Appalachian Trail Day 153 - Kinsman Notch Southbound then North to Gorden Pond (Mile 1799 to Mile 1812)

I am the first one awake again, and I would love for once to be able to sleep until my alarm goes off! At least I will easily be ready to hit the trail when the shuttle leaves at 7. In the meantime, I strip my bed and use the extra time to pack the food and supplies I will need for tonight. 

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

Appalachian Trail day 152 - Route 25A to Hikers Welcome Hostel (Mile 1,789 to Mile 1,799)

I slept pretty well last night considering there were seven of us in the hostel sleeping room. I'm the first hiker awake at 5:10. When I walk outside to the restroom I see I'm not the only person awake; Patience, the hostel manage is up and that means coffee!

I head into dining area of the main house and really appreciate this setup. People that are still sleeping can slumber while everyone who is awake can hang out in a completely different building.

A half-hour later I pour a cup of coffee and hang out at the table with several other hikers as we all prepare for the day.  The shuttle to Moosilauke leaves an hour before mine, so I have some extra time to relax.

By 7:30 the only hikers remaining are myself, Sonic, and wormwood. I'm the only person going back to 25A. Sonic and Wormwood are taking a zero day. We chat for a little while and we discuss our plans. Wormwood jokes about how everyone keeps fearmongering how hard the Whites will be. My plan is to take a couple of easy slack pack days before the Kinsmans and the rest of the Whites, all of which are certainly going to kick my butt.

Hot Tamale tells me that we can leave at any time since she is going to be shuttling me and she is available.  I grab some water and my rain gear, leaving everything else behind. My pack is going to be delightfully light for this section.

Hot tamale drives me to 25A and on the way I see a brown shape on the road ahead. I know there aren't too many deer around here so I wonder if it was a moose. Unfortunately we were too far away to tell for certain. 

Hot Tamale has just arrived here four days ago and she is still very unfamiliar with the roads so she drives cautiously and tells me how she came to be here from Angels Rest. She worked with Reset who came up here earlier in the season and Reset contacted her recently about an open position, on which Hot Tamale jumped at the chance.  She was looking for a change of scenery and the thought of spending the summer in New England sounded perfect!

I get on the trail at 8:15. I'm so glad that I'm slackpacking this section in the rain. I hate taking days off of the trail just because of rain, but I hate missing out on nice views. Fortunately there's no spectacular views to be had on this section, so if I'm going to be hiking in the rain and have no views, then this is the place I want to be!

The trail Leaves 25A going northbound up a pretty easy 400 feet for the first mile. The rain Is pattering on the tree leaves overhead, and the canopy is thankfully thick enough that no drops are reaching the ground. Although the heavy rain last night certainly saturated everything. The rocks are a little slippery but the trail Is mostly dirt so it's manageable.

I walk over several bog bridges. Ever since my experience falling down several times on the Virginia roller coaster, I am always wary when stepping on them in the rain. Some of them are shaky but most of them sturdy and not slippery whatsoever.

I continue uphill and after an hour and fifteen minutes I've hiked 2.7 miles and gained 1,000 feet, which is the biggest single climb of the day.  I still have several hills that will be another 1,500 feet or so altogether, but they will be much smaller. The rain is heavier now, but I'm still not getting too wet or cold so I'm hiking without rain gear.

Three and a half miles into my hike I come to the southern end of a beaver pond that is partially covered in water lilies. I stop for a moment to admire the scene but the mosquitoes are ridiculous here so I don't stay long.

I'm hiking along a nice path moving at a really great pace, listening to an audiobook when I see a young woman With a big backpack on the trail ahead of me. As I approach she says "Oh hi!" and I realize it's Fallout. I haven't seen her for almost a week. She said she took a zero day yesterday in Lyme for her mental health.

She says that she's been struggling a little bit and a friend that she was hiking with has decided to get off the trail permanently.  I commiserate,  and tell her I have had my own struggles out here, and I'm dealing with it by slackpacking to Hikers Welcome today and probably slackpack Moosilauke tomorrow and maybe even slackpack Kinsman the next day. She says because she just took a zero she doesn't want to do another hostel tonight, but she's planning on stopping by so I will see her later. I say goodbye and continue on my way.

A short time later, after going up a few hundred feet, I descend to Route 25C. I've been hiking two hours and 15 minutes and I'm halfway finished with my. What an awesome day; at this rate I will be done by noon.

