Grafton Notch, ME - Norwich VT. via the AT

[pedxing]

Date(s) Hiked: 8/9/03 - 8/21/03

Trails(s) Hiked: Appalachian Trail + various side trails

Total Distance: 188 miles (176 AT)

Difficulty: Variable (moderately easy to difficult)

Conditions: Extremely wet for 3 days, mostly dry after.

Special Required Equipment: None (in summer)

This will come in installments:

Part 1: Grafton Notch to Gorham

Day Zero: 8/8/03 – The plan was to drive up to somewhere near the trail head tonight and camp out, so I could start hiking early in the morning. However, since I was going to be hiking solo, the weather forecast was awful, and I had some last minute work to do – I emailed Rocker10 (Rocker, had asked for a ride to Franconia Notch on the AMC boards, and was hiking to Pinkham) and suggested we consider waiting until Saturday morning to head up. Rocker10 wasn’t keen on setting up camp in the rain Friday evening, or battling the weekend traffic in bad weather and readily agreed.

Day One: 8/9/03 - Rocker turned out to be an interesting person. Rocker had hiked in Nepal (hiring sherpas) had an engineering background and was working in a patent law office and going to law school. I dropped Rocker off at Lincoln woods and drove up to Grafton Notch. I got to the Grafton Notch trailhead a little before noon. I finished up my last section hike (Monson to Grafton) about three years earlier while hiking with my son. So here I was starting where I had left off. Work, custody of my teenage kids, surgery and cancer had all helped keep me from doing a significant section for a while – but here I was feeling healthy, with my kids leaving for Mexico with their mom in a few days and two weeks to backpack. I had never solo hiked for more than 3 days and was kind of excited about having a load of time to myself.

The sky was pretty ominous and the mountains were saturated with water. As I hit the trailhead, two hungry, wet northbound thru-hikers emerged. They were a retired couple. I offered them some fresh baked cookies and we talked a bit. It had taken them 4 ½ hours to get through the mile long Mahoosuc notch. Their age and the extreme wetness had slowed the down.

As I was about to hit the trail, I had a brief panic. I had two major problems: 1) I couldn’t find the first aid supply bag I was going to sort through, taking some and leaving the rest in my car trunk, 2) I couldn’t fit all my stuff in the backpack despite having double checked to be sure it all fit. As I was freaking, I started emptying my bag to repack it. Both problems were solved instantly when I saw that I had put the whole first aid supply bag in my pack. Off I went.

About an hour or so after I started up hill, I passed a day hiker who smiled cheerfully he said and said, “hey you’re almost there!” “Gee, New Hampshire sure went by in hurry” I answered, matching his good cheer. OK – I didn’t say it, I thought it (and was much amused). He was talking about Old Speck. I ended up dropping my pack and detouring over to Old Speck (.6 miles RT). There was a lovely little memorial left by a grieving family at the foot of the observation tower, but not much of a view due to clouds and fog.

At Speck Pond shelter (&camp site), I met some wet and dispirited thru-hikers. The Whites and Mahoosuc notch had been really hard and the rain was relentless. One guy told me, “it’s getting so I don’t care if I hike or not.” I told him I thought the weather was looking up, that I was impressed by how far he’d come and that it wasn’t too far until all the big scale ups and downs would be done. I was tempted to stop at the shelter, but I wanted to finish the day up as planned – by camping out just before Mahoosuc Notch. The trip down to Mahoosuc notch was intense. The hike goes down over Mahoosuc arm, where much of whatever soil was there has been washed away leaving the hiker to descend along downward sloping granite rock face. Today, the rock was muddy, wet and slippery. It was tedious at times, challenging, even tense at others. I planted my butt so many times here and during the first few days, that I was surprised that there weren’t roots coming out. I sorely missed the hiking poles I had left behind for this leg of the trip.

I ended up crossing through the notch that day, not so much out of design, but because I didn’t notice any good camping spot just before it. The notch was a challenge and lots of fun. There was no one part that was excruciating or miserable – it was a moderate, but persistent obstacle course. It must be hard for people who are stiff or tight or have active back problems. Basically, Mahoosuc Notch is a field of boulders left by glaciers at the bottom of a long thin notch between two mountains. Getting through requires crawling over, under and around the boulders. It must be great on a hot summer day. Underneath the boulders, and mostly out of sight is a stream of very cold water. Some people claim it never thaws out entirely under there. The bottom rocks and the water create such coolness that going into the notch feels like going into an air-conditioned space. Climbing out of it, you can feel a blast of warm air. The notch was the only place in my trip under 5500 feet that I wore anything on my head for warmth in the day time (the one other day time place was the summit of Madison). There were a couple places that I couldn’t fit through with my pack, at one point, I had to put my pack on a rock ledge while scrambling underneath it – and then turn around and grab it.

There was no reasonable place to hang my Hammock in the Notch – the trees weren’t right, and I knew I would be anxious hanging above jagged boulders anyway so I waited until I was finished with the notch to start looking for a place to stay for the night. Soon after the notch, the trail turned left at about 90 degrees. I took the turn and then wandered into the woods looking for a place to set up camp. Since I was worried about rain, I hung my tarp close to the hammock and made sure to leave my backpack under the hammock. Happily I was able to set up over a two-inch swell in the ground – that way, I could put my pack on that swell and if it rained my pack would be out of any puddles. It started raining just about as soon as it got dark and didn’t stop until well after it had become light.

Miles hiked: 8 AT + .6 peak bagging

Day Two: 8/10/03 - Disaster #1

Later that morning, huddled in my hammock, I noticed that the rain seemed to be winding down. I stayed put until fairly late morning (at least 10AM) and hoped I had escaped a soaking. When I emerged from the Hammock – I saw that I was sleeping right above 6 inches of water! Thanks to my foresight in placing the backpack, it was only lying in 4 inches of water, instead of six. I learned later that by one measurement, 4.2 inches of rain had fallen that night in the area – so it didn’t take all that much extra drainage in a totally rain soaked forest to get 6 inches of water. Fortunately a lot of important things were in the hammock (like warm clothes and the sleeping bag) and some of the plastic bags I had things in managed to keep their contents dry despite being partly submerged. After wringing out the wet items in my backpack, turning it upside down to pour water out and repacking everything, I waded through this sudden swamp to get back to the trail. I was comparatively lucky… a few nights later, I heard a north bound thru-hiker (“walkabout” if I remember correctly) describe how he was caught in a flash flood and woke to find his tent in several feet of water.

Here, I thought about one great benefit of solo-hiking: you don’t have to worry about some obnoxious jerk whining and fussing and blaming you for screwing up and making them miserable. I also realized a downside: there is no one else to take the heat for screwing up and making you miserable. To keep myself company, I hiked up Fulling Mtn. alternately between fussing and blaming myself and getting very defensive. I passed one group of teenage hikers with a 20-something leader and ran into a few northbound thruhikers who all asked about the notch. Some of them had heard some pretty tall tales from southbounders (including one about a raging current all along the notch). This turned out to be a much better day. I stayed wet, despite very little rain, as the trail was absolutely saturated with water. I ended up losing the AT and back tracking at one of the minor peaks. I crossed into New Hampshire, and ended up spending the night at Gentian Pond shelter. Because of my slow start in the morning, I arrived close to sunset and stayed the night there with 5 northbounders who got there before me – there was little room left for me to hang anything out to dry. As with the day before, nearly all of the downhills were very slow going because they were so wet and slippery.

AT miles 11.3, other – no detours (due to minimal views), except to get lost for a little bit.

Day Three: 8/11/03 – Everyone in the shelter was busy by sunrise. I’d slept more comfortably with my foam pad, than I had with a Z-rest. I’d realized in the hammock the night before that with a pillow, I only needed to have the pad come up to my shoulders. The thruhikers (three women, two guys) were all eager to start their last state we said our good byes and wished each other good luck and headed off. I put on my dry socks, despite feeling kind of silly about it – I knew they’d be soaked within the hour. My shoes had dried just a little bit, so the dry socks at least meant that my feet felt decent starting out.

I’d been noticing an odd prickly sensation on my skin where the backpack straps and padding came closest to my body and as I got dressed, I noticed that I had some bumps on my skin there… was it the way the material irritated me through the shirt – or was the backpack treated with some chemical that had been leaching out do to rain and sweat?

