The closest trail access to where I was visiting a friend in Vermont was Sherburne Pass on US4. I gave no thought to what lay beyond the trail head where my friend, Michael, dropped me off. Well, what lay beyond was Killington Peak, the second highest mountain in Vermont. I climbed steeply uphill for two and a half days. It was brutal. The final .2 of a mile, a blue-blazed trail to the peak summit, was not hiking, it was mountain climbing, searching for a foothold and grasping up feeling for the next handhold, crawling over and between huge boulders. And all the while, that 48-pound pack was trying to pull me backwards off the mountainside. If not for an experienced day-hiker, Pete, who proceeded me for that final stretch, waiting patiently for me to catch up, calling down encouragement, I believe I would have lost it totally mentally.

I was eventually beaten by the Appalachian Trail, not physically as much as mentally. For those of you who might someday do the trek, I list here my mistakes, since I am not knowledgeable enough to give advice.

Mistake #1: I had not bought the expensive topographical maps which would have shown me the terrain ahead. So I never knew how long the "ups" (steep trails) were going to last before I would hit a level stretch, or how far I was from the next shelter or water source. I did have a Data Book which showed the miles only, but I had no way of knowing how many miles I had already walked or how many more miles I had to go before dark. My constant concern was that dark would find me before I reached the next camping shelter or lean-to, or that I would run out of water before finding the next water source.

Mistake #2: My pack weighed 48 pounds, which was far more than most of the male hikers I met along the way carried. Still, I could have walked all day carrying that weight - on level ground. However, the Appalachian Trail has very little level ground. My smoker lungs complained bitterly on the ups. I had stopped smoking three months earlier, in preparation for the trek. Then, just a few days before leaving on my big adventure, I began smoking again. Obviously my mind was one step above a stone at the time! Anyway, a lighter pack, about 35 pounds, would have made the ups much easier.

Mistake #3: I hiked alone. I never felt fear, but I needed emotional support. I needed reassurance from another person that we hadn't missed a tree blaze, that we were on the right trail, that according to her/his maps, we would certainly reach a water source before what little water we were carrying was gone.

There were many, many good things to offset the bad. I'll mention just a few of them. After hiking for hours through dark, very dense forests, I would break out on top of a ridge and the sunlight would bath me and below and around me would be what seemed to be the entire planet. These vistas were awesome beyond belief. I would stop and fix something to eat and linger as long as I dared as I soaked up strength from the sun and the views. With reluctance, I would reenter the dark forest.

One of the very best things was coming across springs from time to time, bubbling up directly out of the earth, so I didn't even have to filter the water (as I did with standing water or a stream). The spring water was cold, very sweet tasting, the best I've ever had. I yearn for it still.

When I finally got down off Killington Peak, I vowed never to go on the trail again. I'd had it; I was going home. The blazed trail ran directly through the Gifford Woods State Park campground. I pitched my tent, rested up for a day and ate, ate, ate. Then I became tormented by indecision. I didn't want to give up but I didn't want to hike on either.

A thru-hiker passed by and came to my campsite in response to my hail. His trail name was Bugs Bunny and he was accompanied by his big white dog, Zoot. I was overjoyed to see them. We had met on the trail and talked briefly the previous day.

We sat on our heels in front of a small fire. Bugs was bearded and wore hiking boots of course, and a full, knee-length nylon skirt. Yes, a nylon skirt. (An unfortunate loss of a roll of film on the trail stops me from inserting an image of this colorful hiker and his canine companion.) Cotton is not worn while hiking. It stays wet too long from perspiration or following a rain. His skirt would dry in minutes. It was a common practice among the men hikers. He carried no other clothing except for one extra pair of socks. No, he did not wear underwear under the skirt, because that would involve carrying an extra pair and having to wash them and so on. These guys traveled light. They even broke off the handle of their toothbrushes to save on weight. A small sack of salt was used for cleaning teeth. A bar of soap would be broken in half and the other half given to another hiker - again, to save on weight.

Bugs and I talked on and on around the fire, looking at his maps, plotting, planning. He gave me his expert advice and encouraged me not to give up. So, refreshed, I decided to follow his advice and give it another go the next morning. I hitch-hiked out of the campground and got dropped off at a post office. Sorted through my pack and mailed six pounds of stuff - stuff I had thought indispensable - off to my home in New Mexico. My pack weighed 42 pounds then, which was still too heavy.

Caught another ride into Rutland, where I rode a bus out of Vermont, around huge mountains, into Massachusetts, bypassing some very difficult hiking terrain. I continued hiking in Massachusetts.

PAUSE - I'm trying your patience. I sense you fidgeting. Okay, enough for now. Come back another time for Part 2 or 3 if you want.

Martha R. Thomas
1997
Belen, New Mexico

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