Fallout catches up to me; after all she's at least 35  years younger than me. We hike together after we cross the road and reenter the woids, we encounter three south bounders next to a stream, filtering water. They are gushing about how amazingly gorgeous The Whites are, and how they are looking forward to cruising now that the elevation keeps getting easier going south. We tell them about some of the towns we've encountered and The places the must-stop places for them on their journey, as well as some places to avoid.

Two and a half miles later, we summit Mt. Mist. A sign on the ground, propped against a tree marks the spot.  In good weather, a hiker could get a nice view from here, but today the view is covered in low-lying clouds.  Fallout says she is going to turn up her pace so she can get to the hostel and grab some food out of the rain before she continues on the trail.  I'm in no hurry so I tell her I will see her later.

An hour and 1,100 feet of descent later, I reach New Hampshire Route 25. I guess the folks who name the roads ran out of ideas, because it seems like every road around here is 25 something or other.

I turn right and return to the hostel after a half mile road walk. I go straight to the kitchen, where Fallout is sitting at the table, when Patience brings her a pizza. It looks amazing and so I order a Meat Lovers for myself, eager to try to get all the calories and protein that I can.

I eat the entire pizza in record time. Fallout packs out the rest of hers, and says goodbye so she can get to the next shelter. 

Sonic has a map out of the White Mountains and is busily writing on a piece of paper. He's trying to figure out where he can stay throughout his passage of the mountains. I have plenty of time left in the day, so I figure this is a great time to plan my own strategy for completing The Whites. I have not made any reservations yet because I had no idea when I would reach this point, but now that I am on the doorstep I definitely need a plan.

All of the lodging, including campgrounds and shelters, is operated by the Appalachian Mountain Club for the next 64 miles. There are very few free camping opportunities within this area, and those tend to be remote from the trail, and usually entailing hiking a great distance from the trail down steep descents. The AMC pretty much has a financial stranglehold on the camping. The AMC's bread and butter are the high-mountain huts in the mountains and the lodges located in the valleys at road crossings. Granted, the huts are a great place to stay after a hard day's hiking, and all the food and supplies are either carried up by the staff or flown in, justifying the expense.

The huts and lodges are exorbitantly expensive for most thru hikers, starting at $85 for a bunk in the lodges, to $150 for a bunk in the huts. The campsites are considerable less, costing $15 the first night, then only $5 per night after purchasing a thru-hiker card at a campsite. The through hiker card also offers limited free food and beverages at the huts during the day. The biggest concern is that space at these camping areas are extremely limited and first-come first-served. When considering that hikers will generally take five to eight days to pass through The Whites, all of this poses quite a logistical problem. 

I have hut-to-hut hiked this area before,  and know that the biggest obstacle is availability of the huts on the specific days I will progress through the mountains. I sit down and come up with a plan of where I want to be on specific days. 

Right now, the plan is to hike Moosilauke tomorrow, the Kinsmans the day after, then Lonesome Lake, Greenleaf, Galehead, Zealand Falls, and Mizpah huts, in that order. Armed with this information I call the AMC, and cross my fingers.

Unfortunately Lonesome Lake and Zealand Falls are sold out for the days that I will be hiking through the area.  I am able to book Greenleaf and Galehead for the desired days. I'm not really sure what to do about the hike between Zealand and Mizpah, so I shelf that for now.

Feeling like I've accomplished something, I grab a hard seltzer out of the truck and sit in the rocking chair on the porch,  enjoying just sitting still. Patience comes over and takes a seat next to me and we chat for a while. He works in Vail during the winters, and it's obvious that skiing is his passion. He grew up in Maryland just across the bay from where I live, and we talk about Bay Life.  He is definitely more suited for mountain life, and seems to be living his dream.

A short time later I turn in, ready for Moosilauke tomorrow,  my first big hike in the Whites.

Today's Stats: 9.9 miles, 2,350 feet gain

Trail Stats: 1,789 miles, 355K gain

Milesnto Katahdin: 405

Appalachian Trail Day 151 - Jacob's Brook to NH Route 25A (Mile 1,782 to Mile 1,789)

I slept until 5:45, and had the best night's sleep that I have had in weeks! I barely woke up, and didn't have any bizarre dreams. Sleeping next to running water is dramatically underrated. Perhaps it was the amount of physical exertion yesterday, or maybe it was the melatonin I took last night. Whatever, I am excited about going to a hostel and getting cleaned up.

