Date: 2018-09-03
From: Rattle River Hostel, Gorham New Hampshire

To: North Woodstock
Miles today: 123.0

http://www.trailjournals.com/mrweatherorknots - Trail Journals link to my site   https://share.garmin.com/willi... - Map allows you to follow my travel including location of stops for each night.   BLUE FLAGS ¢ Start and finish RED FLAGS ¢ Daily night stops along the Appalachian Trail YELLOW CIRCLE ¢ Down time locations where I got off trail to enjoy area and couple days of real beds / food.    Also for those with access to FACEBOOK and want to see PICS, please view ¢SCAMPING WE WILL GO¢  BETHEL MAINE to NORTH WOODSTOCK NEW HAMSHIRE (The White Mountains)  123 miles  Dates: 10 August to 20 August to September 3 2018  The White Mountains of New Hampshire  I said goodbye to Maine who replied back with a last one-two punch of 4000+ foot Old Spec Mountain followed a mile or so later with the Mahoosic Notch before crossing the border into New Hampshire. The notch itself was an ancient riverbed composed of huge boulders, most the size of a pickup truck. It was more slow and tiring rather than brutal. You had to remove your pack, throw it on top, shimmy yourself to the top, drop the pack then slide down the other side. This repeated for just over a mile taking me about two and half hours to complete. As much as Maine was beautiful especially the 100 mile wilderness I was glad to move on.   I met a retired couple, Jon and Sharon at the Bethel Campground who were living their retirement dream of travelling around the country in one of those bus-like motor homes. They worked the Bethel campground under a work for stay program giving them a free campsite with all of the hook ups in exchange for working just two short days a week. On their off days they would travel around the region much like Marilee and I did on our adventure around the country back in 2013. Jon just completed a 19 hour hike over the peaks of the entire White Mountain Presidential Range sharing his stories and experience with me. He drove me directly to the Gorham Post Office so I could begin my plans moving through from hut to hut without any camping or cooking gear. After the post office I strolled around the town coming to a large set of ball fields / city park where a local farmers market was in progress. Everyone knew everyone by first name, talking about their children and families, weather etc. I decided to get a large tomato and quart of strawberries. The first bite reminded me of the days when my mom would go to the local grocery store in the fall getting right from the vine fruits and veggies at the peak of ripeness. It had been decades to taste so favorable tomato and strawberries so I sat there in the park finishing them off then getting more. I talked to another vendor who was spinning Alpaca hair into knitting wool for sale. She was using the old fashion type of spinning wheel like you see in old medieval movies other than this was new and made from layers of bonded wood into a beautiful piece of art as much as it was a tool. After, I headed over to the hostel where I came across the two Georgia brothers. They just completed a slack pack hike backwards from Pinkam Notch to the hostel, a 21 mile hike that took them nearly 15 hours to complete. The next morning they would be departing, after taking a couple days rest. I knew then this would be the last time we would cross paths on the trails as at best I would be four days behind and losing more each day. They would be doing longer hikes each day than I.   My plan to hike the entire White Mountains using the Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC) hut system would limit me to around a nine to a ten mile a day average over the next week and half. My last night at the hostel was a relaxed evening including sitting around a campfire sipping water to begin my water loading strategy to stay hydrated. A 30 something woman working at the hostel sat close by and I could see she was crying. She realized I noticed and apologized profusely so I knew she needed someone to talk to. She told me her dog of 11 years had just died that week and was buried there in the woods of the hostel. She shared pictures and stories of her dog and it was apparent how special that dog was to her and how she missed him terribly. We sat and chatted for a couple of hours and I could only hope that I was some comfort to her. At daybreak I would depart for the AMC Crawford Notch Hut. A final check of my pack now showed that I was only carrying 18 pounds including water rather than the 35 before.  I reached the AMC Crawford Notch 3300 feet up the mountain by mid-day with hours to spare before dinner.  The main portion was an old yet beautiful wooden and boulder structure dating back to the early nineties. The sleeping area was two separate structures with nearly fifty bunks for hikers separated into 8 rooms each holding various number of bunks. As more guest arrived it quickly became apparent these hikers would be very different than the AT hikers I have spent the last month and half with. Most were there with their families. As more guest arrived I could see most knew each other and many have been doing this every year going back generations.   