Seth Warner Shelter 1603.6 to Rte 9/Woodford Hollow 1615.1 (11.5 miles, 589.7 total miles)
It would be safe to say it was not a great morning. It took a long time to fall sleep last night, trying to shut my brain off after having spent so long hiking. My ankles and feet were in a lot of pain, and I tossed and turned trying to get comfortable.
Jedi came over to my tent around 6:30, nice enough to bring over my food bag and cook pot from the bear box. He asked me how I was doing, and I said I was all right. It had been demoralizing to cook and eat dinner by myself in the dark, and not have any time to relax after hiking.
I made myself get up and start getting ready for the day. I had a couple cold soaked packets of oatmeal and a Honeycrisp apple for breakfast, and hiked out a little after everyone else at 8 AM.
It was another almost 22 mile day, but the terrain did look easier, so I was hoping to get to camp earlier than the day before. The day started with a relatively big climb, which I was able to knock out quickly. It sucked that I couldn’t keep up with anyone else, so I just tried to push myself to hike a little faster than I normally would.
I passed two section hikers and a thru hiker on my way who had stayed near the same shelter as us last night. The thru hiker was older, and he was resting on the side of the trail when I passed him just after the climb. He said it was a gnarly old trail, and I agreed with him, it was covered in rocks and roots.
A few miles into the day I hit a beaver bog, and I spent a few minutes eating a Larabar and drinking the rest of my caffeinated Crystal Light. It was going to be another hot day in the 80s, and the sun was already out in full force.
As I was getting ready to leave, a young woman hiked up to me and asked if I would do a survey about the mental health of hikers. I agreed, and it only took me a few minutes to complete the paper questionnaire.
The trail had been a little confusing around the beaver bog, but I hiked up the next incline very strongly, powered by the caffeine and food I had just eaten. I saw another old man hiking toward me, and he also said it was a gnarly old trail. He didn’t have glasses like the other guy, so I just thought it was funny that two people had the same sentiment.
At the top of the ascent, I saw the same section hikers I had passed earlier. I said hi and hiked on, confused as to when they had passed me because I’d been on the trail the whole time. Did they take a road or a side trail? That was when it hit me, I had messed up.
I checked my map, and as I’d suspected, I had gone the wrong way. I had hiked up a steep .8 that I didn’t need to, now I had to hike it back down. It was an extra 1.6 added to my day, now making it an over 23 mile day, adding 40 minutes to my day, and wasting the caffeine and food I ate earlier.
I passed all four of the other hikers on my way back, making jokes at my expense. I told the woman with the surveys she’d have to add an extra tick to my box for depression for the day. I was making light of it, but I was actually pretty upset.
The same thing had happened to Piñata the other day, and I had felt so bad for her. I am the slowest hiker, so I really needed those extra 40 minutes. Plus there was no service to be found anywhere, so I couldn’t even text my friends to commiserate.
I probably wouldn’t see them again until the end of the night, when I rolled into camp at 8:45 again in the dark. I cried a little as I hiked, but not much, since that was probably also a waste of calories. It also showed me how exhausted I was that I didn’t even recognize the first hiker right away and realize I was going the wrong way.
By the time I got to Congdon Shelter, right on the trail, I was 7.4 miles into the day technically, but had hiked 9 miles and it was already 12:15. That meant I had another 14.5 to go. Everyone was having lunch 4 miles up, which I now knew I’d be missing. I would have to skip any breaks and hike all day, and the last 10 miles were mostly up several more mountains. It would be brutal.
I still needed to eat lunch, so I stopped at the shelter for a planned 15 minutes to scarf down some food and keep hiking. First I had to filter water, then see if I had enough service to upload all my pictures for my next post, and once I sat down my energy just drained out of me. It was hot, humid, and buggy, and I was close to burning out.
So I sat and consulted the schedule and the guide, to see if I could drop back some miles and still meet everyone in Rutland on the 29th. It looked doable, and I’d end the day with 13 miles if I went to the next shelter, which was 6 miles up.
I didn’t want to do it, but I’d hit the point where I knew it was time to admit to myself that after five big days, continuing on like that wasn’t sustainable. I texted the Cult group chat and Baked Potato, who was going to meet me with the spare battery pack Paul had given me, what my change of plans was.
Baked Potato called and we talked for a bit while I finished my lunch. I took my time, letting my socks dry and my feet rest, planning on hiking out at 2pm. Tater was going to hike out and meet me. An hour later, I’d only gone 1.5 miles, and he’d already done 2.5 with a steep uphill and found me on the trail mixing up an electrolyte packet.
He offered to carry my pack the rest of the way to the road. I was hesitant, not having slackpacked on this trip and having been very anti slacking. Lots of people slackpack though, and I used to do it last time as well.
I’m just terrified of skipping any parts of the trail, which Tater pointed out I wasn’t doing, I was still hiking it myself. Some purists frown on slackpacking, which is where I’d gotten the idea from. It seemed like it was time to shelve my pride, though, and accept help from someone who wanted to make my life a little easier.
So I finally caved, and let Tater carry my heavy pack to the road. It was really sweet and appreciated, and I think my body needed it then. We had a good conversation on our way to the road, and I was very happy to have some company, since I’d been alone almost all day.
Baked Potato was talking about getting a room for the night for himself, and offered to let me crash there as well. It would be 2 miles less than I’d planned to go into Bennington, but I hadn’t showered in almost a week and a bed sounded heavenly right then.
We pulled onto the main road, Sia’s Elastic Heart blasting on the stereo (one of my favorite songs) and we sung along, windows down, driving through the mountains of Vermont. It was hands down the best moment of the day.
We had to search a little bit for a reasonably priced room in town, being a Saturday in the summer during AT and LT hiking season, but we finally found a cool spot at Harwood Hill, which included two bedrooms, a kitchenette, and laundry.
Tater let me shower first, since I’d been hiking for so many days, and we watched The Office on TV for a little bit before hitting Hannafords to get frozen pizzas, chips and salsa, and ice cream.
Its amazing how some of the days out here start so bad and end so great, and vice versa. I am sad to fall behind the main group, however I am certainly not the only one behind. There are a few other Cult members playing catch up right now. I am proud I recognized my limits and took my foot (feet?) off the throttle a little.
I have an itinerary for myself for tomorrow, which includes hiking 19.7 miles to keep pace, but I’m honestly going to play it by ear and listen to my body. I can always catch up with the zeros that are planned for the 4th, though I am hoping to not have to miss any of it. I’m not 1600 miles in like the rest of them, though.
I am less than 600 miles in, and that’s okay. It’s part of a flip flop, and the desire to keep up with NOBOs is strong, but it’s not worth hurting myself or burning myself out over. If I’m missing breaks and getting into camp so late that everyone else is in bed already, it’s not enjoyable anyway. I will see them when I see them, and talk to them in the group chat every day. Everything will work out the way it’s meant to.