I look at the elevation profile for today and it's not too bad. I have 1,700 feet of climb, and only 8 miles, and water is plentiful today; easy peasy!

The elevation gain starts as soon as I get out of camp. I gain 400 feet over a half mile to the first view of the day; a rocky ledge directly in front of Smarts Mountain, where I climbed the fire tower yesterday.  I can see the tower from here, but it looks like an extra tall tree at this distance. 

The next half mile is relatively level, only gaining another 100 or so feet. I come to a brook,  and decide to stop and eat something and drink some more water in preparation for the big climb up Mt. Cube. While I am filtering water,  a hiker named Sonic comes up and we are talking when another hiker comes up and takes off his pack. His name is Ambassador.  He is Dutch but lives in Spain. A few minutes later Mystic shows up and we are having a gathering in the woods.

Mystic is surprised to see me. I tell her I stayed at the same brook as she did last night, but my hammock was down by the water and hard to see from the trail. I saw her walk across the bridge while I was bathing, but she didn't see me.

We get on the subject of resupplying, and Mystic says she is out of fuel. I tell her she can have my can, which isn't full but should get her another 2-3 dinners. She accepts and then I joke about getting rid of some of my excess food. Ambassador says he would love some, so I give him a 1,000 calorie bag of nuts, several servings of cheese, and a few Honey Stinger Waffles. He is very appreciative,  and I am happy to help out and it has lightened my load!

After leaving the stream,  I'm ready for the climb,  but the trail remains relatively level for about a mile.  Then all of a sudden it starts straight up the mountain on boulders that stop at a steep rock face. I scramble to the top. I am marveling at the amazing views and taking pictures when another hiker walks up. He takes off his pack and we talk about the hike. His name is Wormwood, from Valdez, Alaska.

Wormwood is so full of positive energy. He loves hiking and hiked the PCT. He decided to follow the Long Trail to its Canadian terminus and finished it before returning to the Appalachian Trail and continuing to Maine. What a beast!

The trail continues up to Mount Cube where the views are even more spectacular.  I am talking to two southbounders when I spy blueberries! They are big and ripe, and while I am picking some with the southbounders,  Mystic walks up. Before I start the descent,  I call the Barn Door Hostel for a shuttle, as there isn't any service at the next road crossing. No one is answering,  so I call home and Dad accepts the mission of procuring me a shuttle.

The three and a half mile descent down to Route 25A is noneventful, however I see many big piles of moose droppings over the 2,000 foot drop, but not a moose in sight.. 

The spruce and fir forest abruptly gives way to a predominantly hardwood forest with the occasional spruce. The weather is beautiful; sunny but shaded under the tree canopy, the birds are singing, and a light breeze is perfect for hiking. I cross several small and pretty streams.

Just before I lose service,  I receive  confirmation from Dad that the shuttle will pick me up at 2PM. This day just can't get any better!

I stop at a stream to filter a cup of fresh, cold water and pull out my phone to look at the map and check my calendar. I will be entering the Whites in a couple days, and I realize that if I average 10 miles per day I can summit Mount Washington before I need to come home for the weekend! 

When I reach the parking lot, I see Mystic. She doesn't think she can do the next 10 miles she was originally planning on today. There is no cell service here, so she can't arrange a shuttle.  I offer her a ride to Hikers Welcome Hostel, where I am spending the night, and planning on slackpacking tomorrow from here back to the hostel. She thinks about it for a minute,  then accepts my offer. If the shuttle driver won't transport her back with me, she can wait here and I will come back and pick her up.

A couple minutes later, the shuttle driver arrives, and he agrees to transport both of us back to Barn Door Hostel, where I pick up my truck. We drive to Hikers Welcome, stopping at an awesome general store called Appleknockers, where we grab food and cold drinks.

We arrive and are shown around the hostel by one of the staff.  I recognize her from somewhere,  then find out she is Hot Tamale from Angel's Rest in Pearisberg, Virginia!

Soon the hostel is bustling with activity. Mystic and I shower and combine our laundry to wash as I spread out the contents of my pack to dry in the hot sun. I am tucking into my footlong sub and a big Greek salad when the sky darkens and I gather all my belongings and throw everything into my truck before it starts raining. 

