Date: 2013-08-28
From: Eliza Brook Shelter

To: Chet's, Franconia Notch
Miles today: 8.8

I slept okay. The main drawback to these low mileage days is that I'm less exhausted at the end of the day, so I don't collapse into the comatose heap that I normally would after say, an 18 mile day. Instead, I woke up periodically throughout the night and checked my watch. I didn't want to screw up and oversleep. I set my alarm for 5:30, but it wasn't necessary. It was still a dark blue morning, and I needed my headlamp to go about packing up. We finally by 6:45, 15 mins later than our planned departure time. We hiked in a line, chatting and laughing as we went along. It was a tough, but fun climb. It was full of rocks scrambles, and it felt more like a full-body chess match than anything I'd participated in before. You had to think 3-4 steps ahead and plan your route. You scan the scene and figure out your next few moves. I was thrilled to have the company, because I knew otherwise I'd be bitching the whole way up and down. We climbed up to Harrington Pond. The air was still. The light had an orange feel to it. Kinsman Ridge rose sharply with its boastful rock faces cast down towards us. The water sat perfectly still. There was not a ripple on the surface nor a rustling reed. Even though we were only half-way up the mountain, it felt like a tremendous award for our efforts. As each one of us popped up to the pond's level, we separately emitted an "Ooooooohhhhhh. Aaahhhhhh. Wow." A boardwalk took us alongside its edge. And as suddenly as we had seen it, we turned into the woods and started climbing again. The rocks were steep and wet, but my boots did a pretty darn good job gripping the gray granite. I grabbed root handles and tree trunks and limbs, anything really that looked sturdy enough to support my weight plus the pack, and I'd heft myself a foot or so higher up the mountain. At every necessary moment, I opted for the "booty" scoot. The numerous rock slabs left little choice as far as I was concerned. The trail climbed and wound around and snaked its way up. Every once in a while, we'd get to a spot that we could stand erect. Then you'd round a corner and see the next rocky jungle gym. I could do little more than chuckle. Occasionally the steepness allowed for a view, if you could remember to turn around and look. We took photos of each other, but they always failed to capture the majesty and grandeur. I've know for hundreds of miles that the Whites were coming, and holy smokes, there they were. They are HUGE, and I can't help but wonder, where did they come from so suddenly? How did they sneak up on us just in the last few days? One second its rolling, respectively high mountains, and the next minute BAM! There they are. And they are all around. They rise impossibly high, and their basin valleys sink low. And here we are floating somewhere in between. The evergreens are as stoically green as ever, but the deciduous tress are well on their way to yellow. Their green is reversing. How is it that the trees were barren when I started. They budded and blossomed. And now they are preparing for their last show. Soon they will be dry dead leaves on the forest floor.We climbed up Mt Kinsman, and as we approached the top, the trees got shorter and stumpier. Their needles grew fewer and fewer. Finally we found ourselves on a standing tall about the trees shrubs next to a rock cairn that doubled as a stone throne. We took turns sitting in the throne and having our photos taken. I looked across to the Franconia Ridge. It looked so much higher than where we now stood. It was hard to believe that we'd be climbing all the way to the top of it tomorrow. We followed the rock-lined path down the saddle between the south and north ridges. We climbed down a huge flat gray granite lip with a completely unobstructed view towards Little Haystack, Mt. Lincoln, Mt Lafayette and Mt Garfield. An ever-growing cloud hung over our head. The sun punched through it casting fragmented light down onto the tree-covered bowl at the base of the mountains. Its vastness made me feel so, so small.It started to drizzle as we headed out. The descent wasn't nearly as rugged heading down as it had been heading up. I'm so grateful that my knees are holding up as well as they are. We stopped at a stream to have lunch, and just as I was pulling out my food bag, the caretaker for Kinsman Pond Shelter hiked up. He confirmed that the worst of the descent was behind us and that the slop and terrain would mellow out for the rest of the way down. Pressure-D asked him about the upcoming hut, and the caretaker told us that they served soup for $2 a bowl. Hobo and I looked at each other and quickly packed our lunches back up. With a hot lunch only a half hour's hike away, we had all the incentive that we needed. As we approached the hut, a hexagonal shaped building appeared through the trees. It had windows on most sides facing the Franconia Ridge and down onto Lonesome Lake. It was so clean and tidy with sturdy wooden tables and benches. It reminded me so much of the alpine huts you find in Europe. The soup of the day was Rockin' Lentil. It was hot and delicious. I saw one of the "croo" members hiking up carrying a HUGE 70 lb ladder pack. Impressive. As we sat eating our soup a surprising number of paying guests started to filter through. Many were dressed in questionable hiking clothes and footwear, and it made me think that we must be pretty close to a parking area. The rain looked like it would start coming down anytime, so we headed out. The last three miles were easy, but they were muddy and slick. Kathy took a fantastic slow-motion fall. Her pack looks so huge on her, so once the momentum got going, she couldn't stop it. She turtled on the ground, and we couldn't stop laughing or taking photos. Finally Pressure-D offered her a hand up. We got down to Franconia Notch, but it wasn't clear where we needed to go to catch a ride. Pressure-D tried to call Miss Janet to see about a ride, and I called a local shuttle company, but I wasn't really sure where to tell them to pick us up or to drop us off. After a few phone calls, we decided that we would try to hitch a ride into Lincoln. But by then, our number had grown to six hikers, and no car is going to stop to pick up six hitch hikers. We broke up into two groups, but that didn't work well either. Finally, we called Miss Janet again, and in a few minutes, she came driving up in her magic white van. Mouse, Walmart, Smiles and Flatfoot were already loaded up. Our group of six filled the rest of the van. She took us to the outfitter, then the grocery store, and finally to Chet's. Chet was sitting in front of his garage when our van load pulled up. He didn't look too pleased to see our group pour out of the van. He already had a full house. He quizzed us, as we were told he would. He wanted to make sure we were thru-hikers, so we had to answer questions about the mountains we had climbed over, where we'd started, where we were heading. His house/hostel was so popular that he'd taken himself out of AWOL's guide, but the hikers just kept coming. There were more hikers here in one place than I'd seen since Damascus. It was a fantastic reunion. I saw Avocado and Garden Girl. A bear had eaten its way into their tent and stolen their food WITH THEM IN IT. No amount of screaming would get it to leave. Food is going in the bear box from here on out!It started to rain, and we rushed around to find a place to sleep. All the inside bunks were taken, and most of the floor space had been claimed. Hobo and I checked out the shed in the back yard. There was a small 10 X 10 room with a wooden platform, mouse-eaten couch and blue tarp for a door. It would do. We arranged ourselves so that our torsos were on the wooden platform and our feet were propped up on the ratty couch. As we were sorting ourselves out, the tarp door flew open, and there was Dreamer and Chad! I was ecstatic to see them again. Rain was coming down in thunderous sheets by then, and we had to rush back to the main house to collect Pressure-D and Kathy. Then the six of us squeezed in Dreamer & Chad's car and we headed to the Common Man for dinner. It was such a lovely treat to get to see them again and play catch up. I know I've found a friend in them both. Hopefully we can see them again in NYC in a few months Before we knew it, it was way past our bedtimes. They brought us back to Chet's. Things were well on their way to winding down for the evening. We made a plan or sorts for tomorrow. Then Hobo and I headed to our shed. Our platform is covered in mouse droppings, which grosses me out more than I'd like to admit. Even after almost 5 1/2 months on the trail, I think mouse poo is one of the grossest things there is. Hopefully the mice won't bother us too much tonight. Sweet dreams.