Today’s hike was easier than the day before. I made the 12 miles into route 2 in Gorham much more easily than I made the 11 miles into the shelter the day before. The only hitch came at the road before crossing the Androscoggin river. My map showed the trail going left on the road before crossing a bridge… but I walked much further than I should have with no sign of a bridge crossing… then I hit a trail head (Peabody Brook trail) that clearly came after the bridge, according to the map. I turned around and headed back to the AT trail head I had left. Sure enough, looking carefully at the signs, the trail head was in the opposite direction from that indicated on the map. I still don’t know if my map (a 1998 ATC map) was out-dated or just flat out wrong. Either way the result was to spend an extra mile or two on paved roads. I reminded myself to double check signs, no matter how clear the map seemed to be.

After I crossed the bridge and hit Route 2, I decided to hitch-hike to “The Barn” – a hiker hostel in Gorham. There I would get cleaned up before hitching up to Grafton Notch to retrieve my car and bring it back to Gorham. I had a hard time getting a ride. Maybe the locals had smelled a few too many backpackers after bad weather. Finally, just as it started to rain, a motorcycle stopped. I told him I was going to “The Cabin” (the name of a hostel in Andover, ME) and he told me I probably meant “The Barn” – I told him he was right and we headed off to Gorham. The rain drops were pretty heavy, and without a helmet or visor they were hitting my face kind of hard – but I was just glad to finally have a ride. Who would have picked me if I was soaking wet out there?

The guys who ran the barn were pretty cool. They were all laid back older hiker types. At least one of them had thru-hiked before. It cost 10 dollars for the night, 4 for a shower and 3 to wash and dry a load of clothes. I showered and asked the guy for advice on thumbing to Grafton Notch. He suggested I make a sign and head east on Rt. 2. with a nearly empty pack. The sign and the pack worked. I got there in 2 rides without waiting very long for any of them. Happily, my car was intact. I ended up driving to North Conway. While in North Conway I ate, bought some beer, some zinc-oxide ointment for the rash on my back and for some pretty severe chafing I was getting. I also stopped in to EMS to replace a fleece vest I had managed to lose during my second day on the trail ad buy an ultralight waterproof stuff sack (which broke on me two days later). I stayed at the Barn that night, did laundry, reorganized my bag, replaced water damaged first aid stuff and let my wet stuff air. I had been planning to go two miles further and stay at the Rattle River shelter, but I was happy just to have my car down to Gorham – to have re-supplied from the food in my trunk, and to be clean and dry. I could make up the two miles later.

The Barn was buzzing with thruhikers… a lot of them had pulled a zero day to dry out, duck the rain and rest up for the Mahoosucs. One of the guys who ran the barn said this year had already been the wettest ever for thru-hikers and there was still a month left to go in hiking season. A returning thru-hiker told me he’d seen more days of rain in Maine this year than during his whole 1995 thru hike. I met some nice South Bounders with a dog named “Bryson.” They suggested that I join them in their shuttle in the morning at 7:30.

The barn is a great place. It’s not a warm and fuzzy place, but the folks are helpful and respectful. They provide bikes for people to do errands with while in the area. They also provided rides into Gorham as well as to the nearby trail heads. It was kind of weird to pay 7 bucks for shower and laundry and ten for a bed, but I realized that this is a way of making it cheaper to stay extra nights. They suggested I leave my car there instead of at the trail head, which made sense to me.

AT Miles: 12
Other: 1 -2 miles of getting lost.
I'm not counting miles walking the roads while hitching, wandering around town or other off-trail miles.

 

[pedxing]

Rt. 2 to Carter Notch

Day Four: 8/12/03

I was a little slow getting it together and missed the 7:30 ride to the trail head. I was still working out what to take and what to leave in my car when 7:30 came. Despite being at a hostel, I had my usual breakfast (the same as every other meal) – some nice Italian sausage, Italian cheese with peppercorns, trail mix, dried fruit and mixed nuts. In the end, I hit the trail at 8:30 AM.

The one major gear change I did was to take my trekking poles, I was glad to have them. I also added Marmot pants and jacket, a liner baklava, liner gloves, and a second warm shirt – so that I’d have them if need be for the Presidentials. Since water was abundant, I kept the water to just one liter. Whenever I stopped to get more water, I’d drink at least a liter and then fill up a liter. I carried about a weeks worth of food – enough to last me to Franconia Notch. I was pretty skimpy in choosing how much food to carry. I figured I’d get meals at Pinkham Notch and the Mt.. Washington Observatory, and that I’d snack at one or more of the huts I hit before the Notch. If need be, I could buy trail bars at a hut. I hit the trail with my heaviest pack of the trip. When I hit Pinkham Notch, my pack weighed 28 pounds with almost 3 liters of water – so I figure that’s about what my pack weighed when I hit the trail at Rt. 2 with more food, but less water.

The trail from Rt. 2 south is uphill, but it’s a gradual uphill for the first few miles. I was so happy to have some easy trail that I pretty much flew up the two miles to the Rattle River shelter. I passed a southbound couple on the way to the shelter and caught up with a second southbounding couple (the one’s from the Barn) and their dog, Bryson, at the shelter. There was a former thruhiker there handing out cookies to hikers, so I hung out for a while, eating cookies and talking. Except for the kids I saw on day two, these people were the first people I’d run into who were headed the same direction I was. Despite how nice the folks were, I was itching to move – so I said goodbye to the thru-hikers and headed uphill. A few miles later, I met two exhausted women, sitting on the trail, who cried out “save us, carry us out of here.” I stopped and joked with them briefly before heading on and never saw them again. They mentioned that they were hiking with an older friend who was a former thru-hiker. They mentioned her name and I said, “I think I’ve heard of her!” – they said, “you would if you’re a marine biologist” – but then it occurred to me, “did she keep an on-line trail journal?” It turned out that I had read her trail journals on line a few years ago, she wrote with the trail name “Tortuga” back when Wingfoot's website carried trail journals. A couple hours later I ran into Tortuga and told her that I’d read her journals. She was eager to stop and talk and wait for her friends. She was an incredibly nice and interesting woman and I enjoyed stopping to talk. Soon Bryson and his people showed up, I said “hi” to them and pushed on. Most of the day, I ended up playing leap frog with Bryson and company. I’d pass them on breaks and they’d pass me when I took a break or detoured to grab a peak. It was fun stopping and talking when I caught up to them or when they caught up to me. I was hoping I’d keep running into them for a long time.

There were a lot of spruce grouse around (as there were many days) and I enjoyed seeing and hearing them around the trail. Despite the easy trail, I was unhappy with my backpack – not only was I experiencing a lot of irritation, but the suspension seemed to be screwing up. The trail for miles around Imp shelter was very well maintained. I found out why later, when I ran into the care-taker who was out trimming branches that impinged on the trail. We talked for a while when he suddenly turned his head and looked at my back pack – “that must be killing you!” He pointed out that my load lifters had gone completely slack. I pulled them tight and the pack felt much better. I felt like an idiot – fortunately, he didn’t know me so no one will ever know how out of touch I was with my own equipment. The load lifters kept slipping throughout the trip and eventually I tied the two load lifter straps together to slow the slippage and make it easier to tighten them.

I stuck pretty much to the trail… I took a brief detour to scramble to the top of Moriah and get blasted with wind and cloud that was blowing along the peak.

I left Bryson’s people near the Imp shelter. They decided they would camp at Zeta pass. I told them I might stop there, too, but wanted to reach the Carter Notch hut. I was hoping they’d catch up to me some time, but that was the last I saw of them. Originally, I’d decided to try to get past Carter Notch Hut – this would put me right on schedule. However, it was getting late. I was wet and more rain was due that night. Since Carter was a self-service hut it was only 20 dollars, so I decided I would ask if they had any room. When I hit the hut, the caretaker seemed to assume I was asking for free stay. She said I could sleep on a table in the hut dining area, if I would help clean up in the morning. Perhaps she assumed I was a thru-hiker. I decided to take that deal, partly out of curiosity. It meant I couldn’t set up my sleeping bag until after 9:30 when the dining area closed and that I couldn’t leave right away in the morning. If I ever do it again, I’ll probably just pay the 20 so I can sleep when I want to and get up and go when I want to – and sleep somewhere more comfortable than a table. Actually, I decided to sleep on the floor… I worried about rolling off the table.

I hung around and traded jokes and trail news with the thru-hikers, and then learned how to play a card game called pitch with the caretaker and some paying customers. I also hung out some of my stuff in the shed hoping that it would dry a little. That night, there was mega-snoring from one of the thruhikers and I did not sleep well at all. Again, I was surprisingly comfortable sleeping on the foam mat. The rain came off and on that night, but it wasn’t too bad at all.

AT Miles: 15
Other: Tiny detour to peak of Moriah (.2?)

 

[pedxing]

Carter Notch to somewhere near Osgood.

