Snorkel was stirring well before first light, leaving the shelter at 5 this morning. I hadn't had the most restful night of sleep as the occasional drone of mosquitoes near my ear bothered me badly, preventing me from going deep into slumber. Nevertheless, I managed to shake out the cobwebs, pack quickly and set out a mere half hour later. There was an initial ascent to Mount Easter, but then it was down into lowlands and fast track. By mid-morning I could tell the day was going to be a hot one. I caught Snorkel at U.S. 7 due to her having to backtrack a bit to find the right turning of the trail. Someone had fastened a poster to the telephone pole, covering up the white blaze which indicated a turn to the left. Joining forces again, we quickly knocked out the ten miles to Salisbury, where Snorkel had arranged to meet a friend. We'd made such good time that we were actually a tad early for the rendezvous, so we walked down the town's main drag to the impressive stone block library, looking more like a mini castle/fortress than a house for books. A quick glance at the Internet was all I needed, then I was ready to head out. Snorkel and I made a tentative agreement to meet up at The Hemlocks if we could. Before leaving town entirely, I swung by the local market, picked up a quart of Rocky Road and downed it while sitting on a shady bench outside. In addition to being a luxury in the heat, the ice cream would provide plenty of calories to burn during the remainder of the day.
If memory serves me correctly there's a great huge pile of rocks on the top of Bear Mountain, the highest peak in Connecticut. Some ambitious and creative hiker actually fashioned what looked to be a throne out of the jumble of rocks. Dropping my pack, I sat down and surveyed all before me, taking the opportunity to snack at the same time. It was in the midst of my regal pose that I met a very friendly thru-hiker from Marseilles, France called the Corsican, who I hiked with until the end of the day. This meant I actually had somebody to snap a photo of me at the Connecticut/Massachusetts state line rather than holding the camera in reverse at arm's length hoping I got a decent shot. Like many other meetings between fellow hikers, we passed the time with trail talk, sharing a bit of our common experience on the trail. Since this was the Corsican's first trail he was loaded with questions when I mentioned that the Pacific Crest Trail was my first. The queries kept coming rapid fire as his curiosity was piqued. Hiking onward in this manner, the hot and humid weather left us dripping.
In the late afternoon we could hear some distant rumblings, paying no attention at first since the sky overhead was clear and cloud-free. As the afternoon turned to early evening, the rumbling sound intensified, which was quite puzzling because from our position we still couldn't see any clouds. That soon changed as we topped the summit of Race Mountain. There, closer than we could have imagined, was a wall of angry,dark-black clouds heading right towards us. It was indeed a race now to get to the shelter before this imminent storm released its full fury. Doing so required a furious climb of Mt. Everett, which sat in the second highest range in the state. Scrambling up the trail, at times over large slabs of inclined, weathered granite, we had to thank our lucky stars that the rain had not yet started. That rock was plenty slick as it was. With rain water pouring down its face, it would have taken much longer and been more treacherous. Dashing over the peak and the final mile to the shelter, we reached safe haven minutes before the storm broke. Lightning, booming thunder, sheets of rain and then pounding hail coupled with a strong wind whipping the branches of the hemlocks about.
It's a glorious feeling to be high and dry in such situations; safely sheltered yet having a front-row seat to witness nature's display. The shelter was full of hikers from a northbound bubble, but a couple of spots in the loft remained. I couldn't help thinking about where Snorkel was. Had she been caught out in all that? I certainly hoped not.
View from the Throne
Connecticut/Massachusetts Border
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