[at-l] Ready's Hike August 9 TD 56

[kahley7@ptd.net (kahley)]

We got up fairly early and left camp around 7:30 AM. We
stopped at the fire tower along the route to chat with Ian, a
northbounder from Scotland who is hiking the trail as a work project.
He is a member of the Scottish 22nd Army Airborne Division
making a video documentary of Scottish army activity in the USA.
His division has had a long history along the AT dating back
into the early 1700's - fighting the Cherokee; fighting alongside
Longstreet in the Civil War; and in the Revolution, apparently
  it was his division (22nd) that would have received the maps
and orders from Benedict Arnold had he not been discovered
by the rebels. Fascinating.
We hiked, starting with a short steep descent. We passed a
southbounder who immediately called out, "Hey, You're over 40.
  You'll have to pay an overage surcharge!" Such endearing words.
  We didn't stop to chat with him and I didn't ask for his name -
I'd only bear a long grudge, anyway.
We started to climb and I started to feel better. We met Train
Wreck taking a break by the side of the trail. She'd hiked last
year and was just out for awhile enjoying this section again.
We reached Kid Gore shelter where I took a privy break and a
brief nap. Two hikers showed up, one wearing a RedSox ball cap.
  It was one and the same as we'd seen the day before. He explained
that when he'd discovered it missing, he had asked a southbounder
to tell a northbounder to fetch it and bring it to the Goddard Shelter.
Thusly the "message" had been passed along until finally the cap
made it back into his hands! Great "Trail Community" we have here.
We stopped at the Story Spring shelter for more water and lunch.
Here we met Bander, of whom we'd heard much talk and read many
log entries.
Also having a break here was a section hiker, Jewelweed. She and
  I hit it off immediately. I really enjoyed talking with her. It turns out
  that she is among the group who founded the IAT, so she and Spur
had much to talk about, too. We wound up exchanging address info
and hope to meet up sometime after our hike. It's amazing how
quickly friendships can be forged out here on the trail.
We reached a road crossing where a posted sign warned hikers
that the bridge across Black Creek was out and that a forge may
be necessary unless the hiker opted for a road detour around the
area. It was so hot and humid we actually looked forward to a river forge.
We were hugely disappointed when we reached the river; the water
was so low that hardly any of the stones lining it were even wet on
  top! No forge today, folks!
Shortly after, we reached another road crossing where we saw the
  Tourists. They'd been waiting hours for a Winebago bearing her
mother and their kids with whom they'd share the rest of the day.
Hammockhanger was going into town with them for an overnight
stay in a motel - clean sheets, shower, phone and a restaurant
prepared meal.
Although the river presented another tempting swimming opportunity
Spur and I decided to hike onward. As we climbed in the hot, humid
afternoon, we heard a cheer and then the sound of car doors slamming.
  Visions of ice cold sodas from a Winebago cooler only slowed our
step momentarily. We were on a mission to get to the summit of
Stratton Mountain!

We climbed and climbed and climbed. Today's pace was decidedly
slower than yesterday's. We had only about 16 miles to do, and so
  we felt no urgency other than the desire to be on top of the
mountain we were climbing.
We'd heard that hikers could stay at the ski lodge at the summit:
faucets, toilets, hot running water, cold piped spring water, and
a roof with four walls! A noble target, indeed.
Hours later, we came across a piped spring and immediately
dropped our packs and filled up. Delicious! Perfect timing;
about 15 minutes earlier, I'd drunk the last of the tepid water
I'd been carrying.
We finally reached the top. We met Hugh, the caretaker, who
pointed out the path we needed to follow to get to the hut. We
made a brief detour to climb the wonderful fire tower. The wind
  buffeted us from all sides, but the sturdy interior staircase
made me feel secure as we climbed up.
We found the ski resort. Wow! Sitting amidst 2 gondolas were
several buildings, all surrounding a lovely huge wooden deck.
Here were a "cappuccino bar" (closed, of course)," an "Ecco
Center (also closed)," ski patrol lodge, bathrooms, and several
other hut and storage structures.
We found Awol and Bander already here; Polarbear arrived
shortly after. We immediately decided to stay inside tonight
as the sky warned of an oncoming storm.
Because we had a dryer in the lodge I took full advantage of
the opportunity to sink wash my clothes. We also found a
working phone, so we could check our pocketmail. I was
behind and this provided incentive to catch up.
We sat around the lodge, cooking on a real range and chatted.
  We talked about how PolarBear had earned his trailname - from
an open water swim around Chicago in late October several
years ago. Brrrr. In keeping with his name, he would tent
tonight on the mountainside out in the brisk, fiercely blowing wind.
As we prepared supper we enjoyed a fabulous sunset from the
lodge's windows. The lodge afforded incredible views of the
mountain chains beyond.
We joked about calling out for pizza and having it delivered via gondola.
The gondolas operate during the weekends. Hikers can ride the
3+ miles to Stratton for a meal and shopping, then return to the
mountaintop to resume their hikes. Alas, it was only Thursday.
As we finished our supper, a lightening show began. Huge fingers
of lightening streaked the sky, and way out in the distance we
could see incredible bright light briefly glowing behind the clouds.
We were amazed by the show and awed by the fact that it was
such a silent storm, not once did we hear any thunder - only an
occasional low rumble.
We spent some time with our journals, but as usual, I conked out
long before Spur did. We went to sleep in the lodge, Bander inside
his little bug bivy erected in the corner of the kitchen area, AWOL
  in a cubby near the back of the room and Spur and I near the
  entranceway. Polarbear bravely tented outside, just below the
wooden deck.
The winds were fierce up here, but it rained very little. The windows
and doors rattled and banged all night long. During several of my
middle of the night "walks" to stretch my legs and back, I noticed
Polarbear's little tent flapping wildly. [In the morning, he reported
having feared that the stakes would pull out of the ground.]


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