Day Five: 8/13/03

In the morning, I had some sausage, dried fruit and trail mix and then swept out the kitchen and half the dining room area. After saying good-bye and thanks to the caretaker I headed off. The things I had hung out to dry in the rafters were a bit drier and with the clearing skies I was hopeful of having my first real vistas of the trip, and hoping that my shoes would dry out.

At some point, my right ankle started feeling really tender. Nothing really set it off, it just seemed to be the cumulative result of lots of impact and the ways I kept stressing and straining it when I tried not to slip, slide and fall on rough wet parts of the trail. After a while, it got to feeling badly enough that I wrapped it in my ace bandage for extra support.

I was really happy to see the clearing skies, and the great views from the Wildcats. Despite my ankle, I hurried a bit – hoping to make it to Pinkham Notch in time to shower, clean up and have the AYCE lunch. Between the improved weather, and the proximity to Pinkham Notch and the huts, I started seeing a lot more hikers on the trail. There were some very friendly folks. I commented on the great view where people were picnicking at lost pond, and they invited me to join them. I might have, but I was worried that the AYCE lunch would slip out of my grasp. When I finally crossed Rt. 16 and reached Pinkham Lodge, I found out that the lunch was over in 20 minutes. I put first things first and decided to shower and clean up after lunch. I had plenty of room to eat and move in the cafeteria. Lunch consisted of a spread for cold cuts, soup, salad, bread and dessert – as well as things to drink. I had soup, salad, a very fat sandwich and dessert. I didn’t end up going back for seconds on the food, but loaded up on milk, coffee and juice.

Use of a towel costs a dollar there and the coin operated shower costs 1$ for 3 minutes. I put in a dollar and a half. I also washed out my shoes and some of my clothes and left them to dry before I showered. I spread some things out to air in the packing room after the shower, bought a calling card and called my girl friend. She was going to leave work early the following Wednesday (8/20) and take Thursday off so that she could come hike with me for a day. We agreed on some possible places to meet. She was really hoping that I could finish on Thursday, instead of Friday. I let her know that I was committed to getting to Norwich, but if it looked like I could get within striking distance of Norwich by Wednesday when she met me, then I would and we could finish up together on Thursday. I was feeling very good and was refreshed and well fed from my 2 hour stop over at the Lodge – so I was feeling optimistic about finishing early even though I wasn’t ahead of schedule.

The first four miles southbound from Pinkham were a piece of cake. I was getting my trail legs and the trail was smooth enough that my ankle wasn’t bothering me much. It didn’t take much effort to polish off those four miles in less than an hour and a half. I was thinking of trying to hike Madison that afternoon and reach the Perch – but it was beginning to feel a little risky and unrealistic to try, so I settled on reaching Osgood tent site at the base of Madison. Since I had plenty of time, I shifted gears and went into a blissful meditative mode. My shoes were almost dry, the chafing and the ankle were not bugging me (thanks to ibuprofen, zinc oxide and an easy trail), the forest smells were wonderful, the recent rain and the warm air seemed to energize the plants around me and a beautiful stream bed lay to my right. The sights, smells and sounds were incredible and it just felt great to be walking along the trail in no particular hurry. I drifted in backpacking paradise for a long while wrapped up in natural reverie. Then I collided with reality. I came upon a trail sign pointing the way to Jefferson and Six Husbands trail. That made no sense at all. After looking at my maps and the trail signs I realized I was at the junction of the Great Gulf trail and the Wamsutta trail… a mere two and a half miles off the AT by my estimation. Fortunately they were fairly easy miles. Still, I had loved the challenge of coming down the Six Husband’s trail years ago and taking this short cut up the side of Jefferson (bypassing Madison and Adams) would put me ahead of schedule. Maybe this was what fate intended all along. After thinking about this and my goals for the trip, I decided to go back to the AT. I really wanted to stick pretty close to the New Hampshire AT and I had never been to the peaks of Madison and Adams. I could still make the Osgood tent site, I just wouldn’t have the luxury of hanging out comfortably for a while. Sadly I doubled back. Again, I was relieved that I wasn’t hiking with some insensitive jerk who would try to blame everything on me – and disappointed that there was no one to blame everything on (except me). At least, I could omit this tale of stupidity from any trip report, since there were no witnesses.

Its funny what goes through your mind when you hike by yourself: old songs, memories, poems, deep thoughts, and all kinds of junk thoughts. In my mind, I began to construct complex, alliterative and highly literate verse – the words to which I intoned as I headed back to the AT: “F-k, F-k, F-k, sh--, sh--, sh--, oh my god I’m on the wrong f-ing trail.” It was beautiful and quiet, and I saw the most incredible camp-site (to which I am sure I will one day return) and I told myself, “this is just great luck that you found yourself in such a beautiful place at just the right time of day.” The rebuttal was quick: “even better luck if I’d thought to drop my pack before going on a five mile side trip.” I kept flip-flopping from enjoying the beauty of the hike and cursing my bad luck and spaciness. To top it off, as I reached the AT and headed up the side of Madison, I didn’t see Osgood – the light had already been getting dim. At first I wasn’t sure if I missed it, or if it was further up Madison than the map said. Finally, I gave up on Osgood and hung my hammock off the side of the trail. I had been looking forward to setting up before sunset with plenty of available light and plenty of time. As it turned out, I needed to turn on my headlamp before I finished setting up the hammock and eating, The good news was that I had ended up going farther on the AT than I planned – not five miles more, but more. The bad news was I didn’t end up being as rested, relaxed or refreshed as I had hoped to be.

AT miles: 11+
Spacy wrong trail miles: 5+

 

[pedxing]

Osgood to Ike and then down to camp

Day Six: 8/14/03


I woke up at about 5:30 – as I did for the rest of the trip and was on the trail by 6:30. I started thinking a lot about my last trip up Madison. On that trip, we came up Valley Way and skipped the peaks of Madison and Adams due to terrible weather – instead we took the most direct route from the Madison Hut to the Perch. The weather looked like it would be much better today, which was good, since the AT took me straight up and over Madison to the Hut. There were some great blueberries up around the tree line and I kept stopping to sample them and enjoy a still, quiet and beautiful morning.

Once past treeline, the trail got fairly rugged in many places. There were lots of boulders to scamper across. I kept thinking of the story of the man who died of hypothermia on Madison in August 1986. He was headed along the same route to Madison Hut with his son and his son’s friend at age 52. I kept thinking about what it was like to take this route under much worse circumstances and appreciated that his story helped inspire me and probably many others to be careful about tackling the northern Presidentials, even in August. I started to slow once I hit the rugged trail above treeline. The wind was picking up pretty intensely… some of the gusts were definitely pushing me around. Mt. Washington was deep in the clouds, while Adams and Jefferson were in and out of clouds. Only Madison was clear. This felt like a good sign, I was lucky hitting the one clear peak in the Northern Presidentials. The view was incredible. Behind and to my left were the Wildcats I had hiked yesterday. Ahead and t o the left was Mt. Washington looking huge, the empty auto-road snaked along the side of the mountain and into the clouds that surrounded the peak. Jefferson was buried in a string of clouds that were rapidly blowing by. The valleys were lush green and beautiful on either side. I couldn’t see a single person or a car anywhere. I was alone, walking on the roof of the world. The wind became stronger, some of the gusts felt strong enough to blow me over – but the only time I came close to falling was when I was leaning into heavy winds and they suddenly stopped. When I finally crested the peak of Madison, I could see a steady stream of hikers coming towards me from the hut. Between the wind and the rocks it was slow going down to the hut, but at least the rocks were dry – and so were my shoes. I stopped at the hut. The huts often sell AYCE left over baked goods for a dollar. I paid my dollar and gorged on my second breakfast: 3 large pieces of cake. At this point, I had really stopped eating meals – I just ate when I was hungry (except when my food was hanging in a bear bag). I had finished my water just before hitting the peak of Madison, so I drank up and filled my platypus. As I downed my feast of cake and water, I looked over the large relief maps they have in the huts and thought through the rest of my trip. I decided I would diverge from the AT to summit Adams, since I’d never been on the summit of Adams before. When I was backpacking with Sirpete, Walkindude and Jerry, we took the AT from Madison to Thunderstorm Junction, bypassing Adams because of the bad weather – so I’d already covered the stretch of the AT that I’d be bypassing. I decided to head out on the star lake trail, and cross the top of Adams towards thunderstorm junction. Star Lake is really a small mountain pond, but it is striking to have any kind of body of water at all atop the ridge. It was something to see out there hovering over the gulf and the valley. Since I was out of the clouds as I approached Adams, and cloud formations were moving pretty fast over the Presidentials, I was hoping that Adams would be out of the clouds by the time I reached the summit.

