The last of the big mountains are behind us. Moosilauke and Greylock marked our crossing from the hills to the flats. Moosilauke was where the geography really changed. Looking north, all we could see were colossal 4,000-foot mountains. To the south were but small rolling hills for miles and miles.

Up on the hills, we eat apples and enjoy our time on the mellow terrain. Greylock, however, was a rough rainy trek, but the monuments on the summit snuck up on us through the fog and graced us with their presence.

It was a difficult mountain, but things look a lot more simple in our near future.

Walking has gotten remarkable easier since we got to Vermont and we've really been figuring this stuff out.

Taylor has found that a well-rounded diet of exclusively tuna works for him. I've settled on Pop-Tarts and various forms of Ramen noodles.

Tristan eats everything and Devon treats himself to peanut butter and jelly and hot dogs. Our cookware has held up, but anyone within shouting distance can clearly smell that they need a good cleaning.

Our gear has been doing its job but at the same time, its relative old age has taken a toll. Zippers bust, shoelaces serve as mouse food and backpack frames have bent. The tent isn't exactly rain proof (our air mats thankfully float), Taylor's rain fly is as absorbent as a towel, and water filters have burnt out.

Our boots, however, have held up remarkably well. We're hoping that we can keep them running until Pennsylvania. Hopefully our bodies will make it that far.

Minor injuries are all too common, and all of the serious ailments have thankfully been just Tristan. Most of our strife has come from slipping and falling in the rainy leaves.

Recently, the days have been cold and wet and the nights have been even more so. To stay warm we hop around in our sleeping bags, kindle fires, and enjoy each other's company.

We've met fewer people since the northbound hiker bubble came up, but we've found our own southbound herd.

Tomahawk, Theseus, Socrates, two others and us make up the southbound bubble moving through Lee, Massachusetts. We restocked there, again in Salisbury, Conn., and then we'll be in New York.

We're looking forward to seeing new and exciting places, but it's always sad to move on from the places we've really enjoyed.

Homecoming at Bennington College, the beautiful shelters, and the people we've met outweigh the hardships of this cold front we've been walking through. Spirits get low, but they also fly high.

Nov. 2 marked Taylor's departure. He’s not quitting but just continuing the hike according to how he wants to.

He's always wanted to do it from Georgia to Maine in the warmer weather. He's sad to leave but has decided to go home to work and hit the trail later.

A man named Chet who houses Appalachian Trail hikers told us that it's our journey, and we can do it however we'd like. Chet is somewhat of a legend on the trail. I don't want it to sound like Taylor is a quitter because he is not. He just has figured out how he wants to do this journey.  

We hope that we'll make it to Georgia without having to finish up later in the year. 

Brothers Devon and Aiden Gordon, Tristan See and Taylor Benner, all from Rockport, are hiking the Appalachian Trail to Georgia. They are sending periodic installments from the tall spine of the East Coast.

Four men hike the Appalachian Trail, bound for Georgia