Date: 2014-08-12
From: US 2, Gorham, NH mile 298.3

To: Imp Campsite mile 306.3
Miles today: 8.0

Stayed up later than I wanted last night getting journal & pictures posted and finding signs Doc directed me to use to close house. I will not get on the trail until after 10:00. As I was locking up realtor came by to show house. It is a grand old structure that belonged to timber baron's. Heir now owns toll road to top of White Mountain. At supper last night Peaches explained that his dad is a psychiatrist who urged him to get a PhD so he could be one of the elite with that degree of higher education. His response was that many fewer people have hiked the Appalachian Trail than have PhD's. He planned to become a member of that even more elite group. I should get to the campsite OK tonight, but rain is predicted for tonight and lots of rain for tomorrow. I'm feeling apprehensive (scared actually) about going into the White Mountains in bad weather. I lost the trail and wasted a half hour or more relocating it. I missed a turn that rock hopped across a stream and followed a path that led straight ahead along the stream. Most of the time it is quickly obvious that I am no longer on the heavily used trail, but in areas like the top of rock balds where the heavy use is not obvious and in places where there are a batch of well used trails it can take a while to discover that the path I am on is not the Appalachian Trail. Most of the time losing the trail is just a minor irritant because it makes me lose some time on the day's schedule. A couple of times on top of cold, exposed, and windy mountain tops with bad weather or nightfall rushing in losing the trail can be dangerous and scary. I continues to pass meet attractive young girls on the trail with nose rings. Every time I see one I have an urge to recite to her Edward Lear's children's poem The Owl and the Pussy Cat.   Eventually I will yield to the urge and see what reaction I get. There is no reason for the urge other than both have nose rings. I thought today of something I do not think I recorded in my journal when we saw it. When May Louise took Nathan and me to our slackpack drop off point we stopped at the toll collection office on the private logging road to pay our fee and confirm our directions. On the counter in the office was a petition opposing legislation presumably being requested by animal rights activists to restrict hunting. Next to the petition were cute photographs of bear cubs climbing in and out of a 55 gallon barrels with a hole cut in its side and strung on rope between two trees while an adult bear looked on. If PETA really was seeking hunting restriction legislation in Maine, then the photos were a gift to its PR department. The barrell was a bear baiting device installed to train the bears to come to its location so they would be easy to find and shoot. Again today hikers called my trail name as they approached remembering me from when we met months ago in the South. I regret my poor memory of faces which leaves me with no recollection of them. I passed a number of cliff edges and lookout points this afternoon. The glimpses I got when the clouds and mist were thinnest indicated that if I could have seen them the views would have been spectacular. This afternoon it looked and felt like rain was imminent, so I put on my pack cover and rain pants. Happily it did not start falling. The easy downhill stroll northbound hikers had me looking forward to as I struggled into Gorham two nights ago was misplaced in their memory. I found it in the first two miles if today's hike. The rest of the day's hike was steep and strenuous, but there were few places where I did not have sure footing. There were long stretches of rock steps, and unlike the Maine trail they used flat stones for the steps and laid them carefully so the flat side was horizontal and not sloped. This was particularly important where slate or other slick surfaced rocks were used for the steps in areas that stayed shaded and damp. The wet slate is as slippery as an eel. I got a lesson I how apt that metaphor is years ago in Beaufort County when a friend took me fishing for Drum Fish. We used one to two foot long eels for bait. We had the eels in a plastic bucket in the boat. When you reached in to grab one to bait a hook the slimy critters were impossible to hold. They would just slip through your hand no matter how hard you grasped them. We used a terry cloth towel to pick them up. Some of the time it would absorb enough of the slime along their bodies to let you hold them long enough to get them on a hook. The Imp campsite is the first place I have ever had to pay to use a shelter. The fee is only $8. Bobby who manages the site for the trail club keeps it very clean and gave valuable advise about hiking in to the Carter Notch Hut tomorrow.