Mt. Mansfield in the Rain

Trying to take full advantage of the fall season, a couple of my friends and I decided we wanted to go on a quick overnight backpacking trip up Mt. Mansfield and stay at Taft Lodge, about a half mile on the other side of the peak. We drove from Burlington to Underhill State Park, after one of my friends got back from the triathlon he raced that morning. (He's a little insane, but in an awesome way.)

We reached the trailhead, saddled up with all our gear, and took off. The hike began at 17:23.

The drizzle we drove through earlier turned into rain, which continued all of the way through the hike. About a mile in we were all soaked to the bone, even our raincoats and waterproof hiking boots gave way.The same friend who competed in the triathlon also did this entire hike barefoot (up and back). We took the Laura Crowles trail, which is stepper on the way up but with more tree cover, which helped shelter us from the rain and wind a bit. Moss, lime green and sparkling with raindrops, brightly contrasted against the evergreens and maples that lined the trail. Stark white Indian pipe flowers laced through the underbrush. Delicate mushrooms popped up from rotting logs, new life among the dead.

For most of the way, we were hiking up a waterfall as the rain pooled over the stone steps and tree roots in thick rivets. We slipped up and down rocks as we attempted to scale the mountain, gaining over two thousand feet of elevation in just over three miles.

As we neared the top, the wind picked up as we slowly inched our way out of the pine trees to the bare rock face. The ecology of the landscape changed as we rose, reaching something similar to an alpine zone with low bush blueberries and lichens hanging to the stones beneath. It was reminiscent of Alaska and Canada.

Finally, we summited the mountain and stopped in awe at Nature's beauty and terrifying strength. We were in the center of a storm, the skies dark overhead as the wind ripped through, screaming as the scarred clouds unleashed spikes of rain onto the earth below.

We hastened onwards, trying to stay as low the ground as possible for some protection. The trail divided, we veered right onto Profanity, aptly named, as our knees screamed with the steep descent. In some places the steps were normal height, others should've belonged to a giant. At some points I simply grasped the surrounding rocks with frozen fingertips and slid down to the ledge below. The unforgiving rocks offered no comfort for our cold bodies, movement was our only way to stay warm.

The sun began to set, and I began to worry about hypothermia and finding shelter if we couldn't make it to the cabin. My fear was probably irrational, for we had cell phones (through mine died en route) and chance of rescue was high if we needed it. Nevertheless, there's something about the cold and the dark that makes your imagination fly.

I was about ready to break out the flashlights when we heard rain going clink and clank on a metal roof. Encouraged, we picked up the pace and turned the corner-only to find a small structure barely big enough for one person. Our hearts sank and our eyes strained as we tried to make out the sign in the dark: "No Pee! Composting Toilet Only!" We had found the outhouse.

Hearts lightening with hope, for rarely is there a random bathroom in the woods, we continued down and saw a sign for Taft Lodge. A couple feet further and lights flickering in the windowsill guided us the rest of the way to the cabin. We sighed with relief as the door closed behind us, and quickly stripped off our soaking wet clothes. Unfortunately, I accidentally forgot to pack my leggings so only had shorts. So I broke out the emergency space blanket for some extra warmth.

We weren't the only ones spending the night, there was another group of college students from Middlebury who were very nice and gave us some of their leftover rice and beans to add to our dinner. We cooked up some vegetables and threw in a little curry sauce, scarfed down the food in minutes, rolled into our sleeping bags, and crashed.

Trail map of Mt. Mansfield. Laura Crowles + Profanity = around 4 miles, Sunset Ridge + Long Trail = around 4.5-5.

Sleep was fitful. The storm did not falter during the night. The wind continued to batter the door and rattle the hinges. When morning did arrive, we woke up to clouds. No rain, thankfully, but the weather was still cold and windy.

Due to the cold, my pants didn't dry overnight and though I did my best to shake them dry they were still damp when I put them back on.

We made oatmeal with fruit and nuts for breakfast, then departed from Taft Lodge at 8:22 am.

This time, we wanted to avoid (saying) Profanity, so we took the Long Trail up to "The Chin" or peak of Mt. Mansfield. The trail was so steep in some points that we were literally rock climbing, the white blazes above my head on the stone.

At one point, as I hugged the bare rock below, legs trembling with the effort, a huge gust of wind blew past and almost pushed me off the mountain face. Honestly, that moment was scarier than skydiving-at least then I had a parachute for when I fell 2,000 ft.

Finally, we made it to the summit. The second time in just over a twelve hour period. We whopped in exhilaration, pure and primal, from everything that comes from being the only souls on top of a mountain in a storm.

We found the medallion marking the top and hugged, forearms clasped for shared strength deeper than that of the body. As we looked down at our feet we noticed a triangle carved in the rock, one line parallel with each of our bodies. A sign? Maybe. Maybe it was the mountain telling us that it would not be easy, it would not back down, but that it was still with us as much as it was against us.

Slowly we made our way down, this time taking Sunset Ridge trail. While this path was more gradual, the first mile was unprotected and the wind continued to batter us as we descended.

Along the way we met a few other hikers on the trail who were braving the weather. A couple of slips but no injuries, we it back to the trailhead at 10:45. Back in civilization again, we reached the car, throwing our packs into the back of the vehicle with a thud.

Some could say we conquered the mountain that day. We summited the peak twice, made it to the cabin and back wet but alive. However, I'm not certain I can claim complete victory. There was something humbling about knowing I could've died on that hike. A step the wrong way, a slip of the fingers on slick rock. Nature is a fierce and powerful force. Though we humans have created machines to harness her power and tame her, Nature was here long before we were and will be long after we're gone. She will persevere. I hope to find strength to be like that, the strength of the mountains and the forests.