I connected with two families from New York City who asked me to join them as they explored the mountain side before dinner. They have known each other a long time, living close to each other and their children attending the same schools. We first went to the ¢Ice Cave¢ a large opening in the mountain side. As you approached you could feel the cold air rushing out. Inside remnants of ice were still below the large rocks. In the old days this cave was used by hut staff to keep food cold. We crossed through a short field of raspberries to eat and let the children pick them. Next we headed for the ¢Ramparts¢. This was an area of hundreds of acres of monster size boulder and slabs of rock the size of multi-stories buildings. The mountainside collapsed hundreds of years ago when huge rain storms weaken the mountain. The children were jumping from rock to rock as the adults sat on top to admire the views of the mountains around us. At six the hut staff came out and began singing loudly a song indicating dinner was ready. I sat at the same table with the two families and others beginning a great experience of understanding the people who come to the Whites year after year. There was clear sense of family and friendship that would repeat itself at every other hut. The staffs were all college graduates who have come back for years to work this job. They were bright and strong as they told us twice a week they would climb the mountain with nearly a hundred pounds of supplies and food on their backs to feed us. They would entertain us as we ate including skits for the kids. The food was amazing and plentiful. I knew right then my decision to use the huts was going to make the White Mountains a positive experience. After dinner we got the current weather information hearing winds were already gusting 30-40 miles an hour with forecast for overnight winds ranging 60 to 80 mph. Then staff began a series of presentations you could choose to participate in, most around the life of the mountains, etc. By 8:30 it was getting dark and as I was both stuffed and exhausted so I headed for bed.   The next morning I awoke to staff reciting poetry outside of our rooms. At 7am staff again loudly sang breakfast was ready. Like the night before, breakfast was awesome. Today I would head next to the Mount Madison Hut 13 miles away and over 5000 feet in elevation to the top of the mountain. It would also be one day I will never forget. It started with a brutal steep climb over Wildcat Mountain including a death defying descent into Pinkam Notch. I reached the Osgood Campsite at 2200 feet around 2:30 pm along the AT. The sign showed I had three more miles to make the hut. I took a water / lunch break as other AT hikers there told me the next two miles were nearly straight up on boulder fields. I mentally planned I should make it around 4:30 to 5pm well before dinner time. It took me till 5pm just to reach the alpine zone at 4800 feet now devoid of any life and just a barren mountain top composed of huge boulder and slabs of rock. Winds picked up, and later I would find out wind gust of 93 mph while I was actually outside trying to get to the Madison Hut. I literally could not stand up as the wind was doing its best to blow me right off the mountain. I sat down next to a large cairn of rocks indicating the AT Trail as the white stripes on rocks were worn away by years of brutal winds. I was fearful and deciding if I should get below tree line or keep going. The problem was I had no tent; sleeping bag or food and getting down the mountain would take hours well past dark. As I muddled the options I looked up to see a young woman northbound on the AT descending the peak on her hands and feet. She was headed right for me. When we met she told me her trail name was Giggles. She was wondering I was stopped telling me I needed to keep going using my hands and feet only and not stand up. I already knew that but was hoping the winds could subside for a while. We parted as I watched her continue to hike to below tree line and knew I had only one safe option ¢ hike on my hands and knees so I put my poles away and began what would be a brutal and terrifying one mile hike that would take almost three hours to get there. By 7pm my GPS told me I had another quarter of mile to go. Ahead laid a large set of boulders I needed to scramble over. I took my pack off and set it on top including my poles and began to shimmy up the side of a boulder 15 - 20 feet high. My butt accidently hit my poles and I helplessly watched them slide down the rock and go under another boulder. I needed those poles so I spend ten minutes trying to figure how to get to them.  Darkness was quickly setting in as the wind was also increasing. There about ten feet under a huge rack were my poles. There was not a chance in hell I was going to crawl under that boulder and with sky getting darker I accepted my poles were now owned by Mount Madison.   