It was hot day! The climb to the summit was no joke, but I met a few Nobos and had lunch with them at the restaurant on the summit. Killington is a huge ski mountain, so it was quite crowded at the peak, which is easily accessible from a number of trails and a gondola.
On the way down, I passed a group of 12 people. They looked young, so I asked, “Are you a college group?” The girl in front said yes, and I asked which college. “We’re from Boston,” she replied, not actually answering my question. This is the quintessential and hilarious response of every Harvard undergrad (including myself, for a long time) who feels like it’s pretentious and boastful to say the institution’s name, not realizing that this reply along with ultimately saying “Actually, we go to Harvard” is more awkward and unintentionally arrogant than just giving a direct reply in the first place.
A big “H” on one girl’s hat confirmed my suspicions. “You guys go to Harvard don’t you?” When she said yes, I let out a whoop! They are a FOP group – First-Year Outdoor Program. I told them that I was a FOP leader a decade ago (saying the word decade made me feel old), and that my first ever backpacking experience was on a trip exactly like theirs. And now I am thru-hiking the AT! While I instantly realized that a 5-month stint of not showering was on none of the bucket lists of these high achievers, I couldn’t hold in my excitement. I told them that I got my butt kicked on my FOP trip – I had brand new boots (ouch), it rained almost every day, and somehow I always ended up carrying the heavy, awkwardly shaped cooking pot that would jut out of my backpack and poke my spine all day. Looking at the group, I could tell that a couple of them were having similar experiences – one kid was emphatically nodding. I told them that they were badasses, that Vermont was a tough section of the trail, and that FOP was hardcore Leave-No-Trace: no toilet paper allowed, sleeping 10 people under a single tarp, and making sure that every bit of food gets eaten (I remember eating a glob of jelly that I had dropped in the dirt). They be able to tackle anything when they got back on campus. This had them smiling, and I could hear one of them say “Wow, that was really nice of him to say” as I walked away.
I hiked down to the highway, and along the way, I passed the 500 mile marker! It’s crazy to think that the first 100 was so difficult, and here I am at 500, two full states away.
I hitched into town with a father and his ten-year-old daughter in a pickup truck. I got to the Yellow Deli hostel around eight, and I was hit with a sudden wave of nausea. Instead of my typical massive town dinner, I got Gatorade and pretzels from the Walmart across the street and went to bed. It’s strange how fast you can go from exhilaration at the top of a mountain to homesickness while sick in a bunk room full of strangers – just one example of the yin and yang of the trail.
Trails And Travels 