Dirty Girl Hikes

Tater and I have a reputation for sleeping in, so the boys were quiet when they packed and left in the morning. 

I woke not long after and made my usual journey to a tree, and then the bearbox to grab our food. Tater began to stir, and we took our time with breakfast.

We got underway and soon passed Griffith Lake, where all the tenters were headed the night before.  The bog boards here were rotting, and showing the wear of many travelers.  Such boards are placed in wet or muddy areas along the trail.  Usually just a pair of one by sixes bolted to a railroad tie, they keep these sections passable, and protect surrounding vegetation. 

This particular section of the AT / Long Trail goes through the beginnings of the Clarenden Gorge.  A distinct area of Vermont, the river here becomes deeper and faster as you head north.  The boarders quicky morph from pebbles to massive, pronounced slabs of stone.  One of these would become or lunch spot for the day.

There was a beautiful suspension bridge in view, and we were maybe a half mile from Big Branch Shelter.  Sage and I had stayed there for a night in 2019, and the place became memorable following a podcast I heard a few months afterward.

I’m fairly certain Legend, the Long Trail FKT holder, spoke about Sage and I during his Backpacker Radio interview.  Legend had intended to stop at Big Branch Shelter during his 2019 attempt but, “found two guys sleeping inside.”  So instead, he nodded off in the nearby privy for half an hour.  Legend made his SPOT device track public, and Sage was diligently following the record attempt. 

Over breakfast Sage mentioned that were passed during the night by the, well, Legendary backpacker.  So, I’m quite certain we were those “two guys.”  For the record, we would have welcome his company! 

Tater and I are far from going after FKT’s (fastest known times) which, is what trail records are called within the hiking community.  We did have a milestone of our own today though, and that was passing the two hundred mile mark from Pawling, NY.  Actually, we passed it days ago, but over lunch we finally remembered to take the photo. 

We tried packing up after lunch, but both ended up laying down on the slab again, our packs as pillows.  Within minutes we both fell asleep, waking an hour later. 

Soon we left, crossing the bridge and stopping briefly at the aforementioned shelter for a privy stop.  I made a quick note in the logbook there and we continued on.

We found ourselves on the way to Little Rock Pond, a popular day-use area with a GMC shelter on the edge.  We cruised through this flat, wide section of trail.  Our pace often encouraged the oncoming hikers to pull aside and let us pass.  This body of water is as memorable as Stratton Pond visually, though admittedly I forgot the name.  The rocks on the far shore being the defined, memorable feature. 

We stopped at the shelter for a snack, and met a GMC Caretaker named Pterodactyl.  He could have been Sage’s twin, and I was struck by how similar they looked.  He and Tater had both hiked similar sections in 2017, and had a lot of crossover trail family.  Eventually his attention was taken by other backpackers, out for the weekend and looking for a place to camp. 

At Pterodactyl’s advice, we made for the White Rocks Overlook.  In his mind the area was a “must-see” that most people unknowingly pass.

As we ascended away from the pond, I noticed a pair of Apple Airpod Pro’s sitting on a boulder.  They were encased in a fine leather pouch.  Being that we had only seen two southbounders the whole trip, I pocketed them and decided to carry them to the next shelter.  Trail registers are often full of messages around lost items, and more than once I’ve hiked a phone, a sleeping pad, or a trail journal back to its owner. 

Within the following mile, a young hiker named Bolt came into view, speeding southbound down the ridge.  He had a distraught look on his face.

     “Hey brother, did you loose some earbuds?”  I asked.

I took them from my shirt pocket and held them up.  He stopped instantly and leaned back in relief. 

     “Oh man, thank you so much!” 

I placed them in his hand and asked what his trail name was.  When I heard the reply I asked if he wanted to pass us now, but he said he needed to rest.

Tater and I continued the climb.  Bolt zoomed past us about ten minutes later, buds in ear with a far more relieved countenance.

As we closed in on the turn for the White Rocks Overlook, we recognized where we were on trail.  This section sports hundreds of tiny rock cairns, which have been around at least 2016.  Tater and I were happy to see them, the other big stand being near Sunfish Pond in New York. 

The side trail was tough to spot, and given that neither of us trust my sense of direction at this point, Tater took the lead.  She had gotten very quiet over the past few miles and I assumed she was just fatigued.  When we made it to the overlook, which we found a bit underwhelming, she told me she wasn’t feeling well. 

Though the trip to Greenwall Shelter was under a mile, it took us a while to get there.  The trail was super buggy, and Tater’s discomfort was becoming more and more obvious.  She began to lag behind, such that I made it down the shelter spur trail a full five minutes before she did. 

Coolwhip was at the shelter, along with a few others at the picnic table.  She said a simple “hey” to him and continued walking right past the shelter.  I got up and we found a quiet spot with room for both of our tents. 

Her answers to my questions were mostly one-word.  I got the feeling she needed space, so I returned to the shelter area. 

Cool Whip was good company, but I was pretty worried about Tater.  After dinner I returned to our camp and found her munching on some snacks in her tent.  She was more communicative, but I could tell she wasn’t herself. 

Rest has miraculous affects on trail, so we decided to sleep and address it in the morning.  Camp was buggy, though thankfully the weather was dry and a tad cooler than the past few days.