I am sitting in the dining area with Mystic, Sonic, and Wormwood when another hiker walks in. It's Carrot Cake! He is as delighted to see me as I him, and we all engage in lively discussion. 

We are all talking about the crazy mountains ahead. We all agree we need to come up with our plans for the hike now that we are at the doorstep of the Whites. There are a few campsites and shelters run by the AMC, but camping away from these areas is strictly forbidden and enforced. The other options are the huts, which are right off the trail in most cases, but they are egregiously expensive. I am looking at doing 8-10 miles per day through the Whited, because the elevation gains are 4,000 plus per summit. I look at the AMC website and see that a couple of the best Huts are pretty much reserved for the next week. I definitely need to come up with a plan but I am too tired to think right now. 

Wormwood and Sonic are going to zero here tomorrow to rest up for the Whites. I need some forward progress in my life so I arrange to get shuttle back to 25A in the morning and have an easy 10 mile hike back to the hostel. I can do another 10 mile slack pack of Moosilauke the next day, thereby saving my energy for the next grueling section.

A crazy thunderstorm lets loose, and I sit in a rocking chair on the front porch of the bunkhouse, enjoying the deluge from the comfort of cover while calling home and checking in before heading to bed. The sunset over the ridge to the west illuminates the sky before setting.

Today's Stats: 7.3 miles, 1,745 feet gain

Trail Stats: 1,789 miles, 353K feet gain

Miles to Katahdin: 405

Appalachian Trail Day 150 - Moose Mountain shelter to Jacob's Brook (Mile 1,767 to Mile 1,782)

I slept fitfully last night, having some really weird dreams. I woke up at 3am to water the leaves and fell back asleep for what seemed like a minute before my watch alarm starts vibrating at 4:50 a.m.

I get up and check out the sunrise, but it looks like the sun is too far north of the clearing in front of the shelter, although I do get some very pretty pictures of the mountains to the east in the hazy pink light of dawn. 

Marsupial joins me for a few minutes but then thinks of running back to the south peak to see if he can get a better view. As soon as he departs I think that the south peak is completely covered in trees and he probably is doing all that effort for nothing.

I walk in front of the shelter a couple more times to check the view as I am packing up, but not much has changed. Marsupial returns at about the time I am finishing breaking camp, and says he had about the exact same view through the trees as we have here. 

I am on the trail At 6:20, passing by a few tents, the occupants of which must have came in after I went to bed last night. I want to get an early start because the temperature is supposed to reach 95°F in the valley, and with the high humidity it's going to be not only oppressive, but dangerous to be hiking up the mountains before me.

Immediately I am web walking into hundreds of small sticky filaments and pulling them off my face and hair. The forest is waking up, and I see the biggest frog jumping out of my way on the trail. As the sun continues to rise ahead of me to the right, the bird song is slowly growing louder and the bugs are going full tilt. I sprayed myself with bug repellent right before I left camp, and I'm really glad I did right now.

After a mile I reach a sign that marks the North Moose Mountain Summit. It is just a sign stuck in the ground in the middle of the woods; no view and no fanfare. from here the trail starts to descend 1,300 feet to Bruce Pond Road.

Just south of the road I cross a dry stream bed where I see a moose print. Only a few steps later I cross another dry stream bed, but there is a nice clear and cold pool of water that's deep enough to easily fill my dirty bag. I filter and drink a half-liter of water quickly before moving on.

By 8 am, three miles are behind me. The temperature is actually slightly cooler now that I've come down off the mountain. There's a surprising crispness In the air as I cross Spruce Pond Road. 

After crossing the road I encounter a lovely stretch of flat trail through a dark and quiet woods. I hear some crashing to my right and just make out the form of a large deer running away from the trail. 

The flat and lovely trail is too short. I pass over some very unsteady bog bridges next to a stagnant pond, and the temperature rises dramatically for a few minutes until I reenter the woods. I gear up mentally for the 1,300 foot climb Over the next 1.3 miles, an average of 1,000 feet per mile, which is an incredibly steep climb over the next mountain. 

I sweat like crazy on the way up in the absence of a breeze and the increasing heat of the day. I stop and take several breaks to keep from sweating like crazy, but I'm still soaked by the time I reach the top. 

