morvasaaty/AppalachianTrail-LD-Hikers-Blogs-and-Weather-20-years huggingface dataset:
Date: 2008-07-10
From: Spalding Mountain lean-to

To: Eddy's Pond
Miles today: 15.0

By the summit of Poplar, I was spent. Hank unrolled my sleeping pad so that I could collapse onto something soft, for collapse I did. I ate three days worth of lunch food. For whatever reasons, my body was defeated. A nap and many tablespoons of peanut butter later, I was still junk. At least I had color back in my face. Well, that's what Hank said. There are no mirrors in the woods. For better or for worse, I agreed to keep going and trek over some of the largest climbs we've encountered thus far: The Saddlebacks. Up and up and up. I managed the climb to above tree line. Man, it was something special. 360 degree views of layers upon layers of distant mountains shaded in all shades of blue. Sunbeams piercing shifting clouds. Sparkling lakes in all directions. Alpine plants covered the ground for the four mile hike above tree line. Often, the trail itself was covered in tiny white blooms. Experiences that beautiful are made surreal by the lens of exhaustion. As I stumbled, I found myself wondering if I were dreaming. Only the strong wind demanded that I maintain my senses. It blew me about, ripped the bandanna off my head, and created parachutes of our rain jackets. I will admit that I considered rigging up the tent into some sort of hang glider so we could just soar to the next, ever higher peak. The wind pushed me sideways so often it appeared I was dancing the two step. It took all I had left. There was no getting to the shelter that night. Hank promised we could tent in the first good spot, and he was true to his word. Below the mountain, the air was still, but I knew it still roared above me by the clouds racing across the sky. We watched them fly over Eddy's Pond as we drank chamomile tea and a moose grazed on the opposite shore.
Date: 2008-07-11
From: Eddy's Pond

To: South of Moxy Pond
Miles today: 15.2

Hank observed, "Six snakes today. Zero toads. Coincidence? I think not." We missed the toads. Bufo americanus. In the Bigelows, we counted 33 in one day. 33 toads! Down an estimated 60% from the day before. Little guys that flip awkwardly on their backs as they attempt to scramble over leaves and rocks. Big fat toads that puff up, trying to scare us: "I'm too big for you to try to eat." Don't worry toad. I wouldn't eat you. Behind your eyes you have two big parotid glands, which secrete your bufotoxin. I am sure you taste terrible. I doubt snakes share this opinion. Hence, the anecdotal explanation for the lack of toads.
Date: 2008-07-12
From: South of Moxy Pond

To: Andover, ME
Miles today: 14.9
Weather: overcast clouds

Everyone hikes at a different pace. Our friend Raleigh, a super nice rock climber from the NC city of the same name, sleeps late, powers over mountains, and is back in camp in a few hours. Earlier in the trip, we camped with ET, a quiet male-model looking Mennonite who biked his way up to Katahdin. He walks steady through the day, never breaks, munches on occasional handfuls of nuts, and covers long distances through the day. Hank and I hike slowly, but we hike long hours. We wake with first light and walk well into the day. In addition to our turtle's pace, we break all the time: a short stop every 30 minutes for water, every hour for a snack, and a long lunch. My eyes grew wide today as I heard Hank arrange our shuttle time with the hostel. I looked at the map and then at Hank and back at the map. We'd climbed three peaks that morning. We had three taller ones to go. Hank had just set a pick up time that required nearly twice our normal pace. I assumed he miscalculated, or that he really wanted/needed pizza. So we flew up the mountains. We hiked at a Raleigh pace and took breaks with lengths that would please ET. We practically ran up the steep ascent of Old Blue Mountain and made it with minutes to spare. In the end, it was nice to know we had this speed/power/craziness inside us. More than anything, it helped us realize how much our normal pace suits us just fine!
Date: 2008-07-13
From: Andover, ME

To: Andover, ME
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: scattered clouds

When we returned from lunch we ran the gauntlet of friendliness. A pile of pleasantries with the rocking chair crowd on the large wooden front porch. Then, a happy exchange with the proprietor. Through the hiker lounge of new introductions and up the stairs of "hello"s and "how goes it"s. Escape into the room and collapse upon the bed. Hours upon hours of alone Hank and Andrea time in the woods and then this! Poor introverted me! ...And what a wonderful "problem" to have!
Date: 2008-07-14
From: Andover, ME

