Date: 2003-08-19
From: Madison Hut 

To: Pinkham Notch
Miles today: 7.8
Weather: scattered clouds

Today is my Baby Brudda's birthday. Happy B-Day, Tuck! I love you! It's also his and Terry's one-month wedding anniversary. A month ago, I was eating cake.....Da Feet have been getting pretty beat up lately. The knees and ankles are a little sore too. All have been wrenched, rolled, pummeled and banged. It's somewhat like Pennsylvania-NJ, but with the adequate compensation of spectacular views.All these rocks fields we've been crossing have had their way with fragile sinew, tissue and bone. Today is the most rock yet, the climb up Mt. Madison and down, down, down the spine on the other side, back (sigh...) into the treeline, mud and bugs. I have thoroughly enjoyed my time on high.Last night, the wind had howled and moaned around the corners of the hut. I could see many stars from the hut window. My work-for-stay bunk had been two picnic benches pushed together, and I doubt any of the paying customers slept better.After breakfast, the weather report: clear, but gusts up to 45 mph. That's enough to give you a shove! Raincoats are our wind protection too. So, raingear on, we started up the rockpile that is Mt. Madison. The gusts pushed us around, unbalancing us at critical moments. Chief thinks it's the hardest rock scramble yet in the Whites. The blow is enough to knock a person back, but it's still a KICK to be climbing these raw rocks. The Trail, as it has always been above treeline, is marked with piles of stone called cairns. Someone has topped each cairn with a chunk of white quartz. It stands out like a beacon.The clouds are rolling today, sent sailing by the wind. We clutch and balance."This is crazy walking," said Chief. Later, he amends that: "This is crazy-ass walking."We sit near the top of Madison in a lee to warm up. My ears are frozen despite the bandanna covering them. The clouds whip past at an alarming rate. It's elemental: Rock, sky, clouds, wind.We are walking the down side when a handsome, bearded hiker hails us: "Chief?" It's Stumpknocker, a hiker I'd met last year on the same March hike I'd met Chief. It had been downpouring rain then, and I'd been wearing my Hefty Cinch sack rain skirt; all I could think was "I am wearing a trash bag." Ha!It is indeed a small world, the hiking culture. We all sat down among the sunny rocks out of the wind and had ourselves a coffee klatch - without the coffee or the pastries, unfortunately. A pleasant 20 minutes or so of catching up, and we three all creaked back to an upright position. We to go north, and Stumpknocker to go on his SOBO AT hike. He plans to do the PCT next spring.Eventually, all good things come to an end and we start dropping into treeline. Good-bye, vistas! I have loved these windswept elevations. The trail remains steep and rocky, the going is slow. The mosquitos return at lunch, at Osgood Tent site. Eventually we straggle into Pinkham Notch Visitor's Center and call Suz.Her cheery self answers. No, she doesn't want us to hitch in, she'll be there in 30 minutes. I collect my pocketmail, then buy a couple postcards, then it's back to civilization.Suz takes us to resupply first, then we have the rest of the afternoon to do chores. I get on the internet and catch up with friends. Skeemer is heading toward Monson, the last town before the 100-mile Wilderness. Both Notes and Itchy are in Andover, slacking. Commander-in-Chief is on Franconia Ridge.I've been getting reports of "Itchy sightings" from all sorts of folks. Ha! Itchy has become a little like Elvis. He said he'd showered at the Pinkham Visitor's Center and someone waited to take his picture. "I was all wet and uncombed," he mock-complained. I know he loves it.Also, fellow hiker Paul Steubbe was in the area and dropped off a monster load of supplies: gatorade, powerbars, medicines, pads, candy. It's enough to feed ten hikers, and Chief gleefully helps himself to the goody pile. I send a maildrop ahead to Whites Landing, and what I can't carry I leave for Suz to perform Trail magic. Thanks, Paul!Finally, Suz prepares us a Mexican fajita feast with two kinds of meat, guacamole, cheese, garlic bread, candles, wine, flowers, all the trimmings. On her screened porch.We sit in the evening dark and the candle glow and chat. We feel utterly pampered. Breaking bread with friends is one of life's finest pleasures.Thank you Suz, my more-than-competent transcriber and Uber-Trail angel. You rock, girl!