Date: 2017-08-06
From: Hexacuba Shelter

To: Hikers Welcome Hostel, Glencliff
Miles today: 14.8

It's cool and windy at Hexacuba at dawn and I pull on my down jacket and gloves for the first time since April. The southbounders tell me about the Omelet Man seven miles north, so second breakfast awaits. Plus there's a hostel with cold drinks and ice cream in fifteen. And I decide to go 24 to get to Kinsman Notch and hitch into town for dinner and a bed. That means crossing Mt Moosilauke, at 4800 feet higher than anything I've done and with a descent so steep there are blocks driven into the granite for a mile and a half. The weather should be great so my stomach-centric plan seems foolproof.I follow Flash out of the shelter. That's the last I'll see of him today. I'm inexplicably sluggish all morning as I climb Mt Cube and it's thankfully dry granite/quartz slabs of bedrock. Great views to the west and north greet me. On the descent I meet a dayhiker who's climbed all 67 four-thousand footers in New England. Now he's working on 25 lower peaks with views (Mt Cube is 2950). Only took him 3 years... I reach the gravel road where I was told to find the Omelet Man but it's empty. Bummer! But can't expect a guy to sit there all day every day cooking up omelets for hikers, right? It is Sunday morning after all. So I walk on. A hundred yards into the green tunnel a big tarp kitchen is set up with a man lounging under it with a large boxer dog. It's Carl the Omelet Man! Retired from western Pennsylvania he lives nearby and comes here everyday from early morning to evening so every hiker gets an omelet. He likes to cook and he likes to meet every hiker. Incredible. "How many eggs you want? A dozen?", he says in all seriousness. The mind boggles. "Ha! No, four should be plenty." "You sure? The record's 25 - used to be 24 but a German guy broke it this week." "Um, okay, make it five then." Don't want to disappoint him. The boxer leans his muddy paws on my lap and licks me while Carl starts cooking on the camp stove. Ham right off the bone, fresh-sliced onion and pepper, and a heaping mound of eggs tumble out of his cast iron skillet on to a paper plate groaning with the weight. It's gone in five minutes. Silver Lining and Papa John (what his grandkids call him) arrive while I'm inhaling eggs. Neither opts to challenge the record. Carl won't take any money. I thank him profusely and march on.Re-energized, the miles over Ore Hill and Mt Mist go quickly. Descending Mt Mist I see no white blazes for too long. Have I lost the trail? I keep going, the rule is give it a thousand feet then turn around. Still nothing. There are plenty of trails in the Whites, I must have taken a wrong turn. Check the GPS. GPS says I'm right on the trail. How is that possible? No blazes! Keep walking. Five minutes later there's finally a blaze. Welcome to New Hampshire!I arrive at Rt 25 and find the Hikers Welcome hostel a quarter mile down. It's quiet, but it's only 2:30. I drain a Coke while I decide if I want to tackle Moosilauke today. It looks imposing, and I might not make the road until after seven. The bunkhouse is new and inviting, as is the shower and laundry. I decide a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. This hostel was my original plan anyway, before my big day yesterday. So I rest up, shoot the breeze, do laundry, shower, scarf down sandwiches from the local deli, and watch Die Hard With a Vengeance (doubtless one of Bruce Willis' finest Christmas movies)Lots of hikers here, all northbound or section hiking, mostly older. Greybeard, a wisecracking West Virginian on his third wife who says the wife's boyfriend helped pack his backpack is hiking with his hundred-pound Airedale Terrier, Maxx. Pilgrim is here. I first met him in Unionville near the trail in New Jersey during one of my many deli runs. He remembers my egg salad sandwich! He's back after awhile with the family, similar to me. I thought I would never find anyone I hiked with before but with Perfect Pitch that's two already. Bad Hat, Papa John and others pile in as the afternoon ends. Many have or will be slackpacking over Mt Moosilauke. Sounds attractive, but I intend to go further than the pick up point and won't be back here tomorrow. Tomorrow, 25 miles to Franconia Notch and then into town? I'll give it a shot. Moosilauke beckons!