There Will Be Mud: An Appalachian Tale

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-And on the Seventh Day, while others rested, the God of Trails, said “nay, there is much still to be done. It is said they man is created in His image, but he shall travel on mine.” And He, creator of stick and stone, judge of all legs, shaper of twist and turn looked down on his work and upon the Earth He saw paths criss-crossing the land, broken by streams, littered with rocks and limbs and nose grinding hills and lo, he thought, man will still travel too easily. And he said “Let there be mud”. And there was mud. It was thick and deep, swallowing up the shoes of travelers. And it was good. And the God of Trails said “let the mud spring forth from the rocks and cover entire stretches of the paths. Let its depth be hidden and its thickness vary. Yet the mud shall extend no further than the boundaries of the paths but if man attempts to circumvent my mud, his legs shall become entangled in vines and his skin shall be pierced by thorns and his feet shall caught by rock and root. And the mud shall endure, in spring and summer and fall and winter; in the heat of the day and the cool of the night; during rainy season and dry.” The God of Trails saw that it was as he commanded and He was pleased.

-As Adam and Eve left the Garden, the God of Trails turned to those of the Bimble and he said “Lo, my children, while you did not eat of the tree, you did hide in the bushes and laugh. Because of your insolence, so shall you be banished. But your punishment shall be to forever remember the bounties of this garden and thus you shall spend all your life searching for a way back. You shall travel the paths of this Earth, hour after hour, mile upon mile on your quest yet your desire shall never be satisfied. Yea, you shall travel many more hours and days and miles in search of new paths but again, you shall fail to quench that eternal thirst.” And so it was that those of the Bimble were set upon the Earth to travel paths near and far in groups large and small in an effort to find again that piece of paradise.

And so it was, on the first day of the eighth month of the year in the common era two thousand nine that two such Bimblers, Taurus and Circle Continuous, journeyed far from home to the State Forest of Mt. Washington (which, ironically contains no mountain of such name) to travel new trails. They had heard many stories from passing travelers about these trails and it was said that great beauty and reward awaited those brave enough to tred on such remote passages. They parked the car in a nondescript gravel parking lot, off a nondescript gravel road and gathered themselves for the journey at hand. They traveled east towards the revered Appalachian Trail. Though the mud was thick and the trail wet, they were undeterred and soon found themselves staring up at the first ascent of the day. Long did they climb, over stone and through bush but atop the summit they were rewarded with splendid views of the surrounding land. It was here that they learned that the point on which they stood was the highest point in the land of Connect-i-cut and they rejoiced. Down the mountain they continued until they reached the fabled Appalachian Trail and they rejoiced. Downhill they continued, over many a felled tree until, at the bottom of the mountain they reached a map charting the trails of the land. As they examined the map it soon became apparent to the pair that they had traveled far off course. Their eyes had not been sharp nor their minds keen and like a cruel temptress, the trail had scorned them. [singlepic=4449,280,200,,right] They took some solace in knowing they had seen the highest point in the state, yet as they turned back uphill, they cursed themselves for their naivete and cursed the trail for its trickery. Upon hearing their laments, the God of the Trails punished the pair with waves of insects and much mud. But yea, the pair did not despair. For it was early in their journey and their spirits remained high and they continued on.  After many miles, the travelers did reach the Appalachian Trail and there was much rejoicing. Indeed, they soon found themselves winding through pine and evergreen and along the bank of a rushing river. Such was their excitement that they stopped often simply to take in all they saw. Too soon for the pair, they forged the river Sage and were heading uphill again, north along the ridgeline of the mountains. Though the traverse was hard, the hills steep and the trails thick with mud and water, spirits were high. At many points along the AT, they were blessed with majestic views of the ridgeline as its tree covered slopes dove down into the low lying lands; birds of prey circled overhead while small clouds floated across the azure sky; distant hills and mountains rose from the depths and dove back down below. Taurus and Circle Continuous were happy and praised the trail for its bounty. As the pair continued on, Circle Continuous began to grow weary. “I have traveled 100 miles in the land of Vermont and my legs are tired. Please continue on without me. I shall turn south at the halfway point in our journey and return to the car and await your return.” Though hesitant to leave his companion behind, Taurus acquiesced and continued northward along the ridgeline. Not long after his departure, the water pack carried by Taurus expelled its last drop. Knowing replenishments awaited him at the midway point of their journey, he steeled himself against the building thirst. Up and down the mountains of the ridgeline he ran, crossing brook and stream, through mountain top bush and mountain side forest and soon found himself at the point at which their journey departed the AT. As a parting gift, the AT presented a thrilling descent, winding its way down from the ridgeline to Guilder Pond where he was forced to leave the comfort and security of the dirt trails for those of asphalt.

