#194 Churchill Scott Shelter to Stony Brook Shelter - Day 119: MM1702.1 - MM1714.0 TD119 Monday
“Foooood!” says my stomach, rumbling out loud. The people inside the inn say the kitchen is closed on Mondays. “Noooooo!” says my stomach, rumbling out loud.
May 15, 2024
Late to sleep - late to rise.
I skip oatmeal and coffee so I can get started on what is supposed to be a simple six-mile hike into the northern Vermont town of Killington.
If all goes well on trail, I’ll still be there by 11:00, despite sleeping past 7:00.
All does not go well.
Pro-tip: Supposed is a very presumptuous little word that catches the best of hikers off guard from time to time.
Dumbass-tip: Never ever skip breakfast on purpose for any reason.
The first few miles of the morning start off normally enough, but I make a mistake that it takes me a couple of miles to fully realize I’ve made it.
The past two miles really isn’t lining up with the map. I’ve been ever so steadily gaining elevation but should be on the long downhill by now.
I came to Elbow something Road, an old and faded access road, near a mountain, neither of which are on my map, and realize I’ve made a mistake. I drop my pack, dig out my glasses so I can see the map better, and reevaluate.
I see my mistake. Remember when The Long Trail and the Appalachian Trail had merged together about a hundred miles back? It looks like the trails separate today, and I just missed my turn.
I remember blowing through a bunch of white signs pointing in several directions, but I was in the zone and guess I didn’t fully comprehend what I was looking at and just kept following the white blazes.
I begin backtracking. After walking back over ground I’ve already covered for about two miles, I arrive at the white signs again, at a trail junction called Maine Junction.
I read the footnote on my map, buried between other lines - The Long Trail is also blaze white; it turns to the west.
I read each sign. Sure enough, I’d blown straight through the junction, following the white blaze that marks the Long Trail, and missed the sharp turn that follows the Appalachian Trail’s identical white blazes.
See the problem here?
Still, I should have caught that.
My bad.
After my 4+ mile mistake and all the time it took to reorient myself, the easy four-mile hike down to Killington seems to take forever.
My feet may be pounding trail, but my head is a few days in front of me, seemingly to have already exited the trail. I’m thinking about what I need to do when I reach Hanover, New Hampshire, about the two-day train rain ride home, what I want to do when I get back home to North Carolina - return to work? find a different job? freelance for a while?
I still have a few days left to hike and need to drag my head back to the trail.
I eventually make it to Gifford Woods State Park and VT 100, on the outskirts of Killington, next to Kent Pond.
I ask a lady fishing by the trail which direction I should walk to reach Killington. My phone battery has nearly drained, and GPS is not responding. She directs me down the gravel road away from the large pond.
A minute or so later I reach Mountain Meadows Lodge, a luxury lodge with a rustic exterior.
“Foooood!” says my stomach, rumbling out loud.
The people inside the inn say the kitchen is closed on Mondays.
“Noooooo!” says my stomach, rumbling out loud.
They tell me all restaurants are closed around here on Monday.
Couldn’t I happen to walk through here on one of the six day the town’s restaurants are open? Of course not.
I have plenty of food to last my final few days on the trail, but I’d been craving a monster cheeseburger since yesterday.
Linus Van Pelt famously said from a most sincere pumpkin patch one infamous Halloween night, "You've heard of the fury of a woman scorned, haven't you? Well, that's nothing compared to a woman who has been cheated out of tricks-or-treats."
Same rings true with hikers who's been cheated out of town-day food.
One of the young ladies shows a little compassion and gives me an apple, an orange, and a small bag of granola. She apologizes for not having any real food available. I let her know I’m thankful for her gifts.
I sit outside the Inn on my small foam pad allowing my electronics to charge. The hard rocky ground is bad for my butt, but the shade is good for my body. The sun had come out in force as I arrived earlier. It’s much warmer in the valley than it is on the mountains.
I add the new food to my small pile of food. I mix the granola with the oatmeal and peanut butter I should have eaten this morning.
I don't think I slept very well last night. I felt great this morning but am exhausted now, and still have six miles to go, with a steep thousand-foot climb between here and today’s end.
The trail hasn’t been very difficult, but the heat combined with the unnecessary milage has ground me down.
I plan on leaving here at 5:00. I should get to the shelter around sunset.
Shortly after returning to the trail, I walk past Thundering Falls. The family of three who I saw climbing into their van at the Inn has driven here.
I stop at the base of the steep mountain to pull off my shirt to avoid overheating. Sweat pours off me all the way up as the sun shoots its beam down.
The air is much cooler on top. I stop to put my shirt back on. Behind a thin layer of grey clouds, just beyond the bare trees, hangs a sun glowing a color of peach I’ve never seen before.
The scene forces me to stop and stare. The frustration and exhaustion of the day both melt away.
Just before dark I make it to Stoney Brook Shelter, a lonely little shelter a little off trail.
From time to time, when reaching a shelter, I’ll think to myself, “If I’m going to be bothered by a bear tonight, this would be the place.”
Neither bear nor man nor porcupine interrupts my night.
