Caretaking with the Mountain

This article was written by Nathan Knutson. Nathan was a caretaker at Taft Lodge on Mount Mansfield throughout the summer of 2023. 

The job description of a Green Mountain Club caretaker can more or less be summed up as stewarding the lodges, trails, hikers, and ecosystems found along the entire 272-mile length of Vermont’s Long Trail. Such a bare-bones definition, however, does not touch on the unique beauty and meaning that we bear witness to on a day-to-day basis while out in Vermont’s magnificent landscape.

As a caretaker, I had the privilege of witnessing and being part of the traditions and memories of many hikers. While the following memory is only one such moment along this “path through the wilderness,” for me, it was an experience that has come to embody the summer I spent in the woods as a caretaker with the GMC.

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One day in late June I was going about my normal duties as caretaker of Taft Lodge on the eastern face of Mount Mansfield. It had been a bright and sunny day, the first real break from weeks of steady rain. After a full day spent on the summit talking to hikers and doing bits of trail work, I went back down the mountain to Taft, navigating steep boulders and gnarled trees to start my usual evening routine.

By the time I bent down through the lodge door, two hikers were already settling in for the night. I introduced myself and gave the usual talk about the ins and outs of staying at Taft. These two hikers happened to be northbound end-to-enders, so they had already walked most of the trail and were more than accustomed to this spiel. Time slipped by effortlessly as it so often does in the woods and before we knew it, the sun was about to begin its graceful descent toward the Adirondacks.

In the golden light of early evening, two more figures walked through the doorway. One crouched low to avoid hitting the comically low frame (the doorway at Taft is only about 5 feet tall), while the other simply walked upright through the tiny opening. These two hikers looked tired but in good spirits. I again introduced myself and the lodge, mentioning that they could claim any open spot as theirs for the night.

As they settled in, I started talking to the older hiker. He said that he and his son, J (I use initials since I didn’t have the forethought to ask to use their full names), had come up to the lodge on this of all days because tomorrow was J’s eighth birthday. There had been an almost constant downpour of rain for the week leading up to that point and A (the father) hadn’t been sure they would be able to come. But once the sun eventually poked through, he knew they had to take advantage of that break no matter how wet and muddy it would be getting up the mountain.

I turned to J, wishing him a happy birthday and asking if he liked his hiking trip so far. He enthusiastically replied that he loved hiking and this was his first time staying overnight in a backcountry lodge. Excitedly, he explored every nook and cranny that Taft had to offer and picked out the perfect spots for him and his dad to sleep that night. He settled on one of the upper lofts right next to a window, a place where they could have a clear view of the stars come nightfall.

We continued our unhurried conversation as everyone eased further into the fading light of true evening, preparing dinner and relaxing on the lodge porch. A told us how his father had brought him to Taft Lodge to celebrate his eighth birthday and how significant of an experience it was, kickstarting his love for all of Vermont’s outdoor wonders. Continuing this tradition of a birthday trip to Mount Mansfield for his own children was just one of many ways he wanted to pass down this connection to the next generation, the same way his dad had done for him decades before.

We retreated into the lodge when night fell and blanketed Mansfield’s slopes in deep blue hues, spotted only with town lights glittering far below. As we readied our beds for the night, A realized in all his haste to get up the mountain that he had forgotten his own sleeping bag when packing all of their things. I offered an emergency blanket I had saved but A dismissed it saying, “No worries. We’re inside and it’s the end of June. I’ll just wear my layers and be a little cold tonight.” We climbed into our spots, and before falling asleep I could still see the silhouette of father and son as they looked out the window to the wonders of a clear summer night sky.

In the morning, I woke up to the sound of rustling gear. Anyone who has stayed in a lodge with a thru-hiker knows how early they get up. I usually tried to at least be up and moving by the time they were packed and ready to head out for the day. When I glanced across the room, I noticed A and J still in their corner. Snuggled close together, J shared his tiny child-sized sleeping quilt with A in a beautiful but useless attempt to keep his dad comfortable in the chilly mountain air.

Later that morning, after the sun had warmed us all and the day hikers far below had begun their treks up Mansfield, we all set out for the day. The thru-hikers headed down the mountain while A and J made their plans to hit the summit before taking some of the side trails that crisscross the mountain. I was scheduled to do some trail work before ending my day at the visitor center a mile and a half down Mansfield’s ridgeline. We said our goodbyes, splitting off from Taft and going our separate directions.

Surprisingly, hours later and after many miles of hiking and a very full day, I saw A and J again at the visitor center. They were waiting to be picked up by family who were driving up the toll road to meet them. I don’t think I will ever forget how big of a smile J had on his face. His eyes were alight with a joy that’s only found after a long hard day of hiking. From that smile alone, I could see that this birthday trip to the woods would not be something he soon forgot.

This story of a boy’s birthday trip to the wilderness is just one example of what being a caretaker means for me. Caretaking is truly more than could ever be summarized in a short description or single tale of adventure. Being the caretaker of a mountain is, as I have come to learn, better described as caretaking WITH a mountain. We are in connection, trying our best to make the kinds of experiences you just read about possible for generations to come. Sustainably building memories that stir a life-long dedication and love of all that the Vermont wilderness has to offer – this is what caretakers do.