Planning
With an open weekend in sight and weather to be amenable to springtime hiking, Mark and I decided to hit the trails and do a small section of the Appalachian Trail (AT) that runs through the Berkshire Mountains of western Massachusetts. We were in need of some supplies before we ventured into the wilderness, so a midweek stroll through our local EMS was in order. After purchasing several Backpacker's Pantry dehydrated meals and energy bars, it was off to Barnes & Noble to drink overpriced coffee and leaf through their selection of Appalachian Trail and Massachusetts hiking guides. We finally set our sights on a small 4-mile section of the AT that begins on Jug End Rd. in Egremont, MA and climbs into the Berkshires and follows south to both the Glen Brook and Hemlock shelters. Our plan was to hike to the shelters, set up camp, gather plenty of firewood, and then head off another half-mile or so to Guilder Pond, set high up in the Berkshires, to catch our dinner. Our trip was set and our packs would soon be packed. It was time to kick off the 2010 hiking season.
Day 1: Drive West & Hike Up
Mark arrived at La Casa de Me bright and early Saturday morning. We grabbed some coffees at the local Dunkin' Donuts and hopped on the Mass. Pike west towards Springfield & Albany. 104 miles later we were in Egremont, MA in the very southwest corner of the state, looking for the AT and a spot to park the car. The small sign high up in a tree told us we had arrived - the Appalachian Trail lay before us. We shouldered our packs, locked the car, and headed up into the woods. Little did we know, for the first real hike of the season, going "up" would be a running theme. The trail immediately began to switchback up about 1,500 feet to the top of a mountain overlooking several Berkshire towns. With heart pumping and lungs burning, we made our ascent slowly and deliberately. After a few false summits, we finally reached the top and enjoyed both an amazing view of three states and a ten minute water break.
The trail turned and headed south along the spine of the Berkshires going up and down various peaks along the range. The higher we went in the mountains, the more snow we encountered. The area had as much as 3-4 feet of snow during the winter, and despite a recent warm streak still had well over a foot in some areas. Although hikers before us had carved out the trail, it was slow going through the slushy, heavy snow. Mark's new Keen Klamath gave him ample traction and kept his feet dry, whereas my Keen Targhee, with many miles on them, leaked like a sieve and provided as much ankle support as a pair of canvas Chuck Taylor All-Stars. I've gotten some good miles out of those boots, but I think their time as my prime, go-to hiking boot is coming to a close. They'll stay in the closet, of course, as a perfect pair of light hiking boots for dry conditions. Spring hiking in the Northeast is notoriously wet, so a new pair of boots is definitely in order.
The trail from Jug End Rd. to the shelters is pretty short, so we arrived at the first shelter, Glen Brook, in a little under three hours. We decided to keep heading south to the Hemlock shelters so as to make a fully-educated decision on where to set up camp. The Hemlock shelter afforded little to no flat terrain for the tents, and wasn't situated right next to a waterfall like Glen Brook was, so we turned around and headed back to Glen Brook. Our tent site was wide open and flat underneath several huge oak and pine trees. Thirty yards behind our tents was a raging river with a four foot waterfall, offering us not only stunning visual and acoustic accoutrement but also an endless supply of water. Glen Brook permitted campfires, which is why we chose this hike in the first place, so before we headed out to catch our dinner on our collapsible spinning rods we spent an hour gathering enough dead, fallen firewood to keep us alive for weeks.
Guilder Pond, situated 2,200 feet above sea level in the Berkshire Mountains, has glorious fishing reports and accounts on the internet, which is where 90% of all of my trip planning takes place. Mark and I packed our collapsible spinning rods and about a half-dozen or so lures each and were ready to catch our dinner. We hiked a little more than a half-mile up to the pond and were on edge the entire way for one reason, and one reason only: the higher we hiked, the deeper the snow got. Much to our dismay, we arrived at a fully frozen lake. We had been fooled by the warmer temperatures in the central part of the state that had opened up nearly every freshwater lake near where we lived. Higher up in the Berkshires, where it wasn't getting as warm, all of the ponds were still frozen solid, which isn't very conducive to the fishing gear we carried with us. We angrily hiked back down to our tents at Glen Brook and got our campfire going for the sole reason of lifting our spirits.
There was plenty of firewood for Mark and I to gather, with several old, dead trees propped up against their living counterparts surrounding our site. With the fire safely roaring, our thoughts turned to food and beverage. Two hot cups of Starbucks VIA instant coffee held us over until dinner time, which was still a few hours away. The fireside chatter focused on our impending fatherhood and how trips like this in the future will be even better with our kids in tow. Due to the epic failure of the waterproof liner in my boots, I spent a good chunk of the afternoon and evening around the fire barefoot as my socks, boots and insoles dried. We talked about our on-the-way kids for a while longer, and with our hunger taking control of the situation decided it was time to eat. Mark had chosen Backpacker's Pantry Pad Thai and I the Lasagna, and we were both pleasantly surprised. I found both meals to be decidedly better than other brands of dehydrated food aimed at the backpacking crowd. Two more cups of coffee and a few swigs of the Bacardi product in my flask finished off our meals, and it was time for some more fireside talk regarding wives, children, jobs and dirty jokes.
