Date: 2015-07-30
From: Beaver Brook Shelter

To: Franconia Notch
Miles today: 17.8
Weather: light rain

Climbing mountains is freaking HARD. I am sure that you are shocked by this revelation. Who would have thought that a bulky but still comparatively small human being might have trouble scaling huge, ancient mounds of earth and rock?Of course I knew the Whites would be tough. I am not really sure what I was expecting, though, because they continue to kick my butt up and down this trail.Today was SO LONG. So. Freaking. Long.The 1.5 mile descent from Beaver Brook Shelter to Kinsman Notch was beautiful. Water cascaded down the ledges next to me as the sun rose, red and round and bright, above the mountains. The cool morning air was pleasant, especially since you set out in my last clean, dry set of clothes.It took me an HOUR AND A HALF to hike a mile and a half. My nice dry clothes were gross within five minutes. The trail slid down the mountain, down metal rungs and planks nailed into the rock face. As well as being beautiful, it was treacherous, and dangerous, and wet, and slippery. It was steep and knee-jarring and panda-heart-crushing. I swung my way around trees, my Merrells struggling to find purchase.Actually, most of the day was like that. It was muddy and rough and tiring. South Kinsman was a BEAST. It was muddy. I try not to trailblaze, leaving the fragile alpine plants alone, but there were many times today when I had no other option, besides becoming a soggy panda knee-deep in mud, and I wasn't feeling that.It was also hard. Just freaking hard. The climbs and descents were steep and slow and rocky. My Merrells are barely better than slippers at this point, peeling apart at multiple seams. The toes got caught multiple times as I stepped over rocks and roots. One particular snag almost sent me careening face-first down a ten foot drop. Thankfully, I caught myself. It would not have been fun to hike the next 8 miles downhill with a broken skull.The hike today was, once again, really tough hiking and a significant amount of climbing. It was as if I had to place half a dozen tiny, meticulous steps in place of each of my normal strides. I hooked my boots into root stirrups and tugged on poor, abused saplings to hoist myself up. I crammed my toes into the tiniest cracks and hurled myself forward, just hoping the momentum was enough. I scooted on my butt and hoisted myself up using all of my arm strength. I overbalanced and wobbled and somehow managed not to fall (more than once).I cursed and slipped and swore and sank and crawled up that mountain at an embarrassing pace. It took FOREVER to climb. And it was miserable. It was gorgeous and amazing and every time I stopped to catch my breath I marveled. But while I was climbing... it kind of sucked. I had some trouble. But I made it!Near the top, I passed a couple (who sounded Australian, which made me miss the Aussie Legs) who told me that the end was close and asked about southern stealth campsites. I couldn't remember very well, but had seen a few throughout the morning.The other day, Silent Force had asked me if I had ever camped alone on the trail (did I already tell this story?). I was surprised to learn that he HADN'T. Sometimes stealth camping makes me the happiest girl on the trail. Sometimes I just need that alone time with the trail.When I got to the top of South Kinsman, the view was once again my reward. Those mountains! They make you feel so small, but also so powerful. You can look behind you and cry into the wind, "I climbed that! I conquered this mountain!" I was exhilarated at the idea.I was also hungry and thirsty and worried about meeting mom and Dan on time. I turned on my phone and texted them, saying I might be late and requesting snacks. My food bag was just about empty, and a hungry Red Panda is a grumpy Red Panda, and I didn't want my poor mom to have to deal with that. Catching service, my phone sucked in my emails. I gave that mountain an extra stab or six hundred with my trekking poles for you, Napsalot. I was relieved to think I'm not the only one with a grudge against that mountain.And I still had to go down and back up to the peak of NORTH Kinsman Mountain. Luckily this wasn't as bad. I passed a woman named Sue who had actually had missed the summit. There was a little side trail to a view that wasn't very noticeable.The descent also sucked but wasn't as bad. There were trail crews working on making that area a little less deathly. One guy was HAND-CHISELING steps into the rock. It was very cool but I imagine very tedious.I stopped for water at a stream where a large youth group had stopped. They left while I SteriPenned. When I caught up to them shortly afterwards, the ones in the back yelled "Thru-hiker!" to those in front. They paused at a boardwalk to let me pass, lining up on either