Encountering the infamous “Salt.” A man that terrorizes hikers particularly women in the Pico Camp Shelter area along the AT/LT. This is the long account of what happened to four women hikers during a visit in July 2022.  While I do try sticking to the facts, my own assumptions and fears are indelibly linked with this account. 

The Shelter

Heading north on the AT from Killington, we arrived at the AT/LT intersection with Shelburne Pass. 0.5 miles to Pico Camp Shelter, 0.7 to Pico peak. We continued on to the Pico Camp Shelter. 3:50 PM

The trail became more narrow and filled with roots. The canopy was dense for a ways until we came to a fire road known as Alpine Drive. The blue blazed trail crossed this road. A few hundred feet away was a 6” steel pipe across the path. Presumably this supplied water or power to the top of Pico. This pipe require an extended pause to straddle it, and another tenth of a mile to Pico camp. 

Upon arriving at the cabin there was no sign of anyone.  A marker pointed down the Shelburne Pass trail to the water spring, and another behind the cabin pointed up to the Pico Peak. The cabin door was secured with a barrel lock. We walked in and the cabin looked lovely. 100 feet to the left was the water source. Our options for the night were camping on the road, or sleeping in the cabin. We opted for the cabin as it seemed most peaceful, and we wanted to get off the trail. There was a terrific view of Killington from the Cabin windows. 

The first indication of someone being in the area came while going to fill water. By the water source there were three plastic bottles: a half full orange juice, 1/4 full V8, and a 1/2 full jug of water. All in store bought containers rather than hiking gear. 

But there was still no one in sight. So we refilled our water bladder several times over the next few hours, allowing it to filter in the cabin, while we refilled our bags for the morning and cooked dinner. After dinner we played cards, and read a bit. 

Being in a cabin, we largely prepped our bags for an early morning departure, recharged phones, set the bear vaults off-trail to the right of the cabin, and hung packs off of hooks along the ceiling joist. Closed the door and latched it from the inside. While not it’s not inviting toward other backpackers to latch a door from the inside, the door wouldn’t stay closed on its own and we wanted to keep wildlife out. 

Three of our group were in sleeping bags while I stayed awake reading at the table. We chatted together for awhile and watched the light fade on Killington. 7:45 PM. 

Approach

Then the man came. Heavy steps were heard on the trail coming down from Pico summit. He came close to the cabin, but didn’t knock on the door. We all went silent. He walked around the back and went to a spot off to our right, just below the cabin. I went to the small side window and was able to see him. Shoulder length wavy gray hair, a gray bushy goatee, and thin squinty eyes. He wore a black skull cap, black tank top—later a black long sleeve, and silver track pants. He had two small store-bought water bottles with him, a towel, and was changing his shirt. 

There was no obvious sign of a day pack, so I assumed he was just there to take a breather before continuing back to the Shelburne Pass parking lot. We continued to talk—being vocal seemed to be the best obvious way to let the man know there were people in the cabin. 

But the man didn’t leave. He circled around the area of the cabin a few more times with heavy steps. Once using the privy off to the right, a few times walking in front of the windows, but never looking in. He seemed unconcerned about who may have been inside. Unlike my three companions my voice is deep so I made sure to keep talking to make my presence known in hopes he might be deterred from the cabin. 

Concerned

Soon he returned from the privy, and began mumbling to himself. He came up close to the cabin, on the left side by the door. Here he began snapping large limbs off the trees. A few breaks, gather the limbs, and shove them into a garbage bag hanging in a nearby tree—all the while singing. By this point in the encounter he had to have known there were people in the cabin. There are trees everywhere, but the goal seemed to be to break limbs close to the cabin, maybe as a scare tactic.  

Now was the time to fish-out the stun gun from my pack—something given to me by a friend. Stun guns are illegal in MA without a firearms license. I don’t know what the VT laws are regarding this, but in that situation it was irrelevant—self-defense is self-defense! And if this man was going to attempt any contact at any point I wanted to be ready. 

