My Walden

 "I love to be alone.  I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude."  ~Henry David Thoreau. Walden, 1910.

Breakneck Pond View Campsite, Nipmuck SF

        When I speak about learning to be alone, I am always referring to our days in Eagle River, Alaska, the hundreds of thousands of acres of state and national parks and forests.  Reading the " You are in Bear Country" signs, not finding a single car in the parking lot, knowing that there is no "blue blazed" trail to follow, walking among the cow parsnips that a full head taller than us, and carrying the knowledge that no will hear us if we ever had to call for help.  Over our eight years there, we learned comfort and ease in the solitude of the backcountry wilderness. 

Disclaimer: This post is not about a trip on the AT. Although, it is my preparation for a solo backpacking trip on it.

        I have hiked trails, kayaked, and camped with friends, backpacked with and camped with strangers (and among bears) at the McNeil River Bear Sanctuary and on the AT.  I have been hiking and camping with my students most of my years as a teacher.   Notes on 52 Hikes in 52 Weeks show that I hiked with someone 50% of the time.  My day hikes have always had my constant companion, my lover of water features, the chaser of squirrels, connoisseur of the perfect chewing stick, and the hiker of double my miles, my Tulsi-girl.  

Tulsi enjoyed a muddy pond crossing in Nipmuck State Forest

    While we scoped out my modest first solo backpacking trail and campsite together, alas, dogs are not allowed to camp in CT's state forests.  This became my opportunity to do it truly solo.  I followed the sound advice of #thehungryhiker, an enabler of women backpacking solo, and chose a trail that was not too long (2.5 miles), not too far from home (It was a good hour and 15 mins away in the northeast corner of CT, 4 miles from the MA border.  If I forgot something, I was done for.), and familiar (not really, I had never hiked in Nipmuck State Forest).  Tulsi and I walked on the Nipmuck Trail, meeting nary a soul, and peeled off on to the rocky and rooty trail along Breakneck Pond (yes, opportunities to break one's neck abound).  2.5 miles in, we discovered this utterly delightful, well hidden campsite with a perfect view.  I had to push aside the fragrant flowers of the Sweet Pepperbush (grateful that they were not blueberry bushes) to find the clearing.  Tulsi tested Breakneck Pond's waters, sniffed around the campfire ring, and approved the location.  I was ready to submit my application to the DEEP CT for permission to camp here two weeks hence. 

    The Nipmuck people were an Algonquin Indian tribe that lived in what is now central Massachusetts. 

        In addition to being my solo adventure, this was also to test out my new backpack! After 40 years (and it is still going strong, my stout REI frameless pack), I purchased Gossamer Gear's Mariposa 60 as a birthday gift to myself.  As I age, I worry about my ability to carry weight, and the words gossamer and mariposa conjured up images of ethereal airiness and weightlessness, making it sound like the perfect pack.  Highly recommended by the above mentioned #hungryhiker, it was as simple as my trusty REI pack - a central cavernous chamber, and many large useful pockets to stash a variety of things -  only a lot lighter than its REI ancestor. Fully loaded with my shelter and sleep systems, water filter and food in the bear vault, medical kit, head lamp, cook system, sleep clothes, additional layers, and a toilet kit, it weighed 25 pounds 

Mariposa 60 by Gossamer Gear and hiking poles

       Ahead of the day of the hike, I had filed my trip plan with Rajani and left a copy for Emily, our dog sitter.  They knew whom to call if they did not hear from me the next morning by 10 AM.  

      Journal:

        I could not have asked for a more magnificent day.  It is 85⁰ F, the sky has returned to blue after winds pushed away the smoke from the Canadian wildfires that were obscuring even the sun, like clouds, making us think that we were to get rain. There is a gentle breeze that is pushing the water from the south. Bar the occasional planes taking off from Boson, only the sounds of nature are heard.  I am at peace.  I am calm, much like the lilies that float on the edges of Breakneck pond.  

