Due to the unexpected pole incident (read about it here, if you missed it), my sister and I found ourselves at the Green Mountain House a couple of days earlier than our initial reservation. The host graciously made room for us.
The Green Mountain House Hostel is a way station for hikers working their way along the Appalachian and Long Trails. Incidentally, the two trails overlap for about 100 miles in Vermont before the AT veers off to the east through New Hampshire and on into Maine.
The hostel accommodates a dozen or more hikers each night with a comfortable place to sleep, a nice, warm shower, and a bit of relaxation before hitting the trail again. While there is a fee to stay there, the hosts are welcoming and friendly, offering warm hospitality to weary travelers.
Reminds me of the encouragement in Hebrews 13:2 – “Do not forget to entertain strangers….” That is, to be hospitable to those traveling through who need a place to stay for the night. All of us who spent the night at the hostel were strangers to our host and to one another, but we didn’t leave that way.
Early the next morning, host Jeff provided a ride to the trailhead a few miles away. Our goal for the day was to cover 10.5 miles to the Griffith Lake Tenting Area, and thankfully the weather looked good—for the next 36 hours, anyway.
We had heard some troubling news at the hostel, though. On July 7, the day we took the bus from Bennington to Manchester Center, a strong storm with heavy rain pummeled Killington—about 45 miles north of us. Reports were sketchy, but there was severe flooding that washed out a major road in the area. We had no good information on the condition of the trail, and we were to pass through that area in four days.
Hmmm…..
July 8, though, began well. We hit the trail by 8:15, a fairly cool and sunny day—ideal for a hike. Right away, we came upon Bromley Brook, paused on the bridge to capture the moment, and began the ascent up Bromley Mountain. The trail wasn’t too bad, compared to the conditions further south, allowing us to make good time (for us, anyway!).
At the summit of Bromley Mountain, we met up with a father and daughter who stayed with us at the hostel, shared a snack together, and took in the scenery. Bromley is home to a ski resort, and a warming hut stands next to the ski lift. All the open space allowed for some impressive views.
The remainder of the day’s hike was rather uneventful, and we arrived at Griffith Lake tenting area by late afternoon.
This was our first night sleeping in a tent, and it took some time to work out the logistics. The tent sites are scattered throughout the area, each site providing a wooden platform for setting up your tent. Given how soggy the ground was, we were grateful for the dry, flat surface!
Our site sat in the woods about 50 yards from the lake. We opted to take our cookstove and dinner supplies to a spot by the lake to enjoy the tranquil setting.
That didn’t last.
Before long, “Blaze”—the trail name for a 7-year-old boy hiking the LT with his aunt—came bounding into the clearing. He methodically turned over logs and stones looking for worms to put on a makeshift fishing hook attached to a stick. He was determined to catch some fish!
Blaze excitedly told us about his adventure; he and his aunt were going all the way to Canada! I wasn’t completely stunned by the plan—I’d read of others who took their young children on a thru-hike. Nevertheless, I wondered how they’d manage, just the two of them.
Hiker midnight came (9:00 p.m.), and we zipped ourselves in our respective tents, praying for a good night’s sleep. We hoped to cover 14.5 miles the next day, although a more realistic destination was Little Rock Pond, 10 miles north.
At about 3:00 a.m., the sound of distant thunder roused me from sleep. For the next hour, I lay awake, listening and praying. It wasn’t supposed to rain, which was why we opted for the tenting area rather than the shelter ½ mile back up the trail. I lay there dreading the thought of having to tear down wet tents and stuffing them in our packs.
“Please, Father…no rain tonight! Please?” I prayed.
And a passage from Isaiah came to mind:
“You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in you.”
– Isaiah 26:3
And I tried to fix my mind on God’s watchfulness and care…to remind myself that I’m not looking to the hills for help, but to Him…to trust in Him to redirect the rain or grant me patience to pack up wet gear.
Before long, the thunder faded off in the distance and not a drop fell from the sky!
After breakfast and packing up, we were about to head out, but Grace, the caretaker at the site, caught us and offered a warning, “just so you have a heads up,” she said.
Incidentally, the Green Mountain Club—the organization responsible for maintaining the Long Trail—employs several caretakers along the trail. Essentially, they live in the area of a shelter throughout the hiking season. Most shelters don’t have a resident caretaker, but Griffith Lake and Little Pond do.
