I Can See For Miles and Miles
Humble Shelter
Largest Pond Ever
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Object Lesson
With the massive show behind us Jason and I decided to hit the woods again for a hike. We couldn't have picked a more perfect day, though we ended up being out for ten hours we saw nary a cloud in the sky. Our hike began up a narrow dirt road that ascended rapidly into the hills. To our sides water rushed fast over smooth rocks. Winter is failing, spring rears her wild head. As the road crests we are treated to Prospect Rock, a kind of look out spot that provides views of the valley below. Under perfect skies we have a clear view all the way to the end of the world. Clean, cold air fills our lungs and uplifts our spirits. We are compelled to push on ward. Ahead lies a section of the Appalachian Trail. Jason spent five months hiking the AT after college and is excited to show me a section. He is particularly enthusiastic to show me one of the many shelters built along the way to accomodate weary travelers. We march onward.
The shelter proves humble, quaint, but ultimately effective. It's clear how much a relief it would be for the exhausted. Inside is a little notebook, which trekkers have used to jot notes and insights of their wanderings. Jason explains that such documents commonly include an address of the person who left the notebook so that when filled it may be returned to the original owner for their records. Neat little slice of history. I'm beginning to understand the unique nature of AT trekker culture. Fascinating.
At this point it was about 3pm. We were at a dilemma, should we turn about and backtrack? (Boring!) or Push onward? (Exciting!) We chose the latter and are still living with the consequences of that fateful decision. According to our interpretation of the map we had another four hours of hiking ahead of us, surely a formidable endeavor but not impossible. We set out, our only indication of the trail being azure swatches (what in the blue blazes?) painted to tree trunks. The trail skirted along the bank of a rapid brooke, proving to be quite boggy in places. This was tricky as certain sections of the path became large sink holes that plunged low through the impressive snow drifts. We found ourselves straining our joints to avoid plummeting through unstable snow as we skirted the edges of these treacherous obstacles. The trail extended ever onwards. At one point we thought we had surely passed a significant landmark (a vast pond) only to find the trail extending past an expected intersection. Then we thought perhaps we were headed for the road only to run into the original pond. We picked up the intersecting path that would lead us back towards home but the blue swatches were becoming difficult to locate. The light was fading. Eventually we had to make the uncomfortable decision to back track (dammit!) If we had stayed the course finding the trail out would have proved impossible. We had only planned to be hiking for a couple of hours. We hadn't packed camping gear and though the night sky proved as clear as the day we hadn't gear for inclement weather.
As painful as the decision was the possibility of getting lost in the night was motivation to press on back. By this point my knees were seriously beginning to whine. The sun dipped below the horizon and darkness settled fast. The wind picked up. Got to keep moving. Thankfully Jason had his head lamp. I forgot to pack mine. If we hadn't had this light source our return could've proved much longer. Though the journey was harrowing it was not without it's own beauty. The sky remained clear and the stars that night were absolutely brilliant.
It was late when we returned to the AT shelter but we knew the way out was not much farther. We pushed on finally retaking the dirt road and descending the mountain. We sang songs in the dark to keep motivated. Orion loomed huge and forboding overhead. Wild wind rushing through tall trees gave way to tumbling stream. At last we were on the home stretch. Back at the crib Jason promised to drive to the grocer so as to refuel on snacks. He promptly passed out. I don't blame him. We had just survived my darkest hike. Seeing as how Jason had been present at my coldest hike in Mongolia I think it's safe to say he's the best hiking buddy I've ever had. Good to be here.
So we've spent the following two days in recovery. My knee is vastly improved though not yet 100% I'm not sure I'm good to ski and seeing as how there's not much else to do around here I think it best I take my leave soon. I don't know, my body just doesn't handle the cold well anymore.
Truth Through Acoustics
Herculean effort yielded tepid results. I had to meet up with Jason at his work before we ventured to the show. This required a hitch hiking on my part. 16 miles through foreign territory, not so bad but a little nerve wracking non-the-less. Fortunately the fine citizens of Vermont made the ride much more comfortable. Although I had to catch three different drivers and none of the rides were very long each driver was sympathetic and the last fellow took me all the way to my destination and pointed out Jason's work. Fine people, Vermonters. My heart holds them dear.