          The Amygdala area of my brain was in work mode.  Being alone, I noticed my heightened awareness of my surroundings.  Every little twig snap, scurrying sound, and large boulder or tree trunk got me to stop and turn around for a second look.  Have I, as the intruder, disturbed a local resident? Is it large? Is it small? Am I in danger? 

Stopping to take in the view on Breakneck Pond view Trail after playing with the selfie timer!

      The trail I walked on to get to this secluded campsite lives up to its name.  With a 25-lbs pack, roots and rocks, crevices and boulder hopping, I was extra cautious. With Peter Rabbit and Cat Rocks on my left, and the pond on my right, I had wondered where there was a flat enough surface to host a campsite. It turned out to be on a small peninsula, cleverly hidden away behind tall grasses and sweet pepperbush, making for a delightfully fragrant home.! It is beyond beautiful with spaces for my tent, a natural hearth with a ring of stones, 270⁰ view of the pond, and plenty of low bushes for me to squat and take care of my bodily functions. 

Chai and Murukku after I set up my tent.

        A Sweeter Morning There Never Was!

        Woke up  at 5:30 to the sounds of bird songs, but stayed cozy in sleeping bag till 6:00 AM.  The morning was the perfect cool, and with my rainfly wide open in both directions, I enjoyed the view of Breakneck Pond with a thin layer of fog. From my peninsula, I see the fog lift off in both the north and south. 

         All night the frogs have been peeping, single short peeps, calling to each other, plopping sounds as they jumped into the pond, sounds that became familiar as I drifted in and out of sleep.  A brilliant waxing gibbous shone bright white light into my tent.  Whenever I awoke during the night,  I was hyper alert for larger twig snaps or rustling. But no intruders bother me.  I had read a chapter of The Gunny Sack by the red light of my head lamp .  The yellowed pages and dim print were not enough to put me to sleep at 10 PM,  and I found myself making plans for tomorrow's return hike. Should I complete a Breakneck Pond View Trail to the Mass. border, and return on the Nipmuck trail, adding 5 miles, breaking with the plan I filed?  Was the dehydrated dinner of black beans and quinoa sufficient? Should I have packed a dessert? I seem to have drifted off to sleep eventually. 

Morning scenes at Breakneck Pond

            Across the pond, there is 2nd shelter, but no inhabitants for the night. High cirrus clouds are moving in, and in the distance, the Friday morning hum of traffic is audible as I sip my bad TJ's coffee and write my journal.  After a breakfast of oats, nuts and dried fruit (pond water came to boil noticeably  quicker than New Haven tap water), I decamp reluctantly and walk the campsite to remove any trace of my night here.  

What a gift to go quietly, to breath deeply, feel deliberately, and to be in one's own company and enjoy it.

        At 9:05, I reach the car and text Rajani.  I have reached the car and am heading back to New Haven.  Very good! came the prompt reply. 

 "I went to the woods because I wish to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." 

                                                                                                    ~Henry David Thoreau. Walden, 1910.

AT/LT: Vermont's Long Trail

 A Saturated Land

The state of Vermont is nicknamed the Green Mountain State, and you understand this when you visit the state in the summer.  The mountains are spectacularly GREEN and home to numerous trails, including the 150.8 mile section of the Appalachian Trail, which drew us to hike here this summer.  In winter, when these mountains are covered in the powdery, white stuff,  many Green Mountain peaks are home to ski resorts ~ Mt. Stratton (pictured above), Okemo, Killington, Mt. Snow, to name a few.  The Green Mountains are burnished in gold and red in the Fall, inviting carloads of leaf peepers from New York and further south.  We have enjoyed Vermont in all its varied glory during our years in the northeast, and are grateful not just for its green countryside, green residents, and Senator Bernie Sanders (minus the rural folk, who parade their TRUMP NOW signs).  Happy cows, goats, and sheep produce rich cream and cheese, while farms produce bales of hay for the winter. 

