Glencliffe, NH

We're finished with the Whites, and just have a few more days to hike in New Hampshire. Since getting back on the trail at Lincoln the mountains have been slightly kinder, Mt Moosilauke was the biggest, and it was a very pleasant experience.

On our first afternoon out of Lincoln we had a strange encounter with a hiker we'll just call "dogman". Ascending Mt Kinsman, we started hearing occasional single dog barks, and assumed we were approaching the campsite. Iinstead, a lone male hiker appeared traveling in the opposite direction. Not seeing a dog, we just thought it was further up the trail, but as he passed he explained that he had heard that bears had been spotted in this area so he barks every couple of steps to scare them away. We thought that was kind of strange anyway, as we love to see and encounter wildlife on the trail, but what was really hilarious was hearing him gradually disappear down the trail below, with the barks receding in the distance. What a hoot (or a woof)!


We were also amused by the dire warnings at the bottom of the Moosilauke trail, warning the inexperienced not to attempt the hike. As we ascended we became more amused; this was one of the easiest ascents we've had so far. The entire uphill along the cascades had wooden steps bolted into the slickrock, and rails, etc. Sweet!

The mountain was very busy with tourists, but apparently most had come up an easier trail which joined ours just before the summit. We had another great 360 view from the top, then a nice descent which brought us down off the mountain into our first meadow in 400 miles. That's a very strange feeling after so much mountain and forest.

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Lincoln, NH

The White Mountains were a mixture of hot & sticky, stormy and rainy, and cold and windy. We crossed paths with a massive bull moose with a rack at least 8 feet wide, stealth camped on a really stormy night, spent the night in Zealand Falls hut as paying guests, and Brian earned himself a new trail name when he let himself get hyperthermic. We're in Lincoln, NH now, enjoying the hospitality of Chet, a former hiker who was injured in a camping stove related fire in his former home, and now allows hikers to stay in his bunkroom converted garage.

We spent a lot of this last section hiking with Abby. She had never stealth camped before, and decided that a noce dry warm night would be a good time to try it. We picked a site on the banks of Thoreau Stream, and each set up our camps on a tier od the banks. Brian is bunking in with me in my tent for the time being. He has shipped his hammock ahead to Glencliff to save carrying the weight, because there are fewer hanging opportunities in the Whites. He said he'd be fine on the ground with his tarp, but it was a little buggy, and I couldn't just leave him to feed the mosquitoes all night. Shortly after we retired to bed for the night I'm sure he became even more gald of my hospitality becasue the sky just opened, with heavy rain, constant thunder and lightning. When we woke in the morning after a fitful night's sleep, we were floating on a puddle bigger than my tent. Amazingly, the bathtub floor of my tent had saved us from wet everything. We had to be really careful extracting ourselves and all our gear to keep the floating floor (think waterbed) from collapsing in and flooding everything. Abby slept under her tarp, and managed somehow to stay mainly dry.

After such a sleepless night, wet start, and a now cold and blustery day we really didn't want to get up on the ridge in the storm. When we reached Zealand Falls hut after only a few miles we decided to pay for a night's stay there. It's expensive, but the main benefit was being able to claim a bunk immediately and climb under several heavy wool blankets for an afternoon nap. The place was OK, but I certainly wouldn't want to make a habit of staying in the huts. All you get for $100 per person is a bunk in an unheated room with 20 or so other people, 3 blankets and a pillow. There are toilets, but in the bathrooms no hot water, and signs prohibiting sponge baths! Two meals are included in the price and dinner was pretty good, but I think the portions were rather small considering everyone there had hiked in, and was paying close to $100 to stay. Abby got her work for stay, continuing in her quest to work for stay every hut in the Whites.

Next morning we got an early start out and it was actually sunny, but very windy and cold, especially on the exposed summits of the ridge we were walking. We had a scary episode of Brian suffering quite an advanced stage of hyperthermia, even though it was probably the warmest part of the day when it occurred. We had somehow got seperated, I thought he was ahead of me, and was hurrying to catch him, and he thought I was behind, so was dawdling until another hiker told him I had passed by some time ago. He ran (uphill) to catch me, and was swety when he finally found me. We stopped for a short break, and probably should have broken out the stoves to have a hot drink right there, it was very chilly and blustery, despite the sunshining. However, we decided against hot drinks, opting to walk faster to warm up instead. That was a big mistake. Brian outhikes me easily, and as I approached the next peak in my own version of hiking fast I had not seen him in quite a while.

