Long Trail: Day 6

12 miles (76 Total)

Styles Peak to Little Rock Pond Shelter

43.39891, -72.95405

Today was great until we went swimming in Little Rock Pond. 

It was a nice swim. The water was cool and refreshing, and it felt amazing washing the last 6 days of salt and dirt off of my body.

Fully rejuvenated, I began exiting the pond, maneuvering through the rocky lake bed. I stepped on a large rock, and then my foot slipped, and a sharp piece of the rock slithered between my toes. I thought for a minute that this wasn’t good, but nothing hurt, so I didn’t think anymore of it. Back on shore, I dried off with my towel, and that’s when I noticed I was standing in a small pool of my own blood. 

Not good.

It appeared my foot had slid nicely across the rock, slicing the upper padding of my foot below the toes in surgical precision. It was a big gash, maybe two or three inches in length, and it was quite deep upon first inspection. I went back to the lake and washed it off, applied some alcohol to the area, and then smacked a large bandage on the gash. I wrapped athletic tape around my foot to keep the bandage in place.

Fuck. Me.

The gash was big; big enough to have me worried whether it would require stitches or not. Was my hike over? Was this the end of the long trail for me?

14 months of near continuous traveling and adventuring without any incidents, and a stupid slip on a rock finally did me in. Hiking through snow ledges, getting chased by dogs, near death experiences sharing the road with crazy drivers, all real risks. And now I had to go and slip on a small stupid rock going for a swim in lake.

I’m most certainly going to have to hike out of the woods tomorrow. It would be very difficult to hike with this gash and keep it clean at the same time. Not to mention how it’s on pretty much the dirtiest part of my body.

But I’m not giving up. The Long Trail has not yet bested me.

We will take a few days off in Rutland and let it heal a little bit, see what a doctor says, and keep it clean. Hopefully it can heal enough so that it is possible to keep hiking. Currently, it doesn’t hurt too bad. 

This really sucks. 

We were having such a great time out here, even though it’s been rainy, muddy, riddled with poison ivy, and infested with the worst insects imaginable.

I like the woods here. They feel familiar and comfortable. They are quiet, reflective. It’s fun hopping over rocks and roots; it makes you think about how you are moving through the woods. It requires your complete attention. And when your mind drifts away, it punishes you. 

It’s an unforgiving but lovable place. It’s like a parent that scolds you as a child and you hate them for it, but you know they are right and you love them anyway.

I’m not ready to leave this place.
I hope everything works out.