As Taurus followed the paved trail, he soon came upon a great gathering. As he neared, he saw many cars lining the road and heard music and merriment emanating from a collection of multicolored tents. He saw large numbers of people milling around tables of art and booths of food. His pace slowed and he thought of the thirst and hunger he now felt. How nice would it be if he were to join in the revelry and dine on local produce? The siren song of the fair called to him. He was hot and tired and thirsty and hungry. But he kept moving. “I must not give in to temptation” said Taurus. He continued on and soon the fair had faded, covered by the muffling blanket of the woods. And on he ran, up and up the asphalt trail until he found himself entering the Headquarters of the State Forest of Mt. Washington, the halfway point of their journey and the point at which a bag of supplies had been dropped. He quickly located their supplies and spread out on the picnic table before him a feast fit for the God of Trails himself. Gels of Hammer and Gu. Baggies of pretzels. Powerbars and Cliff Shotblocks. A gallon jug of the finest tap water the land of Connect-i-cut had to offer. Taurus gazed upon the spread and gave thanks to the God of Trails for providing such a magnificent journey. Hunger fed and thirst quenched, he headed out west again, along the trails of the State Forest of Mt. Washington heading towards the South Taconic Trail. Buried deep in the woods, these trails offered few scenic views winding among the lower lying lands towards the Mountain of Alander. Yet the God of Trails did see fit to add difficulty to the Journey of Taurus. “Lo, he must know humility and not move too quickly” said the God of Trails. And the water did flow down the trail, and the mud did thicken and the roots of trees did protrude and the stones did gather. And Taurus was slowed but remained undeterred. The God of Trails saw this and was pleased. Up Mt. Alander he climbed, scrambling over stone and stream until he reached to top and gazed upon the western boundary of the ridgeline. He was happy and gave thanks. Turning south onto the South Taconic from Mt. Alander, he found his journey easing slightly. The trail widened and the roots and rocks gave way to gravel yet the mud and water persisted. On and on he ran, a stranger in these lands yet always feeling at home enveloped in the embrace of nature. Long ago had he given up trying to avoid the mud and puddles. The mountain cold water washed over his feet with each stride and cooled and soothed his aching feet. Following the western ridgeline up and over many hills and mountains, Taurus came to a trail intersection but with no indications as to the identity of the trail, he was forced to make a decision. His destination lay to the east but it was unclear whether this trail was indeed the trail that would lead him back. He had no map of the lands to the south so to continue south in search of the proper trail was dangerous; should he instead take this intersecting trail, it still lay within the boundary of his map. Thus, map in hand he headed eastward on what he hoped was the final leg of the journey. Downhill he dashed through the natural obstacle course many millennia in the making, until at the base of the mountains he found himself turning northward. Sensing a discrepancy in his journey, he consulted his map and soon realized he had departed the South Taconic too early. “Why must thou continue to torment me?” he cried to the God of Trails. This error in navigation had added miles to his journey, miles which he feared may cost him dearly. For Circle Continuous had mentioned that she may start running from the car on the trail in the opposite direction in order to meet him on the trail. He would still be able to return to the proper trail but would join it at a point closer to his destination than the original trail, thus leaving open the possibility that should Circle Continuous decide to run, she may pass the intersection of Taurus’s new trail and continue on oblivious to the alteration made to his journey. With a renewed sense of urgency, Taurus hustled along the trail, oblivious to mud and puddle. He finally reached the correct trail and though he had fought the trails all day, he prayed to the God of Trails that Circle Continuous had not already passed by. Eager to return to the car where food and drink and rest awaited him, Taurus faced his last hurdle: Mount Frissell. Though the climb was nose-grindingly steep, the God of Trails did bestow a dry passage to the top. Once at the summit, Taurus prepared himself for one last push. But before beginning, a conversation with a passing traveler confirmed the proximity of the parking lot and Taurus turned to head down the mountain, but not before the fellow traveler called out with a parting word of caution, “beware, the trail ahead is steep”.  For it seemed that Taurus was not the only one summoning up the last remnants of fortitude. Ahead lay not a trail, but a precipitous descent over sharp and angular stones and boulders. With agility and a lightness of foot that belied the fatigue in his legs Taurus danced and scampered his way to the bottom leaving fellow travelers to wonder what manner of mountain goat had just passed them by. Sensing he was nearing the end of his journey, he let out an echoing cry “ Woo Woo WOOOOOOO” And with that, he burst out of the woods into the afternoon sun, greeted by the smiling face of Circle Continuous. And he was done. 7 hours 33 min. 6 mountains. 3 states. Untold number of miles.

And the God of Trails looked down and was pleased.

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