Finally Jason finished work. We made our way south to another ski mountain for the Easy Star All Stars. Sign on the door indicated the show was sold out. Bogus. I was willing to accept our fate but others in our party proved recalcitrant. This patience paid off as we were eventually allowed in, if only at an increased price. The band was rad, playing their dub inspired covers of famous rock albums. The crowd was loving it, singing along for most of the show. However the acoustics were terrible, I couldn't believe this souped up barn was being used as a venue. For a band such as Easy Star I felt it was an insult. Lame.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Lookin' Good, VT
Jason's got the day off from his work and he wants to hit the mountain! We start the day off right with a Greek Omelet from Bob's Diner before hitting the woods. The plan is to follow power lines until they intersect a trail in the mountains. We dip into the woods with power lines in sight, and start trekking uphill. Everywhere snow is melting and the watersheds are beginning to flow. The sound of trickling snow melt is like silver bells to my ears.
We never did come across those power lines but by now we are enchanted by the mystery of the forest. No need for a clear path, we've got a brooke to follow. Up ahead massive rock formations heave themselves from the surrounding forest with geologic rapidity. Bands of sediment remind us of ancient forces involved with the sculpting of the land. Jason points out a unique icicle that appears to "platform" before touching the rock face it hangs above. No explanation available.
Moving onwards and upwards. We summit the crest to find perfect flats for pitching tents. This area reminds me a bit of my Camp Perfecto at Khuvsguul Nuur. Some large creature has left traces of its passing in the form of prints in the snow. Surely some large carnivore. A cougar? Jason tells me a tale of a Fisher Cat that stalks the land. Most intriguing. Out of nowhere my foot plunges deep, up to my thigh in snow. On the way down my bastard knee scrapes against a boulder. And it begins again, the pain. I like it. It's how I know I'm mortal.
Jason spots a few flurries blowing about. We realize the risk of possible snow storms and, acknowledging our lack of preparedness, decide to head back. Footprints, human this time, lead down toward civilization. We find the power lines we were looking for, only to realize they span a deep cleft in the mountain's face. We find ourselves against insurmountable odds as we attempt to make our way out. The slope proves too slippery, we're careening desperately for the icy stream below! Cold, fresh water tumbles down rapidly. Ice forms from spray where water strikes stone. This stream bears some the queerest ice forms I've ever witnessed. I'm convinced a life of adventure will continue to yield new discoveries. Raise a glass to human curiosity! May the spirit of inquiry last eternal!
Back to the road and I'm hobbling now. Sliding down icy slopes, digging in for purchase in futile attempts to avoid a frigid drenching, crouching low to find the best camera angles. These activities have worked a number on my ailing joint. We'll have to take it easy for a bit. The following day we laid low, taking a walking tour of the nearby town and catching a show at The Perfect Wife (great name for a pub.) The Po Boyz from Boston rocked a light crowd with their bayou inspired funk. An invigorating show followed by star lit walk back to the crib. It's good to be here. As I write this I anticipate seeing the Easy Star All Stars rock some dub reggae at a show south of here tonight. I hope we can get in the door. One way or the other Jason has the next five days off. I see some winter camping in our near future. Stay tuned.
Headed East
Train outta Chi-town leaves at 930pm. All of Indiana, Ohio, and Pennsylvania is shrouded in darkness. My drowsy eyelids lift to reveal the rust of post-industrial Buffalo. I turn the sepia tone on my camera and shoot out the train window. Seems appropriate.
In Schenectedy, NY I'm treated to the height of charm from the chubby waitress at the Grogg Shoppe. Her personality is a bit too bubbly to be real. She ladles the blue cheese dressing onto my Kentucky Blue Burger with sloppy finesse, failing to allow the ladle to drip into the bucket, schlopping blue cheese all over the plate. Seriously? My request for a "medium" amount of bacon elicits a meaty palm full of bacon bits. Dear lord, perhaps I would've faired better at "Clinton's Ditch." With such an alluring name how could you go wrong? Ahhh, Schenectedy, I promise never to return. Unless passing through of course.
A svelte 32hrs after my departure from Home, Sweet, Home I'm in Rutland,VT. Jason picks me up at the train station. The adventure has just begun.
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