Miles: 1630.7 | A frigid, rain-soaked Vermont morning turns the trail into ankle-deep mud as we push hard to stay warm, hiking fast through climbs, blisters forming under layers of grit. Shelter conversations bring sobering reminders of how fragile a thru-hike can be, while eerie fire tower views wrapped in fog offer brief, unforgettable beauty. Hot food, surprise reunions with trail friends, and the decision to keep moving carry us to Story Spring Shelter, where numbingly cold water cleans mud-caked feet and exhaustion wins fast — ending the day with full bellies, clean(er) gear, and deep, well-earned sleep.
Another rainy morning was upon us and we tried to get out of camp early. In the cold rain we hiked as fast as we could. The trail was, once again, a mud pit. Ankle deep mud just tore at my joints and created little blister spots under the balls of my feet. The air was colder than the heat and humidity that we had experienced for most of the last month and no matter how fast I walked I was cold and had goose bumps all over my unshaven legs. The first two hours out we hiked at 3mph up hill. It was worth it stay warm.
I lost Miles on a climb right before the first shelter. The rain had calmed a bit as we walked so I slowed my pace here. A piped spring sat on the side of the trail a quarter mile before the shelter. I got out my water bags and filled them. I carried the unfiltered water to the shelter and made it under the roof just as a torrential downpour began again. In the shelter was Wolf Pack and a few Southbound hikers. They told us a story of someone they knew whose southbound thru-hike was ended on Katahdin on his very first day:
The story goes that this hiker was climbing Mt. Katahdin on the first day of his southbound thru-hike. He bent down to tie one of his shoes and his Nalgene water bottle had slipped out of one of the side pockets on his backpack. The water bottle fell directly on his foot and broke two of his metatarsal bones. He couldn't continue his thru-hike and had to stay in a hostel while his wife completed her first week on trail. He ended up going home from there.
My pack cover was doing nothing. I don't know if it was the torrential down pour or if my pack cover was somehow not waterproof anymore, but it was soaked through and my pack was too. Thankfully, I had a large carpenter's trash bag inside keeping my clothes and sleeping bag dry. The only real downside to my pack cover not working well is the water weight my pack would absorb in the rain. I finally put my raincoat on, I was too cold to keep it off.
I slipped and slid up and down the next two small mountains. We came across a fire tower. In the past, like in New York, fire towers were situated on a bald, they made an already great view even better. This fire tower was different, it was stilted over a dense pine forest. In the rain and fog it was almost eerie. The trails around here were used for snow mobiles in the winter and the stop, don't enter, and directional signs still hung on the trees in the summer, which made it feel even more spooky.
We climbed the fire tower as the storm slowed to more of a sprinkle. The views were incredible. The way the fog hung around the top of the pine trees was enchanting. Even with the fog you could see for miles. As the wind picked up and fire tower began to feel more unstable, we descended it's slippery metal stairway.
We stopped at the next shelter after this. I was so cold that I decided to make myself a hot meal of mac and cheese to bring some comfort. Here we met a couple of southbound hikers: Trash Panda and Just Don. They were both so positive and learning that you can actually stop hiking whenever you want if you don't have a deadline.
This was the first time, Trash Panda told us, that she allowed herself to stop before noon. Sometimes you just need that. Especially on cold, rainy days like this one. I don't blame her one bit, in fact I encouraged her. Miles made himself some minute rice and we sat under the edge of the shelter roof, barely staying dry.
While we ate, Huck and Ray came up to the shelter! I hadn't seen them since Virginia, and Miles hadn't seen them since Mt. Greylock in Massachusetts! We caught up with each other and had a great chat. Huck even gave me a lighter when mine ran out. When we finished eating we headed back out in the rain.
We climbed over the next mountain and found the shelter with the beautiful spring. While Miles set up his tent in the only spots we could find that weren't flooded, I went to the spring to wash my feet and socks. The water was numbingly cold but I didn't care. I scrubbed my feet and my toes in the water and left them there until I could barely feel them attached to my body anymore. I was freezing but the water felt so good, so clean, so soft compared to the mud.
We both kept our raincoats on (we usually don't hike in them because they aren't very breathable and it gets hot quickly) and trudged up the muddy trail. We could have stopped at that shelter with Huck and Ray, but I had a lot of energy left in me. Maybe it was the caffeine or maybe it was the fact that I was already cold and wet and I might as well knock out some more miles while I'm in this state of being.
I wrung out my socks over and over and got maybe half of the dirt out of them. When I removed the insoles from my sneakers I found big clumps of hard mud where the balls of my feet usually rested and at my heels. This explains my new blisters and the feeling like I'd had rocks in my shoes the whole day.
(These photos were taken after I rinsed off in the spring.)
Once my shoes were clean and my water was gathered I went back to the campsite and set up my tent. I was completely exhausted. The cleaning of the socks and shoes took time and energy that I didn't really have. I was too tired to make dinner. Miles boiled water for me and made my meal. We ate together and I barely stayed awake long enough for dinner. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow and, Miles claims, snored the whole night through like a small bear.