The Long Trail! Vermont! G'bye, Flatlands! (This is at the top of a 1200 foot climb. Or so.)

The wind storm blew all the leaves down before they could change color. Okay. Not all of them.

Beaver ponds. And mud.

It sure looks like this bog bridge goes below the pond ahead (notice the rain). Well, it does. The beaver dam has been built over portions of it, which have had to be rerouted.

The view from the bog bridge. The water is about two feet above the trail, but held back by those pesky engineers. And foliage is just beginning.

Goddard Shelter, at 3540 feet, just short of the summit of Glastenbury Mountain.

Glastenbury Fire Tower.

Views across the Vermont mountains, with the clouds rolling by.

Definitely, at 3700 feet, in to the sub-alpine zone.

It was nearly impossible to see any signs of civilization from the top, except for some windmills to the southwest. The nearest road, by trail, is about ten miles. But there are snowmobile trails at the base of the tower.

A close-up of the pine trees.

This actually came out. Told you, Rama.

It was well in to the 40s overnight, but the sun the next day was welcome.

The trail in Vermont is nice. Except when it is mud. All the spring rains were still keeping it that way.

Red leaves above a beaver dam.

Vermont mud.

The next challenge: Stratton.

Stratton Mountain fire tower.

There are many stories about the idea for the Trail. The Stratton idea, shown here, is generally accepted.

I was there yesterday. The little labels help a lot.

The GMC caretaker cabin below the summit, with Somerset Reservoir in the background.

More views from Stratton.

Rolling clouds near Stratton.

Towards the Stratton gondola station.

A register at the base of the tower.

The Catamount Trail is a backcountry ski trail which parallels (and sometimes follows) the Long Trail from Massachusetts to Canada. I have to do that some time.

Stratton Pond. I used the privy nearby.

A little foliage.

Vermont is so pretty.

The first wilderness since Virginia.

Foliage in a lake.

Long views down the valley towards Manchester.

These falls were slippery. I think the pictures were probably worth the risk. Had I broken my leg, well...

At first I thought the log was in the way, but I think it adds to the overall composition.

Stream in the Green Mountain National Forest.

Who is the monkey hanging from the bridge.

Now he is hanging two handed. Right near the Peru Peak shelter.

Rocky climb up Baker Peak.

A larger stream. Maybe Big Branch?

Trees and foliage. Durned beavers.

Red in the water. Which way is up?

Little Rock Pond at the Lula Tye Shelter.

Red mushrooms in the sun.

Red leaves in the sun.

This was near White Rocks National Recreation area. People have basically built a mini-stonehenge. I have no idea why.

Cousin Nate takes a drink over Clarendon Gorge.

Clarendon Gorge.

Clarendon Gorge: Nate is going to fly. We made fun of the people pussyfooting across the bridge, as if going slower was going to make it less likely to break. We, on the other hand, had jumping contests.

On the bridge.

It's hard to see, but the bridge is bouncing.

Is he going to jump (he better).

Indeed.

After Nate narrated my getting in to the water to my mom, I went over the pros and cons of jumping. The cons were many. The pros were that my clothes and shoes were on the other side of the river. It was damn cold.

Ready (no, I am not going to dive).

Go!

Clarendon Gorge Suspension Bridge from below.

A field of Jewelweed.

A little foliage as we make our way towards Killington.

Nathan somehow managed to look happy in this picture. It was dark, cold, and wet. And we had no food, and miles to go before we'd sleep.

Here everyone masked out anger and bitterness, except my face got cut off.

After some bollixed-up plans, Nathan and I met my dad near the summit of Killington, in the rain and the dark. And we were darned happy to see him.

Maine Junction. 487 miles to go!

Mushrooms take over an old tree.

Read the sign very closely. I didn't know I was on the Appalachian Tral. You'd think the GMC would, after years of making tral signs, get the spelling right. I mean, the Long Tral has been around for nearly a century!

Lots of maples coming out.

A cascade near the Stony Brook Shelter. Also the water source. Also a good reflection.

Me, Nate, and the Israelis, whose names I forget.

One of many New England stone walls. It's amazing to realize that most of the forest was farmland in the 1800s, until the New Englanders gave up.

The Whites far away.

The Whites again. I was excited to get there.

Range upon Range in Vermont, looking towards the Adirondacks.

A cut tree grows a 'fro.

Me admiring a very large maple. The coolest thing was how none of the saplings grew in an almost perfect circle around this much larger tree. I imagined how many taps you could screw in to it, and all the syrup which would come pouring out (and have to be boiled for days).

A monarch on ragweed.

Maple sap lines across the Appalachian Trail.

They were about six feet off the ground, so I had to try not to get clotheslined.

The view up through a large pine stand.

The same view, except headlamp-lit.

Crossing a Vermont field.

Nate, determined, leads the way.

Yah know yah're in tha boonies when you gotta take Podunk Road somewhere.

Crossing the Connecticut.