This was printed in an old CTA Newsletter:
“Where in the Blue Blazes are we going?”, a report on the CTA 2008 Week Long Tour
by Sam Bartlett, with help from Lynn Fisher, Marie Bartlett and Andrew Harper
“Pie crust.” It was Day 2 of the Catamount Trail Association's Week Long Tour and I had just stuck my boot in a snowbank to see what damage the overnight rain had wrought to the first day's beautiful powder. I had expected a bullet-proof crust, or at least styrofoam, so “pie crust” wasn't so bad. And it was mashed potatoes underneath, kind of like Shepard's Pie. Or maybe I hadn't had enough breakfast yet?
A varying group of about thirty of us was skiing the 2008 WLT, from Edson Farm to Quebec.
The trail for these last seven sections was classic CT fare: wide cleared backcountry trails, narrow but cleared backcountry trails, blazed bushwhacks, snowmobile trails (busy and quiet), groomed cross country trails (even private ones!) and an occasional roadwalk. Some climbs (and descents for some skiers) were easier with skins but most of the trail was not too technical. Our pace was roughly two miles per hour, sometimes we were all in a bunch, other times spread out over a mile or more of trail. We saw the full spectrum of Vermont's rural beauty: stately hardwood forests, long vistas, farms in all states of repair and use, notches and lakes, villages, logged-over brushy areas and abandoned camps and fire trucks. Except for the rain on the night of Day 1, the weather was very agreeable (“May I borrow your sunblock?”). There was plenty of snow, with a good base, though after the first day of a foot of new snow we mostly had mush and crust to work with.
So who are the men and women who ski an extended trip like this, where conditions vary from frozen-like-concrete troughs with icy bottoms to three feet of powder, from rain to frost-bite cold? Some can tell you tales of heli-skiing out west, some just ski locally. Some are always ready to get going and keep going, others are happy to stop for lunch, extra “yo-yoing”, lunch, sight-seeing and lunch. Some take dozens of photos and video, others hide from the cameras. Some can tell you your lattitude, longitude and elevation, some just follow the blue blazes, others 'puppy-dog' off to the sides, looking for turns and drops and speed. Some use heavy back country gear and others like lighter gear. Some can tell you the right wax for the moment, others have never seen klister. Some want to ski every inch of the trail northbound, others are happy to complete ten miles regardless of direction. Our group encompassed a wide age range, with one thing in common; a positive attitude and the ability to find fun in almost any situation.
Here are a few vignettes contributed by tour members:
****
Climbing up Mt. Elmore in glorious deep powder: I had on half-skins to save some energy since I figured the fourteen-mile-day would be a long one. Suddenly, off to my left in a gladed yet clean slope, one of my fellow skiers tele'd by, headed back down the mountain. He'd dropped his pack up higher and was "yo-yo'ing" to take advantage of the great snow and the perfect turning spot. I talked to my fellow climbers about not wanting to stop climbing: how I was trying to save energy for the long day, didn't want to de-skin ... but I was hoping to be egged on into dropping my pack and playing on the hill, too. Sure enough, the more experienced free-heeler who was climbing in front of me said "just stuff your skins into your pocket" and that was all the convincing I needed. But as I pulled off the trail to drop my pack and de-skin, she was continuing to climb and making excuses herself: "I don't have my tele skis. I don't have my knee pads." I took my turn at exerting peer pressure and soon enough a nice group of us were happily un-doing the climb we'd just earned. Even the guy who face-planted was smiling through the snow in his sunglasses.
****
Twelve of us skied north to south from East Hill Road to Route 15 on the second day, when we had awakened to buckets of pouring rain. The rain had now stopped, the air was warming up rapidly and we were surrounded by a spooky gray fog as we followed the curvy backcountry trail through the forests of Eden. One by one, members of our group would drop back in order to take off layers. We amused ourselves, though, by imagining that we were in a murder-mystery ski tour in which, one by one, skiers would drop off the back of the pack and be lost in the fog forever.
*****
By pre-arrangement I had agreed to be the sweep for the 4th day's Craftsbury to Lowell run. But the previous day was a rest day spent relaxing at friends' house in Waitsfield and updating my trail wardrobe in Montpelier and I had misunderestimated the drive time from there to the Touring Center and the coffee time in house and so I was just a bit late.
In my absence, someone else volunteered to be the sweep, which carried the responsibility of carrying a 2-way radio and a voluminous belt pack of medical supplies--probably capable of treating every tour participant for every possible ailment. When I showed up he quickly ceded possession of the heavy belt pack and the role of co-sweep to me--but kept the radio. Little did he know how soon he would need it.
After the leader's intro to the day's ski, participants were off quickly, wanting to get a jump on the morning, what with the later 10:00 start time. By the time my co-sweep and I got off, we had long lost contact with the peleton, so we just started following each other and some blue diamond blazes that looked an awful lot like Catamount blazes. After a quarter mile or so we realized that the little blue blazes had arrows on them--not cat's paws--and that we were somewhere in the Craftsbury trail network, but not on the CT at all.
