Woods Wanderer

After a lengthy session on the computer, putting together a collection of philosophical essays, I pull on my boots, grab a teardrop pack then head out the door. I drive to the Milton Pond Town Forest only half an hour away for a day hike. I’m not in the mood for a longer drive into the mountains, but I need a woods fix. This’ll have to do.

Late morning and mid-week, there’s only one other car parked at the trailhead. This town forest isn’t a wilderness, but it looks like I’ll have the place pretty much to myself for a while. That’s good. That’ll make it easier to groove on the wild.

The three-quarter-mile Pond Access Trail is a beaten path, ten feet wide in places, but it gets me to Four Corners where there are several options. Usually I do the Pond Circuit Trail, as most people do, but this time I opt for the longer Ridgeline Trail. A much narrower trail, it winds deeper into the woods, away from the pond, then swings around in a 3-mile loop. I break a sweat as the path slowly rises to higher ground.

Numerous mud holes, high humidity, and red efts on the trail tell the story: it has been a very wet summer. The vegetation is thick, giving this forest a wilder feeling than one would expect while hiking anywhere in the mostly developed Champlain Valley. I’m digging it. I’m also maintaining a steady, two-mile clip and feeling the burn in my legs. Yeah, after nine straight days of philosophical abstractions, it feels good to be physical. It feels good to connect with my animal self.

Just before reaching a saddle between two hills, I stop long enough to catch my breath and drink some water. There’s no breeze, no birds singing, no sound at all. I’m pleasantly surprised by this deep forest silence. The rest of the hike is just as pleasant. A pair of hikers slips past me while I’m lounging at a lookout, eating lunch an hour later, but I’m still feeling the wildness. And before even finishing this hike, I resolve to come back and do this trail again soon, real soon. It’s so close to home.

Tags: Champlain Valley, solo hiking, Vermont woods, wildness

Last week I went into the mountains with my snowshoes, but when I saw how little snow there was on the ground, I left them in my car. A mile and a half back, though, the snow was over half a foot deep. That made for a somewhat rigorous hike, post-holing most of the way. Hmm… with temps above freezing, I would have been lifting a lot of heavy snow had I been wearing the snowshoes. It was a tough call.

A couple days ago, after a late winter storm had dumped another half foot of the white stuff, I went out again. This time there was plenty of snow on the ground, but the trail had been packed down by weekenders, so it was pointless to put on my snowshoes. Once again, I walked instead.

Even though it has been a mild winter, spring has not yet arrived. That said, there are sure signs that it’s right around the corner. Woodpeckers are knocking on hollow trees, the days are over eleven hours long, and the sun on cloudless days is very strong. I stopped on a footbridge during my walk to relish the open leads of water in the rivulet below. A few more days with temps above freezing could melt away all the snow around me. Some years it happens fast.

I’m looking forward to tramping in cold mud again but walking through the woods on a sunny day without sinking into the snow is pleasant enough. And the forest silence always works its magic no matter what time of year it is. Breathing fresh air, stretching my legs, and running wild for a couple hours – sometimes that’s all it takes to make my day. It’s a good thing to be alive and well in Vermont woods when the sap is running, even if you don’t tap into a maple tree.

Tags: signs of spring, Vermont woods, winter hiking

As I drove over French Hill, dodging frost heaves, the snow closed in around the road. Back home it was nearly gone from my yard so I wasn’t quite prepared to see so much white stuff. What a difference a few hundred feet of elevation makes! By time I reached the town forest parking lot, bare ground was the exception to the rule. Oh well. My dog Matika and I needed a good hike anyway, snow or no snow. We’d been cooped up for a over a week, thanks to a cold virus that I picked up.

At first the trail was several inches of punky snow, but eventually it opened up, becoming stretches of soft, cold mud in places, saturated by small streams overflowing with snowmelt. My boots became thoroughly soaked as I waded across one particularly wet spot. But I didn’t mind it. With temps in the 40s and the forest all to myself, it felt good to be tramping around.

Moss and ferns shouted their over-wintered green at me from rocky slopes. A grey squirrel chattered hello as Matika and I passed. A pair of crows cawed back and forth through the naked trees. Very early spring in the Vermont woods. With all the snow slowly melting away, it’s an altogether pleasant thing to behold.

I broke a sweat and coughed repeatedly as the trail slipped into a particularly deep patch of punky snow. Matika started panting heavily as well. But the big smile on her face mirrored my own. There are those who won’t be happy until the last of the snow is gone, and others who long for fresh verdure that’s still several weeks away. But it’s enough for me to hear the rush of water, smell raw earth again, and feel the give of thawing ground underfoot. Every season has its charms, even this one, when everything is cold, brown and wet. Happy spring!

Tags: early spring, mud season, seasonal change, Vermont woods