To: East B Road from South Arm Road
Miles today: 10.1

Warning: Contains a small spoiler from Harry Potter 7 The hike began with a climb up Moody Mountain, which I called Mad-Eye Moody after the late great wizard of the Order of the Phoenix. For indeed, today was a day of magic. Dropped off at the trailhead, we were greeted by a fella who insisted we drink ice cold coca cola; said it would boost us up the mountain. It was a fair trade for a bit of conversation, so we obliged. Then, as promised, we powered up the incline. Of course, our speed could also be attributed to the fact that we were slackpacking. Ah, slackpacking. A magic into itself. My new favorite word. We arranged for the morning's driver to pick us back up at a road crossing ten miles away. With a ride and a room waiting for us at hike's end, we had no need for a full pack and carried one between us with a lunch and the essentials. The day pack was not heavy, but my half hour turns spent hiking sans pack felt like walking on the moon. I bounded with each step like an Impala or a Springbok. mmmmmmmmm. Springbok. One part Amarula and one part Creme de Menthe. Serve cold. A South African cocktail sharing the name with their Rugby team, which won the world championship this year in a game played in Paris! Perhaps, it's best if I leave this stream of consciousness to James Joyce. I had intended to write about Hank's speaking French with the Canadian boy's camp, the relatively easy terrain, the forest thick with ferns, eating a vegetable wrap for lunch - real cold vegetables on a hike!, seeing a black-throated green warbler up close and personal... It's just, well, this is how the mind works on the trail. It bounces through thoughts and memories. It creates constellations of mental randomness. Often, it comes full circle. Or maybe, the trail is making me crazy. Mad...like Mad-eye Moody!
Date: 2008-07-15
From: East B Road from South Arm Road

To: Baldpate lean-to
Miles today: 8.0
Weather: broken clouds

Our good intentions failed. As a result, we ate a pound of chewy chocolate chip cookies and took naps worthy of a championship - were there a world series in such a event. We could have made our intended destination and pushed on hiking to the farther shelter, but the sky was so brilliantly blue and the Baldpates so outrageously gorgous, the mountains insisted we slow down and enjoy them. Had Julie Andrews been hiking today she would have surely burst into song. We laid on our sleeping pads in the warm afternoon sun. The grand East Peak on our left, mountain views all other directions. We found shapes in the puffy clouds (Schnauzer, a witch on a bicycle) until we were just sleepy enough to nap. A tummy full of cookies helped with the sleepiness. We bought them to give to a boys camp from Quebec with whom Hank had been speaking French. The call of the cookies proved too great. They demanded to be eaten at once. Hank commented that he would be a lousy ringbearer if he could not even resist cookies. A ring of power would turn him for sure! The cookies were delicious. We never re-encountered the group anyway.
Date: 2008-07-16
From: Baldpate lean-to

To: end stealth spot east of Mahoosuc Notch 
Miles today: 9.4

Hank called it our save-the-day stealth site. It was a day worth saving. A day in need of saving. A cold crisp wake at 4:45 am. Hank and I were quickly packed and on the trail we love. The woods were pretty and calm. At Gafton Notch, we stood below a tall mountain with exposed rock faces. Though we never saw them, we heard the peregrine falcons screaming from the cliffs above. It was perfect nesting habitat. We hiked toward the calls on the nicest trails we'd seen since the Bigelows. The trail was tough - one of those up and up forevers - but the views were astounding and the woods were dense with plant and animal life. We were not the only ones to enjoy this nice trail and this pretty day. We passed more hikers than we ever had before: a college group, a high school group, a boys camp, section hikers, weekend warriors, and day hikers. All friendly and having a great time - just like us. We ate lunch by a mountain lake full of yellow waterlily blossoms. Then came Mahoosuc Arm - a vicious descent of rocks, nay, boulders placed at various angles along the absurd steepness. In the brilliant words of my little brother, "moral was low." I was physically beat and crushed by the knowledge that below the Arm awaited Mahoosuc Notch - the vaunted most terrible mile of the AT. Every hiker we passed confirmed how horrid it was. I was defeated. Then Hank found the perfect tenting spot. It was obviously used before by people, like us, happy to postpone our impending doom for another day. A cup of cider and banana pudding with banana chips and vanilla wafers later, the negative effects of Mahoosuc Arm were gone and I could enjoy my last night in Maine.
Date: 2008-07-17
From: end stealth spot east of Mahoosuc Notch 

