Date: 2004-09-18
From: Greenleaf Hut

To: Galehead Hut
Miles today: 6.6
Weather: heavy intensity rain

We woke up this morning to the smell of food we could have none of. Fun. We got to sleep in, though, because we were in a bunk room, so that was nice. At least we didn't have to suffer through the breakfast rigamarole like we did the dinner. We had maybe three pancakes each when we did wake up, plus cold cereal with milk that was virtually white water, while the crew made themselves eggs. Lovely. Definitely worth two hours of labor. The weather was horrible, rainy, foggy, and cold, so we decided to hang out until it cleared. We didn't really have anything to do other than drink coffee and watch the windows, though. And the guests. They were interesting, and started to leave despite the weather. All were day-hikers, and most were French-speakers from Quebec. I was tempted to try out my French, but I had a hard enough time understanding their accents and I wasn't brave enough. They all had delicious looking sandwiches and the croo started serving them hot soup. We were still hungry from breakfast. Even if we wanted to cook something we wouldn't be allowed--they don't allow open flames in the building, on the porch, or even within the hut "footprint." We finally started hiking up Mount Lafayette at about noon. It was still cold, but it wasn't raining anymore. Even in the fog, the views from the top were beautiful. The whole way up the mountain we watched the fog pour over the peaks. We could see streaks of blue above the mountains, above the clouds, and then more mountains behind that. It felt like the Himalayas. Say what you will about the Whites, they are beautiful. But County and I have had whole arguments about the nature of beauty while we're walking. I hate it that everyone considers this section so much more beautiful then the rest of the trail. Every section of the trail, even Pennsylvania, has been beautiful in its own way. I'm not sure I like this ranking of beauty. Everyone we meet here's so proud of themselves for being here. "But isn't this the most beautiful section of trail? Isn't it the hardest?" All they care about is how rugged the terrain is and the views. They don't even consider hiking in their home states hiking. If they poured the amount of energy into trail maintenance, trail building, and hiking in their home states that they poured into vacationing, maybe we'd have a whole Eastern coastline crisscrossed with well loved tails. Instead, we have reams of people in the great White Mountains, and no one anywhere else. I shouldn't be so hard on people--a lot of people we've met have been great. The French people seem really well equipped and enthusiastic--a lot of them drove down from Quebec this morning. It's crazy that Canada's so close. And a lot of people have shown interest in the trail--mostly people who have some association with it. We met one guy who section hiked the trail in six years, who still called all thru-hikers "misfits", a woman whose son hiked, and a couple of people who expressed interest in doing it, including one former croo member. But we've also met people hiking in blue jeans. I think the hut encourages that sort of thing, inexperienced people going into mountains in dangerous conditions. Maybe the reason the Whites are considered so life threatening is not because they are particularly, but because they allow access for such idiots. They aren't any more dangerous than anything I've come through, just higher and colder. And not even as high or as cold as the Smokies. It was cool, though, at the top to be surrounded by tourists, for whom this was the highlight of their day, or maybe their vacation, but for us it was just one mountain among many. And walking above tree line is always cool. At the top of the mountain we took a left, heading on down the ridge to the next hut while everyone else walked back to their cars. It was a relatively quick walk to the next hut, which was a good thing, because we didn't get there until dark, even with the quick walk. We walked in and everyone was already eating their turkey dinner. They all stared at us as we steamed our way through the dining room. We asked about work-for-stay and they said they'd let us go for it and that we could work in the morning. We changed into our polypros and I asked for hot water so we could make our own tea, because I was fairly cold. One girl on the croo was very nice to us and offered us cream and sugar and got us hot water, but the rest of the croo wouldn't even look at us. It was the weirdest thing. I had decided not to be intimidated like I was at the last hut so when we were finally invited into the kitchen to eat (and there was plenty of food, unlike the previous night) I asked a ton of questions to all of them, did my absolute best to be personable. And they responded, but generally with croo related conversations among themselves. And they never asked us anything. Not even our names. I don't expect anything from these people except for them to treat me like a human being, but that seems more than they're capable of. The only solution I can think of is that they're immature college students who really don't know how to be polite or make others feel comfortable in a social situation. Either that or other thru-hikers have been complete jerks. But we even asked about that and they said that they weren't really. I can not grasp this hut system. All that would be necessary for this situation to be normal is for us to be treated like either croo or guests, not loathsome parasitical insects. And all I ask as a thru-hiker is a covered place to sleep, or even camp--we can cook our own food, we carry our own food. If they could just have built a closet in the back where we could sleep and cook I'd be perfectly content. All I ask is a shelter, basically. But those have been taken away from us here, so we have no choice but this ridiculous limbo. Even a tent pad out back would be better than this. After eating and futilely attempting to make conversation with the croo, we finally went out to the main room and sat among the hordes of Saturday night guests. Some of them were nice to us and attempted to make conversation with us, but since we were never acknowledged, most people don't even know who we are. The weirdest thing is that after dinner, during the Q&A time with the guests, one of them asked how the huts deal with thru-hikers. The croo said basically that we're not allowed to stay for free, that we work for the privilege, and that only two are allowed per night. Which would have been a perfect time for them to explain our presence, or even to allow the guests to ask questions about thru-hiking. I'd love to introduce myself and talk about thru-hiking to these people. I don't understand why we're never even mentioned. Even when people ask about thru-hikers. Wouldn't it be the simplest thing in the world to have said, when that question was asked, "Yes, and we have two thru-hikers working with us tonight." The whole hut situation is absolutely bizarre and horrible. I want to swear to never stay in one again, but I know we'll have to. They're just too tempting if nothing else. They suck you in with their warmth and then make you feel like the lowest form of humanity for twelve hours. I can't wait to get out of the Whites. Nothing is worth this. The worst part about tonight is that we have to sleep in the main room, and even after lights out there are two groups of people laughing loudly and partying in the main room. I'm sitting here, writing with my headlamp, waiting for them to finish their games of Monopoly and Trivial Pursuit and bottles of wine before I can go to sleep. And who knows when that will be. And we have to wake up at five-thirty with the croo because breakfast will also be served in this room and we have to sit here for three hours, watch everyone eat, eat thir leavings, and then work for two hours before we can even hike.