The weather got worse as I ascended Adams. A series of interconnected clouds were blowing over the summit of Adams, so the wind was stronger, colder and wetter than on Madison – and visibility was poor. I put on my long top and my bandana for warmth. Towards the peak, the trail is just a jumble of rocks that often require both hands. My poles were in the way much of the time. Often, I just threw them ahead of me – though I stopped after one of them bounced back and fell below me and I had to climb down to retrieve it. My sore ankle took a beating on the way up – it took a lot of impact on the rocks and a lot of stress as I struggled to maintain balance. Some of the rocks were wet with condensation from the clouds. Near the peak I had to stop behind a rock and zip on my pants legs for more warmth. I also stopped to snack and take a drink. Somewhere I managed to lose the bite valve from my platypus and ended up having to tie off the end of the tube and clip it onto the pack well above the top of the bladder.

Things got better quickly when I descended out of the clouds and away from the peak, but my ankle stayed tender and I was moving slowly. Between Adams and Lake of the Clouds was the one place people were regularly passing me (as opposed to leap frogging). I decided to skip the peaks of Jefferson and Clay despite the fact that they’d cleared up. I’d summitted them before anyway. The day had turned beautiful and the views were spectacular (I took the same route as I did with Dude, Pete and Jerry at about the same time of year so pics are on that old thread), so other than the pain I really didn’t mind moving slowly. Because I was walking differently to spare my ankle, the chafing got worse. I was using a lot of zinc oxide. Slowly but surely (slower than book time, for sure) I made my way past Jefferson and Clay and up along the side of Washington past the cog railway. There is no sense of solitude in August along this ridge in late morning. I was constantly greeting people and stopping to talk. Despite some pain, I was feeling great. I felt pretty fresh, everything was dry – even the insides of my shoes and everything around me was spectacular. I had hopes of getting to Mt. Washington early so I could call my kids again before they left for Mexico with their Mom, but I soon realized that I had no chance of making it. I’d already said my goodbyes, but it would have been nice to talk to them again. I didn’t make it to the summit of Washington until early afternoon. I took my time at the summit and ate up. The summit was crowded, as it always is in decent weather in August. Scores of people come up the cog railway and the auto road, despite the extortionate pricing. I had my first ever chilidog, a bowl of clam chowder and a coke. In the hikers area, I rinsed out my shirt in the sink and put out my socks and shoes to air. After calling my girl friend and looking at the maps I headed down towards the Lake of the Clouds hut (often called Lake of the Crowds). I had planned to make reservations to stay in the basement there (in the “Dungeon”) but was told it was first come first serve. Since I was on target to get there after 5pm, I figured I had no chance of staying there but would ask anyway. Staying there would have me right on schedule, which was a little disappointing since I had accidentally gotten ahead of schedule when I missed Osgood the night before – but I figured my ankle could use the rest. As expected, the Lake of the Clouds bunks, and the Dungeon were full. In fact, all the tables in the dining room had already been claimed by thru hikers who wanted to spend the night there. The croo member in charge asked me if my situation was urgent, and I told her I thought I’d be fine headed south on the AT. On my way south, I met two thru-hikers who were eating near the edge of the Ridge, perched by a beautiful panoramic view of the valley. I let them know that the hut was full, but that they might make an exception for someone in need. They described a place near Eisenhower where I should be able to camp. The walk from Lake of the clouds towards Eisenhower is both beautiful and easy… it's mostly a downhill ridge walk. Since it was getting late and I was a bit lame, I stuck with the AT and skipped the peaks I’d visited on earlier hikes. The place they described turned out not to have any great places to set up camp… the only safe places looked flagrantly illegal and like they would damage fragile terrain. After heading down and away from the trail a bit, I found a place that offered safety and seemed ecologically responsible and set up my hammock as a bivy. I laid down my foam pad on the ground, and placed the hammock over it (thus protecting the hammock from damage)…. I then used my pack, poles and nearby rocks to set up the tarp over the hammock and string the hammock out so that the mesh wouldn’t be in my face all night. The wind was pretty intense that night, but it didn’t rain. I had a decent night’s sleep and awoke reasonably refreshed.

AT miles: 12
Some mileage added for Adams and descent to camp.

 

[pedxing]

Near Eisenhower to site on Ethan Pond Trail

Day Seven: 8/16/03

I woke up at 5:30 again, and quickly ate, swallowed some vitamin I and packed up my things. After eating and getting organized, I decided to hike over Mt. Eisenhower. I suppose I could have dropped my pack, gone to the peak and returned to do that stretch of the AT – but with a gimpy ankle and coming off a slow day, that didn’t seem realistic. I’d never done the section of the AT I skipped, but I felt OK about “blue-blazing” over the peak. After all, I was adding extra elevation gain and mileage, not taking a short cut and I’d never been to the summit of Eisenhower before. What’s more, I was having a great time watching the sun trying to rise over the northern Presidentials as the peaks and the sun swam in and out of clouds. I’d much rather keep watching from higher ground, than to have my view obscured as I went around Eisenhower. Lastly, bypassing that stretch of the AT let me feel like I wasn’t being slavishly obedient to the white blazes (this was a feeling that nagged at me when I passed up the short-cut up the Six Husbands trail). If it is ever important for me to honestly say that I passed every white blaze of the New Hampshire AT – then I can make sure to do that stretch again. I loved the area, so its not like it would be a hardship to come back.

There was some wind and rock to deal with going up Eisenhower but, compared to Adams, it was a breeze (“and a mild breeze at that I thought” – amused at the bad pun). After Eisenhower, I stuck with the AT and headed out over Pierce. After the summit of Pierce, I ran into the now familiar hut mob (this time from Mizpah Springs hut) headed out after breakfast to reach the nearest peak. I stopped into Mizpah to get water, sit for a bit and look at the maps and then headed out over Mts. Jackson and Webster for Crawford Notch. The trail was pretty easy and fast until I hit the Webster cliff trails down from Webster. The views of the notch were fantastic, but there was a good deal of scrambling and sliding to do on the way down – and with the tender ankle, I had to be careful about how much impact my right foot took and how much traction I wanted out of it. I was glad I had hiking poles with me. The trip down was surprisingly slow, and pretty dry. I was glad when I finally hit a decent stream.

At the notch I crossed Rt. 302 and walked on a good stretch of road until the trail took to the woods again. Once off the road, the trail begins a steady but, not too difficult, ascent up the Ethan Pond trail. After a little while, I stopped to get more water and snack and then continued up the trail with renewed energy. I noticed a lot of patterns beginning to emerge. Aside from waking up at 5:30 every morning, I found myself beginning the day feeling good and having loads of energy. In the middle of the day my energy flagged, the heat got to me, my aches and pains worsened and I slowed considerably. Late in the day, after a break, for food, water, vitamin I and zinc oxide, I’d find myself with renewed energy again. With things cooling off, heat was no longer a problem. I’d have a clear destination in mind and was usually a little worried about time – so I’d move much faster again. My goal for today was Ethan Pond Shelter, but I hit the turn off for the shelter with plenty of time. I really didn’t feel like heading off the trail in order to pay 8 dollars to spend the night in a shelter or hang my hammock. It looked like there were plenty of places to camp. I decided to hike on for a couple more miles.

Shortly after Ethan Pond, I offered a cheery greeting to backpacker heading my way. He smiled back and then shouted, “Watch out for the rotting boards. I just fell through one.” Then he started to rant, “The AMC take in millions and they can’t maintain the F-ing trail! I ain’t renewing my membership! F--- the AMC – F--- the AMC!!! F--- the AMC!!!” I turned to watch him walk away and saw the back of his legs were covered in fresh mud, with some of the splatter going above the waist line on the right. I felt bad for him, but was also amused by his ranting. I’m a member of the AMC, and feel that the AMC does a lot of good things in the White Mountains, but I often do feel estranged from them. Minutes later my foot went through a rotted board, into deep soft, wet, smelly, mud. My 3 day run of dry feet came to an end. Next, I stepped up onto a board that had come loose on the far end, which came up and almost whacked me in the head. Before long I started cursing out the AMC in my mind. The Appalachian Money Collectors (Mountain Club, Marketing Corporation, or whatever it is) are building a huge multi-million dollar complex in Crawford Notch that will serve wine and beer. They are the only one trail maintainers who charge for shelters and tent sites on the AT, and maintain a series of huts on the AT that charge over $60 per person for a bunk and two meals. Yet, they neglect basic trail maintenance when it is not on a primary route to the huts. Boards over muddy swamps were left to rot. As these thoughts ran through my mind, I picked up the guys chant and walked in quickened rhythm to it… “F--- the AMC! F--- the AMC!”

