Stratton Mountain, VT

Yesterday was our third day in Vermont and the agenda was quite intimidating. Stratton mountain is the largest climb since Virginia; it is also the peak that Benton Mckaye stood on and conceived the idea of the Appalachian trail. Just shy of 4000 ft, the mountain loomed on the horizon all morning as we wove our way through birch groves and valleys. At the base of the mountain we crossed a gravel road in the bright sunlight and plunged back into the dappled shadows of the woods. As we started our ascent we noticed that the birds had stopped chirping and a few moments later our surroundings began to sink into darkness. Thunder rolled across the sky and cracked in deafening repetition. In the span of ten minutes we had witnessed the pale blue disappear behind boiling clouds and the trees bend to the gale force winds. We tried to pull out our rain gear but before it was in place the large drops began to fall. The temperature dropped at an unbelievable rate and lighting seemed to split the air in flashes of pink and white. The rain gave way to pea size hail that grew to be the diameter of a dime. The hail pelted us for a while as we huddled under a hemlock tree. Thirty minutes passed and the storm subsided. Still raining, we trudged to the summit, cold and disheartened. When we walked into the clearing I lifted my eyes to see something I never expected to see. Ten yards ahead of me was a moose, and he stared at me as intently as I stared at him. He was massive and very comfortable with us. After several pictures we walked forwards and he slunk off into the darkness beneath the hemlocks. Although the storm dampened our mood as we climbed, the reward at the top was unbelievably awesome!