Date: 2003-09-12
From: Crawford Notch

To: Nizpah Hut
Miles today: 6.5
Weather: scattered clouds

start Crawford Notchdest. Mizpah HutWe started the morning with fresh raspberry pancakes and real maple syrup. All washed down by glasses of cold milk and hot tea. This hiking is hard work you know. We are heading down the highway when we notice runners all along the roadway. There are cars pulled over and people sitting and standing along the road. We are curious about what kind of a race was going on, so we did what enquiring minds do. We pulled over and asked. It turns out that this is no ordinary roadrace, but rather the "Reach the Beach Race". A grueling 200 mile race in 24 hours to the coastline. A team consists of 6 members and they relay at preset milage spots. We see one guy on roller blades, using ski poles to propel himself uphill. This particular section of roadway is also under construction, so the runners have to deal with the heavy equipment, exhaust fumes as well as no pavement in some places. It was as we were sitting in the traffic, waiting that Mudbutt noticed smoke billowing out from underneath the hood of my car. My temperature gauge was just a tad above normal. I turned on the heater and the gauge dropped right away. This was not a good sign. As soon as I can, I pull over into the parking lot of a store. Mudbutt goes inside to find a mechanic while I pop the hood to find the problem. It does not take me long to find the crack all along the top of my radiator. That part of the radiator is plastic, so a tube of Jiffy Weld was not going to help me, and the crack was too big to be clogged by a can of black pepper. We turn around and head back to town. Back through the road construction and into the lot of a garage. The mechanic comes to the same conclusion as I me. I will need a new radiator. Disheartened, I call my favorite and closest Toyota dealer, back in Concord,Mass. Because my car is ten years old, I know they will have to order a new radiator for me. That translates into time. Time not being spent on the trail hiking. Not exactly what I had in mind for the weekend. We all agreed though that the car could be driven without damage as long as the level of coolant stayed up. The level would only dropped to below the rack, then stay there unless the car sat idling. The finest hiking partner in all the world volunteered to drop me at the trail and drive back to Concord to get the car fixed. What a friend!! I am sure when Mudbutt said she would support me through the White Mountains, it did not entail sitting in a garage with my car. I had a somewhat difficult time agreeing to this. I am used to doing for people, but it is really hard for me to allow people to do things for me. Maybe this is one of life's lessons I need to learn. We drive back through the road construction, again. These workers must think we are nuts, or lost, or bored. Before I know it, I am hiking up the trail, my pack on my back, happy as a lark. That feeling stays with me for just a few minutes when the trail takes a sharp upward turn. An upward turn of over 2500 feet in a mere three miles. I begin to seriously doubt who got the better end of this deal! The climb up Mt.Webster is followed closely by a climb up Mt.Jackson. There is bouldering and rock climbing, with just a little bit of hiking thrown in. Everytime I would stand in front of a rock face and think there is no way that is the trail, I would see a white blaze far above me, gleaming down on me with a sinister smile. Well, okay, maybe not a smile, but a glare. Like it was daring me to climb up. I had to be daring or dumb, I am not sure which to even think about climbing the rocks. So....I didn't think about it, not long anyway. I sucked in my breath, shortened my poles and up I went. Just about the time I would think that I could not go further I would find a crevice for my foot and sometimes a limb to grab with my hand, holding my poles in the other hand. With a forward momentum, up I go, scaling the rock face like a bug, yep like a bug. A itty bitty bug with no brains to know how far down the trail I would fall if things didn't go well. I was going pretty good. I had done several hard climbs, had not fallen or panicked. I had confidence then. I was brash, and brasen. I was nimble and quick, sure footed as a mountain goat. I was scared to death! Along about that time another rock face presented itself to me. I stared up at it. It stared back at me. I glared at it. It glared at me. I thought about the long walk back to the road. I could almost hear the rocks laughing at me. I could do this, I thought to myself. I tightened my pack around me. If I fell I wanted to have a soft landing. I hoisted myself up, placing my foot in a crevice big enough for a mouse foot. I grabbed a tree trunk, it's bark worn smooth by hundreds of others hands desperate for a handhold. I heave and up I go. My foot gropes for a nitch and finds one. Another tree trunk is just within reach. I am glad I emptied my bladder before I started this climb. If fear got me or I fell my pants would at least be dry. All of you know what your mother always said about wearing clean underware. But I didn't have any underware on....Oppppss.. I am making good progress. A couple more steps and I would be on level land. Well, almost, somewhat level. I heave my left foot up to search for a foothold. Nothing happens. My foot does not move. Strange. I tug at it again. Again, nothing. Some wild bear or snake or something has grabbed my foot. My foot is probably gone and I don't even know it. I pull again and feel resistance on my foot. I am too scared to look down. One, because I am along way off of the ground, and two because if I see how far off of the ground I am, I might panic. I consider my options. They are few and none too pleasent. Finally I sneak a peek at my foot, looking through my arm pit. My shoestring is caught on a tree root sticking out from the rock. I am amazed that a tree could grow straight out from a sheer rock wall. Out of a minute crack in the rock's surface. I have trouble growing a petunia in a pot of Miracle Grow! About the only thing I can grow without effort is green stuff in containers in the refrigerator. But that is a different story. So here I am, perched on the side of a rock wall. Holding on like those pesky love bugs that attach themselves to my car windshield. Refusing to let go until I am more than exceeding the speed limit. Tentatively, I wiggle my foot around trying to detach the shoelace from the gnarled root which clings to it as a prize. Nothing happens, if anything I only succeed in tangleing the lace tighter around the tree. So....I am going to hang here until I lose all my strength. They will find me, hanging by my shoestring, upside down. Not a happy thought. I have one foot in a crevice, two hands holding on for dear life and one foot caught between a rock and a ...well.. a hard spot. I am not in favor of letting go with one of my hands, nor am I in favor of dying or falling, then dying. My options are still few. At least going up I could see where to put my feet. It taint so easy going down. I give myself last rights and let go with one of my hands. Feeling like an acrobat on a tightrope with no net under me, I manage to get one of my poles free from my other wrist. It takes a few hours (well it SEEMED like hours) before I finally was able to untangle my shoelace from the root using my pole as a tool. It reminded me of those dumb kid games at country fairs where you try to catch a fish with a hook made out of a paperclip. If you are successful you win a little prize. If you weren't you went away pouting. If I hadn't of been succesful, I wouldn't have went anywhere. I decided to eat lunch once I got to the top of the trail. It was not that I was hungry mind you. It was that I was exhausted. I wanted to say ugly words, but figured that wasn't exactly appropriate considering I was no longer hung on the side of the mountain. Sad to say though I sure thought of some ugly words. It was a tired but happy hiker who walked into Mizpah Hut this evening. There are two other thru hikers here and lots of overnight hikers. Those hikers who hike up here with little day packs, spend the night and hike back to their cars safe and secure and clean. They know something I don't. Dinner is served family style with everyone sitting at the table. There are no showers here, so I give the other guests a wide berth. After we eat there is a question and answer session by the other hikers. It is like I am hearing someone else talk about my hike.I crawl into my bottom bunk, in a room shared by men I do not know. Why is there never any women at these places? Oh, I know, the women are all at home being ...well...never mind. But it seems okay, an acceptable practice out here on the trail. Strange bed fellows begat strange bed fellows.total miles 6.5