Monday, August 28, 2017 (Day 118)
I rose at 5:30 and made my way up to the top of the Glastenbury tower. Step by metal, airy, step, moving up, up, up in to the cold of the early morning. I witnessed a glorious sunrise!
I stopped on the side of the trail for breakfast at 10:30 am. I took note of goosebumps, of the hair that stood at frigid attention on my forearm. Oh, dear.
So many hikers! Northbound and Southbound, moving swiftly along trail, as if passing tribes. When not in motion, we appear the same. “North or South?” we ask. If of the same direction, “what’s your name” and tell our own, if not: “Have a great hike!” we will never meet again.
The ascent of Stratton Mountain was long. I moved slowly. There was another look-out tower. I took in the view from the top.
Along the descent of the mountain, was a lovely little spring. I sat and ate my dinner beside it. The sun had set by the time I rose to continue.
I now sit on the banks of Stratton Pond. I came to the clearing at 10:30 pm. I had every intention of moving on, but alas, I could not bear to. The stars shine radiantly above, the hills roll beyond the dark placid waters of the pond. It is beautiful. There is no camping here. There is a patch of dirt, however, that one can clearly see has been used for rest. Here, I will sleep, and rise early with the sun.