Alas, this beautiful state with its rivers, reservoirs, and mountain valleys, took a beating in 2011 when Hurricane Irene, a slow moving tropical storm, dumped enough water to wash away homes and businesses.  The valleys turned into canals for water runoffs, and boulders the size of houses were pushed around.  While still in recovery mode, early July of this year, torrential rain that battered the northeast, had a particularly pounding effect on the already beat up Vermont.  8 inches of rain fell overnight causing rivers to run so high as to cover bridges, and farms and orchards having to give up on their crops.  Roads have been gouged out, rivers have changed course, and homes are inaccessible with rutted out driveways.  

Tourism dependent businesses have been particularly hard hit. We are doing our bit by supporting VT.  

Stratton Mountain: The Idea of a Long Trail

Vermont lays claim to the idea of the Appalachian Trail (AT) as having originated here on Stratton Mountain (Elev. 3936 feet).  James P. Taylor, sitting in his tent on Stratton Mountain in 1909, conceived the idea of a long trail running along the crest of the Green Mountains.  The actual work took many more hands! The Green Mountain Club maintains today's Long  Trail (LT), which runs 270 miles covering the entire length of Vermont to Canada.  Much like the Benton MacKaye Trail at AT's Southern terminus, the LT is a much hiked trail here.  During our 3 days of hiking various sections of the AT/LT here, we spoke to some hikers looking to do it in 3-4 weeks. 

Alas, and rightfully so, the GMC laments that the LT is over-used. Delicate alpine flora are becoming rare due to human activity along the AT/LT.  Especially in these current muddy conditions, we did our best trampling through mud rather than breaking new trail.   

Our first hike was up Stratton Mountain, a section where the AT and LT braid together.  25 miles from the southern border of Vermont, Stratton Mountain is the tallest peak in the southern Green Mountains.  The trail is popular for its spectacular views,  so we thought ourselves clever by avoiding the weekend crowds.  Without a second car to spot us, we had to descend the same way we ascend the mountain. 

We were prepared for muddy, buggy trails, and were just grateful that it was not pouring rain as it had the previous day.  We were sure hikers would hold off for the good weather forecast for the weekend.  Guidebooks also describe the Vermont section of the AT as a green tunnel.  The canopy of hardwoods and evergreens is thick and the trail seldom emerges from them for the astounding views in the summer. 

Thru-Hikers

Wet and iridescent Tulsi in her reflective vest.  This was to ensure that she did not startle hikers into thinking she was a black bear cub.   The caretaker, at Stratton Mountain, would later tell us that there were no black bears in the area, only moose. (I am still to spot one after 23 years in the Northeast, whereas moose were a daily occurrence during my Alaska days!).  

The trail was quiet, even though there were 4 cars in the parking area at the Stratton-Arlington Road.  We met our very first AT Trail Angel, who supports thru-hikers with rides, water, food. This bearded gentleman-angel, in his minivan, loaded with snacks, water, and even sleeping pads, was waiting for his brother.  Thru-hikers get off the trail every few days for showers, ration pickups, and sometimes a comfortable bed.    A young lady was taking down her tent, after a rainy night. She was on her way to the Canadian end, as was another Vermonter whose wife dropped him off after a colonoscopy the previous day!  He hoped to be in Canada in 4 weeks.  They were hiking the entire length of the Long Trail.  

There is a kinship in meeting, and admiration for folks who willing to give up the safety and comfort of home, head out into the wilderness, disconnect themselves from technology, and push themselves physically to be make a journey in such a primal way - on two feet, much like homo erectus did.  They were all so happy.  Big smiles. Great conversations.  Getting some dog love. 

The Summit

We sloughed our way up, climbing the 3.8 miles steadily up though lots of flowing streams, brooks, mud hopping over rocks, roots, and boardwalks.  Did I say, mud? At 3.8 miles we still hadn't reached the top - the summit was not to be found.  Had we missed a turn?  Thunder was rumbling through, rain beginning to fall.  Ramesh reminded us that a forest of trees was not the ideal place to be in a thunderstorm.  I reminded him that we had not seen lightning, only heard thunder, which meant that the lightning had already struck somewhere else, a mile away.  At 4.4 miles, we summitted, and saw the observation tower. 

