Date: 2009-08-19
From: Carlo Col Campsite

To: Grafton Notch
Miles today: 14.1
Weather: few clouds

Tmax for Topofgothics... Got a voice-mail message around 6:00pm from Topofgothics saying he was on the summit of Old Speck and hoped to get to the Baldpate leanto tonight. He went through the Mahoosuc Notch today. Mahoosuc Notch is considered the toughest mile on the AT. It's full of boulders that you have to climb over, under, and through! There was still some ice in one of the caves created by the boulder jumble. ****Up and at¢em. Lots of up and down today. There would be eight laps (rise and fall of at least 150 feet) in all. Not only did we bump up against 4000 feet early (Goose Eye is a New England Hundred Highest), but Topo has been looking forward to that jumble of rock known as the Mahoosuc Notch for some time now. Then all we had to do was climb up the eroded and steep Mahoosuc arm and take the side trail to Old Speck, the last of the White Mountain 4000 footers. The notch was wild and amazing, with a small amount of ice to be found in the nooks and crannies of the boulder field. You climbed up, down, around, and through this mile or so of mountain detritus. One would go from sweating profusely in the August heat, to feeling the cool breeze from the ice, somewhat like you can find in certain areas of Indian Pass in the Dacks. There were many others going through this monstrosity today, including one group of at least twelve young ones, and another squad of a half dozen men. While it is recommended to stow the poles for this area, I used mine. If you are not completely comfortable with them, this can be a very bad idea. When it can to the crunch places, I even slid through the toughest of them without taking off my pack. It helped that Topo was riding in front this time, and that my food rations were scare, so my pack made a low profile. As it was I barely made it through one place, and with little doubt, my buddy would have been torn off had he been in his usual riding place in the rear. Moving at a good pace, it took me a solid hour to get through the mile long notch.After ascending the Arm, where I stopped on the steep slope for a late lunch since I was ravished, I made it to Speck Pond, and there I jumped in for a quick refresher. At the campsite, I delivered the note to the caretaker that a young lady at Mizpah Hut had requested about a week back. Chance showed up, and after chatting with the caretaker and him, I was off to conquer another of the Northeast 115. the pack was dropped just down the side trail, and with Topo, my camera, phone, and little red match container that had my last check and my cash, I started up the trail. It was not far and easy as hell naked. Since I wanted to retrieve my food at Grafton Notch and climb the 1200 feet to the Baldpate shelter, I spent just a few minutes admiring the scenery, and climbing the fire tower, before I left. Soon I was close to the notch, and figured that if I grabbed my stashed food quick, ate a fast snack, I should make the 2+ miles past there before dark. By 6:30 I was at ground level, and dropping my pack, went to get my badly needed food.I could not find it. There is only so much of an area where it might have been, and I remember the fallen tree and the brush I covered it with. The drop was in a plastic bag, which was inside a plastic container, which was in a paper bag that was covered in duct tape and stowed inside another plastic bag. No animal short of a bear would get my grub. I figured ten minutes top before I headed out. Twenty minutes later I was getting worried, and being torn up by the myriad of skeeters that were eating my uncovered body alive. I smacked myself upside the head time and again. I need to remember that I wear a very hard ring now on my right hand, one that can cause contusions. On bastard that I smacked and popped left blood running down two of my fingers. The tension and hysteria grew quickly. A half hour later I returned to my pack for my pants and my bug jacket. If I did not find the food, I would be forced to try and get a ride many miles into a small campground to re-supply. Back at my pack I realized that my headphones (which had been strewn inside my shirt and hanging down over the front) had been ripped from me. These were the good ones I bought in Hanover and had to be at least the fifth pair I¢d gone through in some manner. The fun meter was not only low, but in the negative. After eighty minutes it was getting too dark to see. I was sweating like a freaking pig, mainly from the stress. I had no designs on camping here but I now had little choice. I ate frugally, just a bag of rice, unseasoned, and crawled into my tent. Luckily the cop who did a patrol through the lot that night said nothing about my illegal camping. Inside my tent I was in for another surprise. My red canister was gone, nowhere to b found, and I did not have that much to search through. I was with two days of food if I stretched it, no cash, no checks, and the only place nearby explicitly stated that they did not take credit cards. Boy was I f¢ed. It was one of the worst nights of sleep on the trail. Somehow in the middle of the night, when I woke for one of the many times, my mind harkened back to the last time Terri gave me some cash. For an unknown reason, I did not put it with the other bills, but stashed it in a different place. At least I could eat now, even if it cost me the better part of a day and everything that I had.