Pits and Peaks
Vermont greeted us with mud. In the early sections, much of the trail involved jumping from stone to stone to avoid losing our shoes to deep mud pits. In other areas we had an option to walk across treacherously slippery lumber boardwalks instead. This persisted through much of the state, but mostly in the national wilderness areas which were the main features of Vermont.
A notable change in our experience was the coincidence of the Long Trail with the Appalachian Trail in Vermont. This 273 mile trail spans the state of Vermont from Massachusetts to Canada and is the oldest major trail in the United States.
Many of the LT hikers we encountered seemed to be trying to finish the trail before starting college classes, putting them on a roughly 17 day deadline to hike the entire 273 miles over difficult terrain and wet conditions. We wished them the best of luck as they flew away. Some are likely to drop out from fatigue or injury. We remember what happened to AT hikers trying to fly through Georgia and North Carolina.
Most of the trail towns in Vermont are resort destinations, catering to skiing vacationers. This tends to be a richer crowd; chain restaurants with cheap calories are few and far between.
The trail coincides with ski slopes in a few places.
Around the time we were approaching Woodstock, VT, we got word of Tropical Storm Debby sweeping across the east coast. We planned to ride out the storm in a motel, but got a local tip on a trailside barn open to hikers and hitched a ride there instead. Free lodging feels better.
We found our way into town for dinner, but the return hitch ran into trouble when we went down the wrong highway without realizing it. We were dropped off at Long Trail Brewery with plans to find another ride from there; watering holes are usually a good place to fish for help.
We tried everything. Pickup changed his Tinder profile to ask for a ride and shot out some messages.
We played the bar trivia night with the team name "We need a Ride".
But nothing panned out, and at closing time we were getting desperate. No Uber, no taxi services, no shuttle drivers we could call. Finally the bartender agreed to drive us back to our barn, and we showed our gratitude with stories and cash.
The far end of the state was less punishing, and we walked across the bridge into Hanover, NH on a Sunday afternoon. The Whites in New Hampshire is considered the hardest section of any of the major long trails in America, and in the first 40 miles we got a small taste of what happens when you combine all the toughest trail terrain features of all of the previous states.