To: Gentian Pond campsite
Miles today: 12.2
Weather: clear sky

We had been nervous about the Notch, but the real terror struck when we passed the sign: "Abandon all hope ye who enter here." Okay, there wasn't really a sign. However, the Notch inspired Hank to start quoting Dante...and to sing Dies Irae ("Day of Wrath" - 13th century hymn). It was a mile of trail more like spelunking than hiking. We scrambled over house-size boulders. We crawled on hands and knees through holes. We held our breath as we squeezed through crevices. If we were to have fallen, only rocks would have broken our fall. Hank was a good two boulders above me when he hollered back, "You know what could make this more fun? Velociraptors." But really, Hank loved it, especially the icy air breathed out by the caves. He kept repeating, "This is the most fun mile of the trail."
Date: 2008-07-18
From: Gentian Pond campsite

To: Gorham, NH
Miles today: 11.8
Weather: shower rain

The Good: Soft blue clouds in a pink morning sky. A moose running by a pond. Eating hot grits while watching an american black duck dabbling in the lilypads. Ripe blueberries on mountian tops. Fresh sweet raspberries from the vine. A trail magician who picks us up within seconds of stepping off the trail. The Bad: Getting sick - blah. The Ugly: Severe thunderstorms. Bruises and scrapes from falls. (Actually, my favorite Clint Eastwood is For a Few Dollars More, but the title doesn't really work.)
Date: 2008-07-19
From: Gorham, NH

To: Mount Moriah
Miles today: 5.9

I feel lucky to have good eyesight. Still, I have twice envied Hanks glasses.(1) In Giverny, as we wandered the colorful flower beds and famous water lily ponds of Monet's garden, Hank could recreate Claude's impressionist paintings simply by removing his glass.(2) Often on the trail, when kamikaze gnats attack my eyes, Hank smiles at me from behind his lens.Today, I was sad for Hank and his glasses. The high temperatures coupled with the ridiculous humidity steamed up his lens quicker than two teenagers at a drive-in movie. He said it was like the fade in to a movie dream sequence, only the image never got clean again.   Since Hank couldn't see, I led the entire afternoon. Normally, we take turns. I lead 35 minutes, water break, Hank leads 35, snack break. Repeat.It's fun to be in front. You get first looks at views and first encounters with wildlife. You get to set a pace that's comfortable to you. It is also stressful to hike first. You must pay attention to every step and be alert that you are following the white blazes path. You are the guinea pig at rock scrambles and river crossings. The intense concentration is draining.Following second your mind gets to wander. Your hike becomes a day dream. Every step is free from spider webs.Today, I led for love...and for the sake of Hank's glasses.
Date: 2008-07-21
From: Pinkham's Notch

To: Osgood tent site
Miles today: 4.8
Weather: fog

Aristotle taught his classes on the move. His students followed him through the agora (an open place of assembly in ancient Greek city/states), and together they'd discuss ethics, logic, and the state of the natural world. Hank is using this model as he teaches me a course on the history of Western philosophy. I can't argue with the excellent student-to-teacher ratio and mountain climbs seem to pass more quickly as I listen to his lectures. I parrot back what he says since I have no way of taking notes. Later in the day, I am quizzed on the lesson of the morning.We've spent the past few days simply on Plato's Republic. Hank thinks this survey course will take us well into New Jersey, and, afterwards, we can always work through the particulars of Hegel's Logic.I like this arrangement. Now, I don't have to eat Hank's brains to gain his knowledge.
Date: 2008-07-22
From: Osgood tent site

To: End Lake of the Clouds hut
Miles today: 10.0
Weather: fog

Up and up and up, we climbed toward the second tallest peak on the trail: Mount Washington. But first! a tribute to President Madison. Three miles of steep, I mean steep, rocky ascent up Mount Madison. The more we climbed the more clouds moved in to cover mountain tops.Exhausted and staring into the whites, we rallied. We still had six more miles until we summitted Mount Washington. Up and up, past several clouded peaks, past Mount Jefferson, the clouds cleared for a matter of seconds to reveal our destination. The excitement builds inside us as we climb to the top of America's "most dangerous small mountain."Small mountain? That rascal is 6288 feet!I am not sure anyone who hiked up to the top, as we did, would dare call it small. Heck, nor would those who listened to their engines scream as they rode up in their cars or on their motorcycles. Nor would those who felt their ears pop as the rode straight up the mountainside on the cog railroad.That mountain is tall! "Small mountain" . . . What a silly thing to say!
Date: 2008-07-23
From: End Lake of the Clouds hut