Soon, I came to a very experienced camp site near the trail and hung my hammock there. Nearby was a roaring brook with a great swimming hole. If it were only a little hotter I would take a dip. It was relatively early so I wandered around the brook as I ate dinner, climbing into the hammock around sunset. I got some enthusiastic comments on the hammock from people hiking along the trail. Until then, I had been hanging my hammock after almost everyone had been off the trail, and usually well out of sight of the trail. Apparently, people are still impressed by the sight of a hammock and tarp – it does look kind of aerodynamic.

AT miles: 14
Added distance for Eisenhower detour.

 

[pedxing]

site on Ethan Pond Trail to Garfield Pond

Day Eight: 8/16/03

One fun thing about hiking through the heart of the Whites (the stretch from Pinkham Notch to Franconia Notch) was that it overlapped with so many other trips I had taken over the years… in a way, the hike was stringing together my different experiences in the Whites, like beads on a necklace. Just about every part of the hike had some other meaning. Near Jefferson, I passed the trail my son and I had taken as we headed towards the Six Husbands trail to duck an incoming storm. Today I was continuing on the path that SirPete and W-D had taken as they continued a trip I’d started with them. Soon, I was taking on a stretch of trail I had taken with my sister, my sons, and my dog (trail name, DogXing) last year as we did a loop through the Bonds and the Pemigawasset wilderness. The walk took me along the northern perimeter of the Pemi – to my right was the sheer cliffs of the well named “Whitewall Mountain” to my left was the Pemi. To my left was the valley where the North Fork of the Pemigawasset River lay and on the far side of that valley I could see the Bonds. After an easy three miles, I crossed the Zealand River (which drains into the North Fork of the Pemi) and followed a steep stretch of trail to the Zealand Falls Hut. The Zealand Falls were pleasant, but unspectacular even by New Hampshire standards. The Hut was an appealing place, smaller than many of the AMC huts I’d visited. Two thru-hiking couples – one north bound and one south bound – were eating breakfast and cheerfully comparing notes on the trail while the croo cleaned up in the kitchen and listened to their messages for the morning over the radio. People who eat on a work for stay deal are required to eat after the paying customers are fed. I used their bathrooms and filled up with water. There were no baked goods on offer yet, so after looking at their posted mile and distance info, I headed out of the hut as the thru-hikers were beginning to help with the morning chores.

After a brief bit of level trail, the AT began to rise toward Zealand Ridge. On the way, the southbound thru-hikers started catching up with me. At first, I could hear their steps and poles in the distance, and then their voices. I’d been moving at a pretty fast clip and the steady rhythm of their walking helped me keep it up. When I stopped for water, they passed me and we took turns passing each other for much of the way.

I’d been thinking about stopping at the Guyot shelter, which was .7 miles off the trail – partly because of its proximity to the Bonds, which would make a gorgeous detour on a clear day. However, I started the day about 2 miles ahead of my target (Ethan Pond Trail) and stopping at Guyot would mean a very short day indeed (7 miles AT). Moreover, it was Saturday and my plans had called for me to stay at Liberty Springs Tent site on Sunday night. I began to think that if could reach Franconia Notch and Rt. 3 (2 ½ miles below Liberty Springs) by mid afternoon, that I could hitch up to Gorham and retrieve my car Sunday – saving me a big hassle later and keeping me ahead of schedule. I needed to resupply when I hit the Notch anyway as I had carried only enough food from Gorham to get me to Franconia. I was also looking forward to dumping some of the foul weather gear I had carried for the Presidentials, trading in my trail runners for my boots, dumping trash and my platypus bladder. As I thought through this, I made up my mind to try for Garfield tent site which was 5 ½ miles past Mt. Guyot and the trail to Guyot shelter.

By the time the trail took me to Mt. Guyot the winds were intense. The trail was rock filled, and my ankle started feeling tender again. There were about a half dozen other hikers merging onto the AT there and since I was hobbling a bit, I stopped and let them go first. When the trail went below tree line, I picked up speed and passed them one by one. Unfortunately, I was hobbled enough that I couldn’t really leave them behind. This really irritated me. It was partly out of pride (I’d been passing just about everyone) and partly out of annoyance at their loud and obnoxious conversations about real estate investments. Because they were loud and obnoxious, I really wanted to outdo them – and because I couldn’t dust them, their conversations were even more annoying than otherwise. When I finally got some distance on them, I came upon the southbounders who were taking a break.

“Are you a thru-hiker?” the woman asked. She added that they both thought that I looked like a thru-hiker and thought they should ask if they got the chance. I found out that there names were Meander and Sage (she was Sage). I told them I was just doing a section. We had the first of several very nice conversations, and then I headed off – mostly because I didn’t want the Real Estate investors to catch up to me. Later, I thought they had, but it turned out to be Meander and Sage – and the three of us stayed together until we reached Galehead hut. We stopped at the hut for a good while, eating lunch, cleaning up and getting water. We also discussed how far we wanted to try to go for the day. They had been planning on a longer day the day before, but had been really charmed by the Zealand Falls Hut and grabbed their opportunity to do a work for stay. They really wanted to get to Lafayette at least, but there was some chance of a thunderstorm and there was no reliable water supply along the ridge that ran from Lafayette to Liberty, nor along the 3 mile stretch leading to Lafayette. After consulting with a croo member, I decided I would aim for the Garfield tent-site and they would head up to Lafayette – and either go down to the Greenleaf hut despite its being off the AT or proceed to Liberty Springs. The croo member advised us that the last water before the ridge was Garfield Pond, but that the water was rather disgusting. He advised to filling up with water at the Garfield tent site.

Just as we were about to pull out, I got the urge to hike up Galehead – I’d never been there before and it was just a mile round trip. So I said goodbye to Meander and Sage, hoping to meet up with them again and ran off to check out Galehead. There really wasn’t much to see up there, but at least it wasn’t a big trip – and it was one less 4,000 footer to try to bag later on.

There was a great water source right on the AT, adjacent to the turn off for Garfield tent site (they had shelters, too). I filled up there at about 4pm and, once again, figured it made no sense to turn off the trail early and walk over to a place where I’d have to pay to hang a hammock. I decided I’d hike over Mt. Garfield and try to get as far up Lafayette as I could without risking running out of safe, legal places to stay.

It’s kind of funny how the peaks kind of start to blur and your sense of goals changes when you are out for a week or more. On the way down from Garfield, someone asked me “how far is it?” to which I answered “how far to where?” It was obvious to him that the goal was Garfield, but I’d barely noticed it or thought about it – except to briefly enjoy one of hundreds of views I’d had that day. I honestly couldn’t tell him anything more precise than “less than a mile.”

When I got down to Garfield Pond, I ran into Sage. Someone had told her and Meander that there were some nicer tributaries to Garfield Pond that they could draw water from. They couldn’t find any. Presumably they had dried up since the last rains. Meander was filtering water out of the pond muck, while Sage was looking for a good tent site. I dropped my pack and went to look with Sage. I was only going to go about a mile further, and I thought it would be fun to hang out with Meander and Sage. I figured we could keep touching base from time to time until we hit Norwich. Besides, the wind was starting to pick up and I liked the idea of being down in this notch.

We set up camp in what was obviously an over-used and misused campsite. Someone, presumably with the AMC, had done a very good job of trying to contain the damage and let most of the area recover. They’d left one really excellent part of the site open, and left barriers on the herd paths leading to other areas of worn, impacted ground. There were seedlings planted in the larger worn spots to discourage people from setting up tents. There was plenty of room in the designated area for us all to set up and eat. Later, when I went to dig (and use) a cat hole, I saw how mistreated the area was. There was a lot of exposed toilet paper that had probably been superficially buried and then exposed by the rains.

We had a good time talking about the trail and San Francisco (where they had been living)… they asked about other southbounders I’d met. It turned out that they’d stopped in Gorham for a few days to visit with his parents who had flown in from Utah, and had left Gorham two days before I did. Despite their plans, they’d done a series of short days – but had been enjoying the AMC work for stays. They got insistent on sharing some of their curried couscous with me. I had to admit I enjoyed having some hot food on the trail for once (especially since I didn’t have to cook it or do clean up). Eventually, I climbed into my hammock after a really nice evening.