The rain had stopped, but dense fog and clouds obscured our views.  The moist yet cool breeze was welcome.  The fire tower is 75 feet tall, to bring us up to 4000 feet.  We were above the tree line and imagined the distant Adirondack peaks of New York on the west, and the Manodnock Peak of New Hampshire to the north east, as we took in the 360 degree views. 

Only 4 people are allowed on top of the tower.  We learned from the caretaker that a 0.8 mile trail leads to the very top of the Stratton ski area. People pay to take the gondola, hike up to the top, and climb the tower.  It is a zoo, she said.  Today, the thunderstorm kept them away and we got to be there by ourselves.  We had a quick snack and began our descent through roots, bogs, and rocks, to the sounds of gurgling creeks and songbirds. After 9 miles, Tulsi was favoring a leg.  

Deer Leap, kids leap 

The Green Mountains were sacred lands to the original Vermonters, the Western Abenaki.  They met their physical needs by hunting and foraging in the forests, quarried the rocks to make tools,  and engaged with the creator atop crests and ridges in sacred rituals.  Stewarding the land, offering gratitude for that which is taken, and returning something back to the land was the way of the Abenaki.  The Green Mountains were also a place of refuge for them during conflicts and war times with the Dutch, French, and British, between the 17th and 19th centuries. 

These lands are now protected for all to use as National Forests, State Forests, and State Parks.  U.S. National Parks are beginning to post land acknowledgements, to educate visitors that the lands that are now open for all to enjoy were stewarded originally by indigenous tribes, who considered it sacred land.  Example from Acadia National Park. Many of their ancestors are buried there, as is important access to medicinal plants or resources for commerce and trade.  Even with Deb Haaland as the Cabinet Secretary for the Department of Interior advocating for them, federal lands that run through sacred tribal land remain a source of contention and distress for native peoples. 

This second hike of the week was to be exclusively on the AT with a 0.7 mile detour on Deer Leap Trail to the impressive sheer ledge overlooking Mt. Killington, Pico Peak, and New York's Adirondack mountains.  The trail took us through Gifford Woods State Park, home to towering hardwoods.  The giant fallen logs along the way, and the circumference of the white birch still standing are testimonies. 

We met our first thru-hiker of the day - a serious looking bearded chap (we figure, a shaving kit, is not among the 10 essentials!), heading south to Rutland, about 12 miles away.  A typical day is anywhere from 10 - 15 miles, so you can make it to the next campsite.  He passed us when I paused to tie my laces, and was gone in a flash.  They walk at a brisk pace, and their packs are a lot smaller than they used to be - keeping it to 30lbs or less. 

We admire the massive rock formations, moved about during the last ice age, some 12,000 YA, hear the song birds in the hardwood forest as we climb an aggressive climb of 1200 feet.  Today is Monday, and we are expecting to see few people.  Thunderstorms are forecast for late afternoon, and we expect to complete the 6 mile round trip by early afternoon.  The Deer Leap overlook, at 2770 feet,  however, is a local hotspot for day tripping Middlebury College students, families, and rock climbing day camp.  We were also not able to escape the sounds of whooshing traffic on Rt-100 below.  Upon a quick dash to the top, we had to navigate selfie-taking families, sunbathing youngsters, and can-I-pet-your-dog campers.  

We rushed away quickly after briefly enjoying the welcome cool breeze, and astounding views, and retreated to the quiet and calm on the AT.  We proceeded towards Rutland for another mile and returned the way we came.  Across the road from Gifford Woods SP was Kent Pond, in which you can imagine, someone found great joy and cool. 

Walking with Friends and Dogs, lots of water, and many Thru-hikers

Susan and Kevin, Vermonters by summer, recommended and joined us on their local favorite off Forest Road 10 near Mt. Tabor - Little Rock Pond.  The drive up FR10 reminded us of the FR in GA to reach the southern terminus of the AT.  The trees are huge, growing strong and tall, reaching for light, fed by streams powering down from Little Rock Pond. The AT/LT run alongside, wet, muddy, rocky, and rooty.  Susan said that she loved to swim in the pond when she got there. The water was truly inviting, and we did see both dogs and humans take cool dips.  I waded in among young salamanders and fry.  

