Day 1: The Southern Border

The Bed & Breakfast we stayed at had a breakfast buffet- and I drank coffee and ate fresh fruit thinking it may be a while before I had food that good again. Gabby was nervous to let me go, anxious in general to be apart for so long, as well as worried about my health. I had neglected to bring a "bear bell", or any form of bear self-defense spray, despite her protests. "Black bears," I said, "are much more afraid of people than we are of them." She seemed to think they'd be even more afraid of me if I had bear spray.

We drove up to the foothills of the mountains above Williamstown and found the entry to the Pine Cobble Trail. The Long Trail itself is purely contained within the state of Vermont- but this provides a problem in itself as there is no border parking lot. Instead, I had to hike 3.8 miles uphill to the Vermont border before I could even say I had put any miles on the trail.

I felt the weight of my pack and did one more check to make sure I had all of the gear I expected. A pair of women in their 50s commented that they though only one of us was hiking- and we chuckled, as Gabby was dressed in a beautiful dress for her office job she would return to later in the day. Gabby and I said our goodbyes, and I started out into the woods, leaving Gabby to drive back to the real world.

I set a hard pace uphill, enjoying the weight of my pack, and breathing deep. The weather was sunny and warm, and the trail was well maintained here- I felt I could hike forever! I was excited to begin my journey, and was confident that I would reach the border in no time.

About 15 minutes later, I had to stop, gasping for breath. The pack was heavy- too heavy, I realized, as I had already begun to think about what I could drop to save on weight. My legs already ached, and I took a big gulp of water. The climb was steep. After being passed by a 30 something trail runner with nothing but light running shoes compared to my heavy boots, I continued trudging up the hill.

Before long, I reached the top of Pine Cobble Hill, along with the two older women- who were equipped to be out for the full day. I chatted with them quickly about my trip, and one of them commented on the young running man. "Did that runner guy with no gear pass you?" she asked. "Didn't you just hate him?" I chuckled- I certainly did envy his lack of equipment. I climbed to the top of the hill to get a view out over Williamstown, where I had just left.

The view from Pine Cobble Hill of Williamstown, Massachusetts

I paused for a few minutes to take in the view, and then continued on towards Vermont.

At the next clearing, I ran into another hiker, about as tired as I was. Noting her overnight equipment, I asked where she was headed. She replied she was hiking on the Long Trail, and said her name was Elizabeth. As it turned out, she had started hardly 30 minutes before me- and had struggled up Pine Cobble Hill about the same amount. After commiserating about the weight of our packs, I continued on towards the border.

The trail leveled off into a more pleasant wind through the trees, and after just over two hours from the parking lot, I reached the border, which was commemorated with a large sign.

The Vermont Border

Here it announced that the trail would be marked- all the way through to the Canadian Border- with white blazes. I stopped to sign the log book at the border- used to find lost hikers, as well as pass messages along to anyone else hiking near you- and continued on.

The Border Logbook

The trail was fairly flat, mostly packed earth and pine needles, occasionally interspersed with patches of mud. Thinking of the miles I had to complete- I shook my head at planning 13.8 for the day- I continued on.

The Vermont side of the trail

After a while, the hiking came more naturally, and I began to get into my own head a little easier. I was tired, and the pack was heavy, but I started thinking of other things- Gabby would have nearly reached Boston again by now, and I wondered how her drive was. I started thinking about what food I would cook around camp, and when the first major mountain was. Before I knew it, I'd reached the first shelter in Vermont- the Seth Warner Shelter.

Seth Warner Shelter

The shelter was pretty typical for Vermont- a three-walled lean to, only meant to provide protection from wind and rain. I decided it was a good place to sit and eat lunch, while I filtered water from the stream nearby to replenish my water supplies.

Lunch was a trail mix wrap

While eating lunch, Elizabeth caught up to me, as well as another Northbound LT hiker named Lauta. She said she had flown in from the Netherlands to hike the Long Trail- but it had already been more difficult than she expected. Not only was our public transit not quite what she was used to in Europe- it had taken her the better part of a day with two connections to bus from one side of Massachusetts to the other- but her country, she said was flat. The hills that she'd already hiked today were more than she'd bargained for. She was planning on going no further that day, I knew I still had many more miles to go, At that point it was 2 PM, and I had 7.2 more miles to complete- so I continued on.

Farther down, I ran into a southbounder who introduced himself as Cheddar. He said he'd been hiking since June 1st- so about a month and a half- on the Appalachian Trail from Maine. He was hoping he could complete his journey before Halloween, which meant he still had more than three months on the trail to go. The secret, he said, was to be creative with your food. "Non-perishable is a bit of a sliding scale," he said. "You can keep cheese and meats for a little while."

I wished him well and continued north, chewing on my dry trail mix and thinking of what he said. He called after me: "Good luck, Breakfast Ben!"

After a few more hours, I came across a wide power line cut- a 230 kV line striking a clean line through the wilderness. I paused to take in the view.

Power Line View 

Power Line View

I continued on, reaching Consultation Peak at 2810 feet of elevation, before dropping down into the path around a pair of beaver ponds.

The first beaver pond

The second beaver pond

 The trail wound around the second on a boardwalk to escape the flooding.

Beaver Boardwalk

Finally, after almost nine and a half hours of hiking, I reached my destination- Congdon Shelter, a small lean-to near a large river. The shelter was a hotbed of activity- I counted nearly 25 hikers in and around the shelter, most in tents and hammocks. I found a small spot of my own, and set up my own shelter, grabbed water, and cooked dinner.

The tarp set up at Congdon Shelter

I was exhausted from the day- and it wasn't long before I fell asleep. I had hiked 13.7 miles that day, but only 10 of them since crossing the border- so I'd only gone 10 miles down the official Long Trail.