It was the first time I had had a clear long distance view of the Presifential Range, and as I lingered on an outcropping ledge I stopped to take pictures back to Mt Washington. As I started back hiking to the summit I spotted something odd beneath the trailside bushes. At first glance I thought it was a hiker sleeping there. That seemed weird, worth a second glance. That glance brought me to a screeching halt. It was Brian, not sleeping, but laying in the mud of a waterbar runoff. He'd removed all his clothes except his shorts, and had the contents of his pack strewn all around him. His skin was white as a cotton sheet, with the exception of his face which was bright red. When I tried to get him up he was muttering strange stories about bears, making camp, having to give all his clothes and food away. Very strange, and quite scary.

I realized that he was probably hyperthermic, and managed to get him to put his clothes back on and wrap his sleeping bag around him. At the same time I was unpacking my own pack to get out my stove and boil hot water. Eventually he regained lucidity after about a liter of hot cocoa. He had little memory of what had happened, but does remember hearing about a bear that had lost it's fur and needed to borrow his clothes. He had been trying to catch the bear when he thought it had got dark, and decided to "make camp"! For the remainder of the day's hike he staggered around like a drunk, and complained of the worst "hangover" ever. Not that there was any alcohol involved, just the major headache and disassociated feeling. I think we had a close call, but we did walk several further miles to the next hut to get hot food and drink in both of us, then on to the next shelter for the night.

Next day we had some serious hiking to do. Brian was still feeling tender, but we were out of food, so had no choice but to make it to town. The last mountains Garfield and Lafayette, and the Franconia ridge we steep and hard, but very rewarding. It was a beautiful day, still breezy, but not as cold as yesterday, and quite pleasant to sit in if you could get out of the wind. Mt Lafayette was crowded with tourists. This is a steep hike up from the road below, but relatively short, and obviously very popular on a weekend for day hikes.

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Crawford Notch, NH

My trip over the Presidentials was fun, and not nearly as hard as I had expected, mainly due to a change in the weather.

Finally, after all the rain, I lucked out with decent waether in the area with the most unpredictable weather on the trail! That's not to say it was all sunny, and the wind didn't howl, but it was at least clear for the most part, and particularly on my traverse over Mt Washington. The summit of Washington was totally socked in in fog and cloud when I arrived. It was just barely above freezing, and I was wearing literally everything I was carrying: long pants, sweater, vest and down jacket, buff ear cover, wool hat, gloves. Everything! But as I stood waiting for my summit shot the sun started to break through, apparently for the first time in several weeks, and the temps rose a little.

It was still windy though. I managed to remove a couple of the layers, coat, gloves and the hat I think. I spent the night at Lakes of the Clouds hut doing a work for stay. This hut was definitely a different experience than Carter Hut. The croo were at least civil to the hikers, though I still wouldn't consider it actually friendly. The food was better than Carter hut too. We even got brownies, and a couple of differnt meats with our dinner. It's a much more satisfying meal when it's not all carbs. I actually almost missed the dinner call becasue I was outside, where it was extremely wind and cold again, but there was a beautiful sunset.
I cleaned the stove for my work for stay. I didn't mind the work, but was worried about getting my only clothes all greasy from the stove. I met Abby, another female SOBO at the hut. She's a lot younger, and is hiking solo, which is very courageous at her age and with little backpacking experience.

The remainder of the Presidentials was pretty routine. Yes, there were sttep rocky trails, but soome gorgeous scenery, and it was predominantly warm and sunny. I had left Brian behind in Gorham. He had some kind of a funk on, and decided he wanted more time in town. He didn't seem sick or anything, so I figured this was his way of telling me it was time for us to go our seperate ways. That's OK with me, because that was our agreement in the beginning, to just hike together as long as we both wanted it, and if the time came to split up we would do so. I just wish he could have actually said that instead of just hanging back though!

I actually enjoyed hiking alone. I think I talked to more people on this stretch than I have on others, but that's probably just because there are more people here than we have seen so far. This a very popular area, and of course it is the middle of summer (freezing temperatures and all!).

The trickiest part of this hike was the descent down Webster Cliffs. It wasn't as bad as many of the slick descents I've had so far, but some of the NOBOs had made it out to be much more dangerous than it was. Boy, are they in for a surprise when they hit Maine! The only reason it was tricky for me is that I had decided to tackle it late in the day, instead of stopping at Mizpah hut, which would have been the smart thing to do. There was a storm brewing and the top of the cliffs were very exposed, so I continued down in a light rain instead of being stuck on the top in a storm. The rocks granite rocks were very slick when wet, and it was getting late in the day. I knew I'd have to hitch hike to get to a campground when I reached the road, and really wanted to get down before dark, and preferably before it stormed.

I did make it, and got a ride from a nice French Canadian man out for a weekend camping trip with his son. He was a hiker, and was looking for a campground too, so they were happy to have me join them finding it. I lost him in the crowd at the check in, so I don't even know if he is staying here. I was saved from the long line by Richard, the campground owner. He easily identified me as a backpacker in the line (maybe the backpack, or maybe I stink again already?) and pulled me over to the side. He gave me a towel, shower tokens, and directions to the bunkhouse, and told me to get settled and shower (I guess maybe it was the stink!!) and return to register after the crwod had gone down. That was nice.

