Date: 2007-08-10
From: Eliza Brook Shelter

To: I-93
Miles today: 8.8
Weather: light rain

The drop box I sent myself back in Warren contains a lot of my winter gear, which I swapped out for my summer gear. I sent the summer stuff back to my home in New York. I replaced my trail shoes with my heavy leather boots and my summer sleeping bag with my down winter bag. Good move, Bumpo! Last night the temperature got down to 40 degrees, but my Big Bertha bag kept me as ¢snug-as-a-gnat-in-a-hat.¢ Toasty! I do not know how many times since I switched back to boots that I have uttered an expression of sincere thankfulness for having done so - for having dry feet going over Moosilauke; for having ankle support among the thousands of exposed roots crisscrossing the trail; for having the remarkable traction and protection among the rocks and boulders that accounted for a significant part of today¢s hike. While a little bit heavier than trail shoes, the boots have been a most appreciated edition for this section of the hike. For the first mile or so after leaving camp at 7:30 am this morning, the trail followed alongside Eliza Brook. It was so breathtakingly beautiful that I found it hard to keep moving and not just stand there and ¢gawk¢ at the crystal-clear pools, the tumbling cascades, or the rippling eddies. After a while, the trail separated from the brook, and the day¢s real work began - a one-mile ¢scramble¢ to the top of Kinsman Peak South, which, at 4,500 feet, put the summit right at tree line - where the small bonsai-like firs intersperse among rocky domes and boulders. A ¢scramble¢ is different from a ¢hike¢ in that is requires you to use your hands to hoist yourself up and for balance. Scrambling is like halfway between hiking and climbing, then. Regardless of terminology, however, the trip up was steep, slow, and strenuous. It was also a lot of fun (but under wet conditions I imagine it would be treacherous). No sooner had I arrived at the top and taken a picture of the clouds that socked in the top of the Moosilauke, now some ten miles behind me, then the trail dropped down 500 feet into a shallow ravine, where upon it immediately reversed itself and headed me back upward to the summit of Kinsman North - also about 4,000 feet. The views from both summits were spectacular, even under the flat, gray light of overcast clouds - clouds that were so low that I felt I could almost reach up and touch them. On the way down from the northern summit, I enjoyed a ten-minute conversation of ¢trail talk¢ with Hillary (a 14-year-ish going on 30-ish), her younger brother, Jackson, and their mother, Marcia. I learned that New Hampshire has 48 peaks above 4,000 feet, and that Hillary and Jackson are over halfway toward their goal of hiking to the top of each one (mom has already done it once on her own, but she is going along again with her kids because that is what mothers seem to do). With the sacred ¢48¢ in mind, I realized that I have now summated three of them, and before this week is over, there will be many, many more to add to my tally. After the refreshing ¢all-you-can-eat-lunch-for-two-dollars¢ of soup and leftover bread at the Lonesome Lake Hut, the sun broke out from behind the clouds, and I found myself traveling down toward Franconia Notch with fellow hikers ¢Pie¢ and ¢Cake¢ (they started a Thru Hike last year, but ¢Cake¢ blew out her knee in Vermont and had to quit, while ¢Pie¢ went and finished the Trail - this year they are both doing it all over again from Georgia to Maine, and so far with no problems). By the time we reached the Flume Visitor¢s Center in Franconia Notch, we had been joined by ¢Radar¢ and ¢Gandolph¢ (who, as you would imagine, sports a two-foot-long white beard) and two other younger hikers. In spite of traveling along with this group for an hour or so, I never really engaged in much conversation with them. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, the most I have spoken with anyone today was with Marcia, Hillary, and Jackson, which says something about my degree of social interactions so far on this trip. I checked into the Woodstock Inn earlier this afternoon and spent most of the subsequent time hand washing clothes, and sorting out gear and food to go with me through the Whites, from which I will mail the items ahead to Gorham, when I get out of the AMC Hut system in which I will be staying for the next six nights. The AMC (Appalachian Mountain Club) owns and operates a series of huts that provide a bunk bed, blankets, breakfast, and dinner for a price of approximately $65 per night for members. Because I made reservations to stay in the AMC huts every night until I am through the Whites, I don¢t need my cooking or shelter-related items. I mail ahead them ahead, thereby making the trip a little easier for myself due to my ¢Less the Load,¢ strategy. I do plan on taking my sleeping bag along just in case I encounter an emergency situation, as it is the best way to prevent hypothermia, which is the main cause of hiker demise here in the mountains. After a delicious steak dinner in the Woodstock Inn¢s, formal dining room, I have headed to the Georgiana Room (the name of my bedroom) and am ready to call it a day. My head is filled with observations that I made while hiking today and promise to include in my journal, but I am just too tired, and you have probably already read too much for one sitting - to be continued later after a good night¢s sleep.