Day 65: To Stratton or Not to Stratton, or “That’s When it Started to Rain…”

Summary

June 29th

Kid Gore to Stratton Pond Shelter

NOBO mile#1640.1

Tolmann’s daily mileage 15.1

Tolmann’s total mileage 616.4

I wasn’t the last to leave the shelter this morning, but it was close. The day started OK, but the trail was slippery, and it didn’t take long until I twisted in the wrong way and it hit me in my weak spot in the middle of my back. I managed to get myself to the next shelter, but started to doubt my aggressive goal of another 15 mile day, which included going up and over Stratton Mountain at 3910 feet. In fact, catastrophizing (as always), I was thinking about getting off-trail. One of the hikers taking a break at the shelter said that there was a blue blaze around the mountain to the Stratton Pond Shelter, which was my goal for the day, after which it would just be another 10 miles to RT 11, and a hitch into Manchester. That sounded pretty good to me, but it would mean deviating from the AT, and once started down the slippery slope of skipping sections, it would be far easier to start to those that were hard, or scared me. And I wasn’t sure it was worth continuing if I started compromising now. Still, as I said, I was catastrophizing…

In addition, there was another hiker at the shelter who seemed very familiar with this section of the trail, and I asked him whether it was reasonable to attempt the remaining 10 miles up and over Stratton to the shelter, and he said he thought that was a stretch. That was enough to make me think that I would have to blue blaze.

I had maybe 4 miles to go to the road crossing that led to the blue blaze, so, as I hiked, I rationalized and argued with myself over and over. I even went to far as to try to convince myself that taking the blue blaze would end my hike. I’m not sure if I was doing that because I wanted to push myself to do the mountain, or because I wanted to just stop hiking. I thought about how much I wanted to be home for Fourth of July, to be with family. I thought maybe I could just go home for a week to rest, eat well, and then I could come back and start where I left off.

To climb Stratton or not to climb Stratton, that was the question. Or really, can I be OK with not climbing Stratton, or can I not be OK with it. I really didn’t think I had it in me…

As I approached the road crossing, I met up with Coins, a SLASHer (Super Long-Ass Section Hiker) I had met at Kid Gore Shelter. He had started at Harper’s Ferry a week after I did. He had been at the shelter where I talked about my back issues, and the question of the blue-blaze had come up. I told him I was still struggling with the decision. He said he really didn’t think the 1800 ft of elevation gain over 3 miles was going to be a big deal, and suggested I just do it. If I had issues, he said, I could always turn around. Well, knowing the last part was kind of hyperbole, I thought, “Just do it!” (Damn Nike for recontextualizing a perfectly good, appropriate statement!)

So off I went up the trail to Stratton Mountain. I stopped to refill my water bottles a short way up, then just went into my climbing head.

When I hear something like 1800 feet over 3 miles, it’s easy to picture that as a consistent grade all the way. As it turned out, the first portion was a very gentle grade. Then it became moderate to steep, with occassional stone steps and rock scrambles. It really didn’t take long to get to the initial ridge line, where the slope became gentle to moderate. Then the last section was a more aggressive grade with switch backs until it approached the summit. I passed a family coming down early on, and their comment was: “It’s so much easier coming down!” Great! On the ridge walk, I passed a man in an ATC (Appalachian Trail Conservancy) shirt, and he said something like “looking good!” Which was a morale boost.

I’ve said this before: 3 miles doesn’t sound like a lot, but on foot, it is at least 1 1/2 hours (with a 2 mph pace). But eventually, I was standing at the base of the fire tower at the summit. My back was sore, but that has been kind of par-for-the-course, and the center of my back had calmed down (with help of some ibuprofen). Knowing I had a little less than 3 miles back down to the shelter, I felt a wave of pride roll through me. You’d think by now, I’d start believing in myself. But I think I’ve spent a lifetime feeling physically less than capable, and less and less capable as I have gotten older. Four years ago, I got winded climbing stairs, and weighed nearly 270 pounds. So each victory needs to be taken in, made a part of me. I climbed up a couple flights of the fire tower, got a photo or two, then started down towards the shelter. 

I must have been feeling TOO confident (what, me?) because I began moving too fast for the trail conditions, caught my frickin’ clown shoes on something (a rock, I think) and did a full face plant, my poles caught under my falling body. My left knee squarely struck a large rock, and I thought, that’s it!! I couldn’t get up right away, so I lay on the trail, swearing up a storm. Then I slowly pushed myself up, got to my feet and looked down at muddy, ragged hole in my pants leg. I put weight on the leg, and it held. I thought, I’d better keep moving while the knee is holding out; I’ll check myself out at the shelter. I didn’t even lift the pant leg to see if I was bleeding (it felt like I had broken the skin) although I looked to see it the pant leg was showing any blood, which it didn’t seem to…

I probably had another hour of hiking to get to the shelter, but as long as things didn’t feel seriously wrong, I wanted to get as far as I could. The trail leveled out earlier than I expected, but that just meant more time on the gradual decline; I wasn’t fooled into thinking I had gone further than I really had.

When I had gone most of the way, the adrenaline wore off, and I started to slow down. This is the point where it’s easy to get frustrated. And that’s when it started to rain…

When I got to the shelter, it was teeming with teenagers from a nearby summer camp out for a mutli-day SOBO hike. This particular shelter was large and could accommodate 18 or more hikers, but it seemed to me that there was easily that many with the kids and other hikers. However, they said there was room, and I was able to get a bunk. Some of the campers (the boys) went off to set up tents, and the girls took the loft area of the shelter, so it worked out OK.

But it is busy, and noisy.

After changing my wet shirt and t-shirt for something dry, I sat on my bunk, took off my shoes, then removed the legs of my convertible pants. I had two minor scrapes on my knee, but it was pretty swollen. I cleaned it of with an anti-microbial wipe, and left it open to air. I was more convinced than before that I need to get to Manchester tomorrow to take a day off, and get some ice on this thing. Then we’ll see.

We’ve had a few more hikers come in, so now the shelter is really at capacity. There’s supposed to be a caretaker here (and a $5 fee). That is because it is a high use area, and they need someone to keep on top of the privy. Well, no caretaker. And the privy is full. <sigh>

It’s only a night. And it’s raining…