With an elevation gain of only ~500 feet, it allowed us to walk and talk amongst ourselves, and with a number of thru-hikers.  At this point on the AT, we are about 500 miles from Mt. Katahdin, the northern terminus of the AT.  August is a gathering time for north-bound hikers, as they all come to the end of their 4+ months of hiking on The Trail.  They still have some of the hardest climbs left - The White Mountains of New Hampshire and Mt. Katahdin in Maine.  South-bound hikers prefer to get the difficult ones out of the way first, when they are still energetic.  We chatted with Big Angus, Egg Salad, and (pictured above,) Bucko.  Thru-hikers have an AT tag on their packs, and often gain a trail name - given to them by fellow hikers or by themselves.  We heard their stories of hardship (through the White Mountains), sympathized with the intensely wet weather, and celebrated the dry day we had. 

Ellie and Tulsi got along fairly well and companionably hiked and frolicked in the water.  They also checked out the Little Rock Pond shelter and platforms, where thru-hikers stop for the night. The AT has sections with no fresh water, but Vermont is not one of those, with its abundant streams and tarns. 

The 5.81 mile walk on the AT, including a loop around Little Rock Pond left us all blissfully one with nature, admiring the plants that are the Worshippers of the sun, and Roots overcome every obstacle from Dr. Maria Montessori's Botany impressionistic charts.  The botanical cycle of life was on display for us to marvel at, as was the geological cycle. 

 

Walking 3 sections of the AT/LT in Vermont, I am left wondering how we strike the balance between people enjoying wilderness and protecting it?  How do we restore land to the original stewards of the land? 

"Whether pedestrian[s] follow a sky line trail perpetually, or for variety, [seek] at times, the woodland roads among the foothills, [they are] ever at home, for this is [their] kind of a world. We must make it completely [their] own by elaborating trails and shelters throughout the whole region, so [they] will feel [themselves] perfectly welcome everywhere.”  ~ John P. Taylor, outlining his goals for the Long Trail in 1914.

Disclaimer:  All the ideas and sentences written above are mine alone, and are not AI generated.

AT: The Southern Terminus, GA

A Pilgrimage

Hikers on the Appalachian Trail begin or end their thru-hikes in Georgia.  Referred to as the Southern Terminus, Springer Mountain is the starting point for North-bound hikers towards Mt. Katahdin at the northern Terminus, 2,100-odd miles away, in Maine.  Thousands of AT hikers set foot on the Southern Terminus, not to mention the millions who hike along the trails in the neighboring state forest.  We had the good fortune of being able to hike these hallowed grounds when we traveled to Atlanta over the Memorial Day weekend to celebrate the graduation of a very special family member.

Georgia has 78.1 miles of the AT going through its lush deciduous forest, and ancient rocks.  The Springer Mountain view point, bearing the terminus plaque (pictured above) affords spectacular views of North Georgia's rolling Blue Ridge mountains. It is but a short easy mile from the Springer Mountain parking lot.   The drive leading up to the parking lot through Forest Road 42 is  a rough, gravelly one.  We were grateful that our rental sedan made it up and down without any trouble.  

A half-dozen cars are already parked, and many overnight campers are packing up for their morning hike.  Greeting hello, we head out on the 1.25 mile walk to the Southern terminus marker.

North Georgia

The Springer Mountain parking lot is a two and a half hour drive from Atlanta, an hour of which is spent on that final approach road, ascending to 3,400 feet.  We play peek-a-boo with spectacular views of rolling Georgia hills as we go up.  At the end of May, the forests of deciduous trees is lush and green.  I imagine that the late fall and winter will offer more sweeping views. 

We leave the suburbs of Atlanta, studded with strip malls, and gated communities, heading north towards the Chattahoochee-Oconee National Forest.  Fortunately, there is no direct highway leading to these mountains, making it a little harder to access for all except the most intrepid hikers.  We weave through small towns and begin seeing views of green hills and the taller Blood Mountain as we approach Dawsonville and Dahlonega.  Boiled peanuts are for sale at intersections.  

