Date: 2017-07-12
From: North Woodstock

To: Hikers Welcome hostel
Miles today: 9.3
Weather: scattered clouds

Mt Moosilauke is a mountain that loomed high on our horizon, both literally and metaphorically.The literal bit is easily explained, because it's more than 4800ft high, but the metaphorical significance is even greater, because this peak represents the END OF THE WHITES.Until now, my primary goal had been self preservation of both body and spirit, without paying much heed to arbitrary externally-imposed schedules and deadlines.But beyond this peak is said to be easier trail. Not easy -- this is, after all, the AT -- but easier. I'll take that.As I'd crossed the one-fifth of the trail mark somewhere around Franconia Notch, I'd advised friends of the statistic by saying I was "20 per cent done", adding in a post script that my knees, however, were "95 per cent done".That was a slight exaggeration, since I'd managed to get through the Whites and weaned myself off the 800mg of ibuprofen I'd been taking each day, but there was no doubting the toll this trail has taken on joints already abused through decades of extreme sports.If the trail after Mt Moosilauke does indeed become more moderate, I'm now far more confident than before that I'll finish the AT before the AT finishes me.All this was on my mind as I set off from The Notch hiker hostel with fellow sobos Train and Obi Wan, but of course they was the small factor that I still had to actually get over this peak before the promised land of milk, honey and easier trail would manifest itself.My first discovery was that my companions were slackpacking over the peak, having left most of their packs' contents back at The Notch, where someone would shuttle them back from Glencliff this afternoon.So I could have sent my pack with the shuttle, instead of carrying three days food and full equipment over a 4,802ft peak? I hadn't even realised it was an option, or I'd have jumped on it.But I managed to keep up with them on the brutal climb up from the road, which is renowned for being one of the steepest on the entire AT, which was a little depressing for them but at least showed that my fitness levels have certainly improved over the past five or six weeks.At the first shelter, about a mile and a half up the trail and just as the clearly glacier-carved valley walks moderated to a more reasonable angle, I met Mary Poppins, Pouffey, Rare, Hot Mess Express et al, who were also slackpacking, thanks to Squeaky, their former hiking buddy who is acting as a trail angel while he's temporarily off the trail with an injury.Am I the only person stupid enough to be carrying a full pack over this hill? It certainly seemed that way.Soon after, however, I ran into Poppa. He too was fully loaded but also showing his trademark tortoise-vs-hare pace by slowly plugging his way up the hill. As if previously noted, there was no variation of the hare-vs-tortoise parable that I knew of in which the hare emerges triumphant.Another way in which Mt Moosilauke acts as a border between two segments of trail is that the route over it is now the domain of the Dartmouth Outing Club instead of the Appalachian Mountain Club.The most obvious difference was the hand-carved signposts -- including one with a dire warning about the climb we'd just completed -- but the trail was also in good condition and even used the contours of the slope to follow an easier way to the summit instead of going straight up, as had been the apparent rule for much of the trail so far.The top few hundred feet of the mountain were above the tree line, making me quietly thankful that the weather was no worse than a few skudding clouds that occasionally enveloped the summit. Much of my timing on the AT so far had featured dumb luck, with good weather on Katahdin, the Presidentials, Franconia Ridge and now here. There was a forecast for some bad weather to come in later today, by which time I'd be back down in the valley and at the famous Hikers Welcome Hostel.From the summit, the trail headed down on tread that was some of the best we'd seen since Abol Bridge, leading us to voice our surprise that maybe the rumours we'd been hearing were true, but as the trail headed steeply down Mt Moosilauke's Eastern flank, it soon turned into the usual mix of rocks and roots to which we were all ready all-too familiar.Then near the bottom of the hill, we tracked through a field. This rare moment of agricultural idyll was so discordant with the terrain we'd trekked across for nearly 400 miles that our immediate reaction was to wonder if we'd veered off the AT. We hadn't. It seemed like this was the AT now.This developed theme continued for the next hour as we went past groomed fields, walked on a road and then headed along dream-like trail until just before Glencliff, where an unavoidable ford broke the reverie.I recognised the ankle-deep ford as the one that someone had videoed raging in flood from the downpour as I'd first arrived in Gorham nearly two weeks before.From there, it was the easiest of walks along the road to the hostel, where we found that it was as good as its name: Hikers Welcome.Life is good.AT fact of the day: We're done with the Whites. But something tells me the AT isn't going to tone itself down as easily as that...