After we had run the well dry on sophomoric jokes we retired to our tents to do some recreational reading before trying to get some shuteye. I spent my last two waking hours deeply engaged in Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle. The weather forecast for the region had predicted lows of around 40* for nighttime temps, but due to our elevation it was considerably colder. Research on the world wide web confirmed this the following Monday at work. It dipped to 33* that night, and thankfully both of our 20*-rated sleeping bags kept us comfortable. It was my first time using my recently-purchased EMS Solstice sleeping bag, and I was very pleased with how it worked for a rather entry-level synthetic bag. With a t-shirt and longjohn bottoms on, I was plenty warm all night.
Day 2: Hike Down & Drive East
The cold, clear morning came much later than we expected. The night before we planned on waking around 6am, eating a quick breakfast, and then packing up and heading out to the car, hoping to be home in central Massachusetts around noon. That plan went awry when I opened my frozen shut eyelids and checked the time: 8am. We were supposed to be on the trail by now. Oh well, worse things have happened, right?
We quickly brewed up some coffee and enjoyed our last few hours in the woods hovering above the now-cold coals of the previous night's fire. After we finished our morning coffee, we filtered some water for the hike out and started the arduous process of disassembling the tents and packing everything back up. A half-hour later, we were packed up and ready to go. We said goodbye to one of the best campsites we had ever found, and started off on our almost-four mile journey. What goes up, must come down. This rings true in all aspects of life, and certainly stays the course when applied to hiking, as well. Though ascending is far and away more aerobically difficult, descending mountains, for me at least, is far more tortuous on the body. My knees were quick to thank me for picking a short-yet-vertical hike to start the season, and I slowly ambled my way along the trail down the mountain for the next two hours. The coolest part of the entire hike was the rockiness of the trail. I say this because it is the Appalachian Trail, 89 years old and hiked by tens of thousands of hikers. The rocks in the trail have been tread upon by so many people that their hard, sharp edges have softened over time, and they actually show wear spots from decades of being stepped on. I find that fascinating. (You may not, but don't forget: this is my website, and I can talk about the most mundane things in the world as long as I keep paying Google.)
Because this hike was an in-and-out, and not a loop, we saw all the same scenery and re-took all of the same pictures. After a little more than two painful hours, the car was in sight. We threw everything in the trunk and drove our stinky selves to Mom's Cafe in Egremont, MA where we ate what at the time tasted like the best hamburger and chicken salad club ever created. Another awesome hike was in the books, and we knew 2010 would be a banner year for outdoor exploration.
With an open weekend in sight and weather to be amenable to springtime hiking, Mark and I decided to hit the trails and do a small section of the Appalachian Trail (AT) that runs through the Berkshire Mountains of western Massachusetts. We were in need of some supplies before we ventured into the wilderness, so a midweek stroll through our local EMS was in order. After purchasing several Backpacker's Pantry dehydrated meals and energy bars, it was off to Barnes & Noble to drink overpriced coffee and leaf through their selection of Appalachian Trail and Massachusetts hiking guides. We finally set our sights on a small 4-mile section of the AT that begins on Jug End Rd. in Egremont, MA and climbs into the Berkshires and follows south to both the Glen Brook and Hemlock shelters. Our plan was to hike to the shelters, set up camp, gather plenty of firewood, and then head off another half-mile or so to Guilder Pond, set high up in the Berkshires, to catch our dinner. Our trip was set and our packs would soon be packed. It was time to kick off the 2010 hiking season.
Day 1: Drive West & Hike Up
Mark arrived at La Casa de Me bright and early Saturday morning. We grabbed some coffees at the local Dunkin' Donuts and hopped on the Mass. Pike west towards Springfield & Albany. 104 miles later we were in Egremont, MA in the very southwest corner of the state, looking for the AT and a spot to park the car. The small sign high up in a tree told us we had arrived - the Appalachian Trail lay before us. We shouldered our packs, locked the car, and headed up into the woods. Little did we know, for the first real hike of the season, going "up" would be a running theme. The trail immediately began to switchback up about 1,500 feet to the top of a mountain overlooking several Berkshire towns. With heart pumping and lungs burning, we made our ascent slowly and deliberately. After a few false summits, we finally reached the top and enjoyed both an amazing view of three states and a ten minute water break.
The trail turned and headed south along the spine of the Berkshires going up and down various peaks along the range. The higher we went in the mountains, the more snow we encountered. The area had as much as 3-4 feet of snow during the winter, and despite a recent warm streak still had well over a foot in some areas. Although hikers before us had carved out the trail, it was slow going through the slushy, heavy snow. Mark's new Keen Klamath gave him ample traction and kept his feet dry, whereas my Keen Targhee, with many miles on them, leaked like a sieve and provided as much ankle support as a pair of canvas Chuck Taylor All-Stars. I've gotten some good miles out of those boots, but I think their time as my prime, go-to hiking boot is coming to a close. They'll stay in the closet, of course, as a perfect pair of light hiking boots for dry conditions. Spring hiking in the Northeast is notoriously wet, so a new pair of boots is definitely in order.