At the top of the mountain I descend a short way to Hoit's Ledges, a large and open, but very hazy view, of Smarts Mountain to the north, my next mountain to climb.  The ledges are fenced off with chain link, probably to keep drunk people from falling off.  I continue walking to the top of the Dartmouth Skiway,  but there isn't much to see here, so I turn around and return to the trail.

I celebrate my first climb of the day by taking off my pack for a break and drinking my first cup of electrolytes for the day. I've now done six miles and 1,800 ft of elevation gain, but I still have a minimum of 7 miles and 2,700 ft to go today to get to the next likely campsite.

I finished the descent off this mountain and cross the Grafton Turnpike, where the name is much more impressive than the two-lane road. 

There's a small creek nearby, but I don't see how I can get to it, so I'm looking through the FarOut comments. All the comments say that this next section of trail through the meadow is extremely overgrown and difficult to navigate. The comments also suggest taking a dirt road that runs parallel to the trail for the two miles to skip the meadow. I am so sweaty that the thought of staying out of the shoulder-high grass that will inevitably stick to me is super appealing. So I decide to go up the dirt road.

I'm very glad I did because I see bear number #10 (or maybe 11). A cub steps into the road about 25 yards in front of me. It stops to take a look at me for a moment and then scurries on to cross the road before I can get out my phone to take a picture. It must be following mom, because no other bears emerge and I proceed on my way.

A little while later I see some beautiful cascades and small waterfalls in the stream that runs beside the dirt road. 

When the road rejoins the AT, I stop and take off my socks and shoes and soak my aching feet In the delightfully cold water. I eat a half of a bag of crushed up potato chips by just pouring the chips straight out of the bag into my mouth. I also filter a bunch of water and drink a large cup of electrolytes mixed with fruit and vegetable powder.

A family walks up to a car parked in front of my resting spot. They ask me if I saw the sign on the trail for the ice cream at their house. I say that I didn't because I walked up the road because I couldn't handle going through another overgrown meadow, but I tell them I did see a bear. When I describe the location, it ends up that I saw the cub right in front of their house. The man says I should bypass the AT and take a blue-blazed trail that is the old AT before a recent reroute.  The blue-blazed trail runs along the creek for the next mile and I won't have to carry so much water up the next big climb.

The family says goodbye and I decide I need to get going. When I pull my feet out of the water I am pleasantly surprised to see that for the first time in days my toes don't resemble little sausages. The cold water did the trick of reducing the swelling that is a constant.  I put on my socks and shoes, shoulder my pack, and decide to take the Ranger Trail up as recommended.

This trail is an officially recognized part of the AT, and I'm glad I took it. Two miles up the trail, next to a garage-looking shelter, I cross a stream where water is still flowing. I still have some in my bladder but I want to conserve it for the next five miles until the next water source,  so I take the opportunity to take off my pack and filter and drink another half liter of water. There is some trash next to the shelter so I grab it and stuff it in my pack.

From the shelter, the trail gets very steep and rocky, obvious turning into a stream in wet weather.  I pretty much hike up big rocks for the next mile, until the trail merges with the AT proper, after which it turns into even bigger rocks.

The rocks are so steep that in places that there are wood and stone steps, and even rebar steps pounded into the rock underfoot. I am so glad that it's hot and sunny today and not raining or this would be totally treacherous.

I gain another 600 feet over the next half mile, melting in the process. The pitch is so steep that my Achilles are crying because my feet are so hyperflexed for so long.

After what seems like forever I make it to the top of Smarts Mountain. The trees are stunted from the harsh mountain weather at this altitude. Firs, spruce and birch are thick on both sides of the trail, and the few bare spots are carpeted in moss.

I come to a sign that marks the tent sites.  They aren't far off the trail and I was intending to stay here so I'm curious to see what they look like. I'm so glad that I did, because now I know that I definitely want to keep going down the mountain to camp near the next stream.

Shortly after passing the camping area, I come to the fire tower, which is open to the public. I take off my pack and climb the sturdy and steep stairs to the top, where I am rewarded with a stunning 360-degree view of the surrounding mountains. 

I can see the mountains to this south in Vermont, including Stratton and Bromley, which I climbed more than 10 days ago. To the west I can see Whiteface and Mount Marcy In New York, and to the Northeast lay the Whites, where I am heading later this week.