I was actually the only hiker in the bunkhouse the first night. What a great place: a fully enclosed hut with 4 sets of bunkbeds, table, shairs, individual bunklights, etc. The showers were hot and clean, a little slippery underfoot though. I fell and jarred my right shoulder pretty badly. Nice bruise on my thigh too. The fall caused me to zero for a day, I hadn't slept well, knees, hips and right shoulder weren't happy with me, and I had to take ibruprofen to get some rest.

For my second night here the bunkhouse was completely full. First to join me was Abby, who had work for stayed at Mizpah hut the night before. She is on a quest to work for stay at every hut in the system. She had had a hairy hike down the mountain today. She had been put off by the NOBOs stories about Webster cliffs so had decided to try an alternate route down, but ended up following false trails and having to ford a river several times to reach the road. I told her she needs to have more confidence in herself after what she has already achieved to get here and not be so freaked out by NOBOs!

As the day progressed more hikers arrived. The storms that never materilzed yesterday came out in full force today, and that will always fill up a hiker hostel or bunkhouse. By dark the bunkhouse was full. Just as we were all preparing to settle down, who walks in? Brian. He had been trapped up on Mt Washington by the lightning storms. Unable to hike on, he had finally bailed off the mountain in a car with a couple of guys who then drove him here. Today, as I write this, he has taken the Cog Railway up to the top of Mt Washington and will hike back to here tonight. I'm taking another zero day, as is Abby, and we'll all hike out tomorrow morning, if the weather cooperates.

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Return to Gorham

This last section into the start of the White mountains was miserable. It never stopped raining, was cold, and the nasty steep terrain and slickrock didn't magically disappear yet either.

Our first day out of Gorham we managed only a couple of miles in a drenching downpour before taking refuge in the first shelter, which we shared with a homeless man, but no other hikers. Next morning, we staggered on. Literally in Brian's case. His back was hurting so badly he had lost the feeling in his right leg. We spent an interminably slow morning of forward progress, he wrenching his unresponsive leg forward one step at a time, and I following along, unable to do or say anything to help with the pain. By evening we were exhausted, cold, tired and wet, and just grateful to reach the next shelter.

For our third day, Brian was at least in less pain. However, it was still raining and cold and very cold. Stopping for breaks was almost impossible, and very uncomfortable at the least. We were ready for a night indoors, but the only option to do so was to stop at Carter Notch hut. The huts system in the Whites is a thorn in a thru hiker's side. They are expensive, often full, and are staffed by a "croo" of students that have a reputation for not wanting thru hikers in their huts. We had planned to avoid the huts if at all possible, but in our current situation, it appeared we had no choice.

We were determined to go into the hut with an open mind, but lets just say that despite all our efforts to make this a positive experience, it was not so. I won't go into deatil, but the list of list of atrocities includes being forced back out into the cold and rain while the paying guests ate dinner, having our clothes which had been hung up to dry, being wadded up and thrown where there was no chance they would dry, unpalatable and unhygenically cooked food, e. coli in the supposedly potable water, and a general sense of disdain from the croo. Hopefully we can get through the Whites without having to repeat this experience.

We left the hut in the only brief sunshine of this section, but it did not last. By the time we had ascended out of the notch it was raining again. The Wildcat peaks were frustrating, steep and slick, and it was so cold that my fingers were blue. I sat at the bottom of one vertical rock face and cried. I could not even feel my fingers, yet I was supposed to climb hand over hand with them and risk my life on them? Eventually, knowing I had no choice I did it anyway.

My life was saved that day by a gondola. At the top of the last Whitecap peak was a gondola service running down to the ski resort below. Somehowm the moment I set eyes on this high wire saviour the sun also came out. It was still cold though, and windy too. Afraind that the gondola service would be halted at any moment due to the wind, I was anxious to jump onto it and ride back to civilization.

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New Hampshire (at last!!!!)

I'm finally out of Maine and into New Hampshire. Not that it made much difference in trail conditions, it was still raining, boggy, buggy, and slick, but it's a major milestone to have completed the first State.

In this last section of Maine we climbed a fire tower on the top of Old Speck Mountain, and hiked the reputed hardest maile of the AT, through Mahoosuc Notch. The fire tower was fun, if a little scary, and the Notch, in the pouring rain and a lightning storm was not! The reaminder of the section was just more of the same old Maine, now running into New Hampshire.

On a happier note, as we crossed our last mountain on the way down into Gorham we found a few berries left behind by a bear that had very recently. There were the usual blueberries, but also blackberries and raspberries. I helped myself to the remnants of the bear's feast. Yum!

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