The shuttle leaves promptly at 7, and I am the only one heading south from Kinsman Notch over Moosilauke. When we arrive at the notch (what they call the low spot between two mountains in these parts), I say goodbye to Mystic. She hiked Moosilauke yesterday, skipping the 10 miles I did, so she can meet her husband in Franconia Notch tomorrow.
I cross a stream next to a big and beautiful campsite. This would be an awesome place to camp if I was hiking Moosilauke northbound from the hostel. I hope I can find something like this later tonight!
After crossing the stream, the trail starts uphill, and in a big way. The elevation profile for this mountain, like so many other mountains for the next 75 miles, is straight up. FarOut says I will average 852 feet of gain each mile for the next four miles, which is more than a little above the overall average for the Whites.
The trail is right next to the stream, and like the rest of New Hampshire so far, there are barely any blazes. I am following A trail, but is it THE trail? I keep turning on GPS to confirm that I am on course. I am climbing huge, sharply slanted rocks, where I have to take huge steps that are really working my legs and booty.
The elevation profile doesn't portray an accurate pucture of this hike. The trail is so steeply pitched that I gain 900 feet in the next half mile. Wow! This is ridiculously steep. The one thing I like about these steep climbs is that I can knock out a huge chunk of elevation quickly, which means the trail will flatten out briefly at some point ahead.
The hike is gorgeous, but hard, as I follow the stream uphill where a waterfall or cascade greets me at every turn, each getting more impressive than the last. I spend a lot of time pausing and taking pictures, just to stop again a few minutes later for something even prettier.
The trail leaves the brook after a mile, and just before Beaver Brook Shelter, I see a young man filtering water from a stream that is running down the middle of the trail. He says he stayed up at the shelter but had to return down here to get water, so I stop and filter water since this is the last source until I go down the other side of Moosilauke.
When I finish grabbing an extra liter, I see a herd of young kids coming down the trail towards me. They seem so happy to be out here, bubbling with enthusiasm. They stop to let me pass, and I express my thanks.
The scent of the spruce permeates the air as the trees change from hard to softwood. It smells like I'm walking through Christmas, the smell is so amazingly pungent. The trees here are super stunted and missing vegetation on the windward side. You can tell that winter here is absolutely brutal.
The air is getting much colder, and I stop and put on my gloves, but I don't put on any other extra clothes just yet, although the wind is getting decidedly stiffer as I gain elevation. I am at four thousand feet in altitude, and will be at almost five thousand at the top of Moosilauke.
I round a corner and have a gorgeous view of Moosilauke in the distance. It's still one and a half miles, and about a thousand feet of climbing away, but it's a gorgeous day and I am so excited for the summit.
Three miles into my hike I see Sonic. He is really cooking. He left the hostel at the same time we did, and he's already done four thousand feet of climbing and seven miles! He definitely has the right trail name. We stop and chat briefly. I tell him about the absolutely gorgeous waterfalls ahead, and this is already one of my favorite hikes of the entire trail so far. He says that the views on top of Moosilauke go for about a mile across the ridge. We both marvel at how gorgeous the weather is for this hike. We just couldn't have picked a better day to climb the mountain.
A short time after saying goodbye to Sonic I cross paths with Wormwood. We talk about pretty much the same things. We are both enjoying our days immensely. I say "goodbye," and "happy hiking," because I know I won't see him again. He plans on hiking into the Kinsmans today and he will be way ahead of me, as will all these young men.
About a half mile from the top I see Carrot Cake heading downhill. I am so glad to see him again. He has seen me at my absolute lowest low on the trail when I was trying not to ugly cry in Norwich, Vermont at Captain Stash's house. Now he sees me enthusiastic and delightfully happy. While we are talking he stops to say a mouse ran across the trail behind me. I don't see anything. Then it happens again, nd again I don't see it. By the third time I tell them I think he's screwing with me, but he swears he's not.
We part ways and I arrive at the summit about 15 minutes later. As I approach, I am blown away by the breathtaking views up here. I take out my phone and use the PeakFinder app. I can see the Kinsmans, which are indeed going to be a bitch tomorrow, as well as Lafayette, South Twin, and In the distance, Mount Washington. This week is going to be wild!
As I approach the summit marker, I hear a female voice say "Oh, hi!" and I see Fallout crouched down out of the wind by a wall of sorts made of stone. She tells me that she's having a great time and she really enjoyed staying at the shelter last night. She looks rested and content, and I'm so happy for her.
