Clarendon Shelter 1688.6 to Churchill Scott Shelter 1703.4 (14.8 miles, 678 total miles)
As usual lately, it took me a while to fall asleep and it was difficult to get up. I did start packing up just a little after 6, though. Grace was long gone, as I’d expected, but everyone else was still there.
I saw the caretaker briefly, who’d stayed in the shelter. I traded Lady Pants a Sprite I’d found at trail magic for some hand sanitizer, and said bye to her and Moped. Walking by his tent, I said bye to Colin the SOBO, who I hoped I’d see again.
It was 6 miles to the Governor Clement Shelter, which I considered to be the base of Killington for my purposes. My only other hike up Killington had been eventful indeed, and the memories were just assaulting me at this point. I didn’t expect them to hurt so much.
Starting at 7:15, I did the second part of the very steep climb out of Clarendon Gorge to start the day, and immediately realized I’d done something very wrong when packing my bag that morning. It’s not just the weight, it is also how it’s packed and where the heavy gear is.
I made myself slog it to the shelter, because I knew I’d have to unpack and repack everything completely, and needed the space to do so. After the .6 steep climb to Beacon Hill, there was a gradual incline, a steep descent, and a few miles more gradual incline to the shelter.
When I crossed Lottery Road, a small dirt road, I was hit with a vivid memory of slow dancing to Pink Floyd with Pockets in the middle of the road, before we began a 20 mile slackpack over Killington, courtesy of the Yellow Deli.
The fact that I’d just separated from my friends while hiking through these suddenly sharp memories left me feeling desolate for the second day in a row. I was physically and mentally burnt out, and it was all I could do to keep hiking, the reward of our mini vacation the Cult had planned spurring me on.
I saw several day hikers at Gould Brook, and wished I had the time to take a dip in one of the myriad beautiful water sources of Vermont. A woman let me pet her Border Collie, River, and told me about Beryl Markham, another famous female aviator I’d have to look up.
I passed the “500 miles to Katahdin” sign, and marveled over both how close and far away that felt. The 1700 sign would be later in the day, but my personal 700 mark was a bit further.
A couple miles later I dragged myself to the shelter, which was very dark inside. I repacked my bag, signed the logbook, ate some snacks, and filtered water. I saw another border collie with a couple of hikers pass by before I left.
I’d drank some electrolytes and had a caffeinated Clif bar, so I made good work of the first 2.5 miles up Killington. Once I arrived at the junction to the Shrewsbury Trail, I felt the caffeine wear off, and tiredness take its place again.
I had a rough go of the last couple miles to Cooper Lodge. It was beautiful up at elevation, and much cooler than it had been before, but my exhaustion was still there. I was running on fumes and just dripping sweat. I made the 4.3 from the shelter in about two hours, which wasn’t terrible for such a large mountain.
Cooper Lodge was a pretty beat up place, as I remembered it being from last time. Still, I sat for over an hour getting some things done, finally having cell service for the first time all day. I made chicken salad in a tortilla, then made a peanut butter/Twix tortilla, and had some other snacks.
It was definitely lonely hiking by myself, but I was enjoying the experience of being able to take longer breaks again. I decided I would just hike the 4.5 to the next shelter and call it a day, and it would be nice to end it early. I was craving a nice chill evening at camp.
I skipped Killington peak this time, though I’d told everyone who would listen it was worth the extremely steep .2 rock scramble. I had done it last time, and just wasn’t up to the physical exertion this time, or the emotional hurdle of reliving yet more memories of my ex boyfriend. I had a perfect experience there last time, and wanted to honor that by moving on.
I put on a podcast and hiked a steep descent to a flat bit, then a longer steep descent down to the shelter. I was the type of tired where I wanted to stop every half a mile and plop myself down on a rock and just sit.
I stopped at the last overlook of the day, Mendon Lookout, where I obtained a very painful bite from a black fly on my shoulder. I instinctively slapped it with my phone when it bit me, expecting a mosquito, then had to put it out of its misery with my shoe.
It was breezy and beautiful weather on the other side of Killington, and I felt very grateful to have avoided the 90 plus degree weather down at lower elevation all day. The gnats had been a lot again, but I hiked with my sunglasses on to keep them out of my eyes.
I got to the shelter around 4:45, and saw a woman there named Spotter. She was a NOBO from Michigan, and loved everything about the trail. She was getting a little tired, but was super positive and in great spirits.
Spotter said she’d been hiking alone the whole time, and hadn’t wanted a trail family so she could do her own thing. I’d asked Frankie to send me a sign earlier in the day, and wondered if this might be it.
I loved hiking with the other Cult members, they truly were my trail family. However, though hiking with them was more fun than being alone, it didn’t seem sustainable to me at the moment. I was so tired from keeping pace with them since Delaware Water Gap, and had hit a wall.
These past couple days I knew I needed to push myself majorly to catch back up to them. Yet in my heart I felt that even if I did catch up, eventually I would fall behind again. No matter what, they had a deadline to hit, and I still had a lot of miles to go. I couldn’t empty the tank completely.
Tater called me because he figured it would be nice for me to be able to have a conversation with someone, which was appreciated. I had talked to Spotter for about 15 minutes before she wanted to do her own thing.
I talked to Baked Potato for quite a while, finally camped in a place I had cell service. I debated my two options of hiking 7 miles to a stealth spot right before River Rd, or trying to do 20 or 25 to different roads, or some combination of hiking on the 3rd as well.
I found out Tater was also picking up Halfway and Shrek in Killington, to go to the party as well. River Rd was only a minute drive away from there, as opposed to the 40 minutes extra it would be for Tater to drive to another road crossing to get me.
It was going to rain all night into tomorrow morning with heavy winds, so I had decided to stay in the shelter itself. Sleeping in and having a leisurely, short hike to River Rd sounded like exactly what I needed. My mojo was demanding to be restored with rest and food.
I ate a big dinner of couscous, salmon, another tortilla, Oreos, and sour patch watermelon. I was hoping I’d have the shelter to myself for the night, but I wasn’t disappointed when I saw Moped and Lady Pants arrive.
I’d just been telling Tater that I hoped I’d see them again. As they sat and got to talking with me, I found out that the Long Trail and the Appalachian Trail were about to split in just 3 miles past the shelter.
I don’t know why, but I had imagined it being much further than that. I thought it was at least the entire state of VT that the two trails stayed together. I was surprised to find I was actually quite sad I wouldn’t be seeing them again after tomorrow. The partings continued on.
Lady Pants and Moped mentioned they were going to stay in the shelter till it stopped raining as well, and do a nearo to the Inn At Long Trail, where they had booked a room. I’d now heard about this place so many times, and figured if I was doing a nearo I could make the time to at least go for some food and get to experience a classic trail stop I hadn’t been to before.
I found out there was camping in the grass across the street, too, so thought I might just go there, depending on how I was feeling. It basically gave me an extra zero, since I’d be doing a nearo the 2nd instead of the 3rd.
However, the thought of sleeping in, avoiding the rain, and taking it easy cheered me to no end. I read a piece of advice the other day about the AT that said don’t be afraid to wimp out sometimes. Colin the SOBO said it sounded like self care to him when I mentioned that.
So I guess I’ll do some self care, and stop stressing about where everyone else is. We can still be a trail family even if everyone isn’t in the same place all the time. With a dozen people in the group, it’s inevitable we won’t all have the same hiking pace. I’ll make the best of my little vacation with them, and enjoy the rest my body desperately needs.