• Hanover Food Coop, NH (1756.7) to Trescott Road (1706.6)
• 1148 feet ascent, 748 feet descent 

Today is a nero experiment. The Historian’s back hurts and he is still struggling with getting enough food to run his engine. With our Katahdin climb scheduled so soon, my my engine is running overtime. We decided to do errands in town and then The Historian will drop me off for a quick slack pack to pick up some of the disjointed bits and pieces we have not hiked in the gap between Hanover and Glencliff.

I missed this section in 1975 because The Historian had limited time for a visit with me. Either I could skip ahead to the start of the Whites, or he would have to miss the Presidentials. I decided to skip ahead for love. During the time we lived in Hanover in the 1990s, we day hiked some of the missing parts but not all of them. I am filling in the pieces now.

Morning Garden Patrol

We had another peaceful morning with our friends enjoying their multi-generational family life. One thing we particularly enjoyed is the early morning garden inspections. 

A few years ago we had a large raised bed garden spread out along a .15 mile meandering path. Each morning we would take our coffee and our dog out for a lap through the garden. We have since downsized and have a small garden but we still enjoy morning coffee inspection of the garden. 

Our friends have a large vegetable garden plot and multiple berry patches as well as flower gardens, fruit trees, and nut trees. Morning garden inspection made us think about our gardens past and future, and appreciate the slow and exciting process of food production. 

Town Chores

After breakfast we made a list of our town chores. We have all of our meals already; they arrived in our mailed resupply. We needed to add some protien bars, rasins, m and ms, chia seeds, and protien drink. We knew we could find the very things we wanted from the Hanover Food Coop. We also needed more bug spray, available from the outfitters nearby. 

The drive to town included passing over several bridges, two of them covered bridges. Even having lived in the area before, the novelty of covered bridges never wears off.

The light from inside the bridge is as much fun as seeing the bridge from the outside. 

Hanover Coop

The Coop store on the Appalachian Trail is a lot smaller than I remembered. There is a large, modern supermarket version but I wanted nostalgia so we went to the original store. 

The food selections were amazing, as always. It was hard not to over buy dramatically. We had some car days coming up so our over selection of food did not punish our backs. 

When we got to the checkout, they asked if we were members. Low and behold, we were still in the member records from 1996. 

A Snippet of Hiking

Town chores accomplished, we ate our Coop-acquired lunch in the car at the Dartmouth playing fields, literally parked on the Appalachian Trail.

After downing the last of my sparkling water, I tightened my shoe laces and took off. The Historian would drive to the next trail crossing and I would race to meet him, covering the short 4 miles as quickly as I could. 

This would fill in one of the gaps and allow me to advance to the next non-contiguous needed section tomorrow. 

New Terrain 

I scampered along as best I could. However, the trail character was very different from Virginia. When you walk from one geographical region to the next, the changes are noticeable but more gradual. Leapfrogging 700 miles was a surprise. 

My brain felt like it could move along but the surface under my feet was unfamiliar and my steps were less sure. Looking around, I was reassured by the vegetation and rocks. We love the northern mountains, in New England, and in Montana. I felt more at home than I had in a long time. 

Gradually, my feet grew accustomed to the terrain and I made good progress. 

Boggy Area

Virginia has swampy areas filled with water and rhododendron. New England has ponds and bogs. Today, smack in the middle of rocky, wooded uphill trail was a boggy section. Thankfully, the majority of the transit was accomplished by a bog bridge. Although it listed left and right as you passed over it, it did not sink or bob like the bog bridges of old.

In 1975, if present, bog bridges were half logs with the cut side up. They were slippery devils. Often they immediately sank when you stepped on them. Occasionally, when you stepped on one end, the other end sprang up like a teeter totter and down you would go. 

Mostly Uphill Hiking 

Most of the hike was uphill. I was good with that. Although the temperatures were warm, it was in the 80s with moderate humidity so it was a welcomed relief from the back-to-back Virginia heatwaves. 

The trail showed little evidence of use and I saw only one other hiker. I was surprised by that since it was a nice trail right outside of town. 

Wow, Glad it Wasn’t Me

As I pulled up the summit of Velvet Rocks, a SOBO who looked a little harried zoomed by me. I was somewhat surprised, as we were used to the “say hello and share trail names” routine with other thru hikers.

I called out, “Hello! Are you one of the rare, elusive SOBOs?” The hiker, who was by then past me, looked back at me and it was as if he was registering my presence for the first time. He acknowledged he was a SOBO and said he was hurrying to town. 

We shared a laugh about the intensity of town-drive. I encouraged him that he was close, and told him how to find the Coop and where all the cold drinks were in the store. He was appreciative. 

We passed on. Very soon I came to a long skid mark at the top of a 10 foot drop-off. I could only shake my head. The slide must have been heart-stopping. Save for a tree, he would have skidded off the cliff. No wonder he seemed a little fuzzy. 

