Via Community News Service, a University of Vermont journalism internship
BURLINGTON – Across the treetops of the Green Mountains, James P. Taylor envisioned a first of its kind, 272-mile trail that would take hikers from Massachusetts to Canada. The idea, conceived in 1910, the same year as the founding of the Green Mountain Club, was to show off the beauty of Vermont and attract visitors. It was completed two decades later, in 1930.
Early years on the trail consisted of solitude, according to the Vermont Historical Society. At its start, it was lesser known and hikers would be hard pressed to find many fellow passerby on the trail, unless they lodged in a shelter with a caretaker, or were welcomed into the home of a local farmer.
But a boon in hiking in the 1970s turned solitude into community. Escape from people turned into escape from the bustle of the outside world. This sense of community is now a core part of experiencing the Long Trail, through sharing trail names and stories in shelters, to getting a hot meal and fresh shower at a bed and breakfast, to maintaining the extensive trail through a network of volunteers.
Much of the Long Trail remains the same almost a century later, according to Micheal Debonis, executive director of the Green Mountain Club, a nonprofit dedicated to preserving and protecting the Long Trail. Debonis said the Long Trail is a place to unplug, but also connect with state culture and history.
“Being there in a pouring rainstorm, being soaking wet is the same experience,” Debonis said of past and present hikers. “Being in a cabin with a wood fire is the same experience.”
But things have changed too. Back in the 20th century, for example, Camels Hump had huts and caretakers. The Camels Hump Club in Waterbury offered an experience where visitors could take a train to the North Duxbury Depot, then ride a horse-drawn carriage up the ridge line, transfer to horseback, and finally take a short hike to the summit clearing, where their rustic lodgings included hot meals.
Today, Debonis said, while the club works to provide a safe and beautiful experience with world-class shelters, “you’re probably not going to find someone there that’s going to cook for you.”
For hikers looking for that level of hospitality, they can find it off trail at inns and bed and breakfasts.
The Woodshed Lodge in Jay Peak has hosted visitors since the 1950s. When owner Bill Haynie bought the inn in 2021, he realized that there was an untapped, off-ski season market of Long Trail hikers.
“We put our name out there and it turned our summers around, in a huge way. We host a few hundred hikers per summer,” Haynie said. “We keep one of our rooms at a special hiker price.”
The Lodge offers a shuttle service, laundry, and breakfast – plus a pond or hot tub dip. The trail community, Haynie said, offers a heartwarming snapshot of good samaritans.
“People just help each other out. They’ll meet, cross paths one time on the trail, they’ll catch up with somebody two days later and they’ve run out of camping gas and people will go out of their way – including blowing their budgeted timeline or mileage projections – to help somebody,” Haynie said.
These acts of kindness aren’t uncommon on the trail.
“People on trail will offer you food and advice and anything that you need in a heartbeat. There’s definitely a sense of community,” said Lydia Downs, who hiked the Long Trail in 2022 and remembers helping another party of hikers through their medical crisis.
“The second night at a shelter there were these two older gentlemen,” Downs said. “One had fallen on some rocks and cut up his face pretty badly and when they got to the shelter, I told ’em that I’m an EMT and I offered to help clean him up a bit. The next morning he gave me the trail name, Attending Trail Angel.”
Downs opted for the trail name “Hiccup” instead, inspired by their hiccuping after every meal. Trail names have become a unique part of the Long Trail community.
James Verdey, who hiked the Long Trail with their now wife in 2012, said their trail name, Crocker, came through some creative perseverance.
During the first half of the hike, Verdey developed blisters from all the mileage and opted to wear Crocs, a plastic slip-on shoe, instead of irritating his sores with boots. This caught some fellow hikers’ eyes.
“There was this group of hikers that we met on the first day and they blew past us and then we didn’t see them for like a week and then they passed us again. It was like a Twilight Zone episode,” Verdey said.
The two groups ended up spending a night together at the Inn at Long Trail with dinner and drinks, discussing their hiking, and Verdey’s footwear, with humor.
“They gave me my trail name ’cause they kept passing me and seeing that I was wearing Crocs,” Verdey said. But while their feet were aching, “trail magic” – other hikes helping each other out – got them through.
“Early on we had met up with this kid who we were hiking with for a couple days. We woke up one day and he was like, be at this parking lot by nine o’clock my dad’s gonna show up with a cooler full of stuff,” Verdey said. “The guy had Gatorades, sandwiches and fresh fruit. It was so awesome. It’s like those little morale boosts that you would get along the way.”
Volunteership also creates a tight knit community, according to Debonis.
“I like to tell folks that you know if you really want to get involved in the organization in a leadership role, you can do that. But if you’re too busy and you still want to give back, you can just connect with us and go out for a day or maybe a morning or an afternoon,” Debonis said.
There’s a chance to help the Green Mountain Club on September 20 with the Long Trail Hike-a-thon Day. For the club’s annual fundraiser, participants can sign up to raise a certain amount of money for every mile they hike. This year the fundraising goal is $80,000.
When asked about the importance of getting people out and excited about the Long Trail, Cindy Griffith, a hiker and volunteer, shared their most transformative memory after hiking up to Puffer Shelter.
“Looking down the view into the valley, we could actually see cars, their lights, from up there. And I remember sitting there thinking how big the world is and how small we are,” Griffith said. “I hear people say that all the time, but seeing that everything was down there, there’s so much more to Vermont and the world than what most people see.”