AT Miles: 13 ½
Blue Blazes miles: 1 (side trip to Galehead)

 

[pedxing]

Garfield Pond to Franconia Notch

Day Nine: 8/17/03

As usual, I was up at 5:30. I tried to eat and pack out as quietly as possible. Meander and Sage had wanted to get up early, but hadn’t committed themselves when I asked if they wanted me to wake them before 6AM. The first thing I did each morning was to take my ibuprofen, so it would be in effect when I started walking. At about 6:20 I was ready to hit the trail. I said goodbye to Meander and Sage (I kept wanting to call him Oleander or Coriander – cuzz I thought they should both be named for spices) and let them know what time it was and then hurried out of camp.

It was another cool morning. It was hard to read the weather, alternately it seemed sunny and cloudy and it was very hard to tell which way it was going to turn. I’d come to love early mornings on the trail. No one else was in sight and it was a very comfortable time to walk. I moved up towards the summit of Lafayette very quickly, hoping that I would be the first one up there. I loved the view once I got above tree line. I hadn’t been on this side of Lafayette since I was 13. The mountain was rugged and glorious, and the Pemi was a stunning sight to my left. What’s more, all was quiet – except for the occasional frightened protests from the Spruce Grouse who took to the air in sudden bursts. At about eight, it looked like I was closing in on the summit of Lafayette and still, no one was in sight. Then suddenly as I came over a crest (the last false summit before the real thing), my heart sank as I saw that there was already a crowd assembled at the peak. I assumed they came over from Greenleaf hut.

I zipped past the summit and, at the first place that was both quiet and beautiful, I stopped to eat and drink some water (and, as with almost every rest stop – I applied more zinc oxide where needed). I’d loved being out on this ridge since the first time, at 13. Unlike the clear beautiful days I’d seen in my recent trips to the ridge, today was very cloudy and the peaks of the ridge swam in and in and out of clouds. It was a joy to see familiar and well-loved sights in a different setting. The ridge walk from Lafayette to the Liberty Springs turn off is mostly down hill and pretty easy. The near effortlessness of the hike – made it easy to luxuriate in the scenery and the mountain air.

Through most of my trip, I enjoyed the brief conversations with hikers coming in the opposite direction – especially the section hikers, thru-hikers and other people who were hiking for distances. Mostly we compared notes, shared good wishes for a great hike, and radiated joy back and forth about being where we wanted to be, doing what we wanted to be doing. Dry shoes and absence of rain were frequent points for praise and celebration. There were some people I took a strong liking to during these brief encounters only to see them head in the opposite direction. I met two such people, retired Brits, who were thruhiking northward. There was just something about the exuberance and good humor they radiated that put an extra bounce in my step as I continued down the trail. I also thought about the people: friends, family and girlfriends I had shared this ridge with before.

I stopped at Liberty Springs for water (I just love the water there), and it was there that Meander and Sage caught up with me. They’d been pushing themselves a bit because I’d left the straps to my hammock on the trees at our campsite. I was grateful to get them back. We made the trip down to the interstate together. Sage was very curious about solo hiking – she was wondering how sharing her trip with Meander was changing the experience, especially after reading an article about traveling solo in a copy of “Outdoor Magazine” that she found at one of the huts. When we passed a family of day hikers coming up the trail, Sage commented on how nice they smelled. She said that she was aware of how stinky she and Meander got on the trail and she enjoyed the smell of clean well-scrubbed people. I thought back to the day before, when she had said that I looked like a thru-hiker and wondering if vision was really the source of the perceived similarity.

One of my regular summer routines when I cross a stream is to go down stream from the trail, below where people might pump water and rinse my shirt. I also rinsed my legs and cleaned up a little (just water, no soap). This way, my shirt never gets that smelly – and the wet shirt cools me as it dries off. I bid goodbye to Meander and Sage at the stream just before the interstate. They were headed into North Woodstock, where they planned to stay until late morning the next day so that they could resupply, clean up and use the internet at the library. I hoped I would see them in town that night or at the Sunny Day diner in the morning. As they headed off down the trail, I headed down to the stream to wash up. Considering Sage’s remarks about smell, and the fact that I would be hitch hiking soon – I cleaned up extra well. After that, I ate the last of my food – a trail bar. I was pretty pleased with myself for having planned the food just right. It was about 1:30 when I hit the road.

I had considered taking the AMC shuttle from Liberty Springs, but the AMC wouldn’t guarantee space without a pre-paid reservation. I didn’t feel like paying when I could hitch, and I wasn’t crazy about paying for the shuttle when I might either miss it – or arrive hours early and then have to wait. So I stuck out my thumb as soon as I hit the interstate. I didn’t have much luck hitching. After 15 minutes, an Antique Model A Ford picked me up and took me ½ mile up the interstate. “Only 54 ½ more miles to go” I guesstimated. After another 15 minutes, another car took me about 5 miles. When the AMC shuttle driver stopped to pick me up, after I had waited for another stretch, I was more than willing to pay the 10 dollars that he said he’d have to charge me if I was going as far as Gorham. The driver was a nice guy who’d only been shuttling for a few weeks. He gave me the free candy bar he got for gassing up at the Gorham Irving and offered me some others (which I declined) from his earlier refuelings. He dropped me off at the corner of Rt. 2 and Rt. 16, right next to the Barn (where I’d left my car). The proprietor at the Barn was pretty surprised to see me so soon. He offered me a bunk, but I figured I didn’t want to be more than an hour from the trailhead in the morning.

I got back to Franconia Notch after 5PM and decided to drive to North Woodstock and try to find a cheap motel. I saw no sign of Meander and Sage, so I stopped into a couple hotels and tried to haggle with a couple owners. I made a deal I could live with at the second place. I asked for the cheapest, crummiest rooms, but got a pretty decent price on a nice place with a TV, front room and a porch. I spread everything out to air, most of it on the screened in porch and washed out a lot of clothes in the sink. I traded gear from the trunk of my car (including swapping my trail runners for EMS Gore-Tex Summits) restocked with food for three days and called my girl friend. I also decided to do something I had never done before: take a cell phone on the trail! This was so I could keep my girl friend updated so that she would know where to meet me when she drove up Wednesday evening. I used the motel outlets to recharge the phone.

Once all that was done, I headed into town and filled up on Barbecue from “In a Pig’s Ear.” Then picked up some beer to take back to the Motel, and some fresh fruit for breakfast. I listened to the news for the first time since I’d stayed at the Barn a week earlier. I learned all about the blackout, the nasty computer worms and started thinking about the “real world” again for a while.

AT miles: 9
No hiking side trips (just a lot of walking on the shoulders of the highways while hitching)

 

[pedxing]

Franconia Notch to Beaver Brook

Day Ten: 8/18/03

I tried to leave the motel in reasonably good shape, but I decided to leave a two dollar tip for the maid anyway – in case I was leaving a mess that I hadn’t noticed. Hotel/Motel clean-up staff are usually underpaid anyway. My pack was about the same weight as it had been when I arrived at the notch. I’d dumped a lot of stuff, but I had three days of food now – and 2 liters of water.

I got to the trail head at about 6:45. I’d wanted to eat at Sunny Day diner, but it didn’t open until seven and I drove past it at about 6:30. It’s a long walk from the parking lot to the AT. Since the AT goes right under the highway, I decided to stop on the highway shoulder and drop my pack off at the AT. I just didn’t feel like walking more than ½ mile with my pack to reach the AT – it just seemed like a lousy way to start the day. In order to do this, I had to drop off the pack and then circle back to the parking lot. On my way back, I saw a backpacker hitch hiking. Obviously I couldn’t pass him up since I’d been out thumbing myself. He was grateful and had been having bad luck getting a ride. I decided that I might as well drive him all the way into North Woodstock. I probably would have done it anyway out of respect for a fellow backpacker in need, but I had an ulterior motive – when I passed the diner again, it would be after 7AM. Of course I stopped in. It was hard to resist the fresh squeezed OJ, the good coffee, and the salmon stack (salmon, eggs, sauce, broccoli and toast from home-made bread).

It was almost 8:30 when I finally got back to the AT, after walking from the parking lot back to the trail. Someone had left sodas in the stream under the bridge as a bit of trail magic for through hikers, but I was full already and figured I’d leave them for someone who would appreciate it more.

It was a pretty steady and gentle uphill trip to Lonesome Lake hut. Three miles in, I reached the hut and found the croo laughing and enjoying some porch bowling with plastic containers set up as pins. I skipped the baked goods, as I was still pretty full from breakfast, signed the log and headed on my way to Mt. Kinsman.

