Date: 2009-09-17
From: Full Goose Shelter

To: Frye Notch Lean-to
Miles today: 15.5
Weather: overcast clouds

I was up (and out) by 6:15. Up for what I suspected might be a big day. The plan called for a little over 15 miles. Not that 15 miles is in itself a big day but with the days getting shorter, my considerable food load and the promise of challenging terrain ahead I feared it might be at the outer limits of my capabilities.A little uphill and a steep downhill led to Mahoosuc Notch which has the reputation of being perhaps the toughest or slowest mile on the whole trail. It seemed to have been blown out of proportion (myth overtaking reality) but it did seem unique and I couldn't recall anything that was obviously comparable. It started off rocky (big bouldery rocky) before offering respite and then returning to more big bouldery stuff. In 3 places I had to slither underneath those large boulders; each time scouting first for an alternative route but reluctantly accepting that the semi-subterranean route was, perhaps, the best of a bad bunch. It was a little awkward, short sections that required me to remove my pack and haul it along behind me; not always easy with little purchase and weedy hiker arms.And so the notch was turned out to be OK but it didn't make my hear fly. It was nothing like resting above tree line on the flank of some stout mountain, looking out over endless miles of wilderness. It felt nothing like arriving at an isolated rock outcrop, emerging from the forest to find the warmth of the sun and an expanse of clear unbroken blue sky above the horizon. Nor did it offer the quiet wonder and awe of stumbling upon a deer, it paused on the edge of flight, you holding your breath, willing it to stay. The notch didn't even offer the satisfaction of a perfect camp spot - isolated, flat, spongy, a nearby mountain stream. No the notch was a playground, something to accomplish, something, as I said, reasonably unique, it was different and, now, it was behind me.Time was drifting on. Should I stop at Baldpate Lean-to or push on to Frye Notch? I would have to shake a leg if I was to go further but I could still make it. The question was not 'could I make it?' but 'would I enjoy it?'. It wasn't clear cut but I felt the balance was still in favour of enjoyment and so on I went, all be it with somewhat more urgency and purpose.I started to wonder if I had made the right choice when the trail up Baldpate's west peak turned sharply skyward. It was one of the steeper sections I could remember but it turned out to be mercifully short and the view at top was gorgeous: the exposed rock of Baldpate ahead; rising from a sea of undulating green; wispy white clouds hanging in an otherwise blue sky.Down into the valley I followed the blazes and cairns, walking in and out of the narrow passages between the stunted pines and on across the exposed slabs of rocks. Looking onward but also looking back. This could be a wild, wild place (I remembered the wind from 2003) but today the wind was merely a breeze and the evening sun was my companion. I seemed to have the mountain to myself, the last of the hikers long gone; down off the mountain and back to their cars and to civilization. Onwards I went. Winding my way up the rock, walking across angled shelves and clambering up the ledges and steps that geology, erosion and time had created. Following the cairns, not so much to find the the way to the top but to follow the least demanding path to the top. Winding right and left, reducing the gradient but lengthening the distance.The mountain was a convex dome and finding a particularly magical spot, and thinking I was not be far from the top, I stopped to soak it all up. To snack; to breath; to reach an almost meditative state (not that I have ever meditated); to contemplate balance. Time was short but at least I had this moment; I had the isolation I enjoy, the feeling that everything around me was mine and mine alone, the feeling that I could well be the luckiest person alive. Arriving here not by some grand plan but just by putting myself out here and taking what came my way.The mountain continued gently upwards and the top was apparently further than I had thought. I checked the time on my camera (I had long since lost my watch) and thought stuff it. It was two miles to camp but if I had to wander the last bit in the dark then so be it. I sat down again and dipped into tomorrows food bag for a tin of fruit. I allowed myself another 20 minutes. An hour and 20 minutes would have been more like it; but you don't always get all you would like, sometimes you just get much much more.