Date: 2007-08-08
From: Kinsman Notch

To: New Hampshire Route 25, Glencliff, NH
Miles today: 9.5
Weather: light rain

As I write this, I am sitting at the Beaver Brook Shelter about one mile from the north summit of Mt. Moosilauke. I stopped here to wring out my clothes (yes, it is raining!) and to capture some of my thoughts while they are still fresh in my mind. Today was an amazing day, it¢s the day that lets one know:¢This is what hiking the AT all is about. This is what I am here for! This is what makes it worthwhile for me.¢ Phatt Chap arrived at the Warren Village Inn before I had finished breakfast, and we chatted for a while there and in the car on the way to Kinsman Notch. When I say ¢Phatt Chap,¢ think ¢Burl Ives¢ - portly with a goatee-esque beard. He has been a shuttle driver, entrepreneur, college professor, missionary in Africa, businessman, and minister. He lives in Florida in the winter, and during the summers he lives at the Hiker¢s Welcome Hostel here in New Hampshire. One winter he spent the entire Winter at the Doyle Hotel, which is renowned among AT hikers as a flea bag haven for cheap drinks and a lot of partying - an interesting place for a man who does not drink to choose to spend a winter? Two other AT hikers ¢Hyde¢ and ¢Bushwhacker¢ are at the Shelter, staying out of the rain. If it were not so cloudy and rainy, they informed me that we would have a spectacular view of Mt. Lincoln and Lafayette directly in front of us (and to prove the point, ¢Hyde¢ showed me pictures he took last night, which were truly spectacular). ¢Hyde¢ is a 20-something Thru Hiker who is getting off tomorrow to play in a golf tournament with his father and brothers before returning next week. ¢Bushwhacker¢ is another Thru Hiker of the older variety who lives in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida. He began his Thru Hike last year and got as far as New Jersey before ¢coming down with something.¢ Rather than start from New Jersey and continuing on from where he left off, he chose to begin again at Springer Mount and to do the Trail all over again this year, and he is now getting close to completing his dream.Both ¢Hyde¢ and ¢Bushwhacker¢ are in their sleeping bags watching it rain and talking about the usual AT stuff ¢ ¢When will it stop raining?¢, ¢When will the weather change?¢ ¢What kind of gear do you have?¢, ¢Where have you had great experiences on the trail? etc. I think ¢Hyde¢ will probably get out of the shelter later today, but ¢Bushwhacker¢ may just take a ¢zero day¢ here and leave tomorrow when it is supposed to clear. Right now, ¢Hyde¢ is making hot coffee for the three of us using his coffee bags and ¢Bushwhackers¢ water. Nothing like finding a Starbucks at 3,700 feet! So the trail is about people, characters. I mean, real people - real characters. Individuals who enjoy doing what they are doing and being who they are while they are doing it. This is one aspect of the Trail that I love. I love being with these people, and I love being one of these people. At least for the time I am here in the woods. The other point about why I hike the AT that struck me as I started up the Notch from Kinsman is equally undeniable. I was absolutely consumed by the primitive beauty of the woods in the rain. My spirit - my soul - was touched by the power of cascading, translucent waterfalls that parallel the trail for over two miles. And I was touched by the wisps of clouds that blew between the evergreens like apparitions. And by the tiny green mosses and ferns and pine needles that were adorned with rain droplets like miniature Christmas ornaments. At one point, I stood on a rocky ledge - soaked to the bone but warm from my exercise - feet apart with my hands raised and my face turned towards the sky repeating out loud, ¢For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory¢¦¢ So here¢s the point. I do not believe it is necessary to challenge Moosilauke or hike the AT to feel a connection to your fellows or to the god of your understanding; but it sure would be a shame to do these things and NOT make these connections. An hour has passed since I stopped and taken a few notes in my journal. My coffee cup is now empty, and my belly is warm. My body heat has dried my clothes. I have enjoyed my stay and my time with these fellow travelers, but now I must get moving again. I hope my step remains as light as my spirit as I cross the summit and head down to Glen Cliff. Part Two After I walked out of the shelter and got back on the Trail, the rain stopped, and it did not return again for the rest of the day. As I reached the summit, the clouds, however, were encircling me, and it was as if they were swirling around me and dancing just out of arm¢s reach. As I crossed from the tree line into the arctic tundra of the top of Moosilauke, the wind must have been blowing about 70 mph. It blew my pack cover off, and I fortunately caught it before it ended up someplace in Maine. I could not wear my hat or keep it on my pack for fear it would be torn off by the winds. In spite of the cold dankness of it, there was a very eerie and satisfying experience to the whole scene. As I started down the other side, I passed the three counselors with three ¢campers¢ from Boston, whom I had shared the Ore Hill Shelter, two days ago. I could not believe my eyes. Most of them were wearing cotton t-shirts, and all were in short sleeves. They were soaking wet and did not look like they were having all that much fun. They were heading for Beaver Brook Shelter, where they intended to spend the night before heading down the next day. The climb to the summit on the north side of Moosilauke was very steep and extremely slippery, and I am really glad that I decided to climb the mountain in the direction that I chose. Going down tomorrow could be a bit safer if the trail dries out, but it will be difficult for anyone, even those who are highly skilled hikers if the rain continues. My best wishes go to this group of ambitious and determined hikers. On the way down, I met a northbound hiker named ¢Lenwolf,¢ who was from Homer, Alaska. Homer is the town where my daughter, Kim, is spending the month of August with her friend Nicole - small world! With the rain having stopped, it was noticeably warmer with every 500 feet that I descended. Before I was halfway down the southern slope of the mountain, I was back to my shorts and t-shirt. I arrived at the Hiker¢s Welcome Hostel around 5:00 pm and was severely disappointed with what I saw. Because of the rain, very few hikers had left the hostel since yesterday, while northbound and southbound hikers arrived during the day. The place was overcrowded and every bunk was taken, as well as, spaces for tents. It was phenomenally dirty and quite disorganized, and it did not take me long to decide that this is my vacation, and I had better make it what I want it to be. Phatt Chap was still there at the hostel, so I asked him to drive me to Woodstock, which he did. He deposited me at the Carriage Motel (a phenomenally archaic motel of the 1950s vintage). But, it is dry, and it has a shower and a bed, and privacy those are things that are most impressive to me right now. I did some laundry at the laundromat across the street, ate dinner at a not-so-good Greek restaurant, and made some phone calls /checked e-mail. I am now ready to turn out the lights and sleep. It was a great day on the Appalachian Trail. As I lay in bed I recall the connections with people, the indescribable beauty of nature, and my sense of a higher power within me and around me, as well as, the sense of accomplishment and strength I am able to conjure. One cannot ask for much more than that in a lifetime, let alone one day of hiking.