A backpacking trip has long been on the back of my mind. On a day hike a couple years ago with a buddy we stopped by a shelter in Pachaug Forest in Connecticut. Wouldn't it be cool to stay the night (actually, the shelter was trashed)? On Moosilauke we chatted at an AT shelter with some through hikers. It's a romantic thought. This spring I tossed out the idea of Mount Greylock in Massachusetts and it stuck. I have this thing about state highpoints.
Bro-in-law Mikey and I took Friday off from work. We got a late start anyhow, and because of biblical rain, drove rather slow. Lou and his buddies were about an hour and a half ahead of us, and despite the downpour, drove full speed. The rain stopped shortly before we arrived at the parking area.
We needed a few pointers, but we found our way to the trail. Cell reception isn't what it could be, so getting directional advice from the waiting party wasn't terribly easy. Never-the-less, we arrived at Bellows Pipe shelter. But not, however, after a more than grueling hike. Way more than the 1.5 miles it was advertised as. What made matters worse is that not all of my gear would fit in my bargain backpack. My brilliant idea of putting cans of beer into an insulated lunch bag didn't seem so great when I carried five pounds of suds in my hands.
The shelter wasn't in tip-top shape, but not quite the catastrophe we saw at Pachaug. It isn't used much by through hikers and more by recreational ATV people. Someone apparently needed the fire closer to the sleeping area so they built it inside the shelter. This left a sizable hole in the floor and the shelter that should easily fit six barely fit us five. Good thing ours was the only party.
While getting to know Lou's two friends, we heard a terrible crash in the distance. We turned to watch a large tree, maybe 16" diameter at chest height, crash to the ground in the distance. I stood in silence thinking what would have become of our shelter had it been beneath it (hint: kindling). Lou's party tucked in to sleep, but Mikey and I stayed up a bit to drink our beers and watch the humble fire.
Sleeping was poor. No longer raining, but humid and sticky. Plus, a mouse I saw running around earlier would check out our gear for easy eats. In doing so he would run across my legs and wake me up. I remembered a section in "A Walk in the Woods" about mice in AT shelters. I made coffee and oatmeal for breakfast.
The next leg took us to the peak. Along the way was a quarter mile walk to Robinson Point, a scenic overlook. It was mostly downhill from the main trail and the footing wasn't the best. The idea of hiking back up with packs didn't appeal to me. Lou and Brian went far ahead and the slower group, Mikey, Ken, and I, followed behind. We looked for footprints to make sure we were still trailing them. The overlook was nice. Made it all worthwhile, I don't know. But we did it, then returned to the trail.
The top of Greylock has a weird tower on top. I spent a moment or two looking at it, then searched for the USGS marker. It's a tradition. There is also a restaurant at the top, serving people who took the highway. I hit the men's room then placed my order. While my burger was cooking, the power went out. They didn't make an announcement. My food took a lot longer and everyone was finished eating before I got my undercooked, mediocre hamburger. Luckily I did hit the bathroom first, because they locked the doors as soon as the power was gone.
All of the doors, in fact. When we left we couldn't get back in. Good thing we didn't forget anything. No notice, so lots of people trying to get in and were confused. Here we parted company with Ken and Brian.
Ken and Brian had seen enough of the trail. They didn't hike, really at all, and didn't like the idea of spending another day hiking and another night sleeping out. This meant I had to take Lou home, which didn't present a problem. I like the time I spent with him, and an additional hour plus was ok.
So, lucky for us, there was an outside tap to fill our water bladders, and composting toilets to empty our ... well, you get the picture. The composting toilets were amazingly clean and the tap water was terrible. The next leg was rather long. We headed North to Mt. Williams and stop at Wilburs Clearing Shelter. Because we were at the highpoint, most of the hike was downhill.
Weather was perfect that afternoon and the trail conditions were wonderful. We stopped at on overlook on Williams and chatted with some through hikers. I'm sorry to say I forgot their names. The one on the right was named Toes, I think, and the one on the left maybe sticks. The middle guy did most of the talking. They all had this southern/surfer dude hybrid accent. Quite amusing. There was also a sobo (that's what us bona fide mountain men call south bound hikers) with his dog as well. We discussed important matters like smarties vs. jelly bellies, and the phenomenon that lady hikers know as trail bump.
