By Marty Basch

The hiking pole stood alone on the trail. It was leaning against a rock and if hiking poles can rest, it was resting. I nudged it from its nap, placed it in my hand and we continued up the trail.

I knew we would not be together long. Up ahead was a group of four hikers I had spotted from below. Chances are, I thought, it belonged to one of them. They were merrily hiking along the Waterbury Trail to the summit of Mount Hunger towering above Waterbury Center.

Reluctant trail angel

A lone hiker was descending. "Yours?," he was asked. He shook his head. "Theirs?," I said motioning to the foursome. "Maybe," he said.

The trail followed up the steep sides of a narrow gorge, a brook flowing down. Two of the hikers stood on the other side. I skipped across.

"Yours?," I said.

One of the women produced a big smile, and started on about how she knew she was missing something, then realized it was her pole, she wasn't going back down to get it and wondered if it would be here when she returned. I handed her the pole.

She hugged me.

She called me a "trail angel."

I've been called a lot of things by people, and some of them we can even print. But never have I been dubbed an angel. I'm no angel.  But trail angels do exist. I've seen them. They never appear with wings or halos. But they've been there with bottles of beer, offerings of free lodging, rides to town and two even saved my butt from an Alaskan grizzly bear years ago.

So they're out there. They just don't look like me.

I thanked her for her compliment and just told her to "pass it on."

Hike on

I continued on the trek, now pole-less. Patches of ice dotted the trail. Spots of snow appeared. A group of four twenty-somethings with zero body fat ran down the trail. Clouds formed a greeting committee as a rock scramble began under the shrinking pines near the summit.

Foggy summit

Up top, it was pea soup. The view was my outstretched hand, and a couple of signs pointing the way to other places with one reminding hikers they were in a fragile alpine zone.

I couldn't see anything. Too bad because Mount Hunger is in a fine hiking neighborhood. Route 100 is the state's most labeled roadway, mostly called the "Skier's Highway." It is more. It's also an excellent way to bicycle the state tip-to-tail, but to the hiker the meandering north south road in the Stowe area also acts as a demarcation line for a couple of major league Vermont mountain ranges. The Green Mountains are in the west, with such prominent peaks as Mount Mansfield (the state's highest at 4,393 feet), another four thousand footer in Camel's Hump (4,083 feet) and 3,684 foot Bolton Mountain.

To the east of Route 100 stands a wall of mountains called the Worcester Range, home to popular climbs like Stowe Pinnacle, Worcester Mountain and the classic rounded knoll of Mount Hunger above Waterbury Center which leaves from a Loomis Hill Road trailhead a few miles from the town's gazebo on the green.

Mount Hunger stands 3,538 feet tall and is an alpine porch for viewing hulking Camel's Hump in the south, the storied White Mountains of New Hampshire in the east and mighty Mansfield in the northwest. The blue-blazed Waterbury Trail is a two-plus mile path to the summit. Mellow at the start through the forest and large boulders, the trail increases in difficulty as it climbs a ravine, crosses a boulder and tree strewn brook, and eventually comes to some rock scrambles before bursting out onto the ledgy peak. There are opportunities for other hikes including a short diversion to the ledges of White Rock Mountain or a rugged and longer excursion to the spectacle of Stowe Pinnacle.

Pass it on

And there is also the prospect of doing the right thing when the opportunity presents itself. I descended from Hunger's heavenly perch to get out of the blowing clouds, wind and light rain (if I was really an angel there would have been sunshine and million dollar views up there). As I descended, there was the pack of four hikers again, including the woman with pole in hand. She made mention of that trail angel as we crossed paths.

Had she been an angel (and I bet she is), she would have seen that so-called trail angel sliding down some of those rock outcroppings on his wingless keister, feverishly praying for some paved real estate real soon. And on his way back to the road, he said his hiker hellos and answered questions about the weather up top. It's what you do. You pass it on.

One Tank Away

Waterbury Center is:

*199 miles from Watertown, Mass.

*242 miles from Waterbury, Ct.

*121 miles from Waterville Valley, N.H.