The man continued snapping branches before walking off into the woods. A few minutes later he came back, and threw a sleeping bag out on front of the cabin. He took a dark green tarp, maybe 10×12, and started shaking it out loudly, whipping it in the air six or seven times before leaving it crumpled on the ground next to the sleeping bag. This cabin, like others along the AT/LT doesn’t allow camping next to the cabin, rather a short distance away on the fire road.

Planning

By this point two of us were sitting up, I could see my spouse’s eyes wide, and the four of us were deciding our next move. It was 8:20 PM, and the woods were nearly dark. 

Option 1: Taking the Pass trail back to Route 4. But negotiating a wooded trail for 2-3 miles while being freaked out by this guy was not appealing, nor deemed safe. 

Option 2: Waiting this out until daylight. When the man originally showed up and started singing, I had settled with the idea of staying awake that night. Because sleeping while this man was outside was NOT acceptable. 

Option 3: Take the trail back to the fire road and take it down to the base of Pico. While this meant being deposited on Rt 4 without an easy way back, we all felt we could work that situation when we came to it. 

While discussing our options, in the distance the man could be heard yelling, “I am the prophet!” And within a few minutes he came back to the cabin loudly singing, “Burn, Pico, burn! Burn Pico to the ground! Burn the whole world down!”

Leaving

8:45 PM. Adrenaline was running and our decision was made, we were leaving! Hurriedly we pulled packs off their hooks, gathered sleeping bags and any gear that was out, some put sports bras & shorts on, some didn’t care. During this time one of our hikers had a contact lens issue and as a result only had one contact in—which would mean taking extra care to get us out safely. 

A quick last survey of the cabin, headlamps on, two Luci-lights out for additional light, and poles in hand. We waited until we couldn’t hear the man, and then went out. I made sure the door didn’t slam against the cabin so as not to draw attention to ourselves. Just outside the cabin were his brown boots and a copy of the Mountain Times, but no man. 

My three friends were ahead of me as I stayed the back. Poles in one hand and my stun gun in the other. Down the trail we stopped briefly to grab the bear vaults—which were thankfully untouched, and then we continued down the trail. Several times I turned to peer into the darkness, shining my headlamp both on trail and off, to be sure we weren’t being followed. I looked for any hint of eye-shine in the forest. Since his intentions were unknown there was the possibility he would follow us. 

The goal was to get out quickly, but speed was hindered by the trail’s technicality, the light available, and having to straddle the pipe again, but we made it to the fire road without incident. Now was our first opportunity to re-assess. We decided heading down this fire road was the best option, at the base of Pico we could figure how to get home. There were no obvious signs of being followed, and we could not hear the man either. 9:00 PM.

Wrong turn

After another 20 min of walking we did a 2nd assessment. One of us had the thought that we might be headed down the Pico-Killington Interconnect Trail, the opposite direction of Route 4. I concurred, based on the direction of mountains that were still visible. But we both agreed that this would take us to the Killington Access Rd, which we we could walk down if needed and get back to our campground. This was still the best decision. 

After 3 miles and 1.5 hours of walking in the dark, taking a few wrong turns, encountering a massive swarm of bugs forcing a walk in the dark, and one person falling on the loose rock, we made it to the base of Ramshead, and wandered over to the Killington Distillery. Our plan was to sit there, do 3rd-assessment, and figure out how to get back most easily. But before doing that a nice guy working at the Distillery heard our story and offered to give us a ride down. 

Recap/Conclusions

Overall the situation was awful, and could have been far worse in many frightening ways. But the four of us all had skills to draw on. And being close friends we could count on each other to speak our minds without judgment.  

Though having different points of being concerned, alarmed, and frightened, none of us reached full-blown panic mode.  

We had defense items, stun gun & pepper spray, and to a lesser extent our hiking poles. 

We used our brains and problem solving skills—assessing where safety/civilization and how to get ourselves there. Two of us knew the ski and hiking trails on the face of Killington, which helped navigating in the dark. And cell reception was decent enough for map reading once in awhile.

And there were contingency plans—maybe we had to leave stuff behind, but that was preferable to remaining in the cabin/area.   

We lost nothing and no one and came out/will come out stronger.  Though reading and writing this still makes my heart jump, and almost to tears.