Anyway, the caretaker warned us that some heavy rains were forecast for later that day and overnight, with the likelihood of some flash floods. The Green Mountain Club was considering evacuating the caretaker from the Little Pond area lest she be stranded by floods.
Ok, so what do we do with that piece of information!?!
I asked if the shelter itself was in danger of being flooded or washed away. She assured me it wasn’t…we could get there, but going further might be difficult for a few days, if all the expected rain came.
Well, wasn’t much option, so we headed out.
It was Sunday, July 9. I spent the day praying for the church family, the services of the day, and for dry shelter that night!
For three miles we headed through the Big Branch Wilderness to Baker Peak. Most of the elevation came just before reaching the peak and involved a challenging quarter mile up a granite outcropping.
Near the summit, the trail opened up to some nice views and even offered cell reception. I wanted to stop, take some pictures, and send a text or two, but the sky rumbled and some threatening clouds hovered to the northwest. The top of a mountain isn’t the best place to linger in a thunderstorm, so we charged forward.
By the time we reached the parking lot for the Little Rock Pond trailhead, we faced the threat of nasty weather blowing in and debated: do we hitch a ride to town to wait out the storm, or do we carry on?
Well, no ride options appeared, so we carried on.
For the next two miles, the sky grew darker. Menacing rumbles threatened. The storm was coming, and fast.
I kept praying that the Lord who keeps our going out and our coming in would grant a “coming in” before the deluge hit…that we could get to the shelter dry.
The trail conditions those two miles were rough, including a challenging stream crossing, but we hastened through them, arriving at the shelter in an hour.
We were dry!
And we had a place to sleep! The shelter sleeps 8, and we were numbers 7 and 8!
Twenty minutes after our arrival, the storm arrived—it poured hard for over an hour, with lots of thunder and lightning.
In the midst of it all, 3 drenched hikers straggled into the shelter, and these strangers, too, needed to be entertained!
Although the rain relented for a while, it returned after hiker midnight—slowly at first, and then torrentially. Sleep eluded me through the night as the relentless downpour ebbed and flowed in its intensity. I could see nothing in the impenetrable darkness, but my imagination ran wild, shaped and colored by the sounds. Pelting rain…running water…thunderclaps….then nearby, the crack of a tree and the crash of its falling into others.
“What if that had fallen on the shelter?!?” I wondered. Trees, after all, surrounded the structure. Surely its metal roof could not withstand such an assault.
“I will lift up my eyes [in the utter darkness]. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth,” I reminded myself. And so, to my Creator-helper I silently prayed that He would protect me and my fellow travelers in the shelter as well as in the tents pitched nearby.
At last, black turned to a dark gray, the rain continuing its steady downpour. As the gray gradually gave way to lighter shades, my fellow hikers stirred and slowly began their morning routines. All were uncertain of their plans for the day, uncertain of trail conditions, of how far they could actually go. Each came to the same conclusion: get to the next shelter 5 miles ahead and decide whether to keep going, stay there, or get off the trail a mile and a half past that shelter where a road crossed the trail.
Realizing that the next shelter—a smaller one with no tenting areas—might be filled to overflowing with a dozen hikers resurfaced in my thinking several times in the hours ahead.
But for now, Cindy and I took our time, allowing others to finish their routines and head out into the rain. And also hoping the rain would subside or quit before we took off!
We were the last to leave the shelter, but just before our departure, one of the tent campers came in to prepare his breakfast. I asked him how he slept—IF he slept. He didn’t. Mentioned that all night long he heard a river flowing beneath his tent platform.
I looked out the front of the shelter and through the trees, I could see the campsite where Blaze and his aunt spent the night. I wondered if they stayed dry…what they would do.
A few moments later, the caretaker appeared. She had scouted the trail to the south, where we had come up the day before. It was impassable. The stream that we struggled a bit to get across the day before was impossible to cross now. The only alternative was to head north. She thought we could get through, at least to the next shelter, without too much difficulty—but couldn’t guarantee it.
With that, the rain subsided, and we headed out. Within minutes, water on the trail covered and soaked our boots, socks, and feet. From here on out, we would trudge right through it all.
And trust that the Lord would preserve us from all calamity (Psalm 121:7), watching over our going out and coming in (v. 8).
To be concluded next week….
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