We marvel at the absolute gorgeous views. I couldn't have asked for a better day to hike this mountain. Today is just what I needed to set my anxiety at ease, reminding me that I love the Whites because even though they are hard, they can be a lot of fun. Fallout is kind enough to take my picture at the summit and I stay to talk for a little while longer. She's planning on camping at Kinsman Notch this evening so I will most likely see her In the next couple of days.
I'm on a little bit of a time crunch so I don't stay too long at the summit. I need to get down and reposition my vehicle and get hiking in this afternoon, so I say goodbye and start down the mountain, where I will descend 4,000 feet over the next six miles, which is going to be rough on my knees.
On the way down, the alpine vegetation slowly becomes replaced by the hardwoods that I have hiked through for so many weeks. Stunted and desiccated spruce transition into maples and birch, and the fragile alpine plants turn to ferns and viburnum.
The sun is shining and a light breeze blows. The rain last night has caused several small streams to cross the trail, and in as a result, it's quite muddy.
I see Beagle and Tiki Bar coming uphill, and they take a break to talk with me. They were at the hostel last night. I didn't realize that they met Dad the day of his stroke, in Cheshire, Massachusetts. They talked to him for a while and benefited from his trail magic while he was waiting for me. We say goodbye and I keep going downhill.
I am very thankful that the descent is nothing like the trip coming up the other side of the mountain. No crazy and steep smooth rocks requiring holding on to rebar, and no wooden steps. Nonetheless, I have to really be careful because it is very steep and the last thing I want to do is blow out a knee.
By one o'clock I've hiked about seven miles And I have lost more than 2,000 feet of altitude since leaving the summit. The trail starts to get a little less rocky and with a slightly easier slope. Hopefully I can make up some time In the next couple miles. I was planning on taking a shower and doing laundry at the hostel, but it looks like I'm going to have to leave as soon as I get there and drive straight to Franconia Notch, where I will call for a shuttle to take me back to Kinsman Notch. If I hike in a little tonight, I will shave miles and climbing off my hike tomorrow.
A mile and a half from the hostel I have to do a road walk. The blazes in New Hampshire are sorely lacking, and I recheck the app a little while later to see that I passed the turn off for the trail. Ugh! I got a bonus half-mile. I turn around and I see a little brown sign that is pointing the opposite direction from where I came. I make the turn and a short while later I'm back in the woods.
A half mile from town I see the 1,800 sign! Another 100 miles in the books! I'm really starting to feel like I am making real progress now. I've hiked my first mountain in the Whites and I am having fun. I really feel like a through hiker now and it's only taken me almost one thousand miles to do it.
I return to the hostel, get my backpack in order for the next section, and pay my bill. There are already nine people here and more are hiking up as I leave. It's nice to see so many people out here hiking.
I drive to Franconia Notch and park at the Liberty Springs Trailhead. I call a local shuttle service called The Shuttle Connection, for a pickup and transfer back to Kinsman Notch. They arrive about 20 minutes later and I am on the trail by 5:30 PM.
The hike out of the notch is brutally steep and taxing, especially because I am carrying so much water and my cold weather gear, which is much heavier than the summer weight kit. Before I know it I have already done 700 feet!
I pass a couple of campsites on the side of the trail but it's early enough that I decide to push to a beaver pond four miles up that's supposed to have a very nice campsite. The wind is coming out of the west and so it will be nice to be on the leeward side of the mountain tonight.
On my trek down the blue-blazed trail to the pond, I walk over several old and sagging bog bridges, but the dirt around them is relatively firm so I start walking beside them. I step beside one bog bridge and sink my right leg up to the knee in mud. I have a lot of difficulty pulling my leg out and end up having to crawl on my hands and other knee and pull, praying my shoe doesn't come off in the process. I'm able to release my foot with my shoe still on it, but now I'm covered in mud.
I pass the bog outflow creek and wipe off a lot of the muck before arriving at the camp a few minutes before 8. I get set up right before full dark. The dense thicket of spruce trees blocks out the sky, so darkness falls very quickly.
I'm in bed at 8:45, felling tired but fulfilled after a hard day's hiking.
Today's Stats: 12.8 miles, 4,478 feet gain
Trail Stats: 1,812 miles, 358K feet gain
Miles to Katahdin: 382
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