond our expectations. I easily elevate his status to #1 among trail angels I’ve met.

So now it’s late. I feel less tired now, however, than I did three hours ago. My alarm is set for 6:00. We need an early start tomorrow to make Manchester Center, the next town in Vermont. We’re in Vermont on one of the most remote sections of the trail. It’s been a tiring day, but I feel good. Banzai and I decided today that we would start focusing on the miles remaining in addition to those we’ve already hiked. So we now have 557.6 miles left to hike. Tomorrow we’ll attempt to erase 19.5 of them as we continue walking through Vermont on the Appalachian Trail.