Date: 2015-07-14
From: Glencliff, NH

To: Stealth camp past Mt Wolf
Miles today: 14.6
Weather: light rain

We woke up early and ready: today we enter the Whites. A mix of trepidation and curious excitement. We left the hostel and started the slow hike up towards Mount Moosilauke, the behemoth who silently guards the entrance to the Whites.A certain unforseen event side-tracked us and reminded me of a previously unreleased haiku:"Urgency"Pressure building upSphincters hardening like steelWHERE IS THE PRIVY?(Luckily, a shelter with a privy was located less than 1 mile away from our starting point.)After the detour, we had 4 more miles before arriving to the summit. I pictured that we would be at the base of the mountain and, suddenly, the Trail would dart upwards; craning our necks, we would gaze upon this massive wall to overcome. We did not see the "full" mountain from where we were as it remained partly hidden. I guess it was going to be a surprise.We climbed slowly yet at a consistent pace. The sky was clear and the sun was shining, but we remained cloaked in the mountain's shadow. My lower intestine still rumbled uneasily and I felt a bit queasy, so I focused on navigating through the steep rock climbs and jumble of tree roots, our laboured breathing being the only perceptible noise we heard. As we climbed, the forest became sparser and the conifer trees seemed shorter. We eventually came across a point where multiple trails merged to lead up towards the summit (the other non-AT trails seemed so easy!) This was a flat section that ran along a corridor of stunted trees. The blue sky seemed so wide above our heads and we heard the wind blowing hard in the distance.The small passage finally opened up to reveal the fully exposed summit. The wind was fierce and massive bodies of clouds were drifting towards us. Fine feathery tendrels broke off and licked the surrounding peaks. I forgot about my bowel issues and looked at the far-away grayish blue mountains, the grasses and small shrubs moving like waves and the incoming expanse of clouds. I had previously asked Shrugs why couldn't we just look at pictures of the Whites instead of climbing them. He said that a picture could not capture the depth we perceive, the dynamic changes of the lighting, the movement of the scenery, the immersive feeling. I took a picture with my camera and looked at it, then I looked back at the scene I had just captured. Shrugs was right (damn it).After a few minutes only, the clouds became thick and obscured the sun. In an instant we were plunged in fog. I was thankful for those few minutes of amazing views. Shrugs and I were alone at the summit and it was somewhat surreal as the mountain seemed timeless; we were hiking along these formations that were millions of years old, that had stood there witnessing small snapshots of human life.It was too cold to stay so we hiked down towards the nearby shelter for a lunch break. Then the descent began. We crossed paths with a group of NoBos we knew who were slackpacking and hiking southbound (to avoid the very steep descent). They said it was difficult and that there were rebars.The descent was indeed difficult - even dangerous - but not impossible. Vertical rock drops, piles of boulders, slick roots. Beaver Brook cascade runs along the Trail at this point, so in many instances, the rocks were wet as a light drizzle had appeared. Sure, this segment, requires concentration and it is impossible to have a steady pace (it took 2 hours to complete 1.3 miles). However, we did periodically stop just to watch the adjacent falls as it is a very unique experience to hike alongside rushing falls.My only complaint would be concerning the spacing between the wooden blocks which are bolted along the rocky facade and act as stairs: it is too wide! Even Shrugs with his long legs found it tricky to leap from one block to the next (it also didn't help that the blocks were wet).We arrived at the bottom at Kinsman Notch, had a snack and hiked on. We had a climb which mirrored the descent we had just accomplished (pfffff!)The rest of the terrain seemed, according to the elevation profiles, very uneven, saw-toothed. It was a continual series of rock walls to climb up, then climb down. The vertical rocks were smooth and offered nothing to grip onto except for a few tree roots which wrapped around the rock's surface, like coronary arteries on a heart.The light drizzle became a sustained shower. We were tired and getting quite cold. We crossed a muddy section and did not notice that the planks we needed to use were submerged. Our feet sank in the quicksand-like mud and a noxious odor rose up to our faces. It was time to call it a day.We knew we were about 2 miles from the shelter so we figured "eh, close enough". We found a remarkably level and soft patch among the rocks and roots and set up our tent where we hid in our sleeping bags to warm our damp and chilly selves.- Axon Landscape on Mt Moosilauke Scramble down Mt Moosilauke Beaver Brook cascade