Thankfully, the tree was there to stop him. Below the tree would have been a rough landing. The tree with the blaze in the photo below is the opposite side of the same tree with the skid mark. 

We all are guilty of dashing to town on occasion, but prudence is always in order. I won’t judge, maybe his shoes were worn out and he had new shoes waiting for him in town.

Velvet Rocks

I finally arrived at the aptly named Velvet Rocks. It is crazy that I never hiked here when I lived here. They are just a short distance from town and so pretty! 

Meeting My Trail Magician 

After passing the rocks, it was a short distance to where The Historian was waiting for me.

Just at the road crossing someone had thoughtfully left a small cooler of frozen water bottles for hikers. I looked in the cooler but didn’t take any since I was done for the day and had my very own trail magician waiting for me. 

I found  him sitting in a small parking lot attentively watching for my reappearance. It had been strange to hike without him, but it had been OK too. 

I knew he was supporting my hike from the car as much as if he was on the trail beside me. I was grateful he had time to rest his back and keep a little weight on.

Tomorrow we will go back on the trail together to complete the hike to Glencliff. It has been good to have the time off, zeros and neros, but I miss the trail. I look forward to getting back out there and the rhythms of being on the trail and sleeping where you end up each day.

The end is so close, I can see the Canadian border over the mountaintops. In this stretch of hiking across the Green Mountains, I found three key ways to keep the trail on my side. 

1. Side quests are your best friends

This section of the trail taught me the importance of having a plan, and maybe not always sticking to it. Enter what I love to call my side quests.

The most amazing side quest was the Lake Mansfield Trout Club (Shoutout Birds Eye and Bird Eye’s family for getting us in!) We hiked down a side trail to Lake Mansfield and spent the entire afternoon watching fly fishermen on the water, playing cards, and doing puzzles. In the evening, we had a delicious dinner and hiked back to the Long Trail as the sun began to set. Pretty soon, we had to hike with our headlamps in the pitch black and buggy night. 

Then, we went on another side quest, this time down a side trail through a short cave in the dark. We climbed down a tall ladder and between boulders, hearing the sounds of the evening and our voices echoing between rock walls. It was just the last bit of adrenaline I needed to keep pushing a few more miles to camp for the night. 

On the summer solstice, we took advantage of the extra daylight. At the time, I was hiking with three other eager northbound hikers and one hiker’s supportive parents. The six of us went on an off-trail side quest to the Eden General Store. Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream and fresh blueberries made for the perfect afternoon. We had plenty of time to finish the miles for that day and make it to the Tillotson Camp shelter.

These side quests were just little stops on the much bigger adventure of hiking the Long Trail, which included beautiful main events like climbing the tallest mountain in Vermont, the iconic Mount Mansfield.

2. Make every day fun (and make friends!)

Why get up at sunrise to hike in the pouring rain when you don’t have to? On the morning of the 22nd day, I was a little over the sufferfest. I had woken up to the sound of rain pouring over my slug-covered tent at Tillotson Camp shelter. Rather than getting up with the sun to hike in the pouring rain, I went back to bed and began hiking at 11 am after the rain had cleared. We didn’t have to hike very far that day, so why rush?

Our mini tramily grew from two to four over the last few days on trail. I enjoyed seeing more thru-hikers and section hikers again, after a few days of seeing barely anyone else on trail. There was a sense of camaraderie toward the end, celebrating each tiring mile to Canada. When I would get stuck in the repetition of the trail, I would ask myself, “How can I make this day more fun?”

3. Collect stories

Other times, I would ask myself, “Would this make for a good story?” It was like I was on a mission: to collect stories like Pokémon cards. 

I tried to own up to my trail name, Storyteller, to listen, tell, and document the stories of this Long Trail journey. This kind of thinking helped me get through some of the tougher miles. When the trail didn’t feel fun, at least the hard moments could make for a funny story. 

One story made me grateful for community and the kindness of strangers. On the morning we left Johnson, VT, we resupplied at the Dollar General and waited in the pouring rain to hitch a ride to the trail. We stuck out our thumbs to the road as cars sped by, splashing our raincoats with cold, wet puddles. My hair turned to streaks, and our fresh clothes were soaked. We were two hikers who could walk for miles for days on end, who were now standing in the pouring rain and praying for a ride.

For weeks, I had been thinking back to the phrase, “you are the cause of your own suffering,” and laughing at myself. I couldn’t help but think about how just hours before, I had a hot shower and blueberry pancake breakfast. I was out in the elements again, by my own free will. 

Just when I was dreaming of food, a delivery truck driver stopped to deliver us trail magic. This transformed us from two sad hikers in the rain to two smiling hikers in the rain. We continued waiting for a ride, with a little more hope. Then, a kind couple with a very hairy dog saved us from the thunderstorm and drove us to Johnson Hardware. At the store, we were welcomed inside and waited out the rain. 

I was overwhelmed by the kindness of strangers and the community I had found on this trail. Each little encounter became a big story that helped me laugh at myself and the rain, and ultimately move forward.

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