We're not through hikers. Not even section hikers. But because we were backpacking, I felt the AT hikers were more willing to talk with us. There was an element of shared experience.
When we got to the shelter around 4:30, we were pleasantly surprised what wonderful condition it was in. Heavily used by AT hikers, they treat it with respect. The caretaker on duty, Saw Dog, shared it with us. Section hiker Too Much shared our fire.
This was the part of the hike why we did this. The weather was great, the hiking was easy, and we got to hang out with interesting people. We got a roaring fire and shared our eats. Too Much introduced us with a company called Packit Gourmet. He made a berry torte that was delicious, if more than a little complicated. The sleeping was wonderful. I dreamt of fanciful things.
Sunday morning we made breakfast, I filtered water from a stream, and made our way out. Programming note: when you plan a backpacking journey, make the last leg the shortest. Ours was the longest. Even though the pack was the lightest (beer was gone!) and the hike mostly downhill, it felt the most grueling.
On our way down Williams, I lost sight of Lou and Mikey. I was struggling more than a little. A knee injury from way back in January was bothering me anew. I heard them calling for me, but so long as I was on the trail, I would eventually meet up with them. Or so I would, had they not taking a side trail. Apparently they came across the site of an airplane crash. They showed me pictures of it. That would be cool to see. What would be uncool would be to walk back up the mountain. I decided I would need to satisfy myself with their pictures.
Then we came upon a fireplace from an old farm house. I was standing on some sort of structure to get this picture. Notice the top of the chimney lying on the ground to the right. That was kinda cool. not plane crash cool, but still.
We made our way to the highway near the park entrance and got a bit of a start. I heard someone yell, turned and saw a skate boarder race downhill at breakneck speed. Then three more screeched and turned into the parking lot. His buddy, last seen heading at break-neck speed down the mountain, was surely dead, I figured. The death-wishers were quickly followed by a van hand decorated with the phrase YOLO principally visible. They were excited about something. Maybe being alive. To my shock, their buddy returned from the grave seemingly unhurt. Remarkable. I wish I got a picture of them.
We entered a neighborhood (which was a strange feeling) before turning back onto the trail. I knew we crossed the river before we reached our Friday sleep spot. Every bridge we came to I wondered if this was great crossing. Apparently, the river doesn't cross the trail all at once, but instead in smaller side streams. Eventually we found Bellows Pipe shelter then headed down to the car. This took way longer than we expected.
At one point a great tree had fallen and obliterated the trail. We each picked our own route back to where were were supposed to be. It's a little disconcerting to go far from the trail. We crossed a day hiker heading up, which was unusual. Other than near the peak, we saw few if any other hikers.
Finally, we got to the car around 4:20 PM. Mikey had Chinese Buffet on his mind because the through hikers were talking about it (if there is anything near the trail that's "all you can eat", the hikers know about it!). I had pancakes on the brain and found a spot not too far away. Many places were closed on a Sunday. I'd like to say it was awesome, but we had issues with service. It served it's purpose.
Monday night I worked late past 11, my body fatigued and exhausted. Tuesday after work, I pulled off of the highway and drove Rolfe Street home. I remember that the previous fall there was a reflexology place, and I u-turned to look for it. It was still there. I walked into the tiny establishment to find it empty. A woman entered after me and I asked her how much. She picked up her cell phone. After a moment thinking how rude, she handed it to me. Confused, I spoke with a woman who gave me the details. $39 for a hour massage. "Can you take me now?" what the only question on my mind.
Here I had the best massage of my life. After the hike my shoulders hurt. My hips hurt. The soles of my feet, my toes, my left knee, my head, my just about everything. When she was done, only my knee hurt. As of this writing, it's been two weeks and the knee is only slightly better. I see the doctor in the morning.
Lessons learned: vodka, powdered juice mix, and filtered water is a way better idea than beer. Don't bring quite as much food (I had a 2-pound bag of trail mix I never opened - my boys demolished it the same day I got back). Spend more time with people who's company you enjoy. Get that Chinese massage you've been meaning to.