side and watching me like a bizarre honor guard. It was very strange. Some of them looked tired. Some, curious. Others, just bored. I wished them a good hike and continued on.I passed two different male hikers today carrying Gertrude twins (except the male version, of course... perhaps Gerry?). It was the first (and second) time that I've seen other Crown model packs on the trail. It was weird to see my Gertrude on the shoulders of another hiker. She is such a part of my life it's hard to think that she's not particular to me. I mean, Gertrude is... but the Crown isn't. I am not explaining this well. Do you know what I mean?I passed Lonesome Lake Hut. It looked like an amazing vacation spot. Kids were swimming in the picturesque lake.The last few miles were easy but I was tired. I tried to text mom but couldn't get my phone to work in the rain. It was sealed in a ziplock bag and the touch screen doesn't operate when screen or bag are wet. And I was drenched in sweat. And it was raining. Swearing in frustration, I put the stupid thing away, noting that this surge of anger was a sure sign I needed a snack. I really, really hoped that mom and Dan would bring me something. I am a spoiled hiker.After MUCH confusion on my part, and trying to figure out where and how to meet, we were reunited!My feet hurt. They had been wet all day. My knees hurt from those jarring descents. My fat stomach was begging for it s afternoon snack. But my heart was soaring as I waved to them across the parking lot. Hugs were had. Sighs of relief were heaved. I apologized for being clueless about my location.I asked for a snack.THEY HAD NO SNACKS. I was not surprised, haha. They had brought Dan's motorcycle, which left no room for extras. My amazing pizza fairy bought me a snack at the visitor center in Franconia Notch State Park. Totally lucky. As we walked over, I already had thoughts on dinner, and asked, "Can we get pizza?"An awesome guy working in the visitor center, upon learning of my trek, gave me some Snickers bars and a whoopie pie. "Are you sure?!" I asked in astonishment. "Thank you so much!" People are amazing. After feeling like collapsing on a heap on the sidewalk after climbing down Kinsman (I seriously almost ended up having emotional meltdown #4 of the week), I started to pick up a little. Life wasn't so rough.Maybe he felt bad for me. I was practically plastered in mud up to my shorts. Half of my hair had been pulled out of my braid by rogue branches, and was flying all over the place. I was limping along with sore feet.Dan drove mom back to the hotel while I ate my snack outside. I waited and waited and waited. It started to rain, and they had taken my umbrella, so I relocated Gertrude under a little information kiosk and pulled out my rain jacket. I waited some more. My feet were begging to be dry. My knees just wanted a rest. I waited and waited some more as the rain kept coming.Eventually the pizza fairy returned! I put on bike gear 60 sizes too big for me and climbed on, then slipped my arms through Gertrude's straps behind me.And off we flew, at the speed of light! At least, it seemed SO FAST. Rain washed my gross skin crust of sweat salt into my mouth as we went. My clothes grew heavy with water weight. It was fun! The rain probably made it more fun. More adventure!My favorite people ordered pizza while I scrubbed and shaved. I emerged from the shower calling, "Want to see my butt?!" and showed off the chafe marks Gertrude left on my back above my buns due to all of my sweaty adventures this week. Dan deplored over my soggy, disgusting feet. They get so gross and waterlogged and just plain gross. They chafe just like my butt when wet, and EVERY DAY this week was wet. Worse, my hands are soggy lately, too. They sweat as I grip my trekking poles, and turn white and pruney and slippery and useless. Yuck.After my shower, I received ANOTHER GIFT! Holy mountain goats.Carol and Eddie got me an amazing shirt! A PIZZA SHIRT! And just in time for dinner! And it is COTTON. SO COMFORTABLE (unlike my tight shorts, which used to fit me...). I am wearing it right now.Piece. Love. Pizza. All things which I strive to attain in life.After dinner, I had some good life talks with mom and Dan as we wandered the grounds. The future, love, mountains...many topics were visited.And now I am ready to crash. Tomorrow will be a day of chores with the BEST PEOPLE. It is my last hurrah before those last 373 miles.I am thankful for SNACKS, and pizza, and a shirt which will bring back AT pizza memories forever. I am thankful that I did not die on mountains today. I am thankful for the Whites. As much as they crush me, they inspire me. As much as they make me tired and sore, climbing them makes me remember my strength. I am thankful for family, and dry feet. I am thankful to have so much to look forward to.