Date: 2007-07-12
From: North Woodstock, NH

To: North Woodstock, NH
Miles today: 70.0

Hey Hey Hey!!! First off, my apologies for the rather lengthy hiatus from my journal updates; I've got some good excuses though, I swear. Let me start by saying that is has been a rough patch of hiking in New Hampshire. I like to end on a positive note so I am going to begin with the "gutters" of my hike and move on to the "stikes." Let's see, where do I start? Immediately after I left Gorham to head back into the woods the weather started to take a turn for the worst. In the Whites the weather can literally go from clear and sunny to thunder and hail in a matter of minutes. I found this out the hard way as I was making my way up Mount Madison (a climb which I am going to dub the hardest yet). I was cooking in the sun on my way up and as soon as I broke treeline the rain started pouring down and the thunder and lighting began to pound the sky above. I went a bit farther and met two things: 1) small skin gouging pellets of hail and 2) four people I had been hiking with running back down the mountain towards me. So we all made our way back down below the trees, chucked our poles far into the woods and took cover in a nice little area. The storm blew over and we managed to make it to one of the huts nearby, but we decided given the conditions to call it a short day at 8 miles. That wasn't so bad looking back, but it was definetely the beginning of the shitstorm (pardon my language). The Whites are supposed to have, I'm told, some of the most breathtaking views on the entire trail. Sadly, I spent the next few days hiking in high winds, cold rain and thick fog barely able to see twenty feet in front of me. I hope this makes sense, but I definetely don't mind hiking in conditions like that. Sometimes it's kind of cool to feel as though you are really braving the elements up there surrounded by a surreal misty haze. But once your shoes and socks and everything else you own gets wet, it stays wet. That is the miserable part; hiking with heavy, drenched boots. Once I hit Mount Washington, which was weird actually because there are tons of people on top that are not thru-hikers because there is a road and a cog rail, the hiking wasn't so bad. But when I had to start making my way down some steep cliffs in the pouring rain over slicked up rocks was when things really felt miserable. I had to go down Webster cliffs, a difficult descent in perfect conditions, in this climate and spent the majority of the hike on my bottom. I slipped pretty good at one spot and managed to tear a rather large hole in the rain cover for my pack. I can look back at this now a bit and laugh, but after that happened I remember just sitting in a puddle thinking to myself "I don't need this." That was probably the lowest point morale wise I have hit yet. I got to the highway and had to really push myself to keep hiking as opposed to hitching it into to town and calling up Greyhound. It wasn't that dire, looking back, but taxing to say the least. I'm sure everyone reading remembers the pole incident I had in Maine. Well, my black diamonds have taken a beating in New Hampshire. The Whites have literally bent my poles into wiry s-shaped pieces of metal. They were holding together alright though until this morning when I went to extend it and one of them fell completely apart. So I mailed those home (they're coming Mom) and was forced to invest in some Lekis. Hopefully they will fare better as I near the end of New Hampshire. Maine feels like a walk in the park after some of the days I've had in this state. Also, I managed to sprain my ankle pretty good the other day coming down off Franconia Ridge. It's definetely the worst ankle roll I've had yet and my right ankle can now officially be labled a cankle in my opinion. It's swollen up pretty good. Suprisingly however, it feels alright. I hobble a bit, but it feels okay for the time being.My apologies for the long entry. It's been a rough patch as I said. Onto brighter things. I am pretty sure that my trail legs have arrived after 350 some odd miles or so. My body feels super strong and I can feel a dramatic difference from when I first started. It's crazy to be hiking in the Whites because there are so many day-hikers. I hadn't realized how fast I can get going up and down these mountains---and this is with a 40 pound pack. It's a nice confidence boost to be able to blow by people hiking with no pack. Throughout the Whites they don't really have many campsites, mostly these things called huts. A hut is a small chalet where rich day hikers pay like 98 dollars to rough it in the woods. We thru-hikers, however, with our meager budgets are allowed to do a work for stay at the huts. This basically entails doing small chores in exchange for food and a dining room table as a bed. It is an amazing thing. I was a bit nervous coming through because they tend to take only the first couple hikers that come through, but I had a great experience with them. I've organized books, set mousetraps, and at one hut I got to give a presentation on thru-hiking to the guests. That was my favorite by far. They were all so interested in what we were eating, what gear we were using etc.. There were even a few flashbulbs going off, which was weird. Most of the people in the huts were awesome but you get the occassional individual who wants nothing to do with smelly hiker trash. Granted, we do smell pretty bad at times, but poor treatment is hardly necessary. And after my thru-hiking presentation I got offered a job teaching at high school in Vermont. So how cool is that? In the Whites day-hikers are often ill prepared for the conditions and the same night I gave my presentation the Crew at the Hut got a call that a family was stranded nearby. Some of the Crew had gone down into town so I volunteered my services (now that I am such an expert hiker) and assisted on a search and rescue up on Mount Madison. It was nothing too dangerous. We found the family nearby and no one was injured, just fatigued. It was the first time I had ever really hiked without my 40 pound pack weighing me down and it was amazing how fast I was moving across the rocks---crazy! So that was my excitement in the whites. I got to play mountain patrol with the staff and thankfully nothing serious occurred. Once again sorry this entry is so long but so much has happened. I've met tons of northbounders coming up from Georgia and even some new Southbounders who have managed to catch me due to the rough patch in the whites. There are some amazing people out here hiking and I feel so lucky to have some of them. I was chatting with one the other day and we were talking about bad days. I definetely had some bad days, as I said, in the whites. But in our discussions we concluded that it's those days that you remember most vividly. The day that it was sunny and uneventful, though beautiful, is easily forgotten. But a day where you are miserable and tested and when anything and everything can go wrong and does and you are brought to the very limits of what you feel you can endure is a day that will not only stay in your memory for years to come, but show you how strong you are and what you are capable of living through. I like that idea. So even though I spent the majority of my blog lamenting my sorrows I want people to know my morale has recovered. My sprained ankle and I are resting today and then we are off to finish the state of New Hampshire; put it in our rear view mirror and head onward to Vermont. Thanks again for all the quotes and if you made it to the bottom of this entry, thanks for doing that too. Miss you all and can't wait to show you how a thru-hiker feeds at my sister's wedding---put me down for "multiple" plates Michaela.Hike On!Seanps: I finally have a trail name....Dutch....I'll explain it at some point, promise.Oh, and Click-Click: I saw an old journal entry of yours at Madison Hut. That made me smile.