Climbing down out of the fire tower presents a challenge, as the door in the floor doesn't want to stay open. I have to lift up the heavy door by leaning over the opening to the stairway below while pushing against it so it doesn't fall on top of me while I start my descent, which is quite dangerous. I then have to hold it open until I get low enough that I can shut it without banging it on my head. Two young men with Dartmouth t-shirts are coming up the ladder. We pass on the highest landing, And I giggle to myself when I hear them say that it's too much work and they are going to descend to the landing to check out the view.

I continue on the trail which just ascends briefly through some really overgrown fir trees, the branches waiting to scratch the heck out of any hiker not paying attention. The trail then starts to go down the mountain, where I lose 2,000 feet over the next three miles.

I see several large piles of moose droppings on the trail near the top.  I can't believe that the big beasts would come up here; it doesn't look like there's any good food for them other than fir trees and moss. I keep my eyes peeled for the creature, because there is nowhere I could hide in this thick mess beside the trail.

Fortunately I have no close animal encounters, and I make it to the stream by 5:30. My feet are so tired, and all I want to do is get cleaned up and eat dinner. 

I spend 15 minutes walking around trying to find a suitable spot to set up my hammock.  The creek bed is in a small gorge, so it's a little challenging.  I finally settle on a spot on the south side of the creek, down near the stream. 

I heat water to hydrate my dinner (Chicken Pesto Pasta!), before I get to work setting up my camp. I step down to the water and wash up, even using a few drops of soap! 

I eat my dinner on a rock next to the stream, which doesn't take long. Another one thousand calories to nourish me. I then filter some water for tomorrow to save time in the morning. 

It is now 8 PM and I am tuckered out from all the climbing!

Today's Stats: 15.6 miles, 4,500 feet gain 

Trail Stats: 1,782 miles, 351K feet gain

Miles to Katahdin: 412 

Appalachian Trail Day 149 - Hanover, NH to Moose Mountain Shelter (Mile 1,756 to Mile 1,767)

I wake at 5:30. This bed is the incredibly comfortable,  and I love the soft comforter and duvet, but I slept fitfully nonetheless. 

I am stressed about the difficulty of the upcoming hike. I will have to hike 176 miles through the state of New Hampshire.  In an earlier post, I discussed how the elevation changes as I move north. 

New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut had an average elevation gain and loss of 361 feet per mile. In Massachusetts and Vermont, the number increased to 425 feet per mile, and it was hard!  Through the state of New Hampshire, the elevation gain and loss is a staggering 617 feet per mile!! 

The craziest part of my anxiety is that I am not unfamiliar with the Whites; have hike Mt. Washington five times, not to mention I have done three hut-to-hut hikes through the White Mountains, unnarguably the hardest section of the entire trail. I think I am extra stressed because I know the Whites have some extreme weather. This week, Mt. Washington has a forecasted high of 35 to 40 degrees with the 40 mph winds, and it's July!

By 7 am, I am heating my breakfast and drinking a cup of coffee in the main room when Boomer starts racing around the hostel. He just got up and his shuttle is due to leave in 30 minutes. He grabs some protein oatmeal off the "free" shelf, and takes me up on my offer of snacks for the trail. 30 minutes later he starts to shovel the oatmeal in his mouth but the driver is already waiting. I give him a paper cup so he can eat his oatmeal on the road and I tell him to leave the bowl and I will wash it for him. We go out to the truck where I give him five Kind chocolate bars and an equal a number of assorted fig bars. He thanks me vociferously and reassures me that I'm doing fine and that I will have a good time in New Hampshire before he jumps in the shuttle and they take off.

I'm ready for my shuttle 30 minutes later and at the last minute I crush and stuff a big bag of potato chips on my pack to make it easier to carry, and grab some fresh snow peas and the last of the green beans from Captain Stash's house and I'm underway to Hanover.

The drive passes quickly. My shuttle driver is a young rock climber who's working at the hostel. He only has to work about 20 hours a week, in exchange for free lodging. Like the other employees here, they are all into rock climbing, as this is what this area is known for. He's going to stay here and work through the winter and get a job at a local ski resort so he can get free skiing.  What a great opportunity for a young person!

