#190 Story Spring Shelter to Spruce Peak Shelter - Day 115: MM1632.8 - MM1651.1
Like a wild man in the wilderness, I trek shirtless through knee deep snow. I belong here, like this, stripped down to bare necessities, moving from one mountain peak to another, ever northward...
May 11, 2023
The sun rises over the valley. It’s going to be another beautiful day.
Push, as usual, is nearly finished packing up before I ever begin moving.
The father and son duo from Massachusetts are still sleeping, both snoring. I somehow slept through their ruckus.
The air is a touch more humid than yesterday, but the breeze is still cool swirling in the shelter.
I stop at Stratton Mountain Lookout Tower and caretaker cabin near the summit for a snack. I drop my pack and climb up. I am happy the wooden hatch to its cab is open.
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles - The Who, 1967.
Climbing the tower somehow feels like a rite of passage - crystalizing the differences between can and can’t, will and won’t, do and don’t.
This little feat has been achieved by many, so it’s not a unique detour, but today, to me, in this moment, on this mountain, it’s affirmation that my free spiritedness still lives - a small act of defiance, against no one in particular, but of the parts of me that might not always take opportunities to rise to presented occasions.
I reach the top of the mountain’s nearly four-thousand -foot summit before realizing I’d walked off the trail. I was supposed to turn into the trees a little farther down but had walked all the way up a wide ski route. No matter. I’m glad I made this mistake.
I have the top of the mountain all to myself. It’s just me and a few sleeping gondolas pointing in every direction. I’m sure Stratton Mountain Ski Resort is very busy during ski season, but today the only things moving around up here are me and the cold wind.
It is said that this very peak is where Benton MacKaye was inspired to create the Appalachian Trail.
Like a wild man in the wilderness, I trek shirtless through knee deep snow. I belong here, like this, stripped down to the bare necessities, moving from one mountain peak to another, ever northward, striving toward the end.
