O.K. it sounds wierd, but I love Mt. Tom. I've discovered that hiking it a few times a week brings me peace. There are over 25 miles of trails up there and I've only been on about half of them, but am loving the experience. Until this year, I'd only hiked up the ever popular Faulkner Trail, the switchback.
Over time, I'd hear rumors from friends about a pond, if you followed the Carriage road back through the woods. Hmmmm, this always intrigued me but by the time we'd hiked to the top friends and family were not interested in exploring. Several times I've hiked to the North peak, but it's not as nice as South Peak, with it's beautiful views.
Finally, this year, I was hiking alone on an absoultely beautiful, clear Vermont summmer's day, and voila, I decided to explore.
As I walked along the carriage road, I veered off the trail. There was a side trail, marked and I took it. After 10 minutes of walking along a soft, pine needle path, I silently walked up an incline, and caught a vision of a buff colored hind-quarters of what I feared to be a dog, big dog! It turned out to be anything but. I warily edged closer, and discovered it was a beautiful deer! Quietly I observed the beautiful creature as it fed on some delicate foliage, until alas, it sensed my presence and darted away with the grace and elegance of a ballerina.
This lovely experience spurred me on to adventure further. As I walked along the woodsy path, I began to sense that the forest was subsiding, it became lighter and I could see bright sunlight ahead.
What a joy my eyes beheld as I suddenly walked along the carriage trail and it opened up onto an expansive meadow. A little more forest and then to the left another meadow, with a rock outcropping, which I hastened to. And then I saw it, the most gorgeus view! In the distance were beautiful mountain vistas, a distant field with a farmhouse. I stayed to drink in the view. It was so pleasant I didn't want to leave. But being refreshed by the sunshine and brief respite for my legs, I continued back to the Carriage road which was not downhill. The thought of having to return up to the summit, almost a mile, to descend down Faulkner to my awaiting car, was a slight inhibition, but I overcame it with the excitement of discovery.
The downward trail was beckoning me, and I obeyed. The happy faces of fellow hikers, travelling up the hill, gave me the impression that my recent pleasant discoveries might not be solitary, but that perhaps there lay other surprises these travellors were aware of and I was about to experience. A large maple tree, at least 150 years old, was to the right of the trail, and then another hayfield to the left as the elevation decreased. Opposite a sister hayfield on the right, then I could see another wood to enter at the end of the fields.
Alas, it was too light to believe that I would be surrounded by pine trees. As I approached, I could see the trail came to a perpendicular intersection. The carriage trail would offer me a choice, and not having a map of the trail system I was grateful that at least there were signs with arrows to assist a new explorer. As I approached the spot, there was a bench to the left, made of half logs, of course, but aged. Some weary trekkers were enjoying the cool of the overhaning pines. Not wanting to disturb them, I hastened to make a decision, I chose the left turn, towards the Pogue. Not knowing what a pogue was, but thinking that it may be some other name for a pond I ventured forward. Within a few yards, I was rewareded, spying the tell-tale circular shape of trees around a body of water, I scampered the short incline, passed the stick made fence and was enveolped by the sunlit scene. This pogue was indeed a pond, of several acres, with a path which seemed to encircle it. I could see a couple enjoying another half log bench in the distance, and past them the trail seemed to enter the woods again.
I walked to the right, past the clever fence, examining its workmanship. Although made of branches, it was sturdy and well made. The natural setting was not disturbed by the protective fence which kept newcomers, like myself from walking absent mindedly straight into the Pogue!
As I ventured further towards the woodsy trail, I observed that the pond/pogue was lovely and the cat tails and lily pads contributed charm to the overall effect. Unfortunately my approach, disturbed the two lovers, as they alighted they gave me a pleasant smile that forgave my intrusion as this was a public place and they understood that it was for my enjoyment, too.
Hikers and walkers are like that, usually pleasant and kind, not in a rush. The joggers are always busy and rarely look anyone in the eye, but hikers always give a friendly smile and nod. When they have a canine companion, it is an unspoken rule that strangers must meet their "friend", as the dog always breaks with social convention and new friends are made readily.
As I neared the bench, I could see the trail to the left was the circuitous route I would take but there was another trail which led to the right, continuing past the bench as though snubbing it, by not quite apporaching it. I believe the sign said to McKenzie Road and the north ridge loop. Hmmmm, further trails, for another day, surely, my aching legs began to say. True, after having summited the south peak and walked this extra mile and then by adding the Pogue loop and then returning to the south peak, I began to hear the wisdom in this suggestion, another day, though, for sure.
In July the sun stays up late in Vermont, but by now it was after five and I willingly walked to the left and ventured into the woodsy path which led around the pond back to the stick fence. As I walked I mused about the creator of this carriage system. I'd read about it in a brochure, and appreciated the generosity of someone from the last century, long dead, who wanted others to enjoy the beauty of this place and invited all to use the carriage trails, back when people used carriages. I was also grateful that, currently, nothing more wheeled than a stroller for babies was allowed on these trails. It would be tempting for mountain bikers et al, to disturb the natural setting but wiser heads prevailed.
I was delighted with the cool woodsy path, and a little saddened to arrive, once again, at the stick fence because I knew that I must begin the long walk back up the mountain. Spying an old drinking pool, cleverly carved from a small boulder, with a copper tube bringing the water to the top, I dipped my hands in to refresh myself. Upon further investigation, I could see that this was a natural spring because it continuously tricked over the edge and into a little stream. Clever this benefactor, thinking of thirsty travellers!
The bench I had spied upon entering this shady oasis, now to the right and empty, was a perfect place to stop and catch my breath, but more importantnly to stretch calves, hamstrings, quads et al. Over time, I've found that the secret to not being too stiff is to stretch before the hike, during the hike and after the hike. It is a great deterent to sore, stiff muscles. They still occur but not as severly.
After a few additional yoga stretches, nobody was around, I set off for the top and those gorgeous south peak views! Only a mile, uphill but what was that after the generous payment I had received that day!