I am on the trail at 9am and follow it out of town around the edge of the ball field when I realize I haven't downloaded any new audio books or podcasts to listen to while hiking.  I stop and take a few minutes to download a bunch of stuff while I still have good service.

While downloading a couple of things, a woman passes me with a weighted vest and hiking poles. I say hello and start following her up the hill, where I hike up about 400 feet through a beautiful old growth spruce forest.  The climb is steep and takes me over a lot of big rocks covered in roots. 

At the most inopportune place for privacy, nature calls and I have to make a pit stop. I take off my pack and get ready to head deeper into the woods when a familiar face comes towards me down the mountain. I realize it's Marsupial.  I last saw him in Cheshire, Massachusetts the day of Dad's stroke.

"Hey, marsupial!" I call. 

He sees me and walks over. I ask if he's heading southbound now, and he replies that it's a long story, but he has to go back in town to finish some things that he didn't get done while he was there. I guess not everyone is as far ahead of me as I thought!

After I finish my pit stop, I throw my pack back on and continue up the hill. It is warm and not too hot, but it is humid! Before long, I am dripping with sweat. My pack weighs a ton because I have a full three liters of water and I'm loaded with three whole days of food, but I make it up the hill in pretty good time.

Two miles into my hike I see a side trail to a water cistern and I decide to follow the trail even though I have a lot of water left. I want to conserve what's in my bladder because the next reliable water source is seven miles and 2,500 feet of climbing away. 

I push back the heavy wooden lid covering the cistern and am pleased to see that the water is clear and not too dirty with some floating debris, but not a lot of bugs. I drink a half-liter of water and filter another into my Talenti jar for electrolytes. 

I return to the trail and continue up another 500 feet to Velvet Rocks. This is a popular day hike for locals because of the beautiful forest.  The summit is unfortunately crowded with trees and there is no view to be had.

From Velvet Rocks I have a slight descent, and then walk on a relatively level trail for the next two miles, until I pass through a field. 

I get lost for a moment in the field following a mown path through the chest- high brush. When it emerges at a road I can't see any blazes so I turn on my GPS and consult the FarOut app. It looks like I missed a turn in the tall weeds and I return pretty quickly to where I got off trail.

Shortly after the meadow, I pass another small stream and I stop to quickly filter another liter and drink half. A saying on the trail is that we pack our fears and mine is obviously a lack of food and water. I am nervous enough about the scarcity of water and the upcoming section that I plan on carrying a full load and filtering some at every stream crossing.

The next few miles pass easily enough as I wind up and down small hills for another 500 feet of elevation gain. 

At 3 P.M I have hiked almost nine miles and gained two thousand feet when I cross Mink Brook. The water is really sketchy for the next 12 miles and 3,000 feet of vertical gain. All of the seasonal streams are reported to be nothing more than mud puddles, so I drop my pack and drink a liter of water and top off my bladder, the Talenti jar, and my one liter dirty water bottle. My pack is now going to weigh a lot more going up this mountain.

I'm surprised that the hike up isn't as bad as I anticipated. The elevation gain with this extra weight is certainly taxing but not too bad. At the top of Moose Mountain there are two peaks, named interestingly enough South and North Peaks, respectively. 

The trail emerges onto a clearing with a view to the east, but the sky is really hazy and it's hard to make out much on The View. There are several little side trails up here and I start to go down one realizing it's not the AT, but when I turn around I find a small cache box. I sign the register and replace the box where I found it between a couple of big rocks before returning to the right trail.

The walk to the Moose Mountain Shelter is a mere .7 miles, and I am pleased to see I am the first one here at 5PM. I have my pick of sites, and I get a nice one right behind the shelter.

The shelter is perched on the ridge, a clearing front of the trees offers a gorgeous view to the east. The view is hazy, but the shelter is supposed to have amazing views of the sunrise! I have been dying for a good sunrise view.

I am eating dinner in the shelter when a woman walks by. She is looking for a tent site and I tell her I saw a couple down the hill. She goes and sets up her camp and then comes back up to join me as I'm finishing up my dinner. Her name is Mystic and she is section hiking from Connecticut the New York state line up to Katahdin.

I say good night and tuck in quickly before the mosquitoes can eat me alive just as the sun is setting.

Today's Stats: 10.5 miles, 3,015 feet gain

Trail Stats: 1,767 miles, 347K feet gain

Miles to Katahdin: 427