The sound of rain and hail drumming on the shelter roof sent me into a profound sleep. However, a second band of storms blew through in the middle of the night and a thunder blast sounding like an artillery strike jolted everyone wide awake. Fortunately, weariness quickly overcame the shock and everyone was snoozing again before much could be said. By the time I was ready to leave the comfort of the loft in the morning, the storm had passed. With all the precipitation during the night, the streams were running pretty high and the ground was thoroughly saturated. Looking down from a high point I could see fields of mist in the lowlands while the sky itself was still fairly overcast, the faint glow of the sun trying to penetrate the clouds. Shortly after Glenn Brook Shelter, a porcupine led me down a section of trail before turning off into the woods. I took a picture, but condensation on the lens made it worthlessly blurry. Humidity has to be pretty darn high.
Coming across a grassy field and then crossing South Egremont Road, I found myself standing at the Shay's Rebellion Monument. I had a vague recollection of it being mentioned in our U.S. History books in school but having just looked at the information about it on Wikipedia, it sounds a little like the Occupy Wall Street movement today. "The financial situation leading to the rebellion included the problem that European war investors (among others) demanded payment in gold and silver; there was not enough specie in the states, including Massachusetts, to pay the debts; and throughout the state, wealthy urban businessmen were trying to squeeze whatever assets they could get out of rural smallholders. Since the smallholders did not have the gold that the creditors demanded, everything they had was confiscated, including their houses." Different time, similar story.
Entering the woods past the aforementioned historical monument, I was attacked by the worst swarm of mosquitoes I'd encountered on the trail. They were absolutely ravenous, so I had to implement countermeasures immediately. Jumping, swatting, shivering and shaking, I dropped my pack and quickly retrieved my head net. Now that the whining creatures could no longer attack my eyes and face, I proceeded more methodically in lathering myself in DEET. The blood-thirsty assault was halted.
Later that day the sun came out and the thermometer spiked. Hot and humid once again. I might not have been too thrilled with the heat, but I can tell you what was. The snakes basking on the wooden bog puncheons were having a jolly good time of it, so much so that I was forced to move them off with my trekking pole. Unwilling to move while on the boards, they were mighty fast in the water. Couldn't help but think back to my time on the Florida Trail. None of these snakes could be aggressive Cottonmouths, could they? Aren't I a little too far north out of their range? I sure hoped so. Not a big fan of hissing reptiles!
It was early afternoon when the first rumblings started and before I knew it I was walking in the rain. No problem really. Because of the sweat and humidity, I was already drenched. However, as time passed, the sky grew ever darker until I was seriously considering pulling out my headlamp as it was hard to make out the track in the deep woods. By mid-afternoon it looked as if night was about to fall. Then the wind hit so violently that it was thrashing the trees about. With the sky as dark as it was and the ferocity of the wind, I realized I needed to find a place to sit this one out. Rushing along, eyes scanning right to left, I finally found shelter under a rock shelf up and off to the left of the trail. Hunkered down for the time being, all I could do was look out at the maelstrom while gulping down an early dinner. It was amazing to me how far a full-grown tree can bend without breaking. I sat there for close to an hour before the storm finally eased, allowing me to continue my journey.
The rest of the day I was trying to make up lost time in order to reach Upper Goose Pond Cabin before dark. The trail was wet and muddy and I was forced to scramble around a couple of areas with fresh blowdowns. Apparently not all the trees were as flexible as the ones I'd seen. Arriving at the cabin in the faintest of the fading light, the world was just a patchwork of gray and black. Stumbling around, I found the stairs leading to the bunks upstairs and it was my good fortune to find an empty one closest to the door, so I didn't have to disturb the others in the room who had already drifted off to sleep. My oh my, what a day!
Water in the Air
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