Aug 14 2025
Shakedown Trip
Breaking away from busy-ness, I loaded my backpack then drove to Southern Vermont to hike a relatively easy 14-mile loop in the Green Mountain National Forest. I had done the exact same hike with Judy 26 years earlier, but a lot of things can change over time. I was curious as to what I would remember and what would be new to me. This was also a shakedown hike, for I had my eye on a much bigger loop in the Adirondacks that would take a week to do. If this went well, I would backpack that next year.
A mile into the woods headed south on the Long Trail, I passed Big Branch Shelter. It looked vaguely familiar, but I did not remember the footbridge over the Big Branch stream. I crossed it, going deeper into the Big Branch Wilderness. Shortly after that I left the LT, hiking the Old Job Trail instead. The trail didn’t look familiar, but the Old Job Shelter did when I reached it. By then my t-shirt was soaked with sweat. The forest has been very humid this year.
Beyond the shelter, the Old Job Trail veered away from the stream. It was a completely new section of trail. By new I mean blazed during the past 2 decades. Eventually, I hit a forestry road that went back to the stream. The stream was a tributary of Big Branch by then called Lake Brook. The trail, following an old woods road, ran along the stream. That much I remembered. By the time I reached the stream crossing where I intended to make camp, I was wiped out. I had only done 800 feet of road-grade elevation over 6 miles, but I was not in as good a shape as I thought.
I set up my tent near where a new bridge crossed the stream – one sturdy enough to handle a vehicle for whatever reason. It started raining just as I finished making camp, so I slipped into my tent for a much-needed nap. When I got up, I fixed dinner on my stove, foregoing a campfire. I was too tired and achy to gather wood, much less deal with drying it out.
The next morning, I arose even more achy after a long night of tossing and turning. My left hip was sore from sleeping on the ground. Hmm… With eight miles ahead, I thought it best to hike a little more today instead of hanging out here a day as intended and doing it all on the last day. I packed up my gear and headed out by 8 am. After a one-mile hike west, returning to the Long Trail, I turned north. I spent the better part of the morning climbing Baker Peak. I remembered it being a short, very easy ascent. It was not. Another “new” section of trail lengthened the hike, linking up with Baker Peak Trail that was a rocky scramble straight up through conifers. I struggled to stay on my feet.
After that, it was an easy downhill walk to Lost Pond Shelter. Lean, muscular thru-hikers half my age or less breezed past me. I soaked another t-shirt before landing at the shelter a little past noon. I set up my tent and, sure enough, was chased into it by yet another t-storm. Afterward the sun was shining so I sat on a downed tree, ignoring a few other hikers camped around the shelter. That’s when I realized that the weeklong solo backpacking trip I had planned for next year was a bad idea. I’m too old, soft and fat to do it without being completely miserable in the process. I could get in better shape and lose some weight, but there’s nothing I can do about being 69 years old. What began with one hip complaining had become a chorus of aching joints.
The 3-mile hike out the next day was easy enough, but the roots and rocks were hard on my ankles despite sturdy hiking poles. I soaked a third t-shirt with sweat. Yeah, having backpacked for half a century, I’ve had a good run. But now it’s time to start doing things a little differently. I don’t want to be carried out of the woods someday.
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