Benton MacKaye: the Man and the Trail

We did not want to take the whole day away from family, who needed some r & r after the graduation party.  Thanks to a little guidance from atlantatrails.com, I chose a 5.7 mile loop that we would start on early enough so we are back to enjoy more family time.  The Springer Mountain-Benton MacKaye trail would give us a taste of the AT and loop us into, what I would learn is, this trail with history.

Benton MacKaye, a forester and planner, was the first to propose the idea of the Appalachian Trail in 1921. Among the first graduates of Harvard's Forestry program, he provided a vision for people to experience nature in its purest form.  His plans were in turn viewed as utopian and technical, brilliant and cockamamie, syncretic and specific, for calling on scientists to discover ways to live sustainably and harmoniously with nature.

Mile 1.15 into the trail are the diamond blazes leading to the Benton MacKaye Trail (BMT), named in his honor.  After enjoying Springer Mountains views at 1.25, we return to the diamond blazes of the BMT, and find a memorial to the man (picture of me paying respects to him here.  Note to Rajani and Ramesh: I would like some of my ashes scattered along the AT, please. Thank you). 

There are 285 miles of the BMT in the Blue Ridge mountains of Georgia developed by his protegee, Dave Sherman in 1975.  The entire section was completed in 2005, and is maintained by the BMT Association.   This first section of the BMT loop  - about 4 miles - is part of the original AT proposal by MacKaye. 

Benton MacKaye's original AT proposal, as described in Places Journal

The Diamond Blazes

The diamond blazed BMT takes us through lush forests where Mountain Laurel are in full bloom. Chunky caterpillars and beetle scurry about their busy day on the forest floor, while smaller inch worms zipline down on to us, hitchhiking their way along the trail.  At one view point, when I pulled off several hitchhikers from my shoes, a shake of the head brought down a dozen!  Plenty of bear scat on the trail, but no sight of bears. 

The trail descends along Ball Mountain, and gives us views at Owen's Point (pictured below) that tell why they are named Blue Ridge mountains.  Springer Mountain is not the tallest one in north Georgia. Blood and Rabun Bald Mountains supposedly offer sweeping and unparalleled views of Tennessee and North Carolina.  
I am quite in awe right here. 

Galax, also known as beetleweed or wand flower abound on the forest floor.  

The trail further crosses Forest Road 42  at mile 3.5, and we meet the shallow Davis Creek, which would have been a source of great enthusiasm for Tulsi, who was not on this trip with us.  The clear, cool, moving water over a gravel bed crosses the trail 3 more times before we ascended to join the AT back for its final stretch to the parking lot.  

The lot is full with more cars than at 9:30 AM.  Many are parked along the gravel road. We are grateful to have had our pilgrimage to the southern terminus of the AT, filled with Benton MacKaye's vision for the trail, hearts glad, and eager for the lunch that awaits us Shobhana's. 

We will be back, Georgia, to do the remaining 76.1 miles.  Real soon! 

"What is suggested, therefore, is a “long trail” over the full length of the Appalachian skyline, from the highest peak in the north to the highest peak in the south — from Mt. Washington to Mt. Mitchell." ~Benton MacKaye.  Appalachian Trail: A Project in Regional Planning. 1921.

 

AT: Kent to North Kent

Small Steps over Ancient Lava Flows

The eruptions and upheavals that created the Appalachian ranges are evidenced in this section of the trail's fabulous rock formations. Rocks that look like what the Hawaiians call the pahoehoe and the impressive St. Johns Ledges tell a story that is over a billion years old.  Not surprisingly, the town of Kent is known for its iron ore production and farming. 

It is Mother's Day. My hope is that everyone has planned their brunch, and will leave the trail alone.  Spring is definitely in the air, laden with pollen, but the shades of green are bewitching as we drive on Route 341, along Schaghticoke Road that we stumbled through in the darkness last time.  We pick up the AT across Route 341, where there is ample parking for 8 cars. Today's plan is an easy 5.7 miles. We cross the cow pasture to begin the climb to Numeral Rock at 850 feet.  

