Miles: 10.2; Elevation gained: 2,200 ft; Mile reached: 173.9

This is a rewarding but really rugged stretch. Now that I think about it, it’s rugged from here on out. The scramble out of the Gap puts you on an overlook right away facing south, and the whole ridge from Abraham to Mad River is visible on a good day. Always good to look back on what you already dusted, leading to something like “holy sh*t I hiked all that in one day?” But your body knows you did, even after a rest day.

The real game changer was when we got to Molly Stark’s balcony, which looks kind of NE. It looked like crop dusters full of red, gold and green paint had flown over the mountains overnight. Partly a function of time but also just getting further north. Pretty much peak, and I’d say at least a week early. Leaf peepers coming up on the usually reliable Columbus Day weekend might be a bit frustrated this year.

Having Montclair Glen as a goal makes sense, as it’s right at the base of the awesome Camels Hump so you can wake up and get to the summit in the morning. However, one pays for the convenience by scaling the steep rock face of Burnt Rock, then hauling up Mt Ethan Allen (at 3,675 day only about 400 feet lower than Camel’s) and steep pitching down 1,000 feet to the Lodge. I had not fallen once this year, but the back side of Burnt Rock was wet, and one portion of rock face stretched across the trail and had a knotted rope tied to a tree, meant to help you lower yourself down the rock. I put my trek poles in one hand, grabbed the rope with the other, swing out on the rock and… boot out from under me, hit the rock, and slid down a bit. Sort of like a keel haul but w/o a boat. Scrapes and bruises at a pain level a bit worse than annoying. Every once in a while the Trail has to remind us who’s boss.

The Lodge (where there is still 1977 graffiti from some of my Stowe School classmates who winter camped there that year) was easily to most rodent-infested I’ve slept in. As soon as we entered they were on our packs looking for food right in front of us. They frolicked on the table, chased each other over our bags occupied by our sleepy, aching bodies. This happens when campers are sloppy and and don’t pack out every bit of food. There were mayonnaise packets on the floor: dreaded day hikers! By 9:00 they were gone cuz all our food was in the bear box, but even to this grizzled old ‘packer, it was a bit much. Leave no trace, people!