I’d felt good hiking up to the Hut, and the boots made my tender ankle feel pretty bomb proof – so I started thinking that I might have a serious shot at finishing the trail a day early. Although I was only a few miles ahead of schedule and had got a late start, I figured that if my girl friend met me Wednesday evening at Goose Pond road in Lyme NH, that would give us a 15.5 mile hike to finish the trail on Thursday. Aside from one 1300 ft. rise those 15+ miles looked pretty easy. If she didn’t have to carry any weight, she ought to be able to make it. In order to get there, I’d have to do 55.5 miles in 3 days. That was a lot more distance than I was used to, but I had lightened my pack, and – with the additional ankle support – I was feeling in good shape. I decided to try to reach Beaver Brook shelter that night. That would make for an 18 mile day, but I figured that with earlier starts the next two days and easier trail ahead – those 18 miles should be enough. One downside to that would be that I was almost certain not to see Meander and Sage again. If I’d gained two days on them from Gorham to Franconia, there was no way they’d catch up to me if I accelerated.

The trips across the Kinsman peaks went well and I was making pretty good time – but between the heat and a few tricky spots on the descent I slowed a good deal in the mid-day and ended up having to really hustle late in the day in order to stand a chance at getting to the Beaver Brook shelter. Beaver Brook Shelter is about 1-½ miles up the side of Mt. Blue… which is considered by many to be a spur of Mt. Moosilauke, rather than a separate peak. After an easy start, the trail becomes very steep. The Dartmouth Outing Club, which maintains the trail here, posts a warning about how difficult and treacherous this stretch of trail is. It was definitely hard to zip up the trail. There was lots of handwork required and numerous wet places where the roaring mountain brook beside the trail had flowed onto the trail. It was important to look carefully and concentrate. This became harder to do as the sun disappeared behind Moosilauke and, eventually, I decided it would be much safer to hang my hammock where I could and accept that I wasn’t going to reach the shelter. It was also possible that I had missed the turn off to the shelter, just as I had missed Osgood tent site a few days earlier. All I needed was to find myself above tree line well after dark, with no safe place to set up camp. I needed my headlamp to set up the hammock. It was here that the hammock really proved its worth. There was no level ground to be found in the area – so it was great to be able to set up the hammock on the mountainside with bushes and rocks below. I was happy to have a new and different selection of food to eat, and soon fell asleep to the sound of the Beaver Brook.

AT miles: 17 1/2

 

[pedxing]

Beaver Brook to base of Mt. Cube

Day eleven: 8/19/03

I got organized pretty quickly, but after I ate and drank I was running low on water. I’d planned to filter more at night at Beaver Brook, and was relieved to find a stream flowing onto the trail quickly in the morning. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of trying to pump water from the stream that was cascading down the steep mountainside… trying to get close enough to pump and still maintain my balance seemed a little dicey. I was also worried that I had stopped well short of Beaver Brook Shelter. I reached the shelter in about 15 minutes. I still felt OK about having stopped short of the shelter. It would have taken me longer given how dark it was getting and parts of the trail were not only very steep, but wet. Besides, one reason I stopped had been that I wasn’t keen on busting into the shelter after everyone else was sacked in – it always annoyed me when people hustled into the shelter after everyone had bedded down, making everyone else get up and move to make room.

It was a beautiful day already and the altitude and the early hour made it cool and comfortable. I didn’t see a soul until after I summitted Moosliauke a little before 8AM. The tract around Moosilauke is owned by the Dartmouth Outing Club and is marked by DOC signs and memorials, and the ruins of an old DOC hut. I’d enjoyed being on DOC maintained trail since some time earlier the day before. On the whole, they do a pretty good job of trail maintenance. The view on Moosilauke was great. It’s the Southern most of New Hampshire’s tall peaks. At 4802’ it is far taller than anything else around. The only things that come close are the two sub-peaks (Mt. Blue to the North and the South Peak), but most sources (including the official 4,000 footers list) don’t consider them separate peaks. I could see back to Franconia Notch and into the Presidentials and over to Vermont. Wingfoot’s guide says that you can see 5 states on a clear day (which I guess includes Maine and Massachusetts… or is there something in New York to be seen?), but even if it was clear, I doubt I’d have been to guess any state borders besides the VT/NH one.

To my ever-lasting shame, I called my girl friend from the peak of Moosilauke. I was now one of those. I let her know that I was still thinking of trying to meet her at Goose Pond Road. I’d have to do two 19 mile days to make it. She got clearance to leave work early and try to be there at 7PM. If I couldn’t make it, I’d try to find some way to let her know.

The trip down from Moosilauke to NH 25 runs about nine miles. It’s not nearly as steep as the trip up from Kinsman’s notch (Rt. 112). On my way down I ran into loads of AT hikers coming up from the hostel in Glencliff – every one of them raved about the place. I wished I’d had time to stop in. The first guy up was a section hiker, Cincinatti Kid, who was moving fast – hoping to beat the thru-hikers to the peak. He’d come a long way (Pennsylvania?) so maybe he made it but, at his pace I would have been fried before I reached the top.

As I descended, the terrain started to change – it started to feel a lot more like the forests and hills in Massachusetts and southern New Hampshire, and less like the things I had been seeing in the White Mountains. Even though this was the first time since the day I had left Gorham that I would spend all day hiking on new ground, the terrain felt more familiar and less exotic than anything I had encountered on this trip. Although I wasn’t done with the White Mountain National forest, I felt like I had left the Whites. Toward the bottom the path turned into a logging road that seemed to have been used not too long ago, and then it turned along the right edge of a large field that was clearly being maintained. As I walked towards paved road, I could hear voices from some kind of large gathering. The path turned out onto a road that I followed to the left. Fortunately, I had learned not to trust my 1998 map too much and followed the signs instead of the map, which had me turning right. Soon the AT turned right again and headed along a well-worn unpaved road into a State Park. After initially missing the AT turn off (I was busy looking for a suitable place to plunge into the woods and dig a cat hole) I followed the trail past Jeffers Brook Shelter and out onto Rt. 25. I got to do a little road walking again and came close to a field where it looked like a Little League game was going on and then plunged back into the woods. The 1,200 foot gain to Mt. Mist was a piece of cake and so was the rest of the day. I passed the turn off to the new Ore Hill shelter and barely noticed Ore Hill or Atwell Hill (I think they were about 300 ft. each). When I reached Rt. 25A I found signs regarding tagged bears that had been released in the area… with indications of what to do when they were sited. Since I was close to my 19 miles goal, I stopped to get water at a stream near the road and walked in for about 15 minutes before hanging my Hammock. I started getting a really melancholy feeling. I was pleased with how the hike had gone. I was having a great time and had a good shot at finishing a day early. I was looking forward to seeing Elle, and DogXing) in a day’s time. It was wonderful that she was coming out to see me and help me retrieve my car, but tonight was my last night on the trail and that felt sad. Two weeks wasn’t enough and I was ending early. I already was missing the White Mountains, and soon I would be missing the trail. After eating, I hung my food with extra care because of the bears and climbed into my hammock.

AT miles: 19

 

[pedxing]

Base of Mt. Cube to Goose Pond Rd.

Day Twelve: 8/20/03

After I broke down camp for the last time this trip, I checked out the map. Today was going to be a tough day. I wanted to get at least 19 miles to Goose Pond Road. The hike involved two climbs of about 2,000 feet each and one of about a 1,000. Mt. Cube was only a little over 2900 feet, but the hike started at about 900 ft., Smarts Mountain was a bit taller – but probably less of a climb (1900 ft?), the gain up past Holts Ledges was about 1,200 feet. So, right there I figured on over 5,000 feet of uphill walking. Still, I really wanted to blow past 19 miles and reach Three Mile Road at 24 miles. Maybe since the trails weren’t very rugged, I could manage 24. I probably wasn’t thinking too clearly, because those extra 5 miles would bring another 2,000 feet of gain.