Tulsi, the Bear Cub

We meet a southbound section hiker from Pennsylvania.  She mistakes Tulsi for a black bear cub as she was told of a large black bear fishing in the Housatonic River by North Kent.  I did not put the orange reflective vest on Tulsi that I had in my backpack.  Instead, when I heard or saw humans, I called out hi so they don't mistake her for a black bear cub. 

Tulsi is a trail leader and always makes certain that her entire party is safe. She must have walked the equivalent of 12 miles today, back and forth, checking that we were all together!  Plenty of creeks, along with the more substantial Macedonia Creek and Choggam Brook that feed into the Housatonic River below, keep her cool and happy.

Astounding Views

Today's section of the AT is a giant roller coaster, with constant ascends and descends, which afford us stunning views of the Housatonic River valley, and the village of Kent below. 

Caleb's Peak at 1160 feet gives us a large expanse of bedrock to rest and enjoy Flanders Mountain across the way at 1385 feet.

Wild flowers - columbines and cinquefoils - dance in the bright sunshine, the clear blue skies, and cool wind. 

Climbers' Paradise: St. Johns Ledges

After taking in the wonderful views and picking our way along the ridge, we arrive at the Ledges, named for Timothy St. Johns, the property owner in the 1800s.  It is a steep rock staircase, created by the Appalachian Mountain Club volunteers and trail crew.  The steps were made for us to traverse the impressive rock formation, with ENORMOUS rocks that would not be fun if they decide to move.  I did not count the steps, but the trail guide says 90 steps were put in.  We basically descend 1000 feet along a sheer rock face that lead us to River Road along the Housatonic.  At the bottom, we meet members of the Yale camping club as they reviewed strategies for climbing it with their 30-lbs backpacks.  You got this!  They also got some Tulsi-love.

We walk along the river for another mile where civilization was close at hand.  The AT stays on this gravel road along the river for another 4 miles.  Plenty more cars had arrived by midday, and hikers and families of walkers were along the gravel path that lead to Kent Falls State Park.  We see a garter snake mourning its beloved on the trail (one had been run over - vehicles were motoring along the gravel route), lots of bear scat (probably from the same chap that was fishing in the river that morning), and more creeks that empty into the Housie.  Rajani meets us at North Kent Road parking to take us to lunch.  I couldn't ask for a better Mother's Day!

From the Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address to the Natural World

(my students read the address in its entirety at Thanksgiving)

We are thankful to our Mother the Earth, for she gives us everything that we need for life. She supports our feet as we walk about upon her.  It gives us joy that she still continues to care for us, just as she has from the beginning of time. To our Mother, we send thanksgiving, love, and respect.   Now our minds are one. 

The First Substantial One

Darkness Descends

It is 5:07 on a Connecticut mid-winter evening.  We have left the white blazed path of the Appalachian Trail (AT) to find a short cut to meet Barnyard road in Kent, Conn., where Rajani is picking us up at the end of the 11.5 mile hike.  I feel my pupils dilating to absorb as much light as it can as the cloud of darkness envelops us.  No, this crunching on leaves and twigs does not lead us to the road, so we back track to the white blazes and descend the final steep boulder strewn stretch.  Tulsi, as always, leads the way, picking out the best path for us to follow, and we do it by instinct more than by sight.  During the final 300 yards, Ramesh turns on the proverbial cellphone flashlight to stumble to meet Rajani and the car that awaits, flashing yellow lights.  It is 6:07 PM.  We just completed our first section of the AT.

A Walk Across America

Some 30 years ago, I read Peter Jenkins' book, first published in 1979. Found on the shelves of the Consortium Library at the University of Alaska Anchorage, it captured my imagination even as I was learning to hike, to be alone in the vast wilderness of South Central Alaska, and to experience of the flora, fauna, and weather.  Jenkins, accompanied by his beloved 4-legged companion, Cooper, walked the Appalachian Trail.  Unlike Bill Bryson's humorist approach in A Walk in the Woods, I found his predecessor, Jenkins' naturalist approach appealing.   

