[at-l] Jan Day 20

[kahley@ptd.net (kahley)]

It rained last night, and continues to patter on the tin roof
when we awake. Clyde sits stunned awhile, then begins
grumble-singing "it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood..
"Mister Rogers is moving slowly this morning, unusual for
him. The sun comes out in mid-pack though, and things
  look up.  The weather has turned, and it is cool again -
hooray! My energy returns.

Two boys, 16, packed in last night near dark. Jonah and
Jeremiah seem reasonably competent, and have dragged
along a big bag of cous-cous. I know I never ate cous-cous
at 16. They are good kids.

Clyde and I set off and continue up. Finally, I feel like
walking up mountains. The 20-day-old Buns 'O Steel are
firmly in place, and now so is the temp. Hike on!  Cardiac
Clyde too, marked a milestone this day by walking all the
way up a real mountain- big-ass Bolton - without stopping.
A major goal for him, fulfilled.

The rain has left the foliage sopping wet, and soon so am
I. Chest-high weeds nail what the spruce and beech
branches didn't soak, shoes included. My Smartwool
socks are soon bunching under my toes. And I was
doing so good, blister-wise...

I 've been trying real hard not to whine, yes I have.
I mean, when was the last time I moaned about my
horse-crushed toe? Yet is it still with me, throbbing at
every step?   It is. (...snurf)   However, "cataloging"
seems a useful archival function. Thus, when I talk about
the pulled muscle in my calf, it is only in the interests of
social science.  Any sympathy sent my way is purely gravy.
The bad leg was pretty rested after yesterday's five mile
hike, but on today's upgrades, it is making its zinky
presence known. And another thing - a heel pull on the
steepest grades. Something new is being stretched back
there. Or torn.

Though it is cool, jungle steam rises up though the paper
birches in this temperate northern rain forest. Everything
appears exceptionally green today, post-rain.   The mosses
in particular are ecstatic in this wet world, so, so green and
MOSSY they fairly vibrate and wriggle and invite patting.
Early on, we come across a moosey-looking pond. The
resident beaver is still awake, and gives us the hairy eyeball
but not a tail slap.   The lower pond is a beaver mud hole,
and the trail runs right through it. No way, Jose! A quick
check shows that hikers have been walking right across
  the top of the dam, and so do we. Good engineers, those beavers.

In a few yards, we meet beaver humor head-on. A small beech
upon which a white blaze has been painted lies at an angle
across the trail, like the classic circle-and-a-slash symbol. It
has been beaver-chewed.

"Humans, do not tread here," interprets Clyde.

The plants begin to change back to upland flora. Blue bead
lilies, bunchberry and the clover-like wood sorrel start to
appear in spots, then abundantly.

Thank you, Cindy of AT-L, for the internet confirmation on
the plant IDs. (I love this, the interactive journal). Cindy also
tells me woods sorrel IS edible, so have added some greens
to my diet.  It's not quite the leap of faith it seems. I have
snipped sheep's sorrel grown in my garden into salads or
soups for its lemony tang, so I nibble. Same pleasant acidity.
Mmmm, vitamin-rich mountain nibbles, healthier than Lemon Heads.

Speaking of which, one developed cravings out here faster
than a pregnant woman. My latest jag is Blue Raspbery-flavored
Air Heads, a violent blue confection that, nonetheless, satisfies
those sweet-craving places only Snickers (or Ghiradelli) go.
Ted my Class of '03 AT comrade, also sends me a note via
e-mail, his commentary on Day 13 - "You are one dedicated
hiker woman if you lost your boobs and didn't go back for them...
" That Ted... trouble...

In a mudhole, Clyde calls me back to look at a moose track,
filled with water. The large cleft hoof has left a deep imprint.
My lip is stuck out; Clyde has seen a moose and I haven't.
Right now we are lunching at sunny Harrington's View, which
my partner has declared Clyde's View. We have a dramatic
look at cloud-wreathed Mt. Mansfield, and take snaps. It
looked snow-capped, tho of course it is not.

It seems as if we have spent all morning climbing Bolton
Mountain, so we are disheartened to learn we are still hours
from the summit, at 3,725.  In a few hours, to Taylor Lodge,
we will cross the 200 mile mark. It doesn't seem so far .
SO MUCH WORK. What a puzzling activity this is.  Finally,
at 4PM, we top Bolton, reassured by a sign that this is,
indeed the summit. It's all relatively downhill now, for the
next four miles.

On the way up, I spy a veritable Indian Pipe garden popping
up through the moss, and take a photo. Little tuffets of
lush moss for make a perfect elvish landscape.   Another
slant of sunlight catches a perfectly white quartz globe
lodged in another rock, framed by today's ultra-green moss.
In for a snack at Puffer shelter, I check the register.
Flatlander and Mama Lipton were out hiking and in here
three days earlier. We'll have to compare notes.

Talked to two guys who were surveying the Bicknell's
thrush for the Vermont Institute of Natural Science.
Here these rare birds only live on mountaintops. Habitat is
not increasing, given fixed number of mountaintops and
the ski and tower development. The birds only nest is
low vegetation around the krumholz, and only in the
northeast.

They also ID a woodpecker I thought was a Downy
As a Downy, and another larger one as the Hairy
woodpecker.  Hiking on alone, I cross a bog bridge
over another beaver pond and see its resident too.
7:15PM - What luck! For the second night in a row,
I camp near enough a small waterfall to soak the hot
and tired feet, refresh the hot and tired soul. Ya gotta
work for this waterfall - or more accurately, cascade -
at Taylor Lodge, as it's a quarter mile downhill, and
the climb back up on tired legs is with full water bottles.
Still, it's a delightful end to the day, capped off by chili
ramen and refired beans with sweet corn and icy spring
water, from a piped source.

I need the calories, and add extra olive oil to the ramen
pot. Tomorrow -Mansfield! The biggest mountain in Vermont.
Psyched!  Jonah and Jeremiah are here too, in fact beat
us by an hour and a half. Ah, youth...sigh...


What could be better then the near-full moon rising now on
the horizon. The guys are already sleeping. I think I will go
sit on the rock outside a few minutes and say hello.