Miles: 13; Elevation gained: 1,700 ft

Breaking camp on Horrid was a wet, slug-infested affair. What I mean is when I squirmed out of my wet bag, and grabbed my flip flops, there were 5-6 of these slimy guys pretty firmly attached. I am not a slugologist – I cannot tell you why or how they appear from nowhere in the night and why black sandals would be attractive, as opposed to, say, Cliff’s white Crocs. All I know is my Grandma battled them in her garden the entire time our lives coincided and she used to put beer in a foil pie pan, leading them to die sort of frat boy deaths in impressively large numbers. Falling on their swords for strawberries… In case your curiosity is piqued: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slug

Yeah, ok, sorry – now about the hike. Most of the day was spent high on the ridge line, bobbing around the 3k ft line. For the first hour or so it remained spooky misty, but the sun burned it off and we had great weather (for once) the rest of the day, though each time we reached a peak, it had trees so unrewarding in that sense beyond banging out miles. Note to self and others: ridge line = no water, and we went far too long w/o, sucking on breath mints till we got to (bwahahaha) Sucker Brook Shelter, about 4 miles in.

Just before the shelter, we heard people clapping, yelling, and whistling down the trail, and when we met them asked if they’d lost a dog. No – they were scaring off a bear, so we just missed one. This stretch of the trail has had tons of posted warnings, and we’ve seen a lot of droppings (and slept on them) but this was closest we’ve come yet. Hanging a bear bag is one of my least fave camp chores – you have to wait until you’re done eating so you can add the dinner trash, then you’re supposed to find a lone, skinny branch extending far out from the trunk 20 feet up and in a spot at least 100 feet from your sleeping point. You tie a line to the bag and then heave it up over the branch with your non-throwing hand holding the line to prevent the bag from crashing to the ground. However if you miss the branch the bag hits the ground anyway which hasn’t done much for the structural integrity of our lunch crackers (platforms/delivery vehicles for cheese, PB, salami, etc).

If you think this is excessively prudent, consider this story we heard from a fellow hiker: http://mountaintimes.info/bear-destroys-car/

If they can open a car door, I’m figuring they can rip open your backpack and ruin everything in it. That sounds generally inconvenient, and frankly, a terrifying way to wake up at night with nothing but night air between you and the bear, no? The reason for a single skinny branch is that they have no problem climbing trees so you need to find a spot that doesn’t support their weight. Some guy down south (in VT) told us he heard one climbing at night, but then a crack as the branch broke, a thud as Yogi hit the ground and a simultaneous wail of pain. But he would have gobbled the picnic basket regardless if the hiker hadn’t run at him yelling. I have digressed again, but bears are on our minds and are an important element and discussion topic along the LT.

After crossing thru the Middlebury Snow Bowl (which includes backcountry bowls for those who skin up and ski down) we crossed the road at Middlebury Gap and climbed almost 1,000 ft up the other side, and slogged another 2 up and down miles to Boyce Shelter, which we splendidly had to ourselves for the night.

PROGRESS NOTE: Just south of Burnt Hill, a bit before the shelter, we passed the halfway point, which is technically 136.35 miles from Canada. Yay for us.