Date: 2013-08-30
From: Liberty Springs Campsite

To: Galehead Hut
Miles today: 10.3

I slept pretty well last night. The rain fell off and on all night. When I finally started packing up, I noticed that water had seeped between my ground cloth and the tent floor. The foot of my sleeping bag was wet. The silk sheet was really wet. I could tell where the floor boards were based off of the alternating wet/dry pattern on the tent floor. I got up around 6 a.m. Hobo nor I was in any rush to get out. Pressure-D and Tough Cookie stopped by on their way out. They are impressively early-risers, and I was grateful that Hobo was willing to sleep in a bit with me. We set off around 7:45. Both of our tents were soaking wet, but the sun was shining, and that was a good sign. It upped our chances of a view from the top. As soon as we got to the "top", the trail turned sharply to the left towards Franconia Ridge. We climbed steadily through a dense forest. Sometimes you could climb using your poles. Other times, we'd pass them to each other as the other one used roots and rocks as hand-holds to heft ourselves up and over rocks. It was tough and slow-moving, but we were so delighted to find that it wasn't above our ability level. A few times, a cut in the trees allowed for a view. The view usually amounted for a screen of white with an occasional peek at the mountains and valleys and roads below. It felt like we were playing a game of high altitude peek-a-boo. Once we finally arrived at Little Haystack- ironically named as it wasn't "little" nor was there any hay- we all gasped. For a few brief moments the clouds opened up. We could see Franconia Ridge rising and falling with rock cairns and bright spots dotting the ridge. The bright dots were people which looked more like ants dressed up for Carnival than hikers. The wind whipped, and we all dug into our packs to pull out windbreakers and long-sleeved shirts. Never did we have a full clear 360 degree view, but instead we had glimpses here and there of the Narnia-esque landscape. If I didn't know better, I would have said were walking in the Scottish Highlands. As soon as we set off from Little Haystack, a huge cloud rolled in and for the next two hours we walked in a thick white haze. The path was lined on either side by stones. The surface of the path was gravel and rock with a few rock scrambles here and there. The sides seemed to fall down into a white abyss. The rocks were covered in a bright seafoam colored lichen. Squat evergreens and other tiny alpine plants hunkered in between the rocks. It reminded me so much of the ocean, where life finds its place in between rocks and in crevices. So much life is there, and yet it goes so easily unnoticed. We got to Mt Lafayette. The wind was howling and the cloud refused to budge. I slipped down behind a big rock face to get out of the wind. Tangy was hanging down there smoking. Hobo chatted with his wife, and then he joined us. We ate a snack and discussed eating lunch, but finally we concluded that we'd spent so much time there that we'd better move on. It was a steep, rocky climb down. By the time we got a mile away and turned to look back, the ridge line was had removed its head from the clouds. We could see the ride in its entirety. Well damn. Neither of us suggested hiking back up. Instead we discussed lunch and decided to find a place with a view. But then, I stepped on the edge of a bigger rock. My right ankle buckled outward and my left knee hit the mud. Shit. I haven't really twisted my ankle since Pennsylvania. I sat on the offensive rock and tried to catch my breath. Hobo stood beside me, ever patient and compassionate. We found a nearby stealth campsite and had lunch. We hung out our still wet tents in the trees. It looked like we were hosting a yard sale. We decided to have a little fun with it. As day hikers would pass by, we asked them if they were interested in buying a tent. They shifted uncomfortably and politely declined. We giggled and told them we were just kidding. We stopped briefly at the top of Mt. Garfield. We had great view, but we were anxious to get moving since we say a rain storm moving directly towards us. We worked our way down to Garfield Pond. I'd initially thought I might take a dip, but once we got closer I saw the tangle of lily pads and changed my mind. Hobo needed water so I sat on a log as he followed an overgrown path down to the water's edge. I could here him sloshing, then a splash, followed by some mild swearing. I couldn't help but laugh. I genuinely enjoy his company. We climbed down to the turn off for the Garfield Pond Shelter. We finally caught up with Pressure-D and Tough Cookie. They were going to stop for the day. We debated if we wanted to stop, but ultimately decided to push on. It was less than 3 miles to the hut, and the terrain profile didn't look too bad. It was not yet 5:00 pm, so we thought we could easily make it before 7:00. So silly were we.The rest of the climb down Garfield was tough, perhaps the toughest descent we've faced to date. It was shear and rocky pink granite with water running down the rocks. Were we on the trail or were we climbing down a waterfall? I spent much of it easing down on my butt. It started to rain at one point, upping the "oh shit" factor by several degrees. I took a fall, but it wasn't too bad. Mainly because I had already spent so much time on my butt.We climbed another rise. In the distant we could see a building sitting in the saddle between two mountains. Our hearts sank. It looked so far away, and there were a couple of rises and falls between us and it. It looked like the longest not-quite-three-miles I think I've ever seen.The sun poked holes in the clouds. It highlighted patches of trees in the basin below. They were noticeably closer to shades of orange. The fall color extravaganza will soon be upon us. It was beautiful, but unfortunately much of my energy was gone, so I had none leftover to get too excited. We sloshed and plodded along. We crawled up each rock pile with less energy than the one before. We'd toss our poles up some of the larger rock outcrops and haul ourselves up with a grunt. The golden hour came and passed, and the sun retreated behind the mountains. The light had turned blue when we made the final half mile climb up to Galehead Hut. Badger and Walkhard were sitting on a bench on the front porch when we walked up. We asked them who we needed to talk to about work-for-stay. They told us to go inside and talk with Sarah. The place was crawling with hut guests. There were so many people. Some were cradling coffee cups. Others were finishing up their dinner. We found Sarah in the kitchen, and she told us that we could work something out. She was so friendly and warm. Hobo and I went back outside and sat on the bench next to Badger and Walkhard and waited for further instruction.It was almost 9:00 when Sarah popped her head again outside. She apologized for the late hour. Her croo had cooked us up a HUGE bowl of pasta. There was some homemade pesto, chicken, salad, peas and brown rice. It was so delicious, and we were starving. We ate until we got our fill, and then we were guided into the kitchen. Our work amounted to washing dishes. The rain started again soon after that. Yeah for a dry, warm place to sleep. I'm laying on the dining room floor beside the window. The guests are tucked in their beds. I'm beat. Ten miles and my ass muscles are so tired. We have to be up by 6:00 and get packed up. I'm so impressed with the Whites, and so far every caretaker and hut croo has been so helpful and friendly and accommodating. They've exceeded my expectations. Now for some sleep.