Sloth Chasing to the top of Mt. Everett, MA

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Having completed twenty days of flying, being on the ground is a pleasure. Trekking on the ground an even greater pleasure. With that, Hugo and I set off to further explore the Appalachian Trail in Connecticut and Massachusetts. During the winter, we managed most of the Bear Mountain, CT, area in a foot of snow. This time we went a few miles north to explore Mount Everett, in Massachusetts. Not quite as tall and certainly less daunting of a climb up, this trek allowed the dog and I to break in some new skills and gear.

The trail head started at US41 and Race Brook Falls, just north of the Connecticut/Massachusetts border. The Race Brook Falls Trail name states exactly as promised and after just a half mile of blooming spring forest mixed with youthful evergreen and oak, the bubbling brook led us to steeper inclines and cascading rocks of granite, marble and lush carpets of moss. New spring leaves make hiking more enjoyable from a discovery point of view. During the winter, you can see straight through the woods to the next mountain or contour curve. During the rest of the year, the next turn is a surprise. The next view through a break in the foliage even more surprising than the last. You count on sound as your only assistant to a natural spoiler alert.

You can hear waterfalls some distance away in the quiet forest. The supporting cliffs and valley below treating you to a front row pass at the amphitheater of a forest. Even Hugo becomes excited at the prospect of falling water and the fresh pools at the bottom. Our pace quickens and unlike during winter when the falls slowly get bigger as you approach in your eyes, with the fresh growth of spring, the noise booms, you feel the mist rest on your face and yet you still can't find the source. One more trail turn and suddenly you are nearly under a 100' water fall. You can see a thousand waterfalls in a life time, but each one, no matter the grandeur, is simply magnificent.

My camera led us astray from the marked trail. The trail apparently turned somewhere back but the shutter bug in me kept us going forward turning the hike into a trek and advancing to mountaineering. This provided a great opportunity to test out the wet traction of the new Scarpa hiking boots, the flexibility of the hiking pants and my improved stamina from my recent return to concentrated long distance running. Hugo was wearing his new trail pack for the first time, loaded with two bottles of water and two cans of food. He seemed not to care and only grew frustrated with it once finding out he couldn't roll around like usual to scent himself with the woods. Hugo's pack stayed on him well but would prove too weak later in the hike to withstand a gale force dog through the woods.

The off-trail view required a stop, a breath of the moist clean air and a drink of water. Either way around the falls would require some vertical power and going back to find the marked trail was, and is always, out of the question. Not that it was entirely needed, I pulled out the iPhone and started up the myTrails application. This allowed me to pinpoint my GPS location, overlay it on a topographical map and see going up the south side of the falls would be less vertical than the north side. Of course, this is a bit like telling a cat climbing up the scratch post would be easier than the curtains. Clearly not, so we went up the north side. Mossy rocks, tiny falls appearing to come out of solid granite and all fours climbing proved exciting. Only Hugo took a miss step but that was due to his still excited nature and leaping all around instead of concentrating on his steps, all four of them. Losing his grip above me, 80lbs of scrambling dog slid my way and not wanting an injured dog to mess the day up, I grabbed the top loop and held all 80lbs of K-9 just below me until he gained his grip again. We had a talk that began with the usual, "Now listen here son..."

Cresting the top of the north side of the falls, we were treated to one of those secret views of the valley below and a direct shot down the thundering falls to where we started from. As long as I didn't breath or move, I wouldn't be taking my last photo on the way down the one-way water ride. The narrow stream leading to the drop point was quite calm and deceiving as to the torment ensuing for the next 100'. Calming enough for Hugo to consider it walkable until his instincts kicked in and figured out there wasn't much more stream to go. Again, you just have to not breath sometimes.

Making a quick move upstream to focus ourselves on the goal of the day, the top of Mt. Everett, we were greeted with another equally spectacular waterfall with just as many available photo shots as the last. This time, I managed to find the oblivious trail markers and we made good time following a proper path. We were high enough now that many of the spring flowers having bloomed and gone on the valley floor, were in top shape up here on the plateau. The temperature was dropping a little and the sky was darkening. There was a 20% chance of rain that day, so I figured no rain gear was needed and the darker clouds would blow by.

Having reached the Appalachian Trail, we headed north to Mt. Everett. The trek is steep but a good pair of legs and boots will get the job done. The views are worth the elevation changes and towards the top of the mountain (about 2,300 ft) I notice Spring is just arriving up here as the vegetation is no longer in bloom, but budding. The path is clear with naturally placed granite rocks providing a bumpy but well paved path. The rocks start to show their heritage as the marble pokes through with clarity and the millions of years of continental plate movement continues to play out.

For hundreds of years, the finest iron ore (pig iron) was mined in these hills, countless trails and stone ruins serving reminder of the not so distant past when the New World of American colonies provided splendid amounts of wildlife, resources and I do believe rain, because at the top of the mountain, we got slammed with a rain storm and a bit of thunder.

With the views being covered up in the rain and the pending lightning, Hugo and I sat back down, cutting our hike short. The granite rocks became slick and although the heart pounds in complaint going up the hills, it holds its breath on the way down. Gravity relentlessly continues to want to win the battle of momentum and the slick rocks, now sparkling, are no friends to human foot wear. Hugo seems not to mind.

Back on the level part of the path, the rain lightens up and as mountain weather tends to do, it changes quickly. This would be a great time to mention you can never pack too much gear for changing conditions. I have a top of the line rain coat for hiking that is designed for the worse a day of hiking might bring me on the west coast of Scotland. It breaths, keeps the rain out and has numerous zippers for various wear options depending on the seasons. I left it at home for the day of 20% moisture. I felt worse when emptying out the rarely used backpack I brought along and found an umbrella. Lesson learned.

Hugo got the scent of something and crashed through the woods in a mighty attack. His Brave Heart antics are inspiring at first but he came back (a rarity) with nothing to eat and managed to tear off one of the sides of his new trail pack. I didn't care for the pack in the first place but now I have to carry all of his water too. With the orange hunting/safety vest on, Hugo's attitude changes, his pace quickens and I can see he's on the hunt. A short while later, he runs off, barely in sight between the trees in a shallow ravine and then the barking starts. I've no choice but to find him and follow the sound if his bark through thick brush. Hugo treed a forest creature. I've no idea what it is, but it apparently can climb trees quite well and look like a sloth. Hugo gets put on the leash, and we continue our soaked selves down Race Brook Falls Trail.

With the sun out, Hugo and I stop for lunch at the base of the 100' waterfall. I replace my wet layers with a dry shirt (I did remember an extra shirt), munch on my Granola bar and swig a good amount of water to lighten the pack. After five hours of hiking, the redistribution of weight is welcome. The falls thunder behind us and the creek bubbles around us before venturing off another 50' dive. A few birds call out their territory and the sun seems to ruffle the leaves of the trees to dry them off. I reckon Hugo is over his prey drive as he's fast asleep on the rock waiting for the next pack movement. This is one of those moments where silent reflection gets in the way of a steady day dream. Content thought of the moment is all that's needed.

We arrive at the car about an hour later, still slightly damp but find the car is awash in rain drops and the car park a mud pit. I may have got hit by a rain storm, but the car park was hit by a flood. Nonetheless, the sun was out and I dried the sunroof off so we could enjoy the rain cleaned air on the way home. With the amount of flying I'm doing, days like this are rare but so very cherished and Mt. Everett, didn't let me down with spectacular views, roaring waterfalls and a reminder that Mother Nature is just as tricky on the ground as she is in the air.