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.

View more photos in my Picasa album