Vermont Long Trail | Division 8
Cooley Glen to Birch Glen Camp
Some days the mountains put on a show. Other days they seem determined to hide behind the curtains.
Division 8 was a little of both.
The sky hung low over the Green Mountains, the air was thick, and everything seemed bathed in varying shades of grey. It never really rained, but the mist came and went throughout the day. Occasionally the clouds would part just enough to let a little sunlight through.
Sunny breaks, I believe they’re called.
Do they call them that in Vermont?
It gave the entire walk a slightly spooky atmosphere. Mountains appeared and disappeared, distant ridges dissolved into clouds, and even the trees seemed reluctant to emerge from the mist.
For a day with so little color, there was an awful lot to look at.
Walking Through Liquid Air
The first climb takes you toward Mount Grant, where I understand there is a nice view to the south.
I’ll have to take somebody’s word for it.
My view was pea soup.
There’s something peculiar about walking through those enclosed, creamy spaces. Maybe it’s just me, but I always feel like I walk faster when the world closes in. Without distant landmarks or much scenery beyond the next few yards, the miles seem to disappear.
A few climbs and descents eventually bring you down to Lincoln Gap.
And, as we’ve established on the Long Trail, gaps exist primarily to give hikers another opportunity to climb a mountain.
This time, that mountain was Abraham.
On Top of the World
The climb out of Lincoln Gap begins rather gently. For a couple of miles, the trail gains elevation without making much of a fuss.
Then the mountain remembers what it’s supposed to be doing.
The grade steepens, and the walking becomes a succession of boulders, rock ledges, and scrambles. You increasingly need your hands as well as your feet.
The upper slopes of Mount Abraham are wonderfully rocky, and the forest gradually gives way to more exposed terrain.
At the summit, ropes mark the walking areas to protect the fragile alpine vegetation.
And then there’s the view.
Three hundred and sixty degrees of mountains, valleys, and sky, assuming the clouds cooperate.
Even at a little over 4,000 feet, it’s difficult not to feel as though you’re standing on top of the world.
Just below the summit, a side trail leads to the wreckage of a Cessna that crashed here decades ago. The passengers survived, and the airplane has since become something of a Long Trail attraction.
Naturally, I went to look.
I even took a photograph, although I suspect this is one of the most photographed wrecked airplanes in hiking history.
Mostly, I wanted to scrub the graffiti off it.
A Long Line of Mountains
Beyond Abraham, the Long Trail follows a remarkable succession of high points along a generally continuous ridgeline.
Lincoln Peak, Nancy Hanks Peak, Cutts Peak, Mount Ellen, and eventually General Stark Mountain.
The names change, but the basic arrangement doesn’t.
Up, across, down a little, then up again.
Occasionally the trail dips into the trees. Elsewhere it crosses exposed rock, where the wind, clouds, and occasional patch of sunshine make the surroundings feel entirely different from one moment to the next.
There are ski areas scattered along the ridge, their lifts and winter trails crossing the landscape.
Mount Ellen has a broad, rounded summit with views when the weather permits. Farther along, Stark’s Nest brings a more rugged character to the ridge.
By the time you reach General Stark Mountain, the long procession of summits feels as though it is finally coming to an end.
Naturally, it isn’t.
Not Quite a Staircase
The descent from Stark Mountain toward Appalachian Gap is steep.
And by steep, I mean there are places where calling it a walk would be generous.
The trail drops over rock faces, with steel rungs anchored into the stone to help hikers negotiate the more awkward sections.
It’s an interesting piece of trail engineering, particularly when you’re descending rather than climbing.
There’s also plenty of exposed rock without any hardware to help.
Getting down requires a little patience, careful footing, and a willingness to use whatever parts of your anatomy happen to be available.
Eventually, the trail reaches Appalachian Gap.
Another road crossing.
Another climb waiting on the other side.
A Few More Mountains
The climb beyond Appalachian Gap takes you over Baby Stark and Molly Stark Mountain.
By this point, the mountains are smaller, but that doesn’t necessarily make the walking easier.
The trail returns to the enclosed forest, where rocks, roots, and moss cover much of the ground.
Snowshoe trails intersect the Long Trail in several places. There are enough of them that I managed to wander onto a few before realizing I was no longer following the proper route.
Apparently, walking through the woods in October wasn’t enough. I also needed to explore Vermont’s winter trail system.
The mist continued to drift through the trees, and the light was beginning to fade.
Before Someone Turns Out the Lights
I reached Birch Glen Camp just as Mother Nature was flipping off the lights.
Somewhere during the afternoon, I’d fallen into that familiar bit of hiking arithmetic:
I can make it before dark.
It’s an optimistic calculation, usually performed without allowing for difficult footing, navigation mistakes, or the general tendency of mountains to get in the way.
This time, I got away with it.
By now, I was becoming reasonably proficient at setting up my tarp by red headlamp.
A useful skill, although not one I particularly recommend making a habit of practicing.
Eighteen point nine miles of ridgelines, rock scrambles, mist, and mountains that appeared and disappeared throughout the day.
Almost no color.
And one of my favorite days on the Long Trail.
Still walking.