While I sought out walking opportunities everywhere in the world, the goal has always been the AT. 

53 Miles in CT

The AT, sometimes referred to as just the trail (especially in states which have several hundred miles of it), is, for many, the path to finding oneself.  Several hide from life in it. Some walk it because it is there - a checkmark on the list of things to do.  Many, I hope, like me, walk it to be one with nature, to marvel at the geological magnificence, to look deeply into the varying flora and fauna, reflect on the environmental and climate impacts of our lifestyles, and to honor the original people whose lands we walk on. 

The AT runs along its namesake Appalachian mountains in Eastern United States
from Maine in the north across 14 states to Georgia in the south.  It is a continuous footpath where even bicycles are not permitted.  It constantly ascends and descends along the ridges of Appalachian Plateau in the mid-Atlantic section, and the Northern Appalachians in the New England section.  In one of my older hiking books, it is described as being 2175 miles long, but today, according to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, it is 2194.3 miles long.

We have frequently attempted the northern most section in CT - Lion's Head and Bald Peak, Salisbury, CT, where it is a good 4 mile walk and climb just to get to the trail.  We would satisfy ourselves by ridge-walking a mile or two on the hallowed grounds of the AT, leaving me entirely unsatiated.

This year, with my commitment to 52 hikes in 52weeks (inspired by a special friend, Alison Tait), I am approaching the AT in CT more systematically.  We would begin at the beginning, and section hike our way to the Massachusetts border.  This blog will document our sections on the AT and extend an invitation to you, dear reader, to return and monitor our progress. 

New York State Line to Kent.  11.5 miles.

We drove ourselves after packing lots of water, a sandwich lunch, dry fruit and nut snack to western CT and found the start of the CT section in a small town called Gaylordsville.  

We are blessed with the mighty Housatonic River that roars along and we view it up close and from 1400 ft, our highest ascent for the day.  We have planned for a 5.30 hour hike averaging 30 minutes a mile, and know that we will need another hour for stops to enjoy the views and rest our feet.  

Tulsi is joyful and excited that she is out doing two of her favorite things - being with her humans and frolicking in the woods. 

I teach her that is today's hike follows WHITE blazes, not the BLUE blazes that she is used to seeing on our Mattabesett, Paugussett, and Mattatuck hikes.  As you see, she is not paying attention to the lesson.

Schaghticoke (ska-dih-coke) Mountain. Elev. 1403 feet.

Today's walk on the AT takes alongside tribal lands of the Schaghticoke Nation, who were the first peoples of what we now know as Eastern New York and Western CT.  The Schaghticoke are Algonquin-speaking, Eastern Woodland Indians.  I can only imagine treaties that kept the plains for the first colonists while the bedrock laden lands were given to the native peoples in 1736. 

The folds of the mountain and numerous false summits fooled us into thinking that we had arrived at the highest point here...

Maybe here?

Bedrock, Hemlock Ravine, Dry Gulch, Rattlesnake Den

The descents are always more challenging for the old bones, especially after you've done about 9 miles.  Hiking poles help. Show off dogs don't.  Stunning rock formations, and admiration and gratitude abound.  Gratitude for ATC volunteers who maintain the white blazes, divert trails to conserve paths from erosion, build lean-tos, and move rocks to create ledges and steps for hikers to make this pilgrimage.

Notes for Next Time:

• orange vest for Tulsi (shots firing in the distance were unnerving)
• head lamps for when light fades faster than we walk

Final Thoughts for Today

What is 11.5 miles of 2194.3 miles?  0.5%  We have many miles to go, many paths to take.  If you are up for a 10 to 12 mile hike, you are welcome to join us, as we tread lightly, go quietly, listen deeply, and leave the place a tad bit better than we found it.  

Silence is always with us. But we do not choose silence, silence chooses us.   If you are called to be silent on your journey, recognize the invitation as a great gift. It is a gift to be shared with others. Your relationship to silence is one thing that will define the uniqueness of your journey. ~John Francis, author of The Planet Walker: 22 Years of Walking. 17 years of Silence.