Out comes the radio, and we make an embarrassed call to the leader telling him the sweeps are lost before we even started. Then we limped lamely back to the Touring Center and started the tour over, catching one more skier in our net.
*****
After crossing route 14, the climb up the ridge to Craftsbury Common was steep but it's on a wide yet quiet snowmobile trail so we managed to converse (children, relationships, farmed vs. wild salmon) while climbing. I think I was skiing near the back of the pack this day. My small affinity group and I crossed over to the east side of the ridge and joined the Craftsbury Marathon Trail. It was freshly groomed and carefree to zip down. Rounding a bend, at a major junction of several Craftsbury Outdoor Center Trails, I found over a dozen WLT skiers sitting in and near the wide groomed trail. This was nothing like the efficient, almost frantic, feed stops on a longer and colder day: This group was not doing much of anything except relaxing in the sun. It was 11:30 and we were within 2K of our destination for the day. "It's too soon to quit for the day” someone in the group explained to me. I unrolled the thermarest, drank tea and enjoyed the company for quite a while.
******
“Look, flying bunny tracks! Here is where the snowshoe hare was hopping around in the fresh snow, and here are the wing marks where he took off!” We decided that, magical as the surrounding were along the Bayley-Hazen Highway, it was more likely that the hare had been picked off by an owl or hawk. Earlier in the week we had seen turkey, partridge, rabbit, otter, deer and moose tracks, and one turkey kill site.
*****
Climbing higher and higher out of Craftsbury toward the Lowell Mountains, our views of the Kingdom became increasingly spectacular. "We're not in Kansas anymore." We marveled at the far reaching uninhabited views of unfamiliar mountains to the east. Some said that the landscape reminded them of Chittenden County when it was less developed. Cresting the Lowell range, the Catamount Trail diverges from the VAST trail and becomes a twisty yet wide backcountry descent through the woods. At the bottom, the forest opens up and the view changes again: now facing north and northwest. The huge field slanting downhill in front of us is covered with ski tracks from the two dozen skiers who have preceded us. They've apparently fanned out across the field in an effort to make fresh tracks in the 4" of fluff on top of the crust. Further in the distance is the distinctive shape of Hazen's Notch, where we'll ski tomorrow. To the south of Hazen's Notch is Belvedere Mountain. The air is clear enough to see the fire tower on top. To the north is Jay Peak, where we'll be in 2 more days. And now, for the first time, we can see the mountains of Quebec. O Canada!
*****
Even though it was a weekday, Hazen's Notch was fairly busy with snowmobile traffic. As a rule, I wave and/or smile to the 'sheeners as they zip by because I'm grateful that they're sharing the trail with us, and I guess I figure we're all fellow travelers on this wintery planet so we might as well spread some good will to each other. At one point, near the junction with the VAST trail north to Jay, a group of five or six riders had stopped. I skied between their parked machines and the woods in order to stay out of the middle of the trail. Our eyes met and I sensed something odd, causing me to wonder what offense I may be causing. It was when I skied over a small patch of jaundiced snow that I realized that I had interrupted an important moment for the fellows. Oops.
*****
“This is it!” I was thinking, “the culmination of four weeks of skiing over five years.” We were on the last leg, Section 31, less than a mile from the Vermont/Quebec border. The guidebook described the border as an anti-climactic sounding chain-link fence across a pipeline right-of-way. The trail had been recently rerouted (due to logging), but luckily we had Lenore Budd, the trail director, with us to work our way through the reroute and know when to ignore the blazes that hadn't been relocated yet. We were skiing along the right-of-way when a neighbor came trudging up a sidepath to say that we were off the trail. He had been skiing the CT around there for years and the blazes went the other way at that last intersection, he explained. I told him about the reroute, and he said folks often skied across the field near his house to get to the border, and invited us to do so, but we wanted to stick to the new trail, so we skied on. This was the first interaction with a landowner or trail neighbor that I remembered in any CT trip. Shortly our leaders were turning back, after being told by the (possibly northern-most) landowner “Excuse me, you are skiing across my driveway and front lawn, please go away!”. We thought we had permission to ski along the pipeline, but this didn't seem to be the time to work that out. So we went back to the first fellow, and he and his dog guided us across a beautiful field to a stone monument at the border. We took turns tagging it and having our pictures taken, sang a few refrains of “O Canada” in French and English (lyrics provided by a forward-looking tour member) and ate celebratory chocolate. Our new guide showed us some large cat tracks, probably lynx, but I like to think a catamount had been there preparing for our visit. The usual suspects then tried to get a few turns in on the not-really-steep-enough field, and we all headed home.
*****
I know I speak for all the group members, those who skied all 8 days and those who only did one, when I express my thanks to all the trip leaders, trail maintainers and CTA staff who made this trip happen. And I know I speak for all the trip leaders and trail maintainers and CTA staff when I ask that skiers look for opportunities next fall to help with trail work and lead trips.