Miles in Mass, Mosquitoes en Masse

The miles in Massachusetts have come packed with a presence. From Bear Mountain, the highest point in Connecticut, you can see Mt. Race rising from the lakes below, and in the distance stands Mt. Everett. Seeing them is one thing, hiking them is quite another. They took some work, especially Everett. The climb quickly brought me back to Jacob’s Ladder, only longer and more rocky. It required scrambling up slab and boulders that blanketed the forty-five degree slope. But once at the top, the resulting views were impressive, especially when considering the relative flatness of the post-Virginia states.

That introduction, unfortunately, was short lived. The mountaintop experience was soon met by a mountain of mosquitoes, and they were fierce. Descending from Everett meant entering the swamps tucked in the hollows of Massachusetts, and these breeding grounds were fertile. As the trail winds through the mud and muck, the mosquitoes swarm. You know it's bad when they bite as you walk; you know it's really bad when you send more than one at a time falling lifeless to the ground with one swat. At times the only way to keep your sanity is to count the squashed. Thwack! Smack! Two skeeters down. Wham! Whack! Whomp! Add three more to the list. Whap! Whop! Whump! Make the tally eight.

The good news in all of this is that the mosquitoes and wet ground also meant bogs, and bogs have characteristic flora that a hiker like me gets excited about. In fact, thriving in these bogs is a plant that I’ve been waiting to see since my days in North Carolina: the pitcher plant. I almost missed it, but in an effort to photograph a yellow water lily, I stumbled across one nestled among some Sphagnum moss on the edge of the open water. I inched out on a rotting log to start the photo shoot. The log soon collapsed under my weight, submerging my shoe in the putrefaction below, but I didn’t care. I got the pitcher picture that had eluded me until now.


Then, just as the state began, Massachusetts ended with another summit, this time the tallest in the state. Mt. Greylock provided a perfect transition into the last quarter of my journey with views of the Green and White Mountains, the next two challenges along the way. From inside Greylock's stone monument, after climbing up a winding stairwell, you could see for miles, even to Boston on a clear day.

 

And just like that tomorrow I tackle the last three states of my Katahdin-bound journey. The end is drawing near.