To: US 302
Miles today: 11.2

For a brief moment in the early morning the fog lifted from atop Mount Washington. The mountain's grand silhouette was indigo against the lavender twilight sky. The few remaning wispy clouds were colored orange by the rising sun; they rose up like flames from the mountain top.The view vanished more quickly than it had appeared. Hank and I set off into the same thick clouds that covered the Washington summit.We stayed close for fear of losing each other in the mist. Tiny water droplets collected on our cheeks and eyelashes. The grey softened the alpine tones such that all appeared painted by pastels.We paused for breakfast and hid ourselves behind a large granite bolder to protect ourselves from the dampness blowing from the East. Granola is harty and fuels a long hike.A red fox appeared from out of the mist. His auburn fur coat peppered with bits of gold and black fluffed for warmth was visibly damp. He came right up to us, noticed our presence, then disappeared back into the fog. He was not threatened and never changed his pace. He just turned and vanished.For the rest of the morning, we were in awe.
Date: 2008-07-24
From: US 302

To: Zealand Falls hut
Miles today: 7.7

We were not in poor spirits. For the first time in the Whites, we walked on a level gravel trail - remnants of an old railroad route. Earlier, Hank had a close encounter with a bull moose that left him muttering for miles: "It was so big!" We were in a happy place.The rain tried to dampen our spirits. Our poor fingers now considered "prune" to be their natural state. I realized it had been well over a hundred miles since we had seen a sunny day.Today's rain was particularly wet and chilling. I watched my fingers turn purple, then blue as the freeze began to set into my bones. So we distracted ourselves by "ooh"ing and "ahh"ing the unexpected beauty of a massive rock slide. The rain poured harder.We stopped at Zealand Falls Hut for lunch. We'd heard the water fall cascade was gorgeous. We'd heard the staff was friendly to thru-hikers. We'd heard they had bottomless bowls of hot soup. All rumors were true.Outside the wind was picking up and the temperature was dropping. Inside the hut-master poured us bowls of steaming hot soup and made a face when Hank told him our destination."In this weather?" he said, ladling another cup of potato stew. "It's really steep and rocky. You should just stop here and do a work-for-stay."YES, thank you! We happily came in from the cold and embraced our warm place to sleep for the night. We are promised a full dinner, a floor for sleeping, and breakfast. All they ask is that we sweep the guest bunkrooms and give the evenings naturalist program - title: "A Thru-hiker's Stories."Rain on grey sky. Rain on.
Date: 2008-07-25
From: Zealand Falls hut

To: Garfield Pond
Miles today: 10.8

The trail apologized for ruining our good views and mileage with all that ridiculous rain by gifting us with a most excellent day for hiking. At first I refused to believe it. Was that really sun? Blue sky? Just what trick was it trying to pull? I looked suspiciously for hidden rain clouds. I was distracted from my search by an absolute darling of a boy scout. He offered us trail magic - a huge bag of his leftover energy bars and packaged almonds. We were touched. We talked about the generosity of the gift and the intelligent questions the scouts and other guests had asked of us during our talk the previous evening as we powered up the mountains. This was hiking! We were loving every step, soaking in every view. I felt solar powered. By lunch, we were happily exhausted and stopped in at Galehead Hut for soup. It was thick, delicious split pea soup. I ate three bowls as I starred up at the massive green mountains we had climbed in the morning. The blue sky hosted cotton ball clouds and the occasional turkey vultures. We did not linger long as we did not want such lovely hiking weather to slip through our fingers. We hiked on until just before sunset and stopped at Garfield Pond. We lay in the tent adoring the day and hoping for repeat weather tomorrow.
Date: 2008-07-26
From: Garfield Pond

To: Lincoln, NH
Miles today: 9.3
Weather: scattered clouds

We watched our prettiest sunrise days ago on Mount Moriah. Intense orange and vibrant pink battled for dominance amid scattered purple cloud casualties across the sky. Below the raging war of color, indigo mountain tops peaked above the clouds like islands in an ocean of white. It was a pleasant place to enjoy our coffee.We were up again today before the sun, which rose with little fanfare. The sky simply faded into morning. When the sun finally peaked across the Eastern mountains, it flooded our destination with yellow light such that it seemed we would be hiking a golden mountain.Indeed, Lafayette was a treasure of sorts - grand views of mountains, rock slides, and distant lakes. We cast long shadows on the cushion plants and on the sedges, which bent and bounced in the wind. The same wind cooled us from hiking; the sun warmed us from the wind.These were the Whites for which we'd been searching.
Date: 2008-07-27
From: Lincoln, NH

