Read part one, where Barre resident Cara Clifford Nelson recalls her close bond with her grandmother, Catherine Robbins, and Catherine’s legendary 1927 thru-hike of the Long Trail, in this series about family and generations on the Long Trail, “Musketeers Across Time.”
A version of this article appears in the Spring 2024 Long Trail News.
My 16th birthday was an unforgettable milestone, spent hiking with family and friends up Mt. Horrid cliffs. As we indulged in birthday cupcakes on the cliffs, I envisioned the laughter of the Three Musketeers echoing through time. The seed of hiking the Long Trail someday was planted, inspired by the trailblazing spirit of my grandmother and her adventurous companions.
However, life took unexpected turns. I pursued my education at Lyndon State College, where I crossed paths with my future husband, Jonathan. Inspired by his career move to Maine, I embraced a new chapter. Amidst the ebb and flow of life, it wasn’t until 1996 that a realization sparked a profound commitment. The upcoming 70th anniversary of my grandmother’s hike served as a poignant reminder of a long-cherished dream – to embark on the same trail, retracing the footsteps of the Three Musketeers.
Retracing the Steps
Turning to my 90-year-old grandmother for guidance, I asked, “Grandma, do you think I can do it?”
Her response, accompanied by a reassuring smile, echoed with unwavering confidence – “You can do anything you set your mind to. Just make sure you have two other girls with you.”
Following her advice, I approached my sister Amity with the proposal. To my delight, she embraced the idea with boundless enthusiasm. A Junior Exercise Science major at Castleton, her eagerness to explore the Long Trail resonated with infectious energy.
The prospect of hiking with my sister carried a unique empowerment. Beyond the trail’s physical challenges, it presented an opportunity to truly know her. With a 14-year age gap, we hadn’t shared the same upbringing. Departing for college when she was merely four, we hadn’t spent extended periods together. The prospect of a month-long hike became more than a physical journey; it was a chance to forge a deeper connection with my little sister, creating lasting memories on the timeless canvas of the Long Trail.
Musketeers, Too
At 34, I had never experienced long-distance backpacking. A hiker and camper, yes, but carrying everything needed for 26 days on my back was a new challenge.
Amity and I hiked together as “Musketeers, Too,” commemorating the 70th anniversary of the original Three Musketeers’ historic hike. The adventure expanded into a 26-day family and friends hiking saga, with various relatives and friends rotating as the third member of our trio.
The Green Mountain Club provided invaluable gear, essentials, and planning advice. Bob Northrop, a seven-time End to Ender and GMC volunteer, inspired by my grandmother’s lifetime of hiking, helped plan an itinerary similar to the original Three Musketeers hike.
Our parents, Kerry and Seth Clifford, met us with food and supplies at various planned road crossings. My sister and I had a great support team. We embarked on our 26-day Long Trail hike on July 26, 1997, mirroring the start date of the original Three Musketeers trek.
Different Times, Same Essence
The Long Trail, etched with the footprints of the Three Musketeers, served as the canvas for my grandmother’s daring escapade. In sepia-toned photographs in her scrapbook, the trail emerged as a narrow ribbon flanked by towering pines and painted skies. The landscape had evolved as I laced up my hiking boots, but the essence remained. Pines stood sentinel, their needles whispering tales of a bygone era, and unbeknownst to us, a new family awaited us.
Hiking in 1997 differed starkly from my grandmother’s era. Gear had evolved from heavy woolen pants, leather-soled boots, and canvas rucksacks to lightweight, moisture-wicking fabrics, grippy rubber-soled boots, and ergonomic backpacks, but camaraderie endured. Hikers and groups became our trail family. The challenging terrain deepened our connection to each other and the generations before us. The trail unfolded like a living history book, revealing chapters of our family’s legacy with each rocky ascent and lush green valley.
The Trail Connects
As my sister and I navigated the challenging terrain, we discovered we had many differences yet we developed a profound connection to each other and others hiking the trail and the generations that had come before us. It was a communion with the past, a bridge spanning the decades, and the Long Trail served as our sacred conduit.
Amity and I hiked at different paces, mirroring the Musketeers’ dynamics. We soon learned that every hiker was on their own journey, a lesson as relevant in 1997 as in 1927. Hilda was the tallest and hiked up front to set the pace. Kathleen had the shortest legs and always walked in the middle. My grandmother, Catherine, took up the rear to keep them sandwiched together.
My sister was much like Hilda; she took the daily lead and always waited for me. To me, hiking was a network filled with everyday social moments and vistas. So, I was a dawdler, checking out every lookout view and chatting with the many hikers I passed. We had family members hike with us at various hiking levels, including my Aunt Liz (Elizabeth Sears, Catherine’s daughter), who was slower than us but quickly learned to create her own adventure.
The End of One Journey, the Beginning of More to Come
We reached the Canadian border in 26 days, around August 15, 1997, a little quicker than our grandmother’s iconic hike, since Amity had to get back to school for her senior year of college.
Finishing was exciting and, at the same time, depressing. We loved our trail life and newfound trail family! We did not want our newfound love for backpacking and adventure to end. As my mom says, Amity never left the trail that August. In the spring of 1998, she hiked the AT. I would have joined her, but work took precedence. Luckily, I got to continue the Long Trail’s impact on generations of my family by hiking with my then-ten-year-old son, Carl, in 2013.
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