My quest to hike the Long Trail began at some point in college while I was attending the University of Vermont. During my freshman and sophomore summers, I was fortunate to land the best work-study job I could imagine; I was paid to hike each day. Granted, I was required to dig some soil samples, count some moths and be devoured by black flies all summer long. Yet on the mountain those summers I developed as a hiker and my ecology skills were greatly enhanced.
Our daily routine required picking up the University research van from the garage, gathering the other workers at the Etymology lab, and then heading towards the mountains. During our commute, there seemed to be many stops along the way; coffee, sandwich at Beaudry’s in Huntington, and a variety of alternative routes all designed to make our trip to the trail head last as long as possible. There was tremendous freedom granted to us and through we often took various liberties, we always accomplished the task for the day, which was assisting with research of high elevation forest decline.
I discovered two things during this time; I found Camel’s Hump in Huntington to be a sacred place for me, and the Long Trail. Camel’s Hump, at 4084 feet, is significant in many ways. Its summit provides extraordinary views in all directions; on clear days you can see north all the way to Montreal, the White Mountains to the east and the High Peaks of the Adirondacks to the west. It is a mountain preserved in its near wild state and not blemished by ski resorts, summit roads or state parks. Yet, it is also accessible and not so overwhelming that it invokes fear. Henry David Thorough, the seminal lover of nature, in his book “The Maine Woods,” was so overwhelmed when climbing Mount Katahdin that he found himself driven to his knees in fear when truly confronted with wilderness. Camel’s Hump is more welcoming than that, yet still a place where one can find solitude and escape.
Vermont’s Long Trail, a “footpath in the wilderness” conceived by James P. Taylor whilst sitting atop Stratton Mountain that connects all the high peaks of the Green Mountains, crosses the summit of Camel’s Hump on its journey from the Massachusetts’ – Vermont border to the Canadian border. I cannot pinpoint the moment when I first realized the Long Trail was a real, tangible entity and not an abstract phantom of a pursuit. I have found in my years my powers of comprehension sometimes lag far behind my intellect. This could also be the result of not dreaming too big. Being raised the child of distant yet pragmatic parents, my father’s greatest lessons that he taught to me were to start working early and never expect too much more than a paycheck in this world.
Upon first glance, hiking the Long Trail was akin to climbing Mount Everest to me. It had the romantic appeal of facing the edge of your abilities, the seduction of solitude and communion with nature, yet the elusiveness of a feat too incomprehensible to begin to undertake. It was filed in the same category of those other adventures that a life lived safely never seems to accomplish; visit the Seven Wonders, sail across the ocean, play in a World Series game or become President of the United States, etc. Yet completing a hike of the Long Trail remained a solid fascination in my mind.
For Vermonters, the Long Trail is as much a part of the state’s identity as its cows, small towns and long winters. The Long Trail however, holds greater distinction beyond the borders of this state. It is the oldest (known) long distance hiking path in the United States. It also gave birth to the idea of the Appalachian Trail, when Benton McKaye, sitting upon the same summit of Stratton Mountain in 1921 that James P. Taylor sat years before, conceived of a trail that connected all the summits of the east coast, from Maine to Georgia. For many who have hiked the Appalachian Trail, many return to hike the Long Trail, or make the (relatively) short detour north to the Canadian border and include it on their AT Thru Hike.
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