The most unique section of the long trail

Yo Wake up before dawn to the sound of cougars chirping.

Normally, I’m not afraid of mountain lions. They rarely attack humans and I’m in a shelter with one other person, which makes me feel even safer. However, it is one thing to know intellectually that the lion poses no danger, but another thing to convince the body of this enough to completely relax. So I stay awake, listening to the chips and watching the sky gradually lighten. Finally, just before dawn, I stop sleeping and decide to move on.

An hour later, when I get cell service, I search for mountain lions in Vermont and discover that they were declared extinct in the state in 2018. Turns out, I was kept awake by the chirping of an early bird. Silly me.

A new terrain: Devil’s Gulch

The morning takes me to Devil’s Gulch, possibly the most unique landscape I’ve traversed on this trail so far.

Although it extends only about 0.2 miles, the narrow gorge is filled with moss-covered rocks and enclosed by spectacular cliffs, requiring me to scramble, climb, and pass over, between, and under the rocks. It is a small obstacle course in a mysterious and calm environment. Gusts of cool air hit me as I make my way over sudden, deep cracks in the rock. While incredibly beautiful and interesting, this stretch of trail pushes my injured quad to the limit.

It takes me half an hour to walk the 0.2 kilometres, partly due to my lack of mobility in my right leg, but also due to the number of times I stop to take pictures and gaze at the exceptionally dark and quiet gorge.

A leg pushed to the limit

To exit Devil’s Gulch, the trail ascends approximately 157 stone steps (I counted them) to the trailhead toward Belvidere Mountain, marking the start of a continuous 2.5 mile climb. A Green Mountain Club trail crew had left a BearVault full of magic on the trails: cold cans of Moxie soda. I had never heard of this soda in my life and I enjoyed trying to guess the flavor as I slowly drank it. It’s somewhere between a Coca-Cola and a Root Beer: a dark soda with hints of licorice and cinnamon. As a bonus, it has caffeine, which gives my steps a little pep on the long uphill climb.

About a mile from the top of the mountain, my quad starts sending me jolts of pain every time I lift my knee. When I lower my leg to take a step forward, my quadriceps feel weak and loose, like a cooked noodle that isn’t really capable of providing any strength. Despite being only a few minutes from the summit, I sit on the side of the trail for a while.

After half an hour and some food, I start climbing the mountain again. The break does nothing for my leg; When I reach the summit, I lean heavily on my trekking pole to support my weight. At the top there is a fire tower that shows me my first views of Canada. Stupidly, perhaps, I limp to the top to see it. Going back down the stairs causes a very worrying pain in my quadriceps and I end up jumping on just my left leg, using the railings to take all the weight off my right leg.

Hello Canada!

Call him early

I haven’t gotten very far down the trail today, but there is a shelter about three miles away and I decide to call there for the night. I see no reason to continue pushing; With only 25 miles left to Canada, I’m not worried about finishing before my deadline.

With this in mind, I slowly make my way down to the beaver swamp near the lodge. It’s been hard to get water on this trail, which is generally unusual in Vermont, so I need to grab two quarts of water from this beaver swamp. I choose to trust my filter, but I try not to cringe at the color and flavor that lingers in the filtered water.

The shelter is in a beautiful location, with a window facing the sunset, but the first thing I notice is the infestation of ladybugs and (apparently) human excrement on the steps leading to the sleeping platform. You gain some, you lose some.

Once at the shelter, I open the window, watch the sun set against the orange pillowy mountain, and down my sixth consecutive night of Annie’s Mac ‘N Cheese. I stretch my quads and entire lower body, wince at the lingering pain that comes with every position change, and mentally prepare for my last full day on the trail.

Perspective and motivations

Much of hiking is easy to beautify. Much of hiking is easy to despise. This trail, in particular, is teaching me that we have a lot more control over this than you think. At one point, near Devil’s Gulch, I found myself in a very good mood, sitting near a babbling river, watching hundreds of brightly colored leaves fall to the ground in the breeze. Another way to look at this: I’m squatting on the ground, filtering muddy water, surrounded by bees and flies, while twigs and leaves fall on me from above. Both statements are true, but I guess it depends on how you choose to look at it.

I’ve been trying to figure out why I love this trail so much; Before, I used to walk around for the fantastic views. In this sense, I cannot say that in good faith. Honestly, the views are good, but not good enough to create motivation for the trail itself. Maybe I don’t need an answer yet, but I continually surprise myself at how much of a person I am. affectionate be here, even in the absence of great views.

Today I listen to “Carry That Weight” by The Beatles and it reminds me of that first day of travel when you pick up your backpack and realize that your bag of food has become noticeably lighter.

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