To: Kinsman Notch
Miles today: 16.3
Weather: overcast clouds

We over-estimated ourselves and under-estimated the mountains. It was an optical illusion on our topographic map: tall mountains look short when they are sandwiched between two giant ranges. They are not short! 4000+ft peaks are still plenty tall! Also, just because we do not have full loads (today was a slackpack day) does not mean we can easily cover 16 miles on tough terrain. This is the Whites after all. We were whupped puppies by the end, absolutely whupped.
Date: 2008-07-28
From: Kinsman Notch

To: beyond hwy 25
Miles today: 9.9

A myth for Moosilauke In the middle age of this world, the lands were inhabited by men, elves, and dwarves.   After the fall of Sauron, the orcs scattered and the race of men went to rebuild the land of Mordor. The difficulty lay in getting into Mordor as the Black Gate had crumbled in the war. Only one entrance remained: the back way ¢ a terrible steep stair of sharp black rocks. The stair. The same used by Frodo Four Fingers and Samwise Gamgee during the war.The king of the race of men called upon the talents of a hobbit skilled in the art of gardening, Moosilauke Blue. Moosilauke sought to distract the weary traveler from their grueling climb by providing them glorious views.   He worked with the dwarves, a race of master miners and engineers, to create a waterfall running beside the entire length of the trail. It was ever changing. At times, the water raced down through gorges. Often, it splattered and splashed on granite rocks. In a grand finale, it sprayed up like a rooster¢s tail over the top of a concave stone. As travelers hiked the stairs, they were amazed at how Moosilauke had paired the intensity of the beauty of the cascades proportionate to the height of the ascension. In creating the cascade, Moosilauke had also opened the view. Instead of looking back to see the armies of the enemies, as Sam did when he climbed these same stairs, the travelers saw mountains in silhouette by the light of a yellow sun.Since at times, the climb was so steep that the travelers could not look anywhere but at their own feet, Moosilauke also decorated the rocks. He placed delicate fern fronds between the cracks and lined the stones with moss and liverworts. Occasionally, for a bit of color, he would add a brilliantly red-orange mushroom.Though the climb was long and unimaginably difficult, few travelers noticed as they were too distracted by the beauty. To reward him for his good service, the king named the mountains after him in honor of his 111th birthday.
Date: 2008-07-29
From: End beyond hwy 25

To: Fire Warden's Cabin
Miles today: 19.5
Weather: light rain

It burst up in a flash of color ¢ a scarlet tanager. Our first on the trail. Its brilliant red seemed unworldly against the brown and green rainbow that is the forest. It regarded us from a striped maple. We looked at it from the trail. It was difficult to take our eyes from such a bright and beautiful sight.I thought it would be the highlight of the day, until, in the evening, we saw a porcupine!   We rounded a corner, and there it was, right on the trail. We stared at each other. Its tiny black eyes were lost in its dark face. I was energized with excitement, but stood still and calm. After a while, the porcupine began to bristle up its quills. I cued to it and told it in a soothing voice that we were waiting for it to leave the trail. Hank and I would lose in a game of chicken.   At this, I guess it figured we were not a threat since stalking predators don¢t normally make noise, and it waddled off the trail. We watched it climb up a tree.It was so odd and ugly that it was absolutely adorable. We spoke of little else the rest of the day's hike.
Date: 2008-07-30
From: Fire Warden's Cabin

To: Hanover, NH
Miles today: 23.4
Weather: clear sky

You may think us crazy to hike our first 20+ miler (23.4) the day after we¢ve just hiked our first 19.5 miler.But is it crazy to use every moment of a beautiful weather day?To watch the sunrise over the mountains?To eat blackberries and raspberries going along the trail?To pass through wetlands of cattails?To walk though fields bursting with high summer wildflowers?To be embraced by the Velvet Rocks ¢ giant boulders and cliffs through which the trail weaves as if they were a labyrinth?To wander through pine stands where only purple mushrooms push up through the pine straw carpet?To walk directly into town via the trail and share a pizza with a new friend?No, this is most sane. I assure you.