#195 Stony Brook Shelter to Thistle Hill Shelter - Day 120: MM1714.0 - MM1736.2
This is my last full day on the trail and my last night in my tent or shelter. I don’t know how I feel about that.
May 16, 2023
Last night’s dark peach sunset still hangs in my mind as I open my eyes to a new day.
This morning sunrise, ascending from the opposite side of the wilderness, behind a thin wall of clouds, has its own unique shade of peach, but a bit lighter than that of the sunset. I’d never seen the sun in either of those colors before, and may never see them again - but I will always remember them.
This is my last full day on the trail. Tonight, will be my last night in my tent or a shelter. I don’t know how to feel about this. I know I will miss the trail, but I also miss being home.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll repeat it here - hikers are like cats in that no matter which side of the door cats are on they are always longing to be on the other side. Hikers long for home when we’re on the trail and long for the trail when we are home.
Being so close to the end of this seven-hundred-twenty-five-mile hike doesn’t mean the hard work is done; I’m aiming for a shelter over twenty-two miles away today and tomorrow’s hike into Hanover will be more than fourteen miles.
There are at least thirteen peaks to cross today. Fortunately, none are more than a thousand feet, and many are five hundred feet or less. I prepare myself for the roller coaster ride.
The first obstacle on the trail, shortly after leaving the shelter, is a twenty-foot aluminum extension ladder extended to twelve feet. I’m no stranger to ladders, but it catches me a little off-guard to see one out here. I’ve come across make-shift ladders that trail maintenance crews have constructed out of trees, but I guess this particular situation was best remedied with aluminum, not wood.
Wouldn’t it have been better to reroute the trail? Maybe this is temporary while they make a wooden one.
Oh well. Mine is not to wonder why, mine is but hike low, climb high.
I climb down from the jagged boulder by way of the shiny new ladder and continue on my way.
Note to reader: The terrain on my 2024 hike through New Hampshire & Maine was so rugged and dangerous that make-shift wooden ladders and rebar are common. Here’s one of my favorite ladders from the 2024 autumn hike:
Jim Croce accompanies my hike through this melancholy morning. The sky is white with hints of the sun attempting to bust through. I Got a Name comes on in the rotation of superb songs by Croce. I press the back button each time the song ends so I can hear it come though my earbuds again and again.
…..And I'm gonna go there free
Like the fool I am and I'll always be
I've got a dream, I've got a dream
They can change their minds but they can't change me
I've got a dream, I've got a dream
Oh, I know I could share it if you'd want me too
If you're going my way, I'll go with you
Movin' me down the highway
Rollin' me down the highway
Movin' ahead so life won't pass me by
I Got a Name, Jim Croce / Written by Charles Fox and Norman Gimbel
Several peaks later I've switched my iPod playlist over to John Prine, but my batteries are running low so that will soon stop.
The distraction of earbuds is a must for hikers on days like today. There’s no breathtaking views or impressive scenery, which is made even less interesting by the grey sky and humid conditions. Despite the lack of scenic encouragement, the trail never fails to build up the hiker’s spirit.
I find trail magic at VT 12 near Woodstock, Vermont. Below a trail side marque sits a big brown paper bag full of various bottles to drink from. The bag has written on its face, “Trail Magic from San Man.”
I toss an IPA into my pack for tonight, then pour a bottle of water into one of my own bottles, since water from the trail hasn’t been very plentiful today. I leave the Gatorades for hikers who might be more dehydrated than I.
Thanks San Man.
The bottom of the bag has written on it, “Thank You - Coyote".
You’ll remember Coyote from Posts #177 & #178 when he, Nyck, Maps, and I shared a shelter one stormy night about three weeks ago. It looks like he’s still out here building character.
I’ve been hiking through these cow fields near the base of mountains all day. I pull several ticks off of my legs every time I go through one.
I approach the shelter from behind. Other than the wind blowing through the trees, it’s very quiet. I don’t see any gear or other evidence of another hiker. It looks like I’ll be spending my last night on the trail alone.
I round the shelter and see Blue Moon sitting inside. She’s covered up with her sleeping bag cooking dinner.
It’s kind of nice to not be alone on my last night.
Blue Moon and I split that IPA from the trail angel bag while we trade abbreviated versions of our life stories, zeroing in on our adult kids.
She’s married and has grown kids and kids still at home. She’s thru hiking the trail with their blessings. It’s something she’s wanted to do for a while, and now’s her time.
It’s mid-May in northern Vermont. The brown leaves on the ground and naked trees suggest autumn but the snowflakes floating around in the cold air suggests winter.
I set an alarm for 4:00 a.m. in hopes of an early start and reaching Hanover mid-day tomorrow.