The trail from Jug End Rd. to the shelters is pretty short, so we arrived at the first shelter, Glen Brook, in a little under three hours. We decided to keep heading south to the Hemlock shelters so as to make a fully-educated decision on where to set up camp. The Hemlock shelter afforded little to no flat terrain for the tents, and wasn't situated right next to a waterfall like Glen Brook was, so we turned around and headed back to Glen Brook. Our tent site was wide open and flat underneath several huge oak and pine trees. Thirty yards behind our tents was a raging river with a four foot waterfall, offering us not only stunning visual and acoustic accoutrement but also an endless supply of water. Glen Brook permitted campfires, which is why we chose this hike in the first place, so before we headed out to catch our dinner on our collapsible spinning rods we spent an hour gathering enough dead, fallen firewood to keep us alive for weeks.
Guilder Pond, situated 2,200 feet above sea level in the Berkshire Mountains, has glorious fishing reports and accounts on the internet, which is where 90% of all of my trip planning takes place. Mark and I packed our collapsible spinning rods and about a half-dozen or so lures each and were ready to catch our dinner. We hiked a little more than a half-mile up to the pond and were on edge the entire way for one reason, and one reason only: the higher we hiked, the deeper the snow got. Much to our dismay, we arrived at a fully frozen lake. We had been fooled by the warmer temperatures in the central part of the state that had opened up nearly every freshwater lake near where we lived. Higher up in the Berkshires, where it wasn't getting as warm, all of the ponds were still frozen solid, which isn't very conducive to the fishing gear we carried with us. We angrily hiked back down to our tents at Glen Brook and got our campfire going for the sole reason of lifting our spirits.
There was plenty of firewood for Mark and I to gather, with several old, dead trees propped up against their living counterparts surrounding our site. With the fire safely roaring, our thoughts turned to food and beverage. Two hot cups of Starbucks VIA instant coffee held us over until dinner time, which was still a few hours away. The fireside chatter focused on our impending fatherhood and how trips like this in the future will be even better with our kids in tow. Due to the epic failure of the waterproof liner in my boots, I spent a good chunk of the afternoon and evening around the fire barefoot as my socks, boots and insoles dried. We talked about our on-the-way kids for a while longer, and with our hunger taking control of the situation decided it was time to eat. Mark had chosen Backpacker's Pantry Pad Thai and I the Lasagna, and we were both pleasantly surprised. I found both meals to be decidedly better than other brands of dehydrated food aimed at the backpacking crowd. Two more cups of coffee and a few swigs of the Bacardi product in my flask finished off our meals, and it was time for some more fireside talk regarding wives, children, jobs and dirty jokes.
After we had run the well dry on sophomoric jokes we retired to our tents to do some recreational reading before trying to get some shuteye. I spent my last two waking hours deeply engaged in Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle. The weather forecast for the region had predicted lows of around 40* for nighttime temps, but due to our elevation it was considerably colder. Research on the world wide web confirmed this the following Monday at work. It dipped to 33* that night, and thankfully both of our 20*-rated sleeping bags kept us comfortable. It was my first time using my recently-purchased EMS Solstice sleeping bag, and I was very pleased with how it worked for a rather entry-level synthetic bag. With a t-shirt and longjohn bottoms on, I was plenty warm all night.
Day 2: Hike Down & Drive East
The cold, clear morning came much later than we expected. The night before we planned on waking around 6am, eating a quick breakfast, and then packing up and heading out to the car, hoping to be home in central Massachusetts around noon. That plan went awry when I opened my frozen shut eyelids and checked the time: 8am. We were supposed to be on the trail by now. Oh well, worse things have happened, right?
We quickly brewed up some coffee and enjoyed our last few hours in the woods hovering above the now-cold coals of the previous night's fire. After we finished our morning coffee, we filtered some water for the hike out and started the arduous process of disassembling the tents and packing everything back up. A half-hour later, we were packed up and ready to go. We said goodbye to one of the best campsites we had ever found, and started off on our almost-four mile journey. What goes up, must come down. This rings true in all aspects of life, and certainly stays the course when applied to hiking, as well. Though ascending is far and away more aerobically difficult, descending mountains, for me at least, is far more tortuous on the body. My knees were quick to thank me for picking a short-yet-vertical hike to start the season, and I slowly ambled my way along the trail down the mountain for the next two hours. The coolest part of the entire hike was the rockiness of the trail. I say this because it is the Appalachian Trail, 89 years old and hiked by tens of thousands of hikers. The rocks in the trail have been tread upon by so many people that their hard, sharp edges have softened over time, and they actually show wear spots from decades of being stepped on. I find that fascinating. (You may not, but don't forget: this is my website, and I can talk about the most mundane things in the world as long as I keep paying Google.)
Because this hike was an in-and-out, and not a loop, we saw all the same scenery and re-took all of the same pictures. After a little more than two painful hours, the car was in sight. We threw everything in the trunk and drove our stinky selves to Mom's Cafe in Egremont, MA where we ate what at the time tasted like the best hamburger and chicken salad club ever created. Another awesome hike was in the books, and we knew 2010 would be a banner year for outdoor exploration.