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GoldenBear

Too muddy, too muggy, too buggy -- Part 2

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The driver for Manchester Taxi, even if he didn't "gladly" accept credit cards -- indeed, he didn't take them at all -- quickly got to the trail head just east of Manchester Center, along Highway 11/30. There's a significant creek there, so the fact that I had lost the water in my Platypus-brand water holder (long story) simply meant I would need to use my filter to refill it. I also took a minute or so to realize where the Trail went to, but began my trek at about the 8:30a departure time I had planned on. Unfortunately, I left my blue pad (useful when changing socks or when leaving my tent; in both cases it keeps my feet and hands out of mud) at this lot -- so, if anyone finds a blue piece of plastic, about one-foot square, feel free to take it; I can easily make another.

It wasn't long before I realized the problems I would be facing during the next few days: namely, the ones I note in the title of my blogs.
1) There was too much mud on the Trail; it's as if Vermont has extended its mud season into July. As I noted in the first blog about this trek, rain has been furious and (almost) non-stop the last two months, and even the last week has had its heavy rains. On previous trail trips I looked forward to when the trail was flat and over dirt, instead of climbing over rocks. This week was the opposite -- flat dirt now meant mud; usually mucky, sometimes almost soupy. Rocks and logs were now more slippery than ever, so it wasn't always an option to walk on them. Even with all my precautions, even when I chose to take the outer widths of the mud (and at times the Trail got to be twelve feet or more in width), even when I made it point to avoid the worst of the mud -- my boots still got covered in a silty goop that eventually got into my socks, causing a stink that I could not clean out. I did manage to avoid getting mud on my pants and shirt -- well, except for the one time I tripped into this goop. Fortunately, I only "allow" myself one fall per day, so my clothes stayed (fairly) mud free during the trek.
As usual, real backpackers were blasting by me, taking giant steps while I was taking baby steps. To all of you: I'm aware my trail name should be "Snail's Pace," and I appreciate your patience.
2) Like the rest of the East Coast this summer, Vermont has gone weeks with unusually high dew points (or heat indices, take your pick). Simply put, it's been muggy -- and, with no breeze, sweat soon covered my shirt. Usually I try to handle this with a nightly clothes wash, but I've learned that doing so is almost a waste of time unless the air is dry -- the shirt simply remains dirty and wet, and becomes covered in sweat within a few minutes. So I've just learned to hike with a stinky shirt.
3) I'm not certain if the bugs truly were worse on this trek, but I quickly learned that mosquitoes were attacking my legs with a vengeance -- eight bites in less than day. So I kept my dual pants (can be long or short) long the last two days. This usually means my feet would be more sweaty than usually, but they were wet and muddy no matter what I was going to do.
Despite my typically generous usage of DEET, insects kept attacking my ears. It just seemed that the expression "a bug up my ear" became all too real on these days.

Despite these numerous problems, I made good progress -- up the ski slopes of Bromley Mountain, down to Mad Tom Notch, up Styles Peak. As usual, I had to make a decision on how far I would go before calling it a night: ten miles to Peru Peak Shelter, or fifteen miles to Lost Pond Shelter? Since my plan was to do fifty miles in four days, I recognized that I would have to do two days of fifteen and two days of ten miles. Could my first day be a fifteen-miler? As usual, I decided to make a decision based on when I arrived at my first choice. Since dark arrived at 8:30p, I figured that I could readily get to LPS if I left Peru at about 3:30p.

This schedule was slightly modified when it began to pour at about 2:30p. Usually I cover myself with rain gear for even minor rain, but this time I decided that I was already drenched in sweat, so what harm could rain water do? I got to Peru Peak at about 3:00p with rain coming down, deciding that I would only continue if the rain stopped. It did so at 3:20, so I was on my way.

Griffith Lake would have made a nice place for a dinner stop, but the simple fact is that I couldn't waste a minute in trying to get to LPS before dark. I did see a beaver just fifteen feet in front of me (first time I ever gotten this good a look at a beaver), so the trek through newly wet mud wasn't a complete waste.

My hope to arrive at LPS before nightfall was not helped when I got to Baker Peak. In the book, and on the topo map, it didn't look bad -- just a climb to 2850 feet. Unfortunately, the cliche is true -- you don't hike on a topo map, you hike on a mountain. And Baker Peak is steep, exposed, slick granite; the almost vertical type of climb that you hate even when the weather is fine. VERY fortunately, there was no rain at this time, and thus no lightning to make a truly dangerous situation. The mountain even has a designated alternate route, in case hikers face the weather I feared I would face.

"Sooty" and "Pearl" passed me just before we got to Baker Peak. I was stunned when they passed me a second time after walking past the peak -- it turns out they got off the Trail. It's pretty much a given that all hikers will pass me -- but it's rare that they will do so twice in the space of a couple of hours. They said they were heading for LPS as well, so I looked forward to this pair being my last minute guide to the shelter if it got really dark.
As it did become dark at about 8:15pm, with no shelter in sight, I got my flashlight ready for something I don't like to do -- hiking in true darkness. As usual when I know I'm near a shelter, I began to "see" it at every turn. I'm used to this self-deception, and have learned to basically ignore my "sightings." But even my skeptical self had to get my hopes up when I saw a light. Unfortunately, it wasn't the shelter -- it was Sooty and Pearl camping out. "How far to the shelter?", I asked -- and got the usual answer: "Oh, it's really close."

These two stated that they were camping short of Lost Pond Shelter because they thought it would cost $5 to stay there. There ARE shelters in this area that require this payment, but Lost Pond is not one of them. I was ready for such a payment, but it wasn't necessary.

It was 8:45p -- I was, for the first time, using my flashlight during a walk -- when I got to LPS, completely out of water. The guide book states the shelter's "Water source is nearby stream," and I could hear the stream roaring nearby. Unfortunately, it was so dark that I didn't dare walk down the creek's steep bank to get water -- so I went back to the Trail and walked until I found some flowing water. I was amazed that the shelter was empty other than myself so, after a quick meal, I just hit the sack. There was a cruel irony in hearing the roar of flowing water all night while completely alone in the shelter, but not being able to get any of the water. But it made for a nice level of "white noise," so I slept pretty soundly.

Updated 07-21-2013 at 23:33 by GoldenBear

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