I started off a pretty good clip and Mt. Cube came fast and easy. I called Elle from there and got a crappy connection. The elevation gain up Smarts Mountain wasn’t too hard, but it started getting very hot and I started slowing down. Water started going faster and I felt a little dry. I hiked shirtless for the first time. Later, I found out it was in the upper 90s – it was by far the hottest day of my trip so far and I wasn’t at a high enough elevation to escape it. As usual, I munched on blueberries and .raspberries when I could, but I was especially enjoying them today. It was a great excuse to cool off, and with low water, I appreciated the moisture. There was a nice cabin and a fire tower on the trail and plenty of dayhikers. I stopped and talked for a bit – they were hoping to talk to thru-hiker, but were pretty interested in my trip. Unlike the early days of my trip, I could talk with the confidence of someone who was finishing up. Parts of the downhill were pretty steep and with the heat and my mid-day slowing, the four miles to Lyme-Dorchester Road came very slowly. When I finally reached the road and got some water, getting any further than Goose Pond Road was out of the question. In fact, getting to Goose Pond Road by 7pm was going to take some hustling. It was already after 5 and I had 5.5 miles to go with 1,200 feet to Holts Ledge and back. It was getting cooler, and the terrain looked pretty easy but I wasn’t feeling confident. I knew my girl friend would not be happy waiting on country road in the middle of nowhere as night came on. I tried calling her on the cell, but I had no service – so after drinking up and eating, I moved into robo-hiker mode. In robo mode, you really only hike to eat up mileage. Forget the sites. Forget any contemplative pace. Just move fast. If there is an obstacle in your path (and there are plenty) you attack it, you increase your speed and stride so you can go over it sooner – rather than shorten your step to handle it with a bit of extra thought and care. To me that’s an essential thing… where ever possible you respond to obstacles and changes in terrain by increasing your pace and stride before returning to baseline. Lots of hikers have a robo mode, and most of them find it fun for a while. Your mind has to move more quickly than it can form words. It revs up the body, but if you take the right attitude – it can actually relax the mind. I get a similar mental relaxation when I juggle… my hands have to move far faster than I can think. On the uphills, you push your hiking poles into the ground behind you for maximum acceleration. On downhills, the poles lead you… preparing to help you brake and balance if you have to slow suddenly. On smooth downhills, a robo hiker just keeps kicking his feet forward as fast as gravity will pull them down in a sort of controlled fall that looks a lot like running. The trail took me through fields and marsh… through flowerbeds and past the Dartmouth Skiway and up past the Trapper John Shelter towards Holts Ledges. I’d read that this was an important nesting site for Peregrine Falcons, but I didn’t look for any. I ran into a series of thru-hikers heading for Trapper John and tried to greet them as quickly as possible, so I didn’t have to slow down much to respond to whatever they might say. I was getting hungry and thirsty and when I got near the top, I was afraid I was hallucinating when I smelled delicious cooking – but then I came across a backpacker sitting by a ledge cooking dinner. That cued me that I really ought to eat and drink to keep my energy up (and why not lighten my load, too). I pulled out my cell phone and tried to call… but no reception. I wanted to let her know not to worry and that she should wait if I was late, but it didn’t look like I was getting through. I tried a bunch of times on the trail down, but no signal at all, not once. After eating and drinking I headed down the trail as fast as I could. I was happy that I could maintain robo mode. When I’d tried earlier in the trip, I only kept it up for about 50 minutes and now I had to keep it up for about 2 hours – maybe longer if the trail provided any difficulties. Luckily, it was a wonderfully easy trail. When I finally hit the trailhead, it was 6:56. I was early. I finished off my trail bar and my water. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. I timed it and measured the food and water perfectly. At 7:15 when she still wasn’t there, I started feeling pretty dumb. What if this isn’t Goose Pond Road, but some road that wasn’t on the map? What if I have another mile to go? What if she is in a car accident or she misunderstood and is trying to meet me at 3 mile Road. What if I spend the night here and I’m already out of food and water? I checked my cell phone and there was still no service. There was a muddy drainage ditch and the map made it look like there was a nearby stream, should I get water? Fortunately, she arrived at about 7:30 and we took the long drive along NH State Roads towards Franconia Notch. We had a very late dinner at the Woodstock Inn, retrieved my car and then she followed me back to the Best Western in White River Junction, VT (Elle had made reservations for us and DogXing). We checked in a little after midnight and I repacked things for the morning.

AT miles: 19

 

[pedxing]

Goose Pond Road to Norwich

Day Thirteen: 8/21/03

We had ourselves some free breakfast: Danishes, OJ, instant oatmeal, coffee and bagels. I decided I would carry everything for the 3 of us, since it was still less than I had been carrying and 15.5 miles might be pushing it for my companions. We both took hiking sticks and I decided to stick with boots.

We got in out cars and drove to Norwich, VT and located the AT. I left my car on the road where the AT turns uphill and then got in Elle’s car and we drove back across the river to New Hampshire and returned to Goose Pond Road for the hike. The trip started with a steep uphill – but the perfect kind – smooth and pretty steady so that you can pick a reasonable pace and walk it. We didn’t hit the trail until after 9AM, but it was early enough that we had done most of the elevation gain before it got too hot. But when it started to heat up, it kicked our butts. DogXing loves to get in the lead when we hike. Her greatest pleasure is finding a stream, drinking and then lying down in it. This cools her off fast and being wet keeps her cool for a while. I make sure she gets in down stream from the trail. We were all happy to be together, and except for over heating when we hit the sunny parts of the trail everything was pretty much perfect.

We passed through a lot of old farmland and crossed the old Province Road (cut in 1772, by the King’s governor to improve his access to towns populated by rebellious farmers). The ease of the trip suffered a little when Elle was attacked by wasps and stung five times, including on the hands. It hurt too much to use her hiking poles, and eventually we collapsed them and stuck them in my pack. Elle was a good sport and responded by accelerating her pace. She tried mud compress and took some painkiller, but it didn’t help much. We moved from deciduous forest, to evergreen where nothing was growing on the ground. We also hit a long dry spell that had us being pretty careful with water and that was hard on all three of us given the heat. We definitely hit a wall in the afternoon. With heat, a little thirst, and mild fatigue, the few hundred feet of gain approaching Velvet Rocks hit us hard and we stopped a couple times to cool off and rest. Finally, near Velvet Rocks shelter we took a side trail to a spring that was sheltered by very wide (3 foot diameter?) pipe, which had been driven straight in the ground. It was covered by a large slab of plywood. We drank up, and headed off with renewed energy.

The trail comes out into the outskirts of Hanover near a football field. The Dartmouth food coop is right near by. It’s a great sprawling coop with all kinds of food, organically grown and regular commercial stuff. We bought food and drink there. I got kefir, sushi and an apple. Elle got an ice cream bar and some baking soda for her wasp bites. The rest of the trip was a road walk, through Hanover, right by Dartmouth College and across the bridge to Vermont. While in Hanover, we passed a Ben and Jerry’s and Elle wished she had waited to get her ice cream there. It’s kind of neat to see how those white blazes guide you through forests and fields of grass, through fields of boulders and city streets and even through and under highway interchanges. They show up on trees and rocks, on telephone poles, and the backs of highway signs. DogXing was walking a little stiffly. At 10 ½, 15 miles was plenty for her – at least we only had ½ mile left to go. She was very happy to get in the car. Elle was pleased too. I was mixed… I was definitely going to miss the trail (I do now, but writing about it helps), but I really was enjoying being with Elle and DogXing.

At the last minute, Elle had been given the go ahead to use an extra vacation day – so instead of heading right back home, we went back to the hotel and cleaned up and headed out into the world of Highways and malls for dinner in Lebanon. Hmmm… maybe she knew she had that day off all along, but didn’t want to spend it on the trail…

AT Miles: 15.5


Day Fourteen: 8/11/03

We slept late and missed the free breakfast. So we snacked on trail food, made coffee and headed back. We had a late breakfast in Warner New Hampshire at a restaurant I used to go to often when I lived in Concord, NH. I used to take my kids for hikes on Mt. Kearsage, and we’d stop in there to fuel up before the day hike.

Since getting back its been a whirl wind… I had to leave my house the Monday and Tuesday after my return, so that a reality TV show about teen bedroom makeovers could be filmed. My 15 y/o son now has the classiest looking room and the biggest TV in the house. Thursday morning, I had to get up before 5AM to wake up the same son and send him off to China where he is spending half his Junior year. Since then, I’ve been struggling to clean up the mess left behind by the makeover and the show – they basically poured the contents of his old bedroom onto my living room floor. Between that, the start of teaching and some high urgency consultation reports – I’m drowning in all kinds of work. Finding time to write this report is a way to keep the trip alive. It’s kind of like making love, foreplay and lingering afterwards (afterplay?) are really important. Getting out and backpacking is essential, but the planning the preparation, the discussion, checking out and handling the gear make it better and make it last longer – and so does the reflection, the trip report writing help keep that lingering glow going. It was a great summer.

 

[ready]

Very good report! Funny in places. I haven't finished reading the whole thing yet though.

I wonder if you went too fast in some places to enjoy what the trail had to offer.

 

[pedxing]

Thanks for the kind words Ready. 55 miles in the last three days of the trip didn't leave much time for me to stop, relax and enjoy, but the trail is just as beautiful at 18 miles a day as it is at 13. I also had some fun pushing up the miles and stretching myself a little.
Of course, there are some people who seem to be able to eat up 20+ miles a day and still stop and have fun - but they move a lot faster than I do.