The Long Trail

As the idea of walking a long distance trail burns away in the back of my mind, every path and gateway appears as an opportunity. Earlier in the year I read Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods, his account of attempting to walk the entire Appalachian Trail. He gave it a fair shot, but its gruelling 2,160 miles eventually got the better of him. I honestly don't think I would have got as far as he did, but still, the idea of completing a self propelled journey of a significant distance is appealing.

When I decided to come to Vermont, I knew that I would mostly be based in the city of Burlington, but budgeted for a few weekend trips in a rental car. Staring at the map or this relatively small state, it became obvious that you could reach any of its corners easily in a day trip, and that there was a nice obvious walking trail dissecting the state down the middle.

The Long Trail is the oldest dedicated long distance hiking trail in the United Stated of America. It runs 273 miles from the Canadian border in the north, down to Massachusetts, and in the southern part of the state actually joins up with the Appalachian Trail. I had to at least set foot on it.

This weekend, we headed to an obvious access point on Route 125, where the signs quite clearly labelled that we had the right trail. All we had to do was pick a direction: North or south? North had the more adventurous feel, looking like it went 'up' rather than stay on the flat. On entering the trail you need to sign in. It enters a wilderness area at this point, and I suppose the authorities want to know how many people they might have lost on the way. Only one other person had set out that day, but it wasn't too surprising considering that it was a very cold day in November and snow was falling.

We only walked for a couple of hours, due to my fingers feeling like they'd disappeared, but it was enough to re-ignite a sense of wonder. 'What would it be like to do the whole thing?' 'Could I do it?' '273 miles is a long way.' These thoughts bounced around my head as we meandered back down the rocky path towards the road. I did, however, make one decision. Nothing would be able to persuade me to walk that trail in November!

Hiking in Dorset: Preparing for an Adventure

Hiking in Dorset: Preparing for an Adventure

I've been planning for an adventure. In my head it works out perfectly. It's been simmering away at the back of my mind for nearly seven years now and it keeps creeping forward in my thoughts. It started with little wanders in the English countryside, more specifically along the coast paths. I've decided I want to be one of those crazy people who attempt the entire coast line of South West England in one go. I want to walk the South West Coast Path.

I have an idyllic picture in my mind of what my adventure will be like. Exploring tiny Cornish fishing villages, camping up on clifftops overlooking the ocean, having deep and meaningful conversations with the locals. In reality I have enough hiking experience to know that it will definitely rain for most of the trip, I will get blisters half a mile from the start point and I'll be fed up of carrying my makeshift home like an exhausted tortoise by lunchtime. On finishing my final Gold Duke of Edinburgh Expedition several years ago, I distinctly remember trudging down a sodden hillside towards Brecon. My knees had aged by 60 years, I couldn't stand the whinging of my team mates any longer and would happily have murdered any of them if someone had offered me cider and a dry jumper in return. That was after four days of hiking. If I do the South West Coast Path, I think I could do it in 45 days, if luck is on my side along the whole route.

I've mentioned this wanderlust to my boyfriend at every opportunity. To start with he was up for coming along, but that was when it wasn't likely. Over the years, my yearning to complete the task has increased, as has his concern that I might actually be mad enough to try it.
"Do you remember when you wanted to climb that mountain in Scotland?"
Yes, I remembered it well. It is worth mentioning that he is totally at home in the mountains. He actually enjoys the 'going up' bit, whereas I'm all for looking up at the pointy stuff, and down at the views, but can happily leave out the strenuous slog in the middle. I had been very excited about walking up a mountain with him.
"You hated it."
That's a bit strong. It wasn't my most enjoyable experience but it had its merits as everything does.
"After ten minutes you were too hot and grumpy and wanted to go back to the car." I had to interject here. The only reason I was so hot was because I couldn't take my waterproofs off. The midges were trying to kill me. I challenge anyone not to get grumpy when a tiny bunch of assassins are out to suck the very life from you as you earnestly attempt to walk up a hill.

I could see his point though, sometimes I do bite off more than I can chew.