|
Aug
11 , 1983 Thursday (554.3 mtg) From
Gonzo!s Appalachian Trail journal
I awoke
this morning knowing that I would be facing wet conditions on the
trail sometime today. I could feel it in the air. It was a little
warmer this morning, probably about 50 degrees Fahrenheit. I began
hiking at about six, and didn't really stop much at all. The terrain
was easy going with not much change in elevation. At one time I
believe the Appalachian Trail had gone over the summit of Stratton
Mountain, which would have put a nice uphill climb in the routine,
but this year the trail did not go to the summit unless I chose
to take the blue-blazed Stratton Mountain Trail. I chose not to
take the alternate route, the skies were not going to allow for
any views today, and the rain had begun to fall. Instead, I continued
on the A.T., but did stop for a short break at Stratton Pond to
visit with the caretaker of Stratton View Shelter. I spent only
seconds there, enough to get a drink of water and say a few works
to Jeff, the caretaker. (Note: 2008 - I got an email from Jeff,
who had happened to find my journal online and read it. We reminisced
about some of the people we both had met. The internet is an amazing
thing.) There was no view of Stratton Mountain from the lake
as I had suspected so I boogied on. By that time the rain began
to fall harder and the wind began to pick up. Three or four miles
quickly passed as my pace had quickened in the inclement weather.
I began looking for Douglas Shelter, where I hoped that I would
be able to get out of the rain and get warmed up. The weather was
the worst I had experienced so far. The problem was that the temperature
had dropped, the rain was cold rather than warm, and the cool
temperature and wind combination were the recipe for hypothermia.
I had to keep on the move. I also had no other clothes to keep me
warm besides my wool sweater.
I somehow missed the side trail to Douglas Shelter, so I kept going
even though I had begun to develop a shiver from the cold rain and
windy conditions. Rather than go back to find the shelter, I continued
on thinking that maybe I had not even reached it yet. Eventually
I knew that I had missed it, but by then there was no sense in turning
back, so I continued on down the mountain. I then began to ascend
gradually once again to Vermont 11 and 30, where I could hitch a
ride into Manchester Center. The ride into town would be almost
six miles. The nearest shelter was only seven tenths of a mile up
the trail. I chose to go to the shelter.
I arrived at Bromley Camp at 12:36 in the afternoon with 21.6 miles
already under my belt for the day. I had taken no breaks with the
exception of the few seconds at Stratton Pond. That's one mile every
twenty minutes! I sure could cover ground if I really wanted to.
I was in luck, the shelter was still there. The shelter had been
slated for dismantling since its' location too close to the road
had proven detrimental to the area due to over-use. This place was
totally enclosed and had a wood-burning stove. Just what I needed
as I got myself out of the elements and tried to warm up. I had
no long pants to put on. I had sent them and my rain pants home
some time back when it was warm. I put on all my layers of clothing:
t-shirt and wool sweater, and shorts. Just the fact that I was inside,
dry, and sheltered from the wind warmed me up somewhat.
A while later four guys came in carrying two cases of beer (now
you know why they wanted to tear the place down). They were Tom,
Ed, Bruce
(Mountain Man), and Mathew (Zuzuka). I had met most of them
a few days back at Bond Shelter. It was nice to have some company,
but why had they not bought me any rootbeer? They had just returned
from a trip to Manchester Center to get "supplies." They
should have known I would be there waiting for them with a craving
for the "root".
Later, a guy named Malcomb came up from the road to see if "the
Awesome Robots" had arrived. Apparently they were scheduled
to arrive there also, but so far we had not seen them. He was traveling
by car, so we selected Ed to go into town with Malcom to get Pizza
for the evening festivities, and some Peanut Butter and Jelly as
supplies for me. Everything worked out great. I got my supplies,
we all ate pizza, and began to transform the dreary, nasty afternoon
into a rollicking fun time with the help of the food, beer, and
a simple game called Pigmainia.
Pigmainia brought the idea of a dice game to a new level. The "dice"
were actually a pair of small plastic pigs no larger than one inch
long that were rolled like dice and depending on how they landed,
were assessed various point values. They could land on their sides,
on their feet, balancing on snoots and front feet, etc. The highest
value was if one landed standing on top of the other, this was known
as "makin' bacon" and practically ensured your win of
the game. I played like a professional, and blew everyone away.
Luck continued coming my way as we played long into the night with
light supplied by candlepower, while beer supplied the party.
Gonzo!
Appalachian Trail Journals ©1983
|