At 7:45 I reached the hut exhausted, hungry and shaking. All I wanted to do was sit and drink water. Dinner was long over as I entered, yet staff met me to help me including bringing out dinner they saved for me. I was starving and ate everything they brought out. By 8:30 I was in my bunk and asleep still in my hiking clothes and did not care. I would wake up during the night by the howling winds swirling around the mountain top. I did not sleep well as my legs cramped up all night long. I now knew what it must feel like being in a Category Two hurricane.  I awoke around 4:30 stressing about my poles. Hiking the exposed mountain tops without poles was insane. Breakfast came at 7 and I sat with several families who wanted to hear my story. I watched the hikers leaving after breakfast for Mount Washington getting buffeted by the still strong winds. My decision was made. I needed to go back down and get new poles. I talked to the hut staff asking if there was an easier shorter route down. They pointed out the Valley View trail about 4 miles long they use to carry those 100 pound backpacks of food up and down. The forecast for Mount Washington was overcast with good visibility during the day with late day thunderstorms and heavy rain after sunset. I was not going to miss Mount Washington but going down and getting back up the same day was impossible and the forecast was that the top to be in the clouds with rain and no visibility. Being a meteorologist I always wanted to stand on the windiest spot on planet earth, Mount Washington with a measured speed of 231mph back in the 1930s. I promised myself I would not allow the AT to dictate my adventure like I did when I started in Georgia going northbound and skipped everything I wanted to experience to just keep up high daily mileage hikes. So down the Valley View Trail and hitched a ride into town and the local outfitter, got new poles then called a ride service to pick me up to take me over the Mount Washington Cog Railroad at the base of the mountain. I got there just in time to board the last train ride up at 3:30 and by 4:30 I was standing on top of Mount Washington. I looked back at Mount Madison just a few miles north of me and accepted I would not hike those few short miles. I only had a short time to spend up there so first I stopped to take my picture at the summit marker. Then I headed to the museum where I listened to the recording of the meteorologist transmitting to the world as the wind speeds kept increasing over a few minutes from 140 to 231 mph that historic day. You could hear the excitement and disbelieve in their voice all while looking at the pictures on the walls of that day from their building encased in a solid block of ice. Today that record still stands as the highest ever wind speed any human has ever experienced. In the 1950s an automated unmanned station recorded a higher speed on a remote Australian mountain during a hurricane. I had experienced history first hand. It was nearing 5pm and I had 1.4 miles and 800 feet to descend to reach my next hut, the Lake of the Clouds Hut just below the peak so off I went. I went from my worst day hiking the entire AT to what is now my best and the day was not over yet.  This hut was situated in the saddle overlooking both Mount Washington and the entire valley below. What a view. This hut also could house 70 people in a very modern facility. Like the other huts dinner was great. I was assigned a bunk with four beds that already had two girls in it. As I talked to them I came to realize there were still in high school, feeling a little awkward I asked if we could keep the door ajar to let air flow. Really I did not want to be sleeping with two high school girls alone. After dinner we could see a thunderstorm to the far west forming with lighting in it moving towards us. Our view out the windows were still unlimited, yet within a minute we were actually in the thunderstorm. Visibility dropped to zero near instantly with violent rain swirling in the air, some go up, some going down and all swirling in all directions. The water droplets were the size of dimes, bigger than I had ever seen. Lighting with instant thunder rocked the complex.  I actually like thunderstorms so I put on my headphones and listened to music as the storm continued. I awoke to still heavy rains but the thunderstorm was gone. Visibility was literally zero outside. After breakfast the hut staff gave the weather forecast that the rain should stop and sky begin to clear later in the morning. I decided to sit and wait it out while others left in pouring rain and no visibility.  By eleven it was good enough and several of us ventured out at the same time including a group of four men that were also headed to the next Hut, Mizpah Hut. Strong winds were at our back making hiking easier. You could see down into the valley and skies were clearing yet through the mountain passes you could see the clouds actually form as they were pushed up, go ripping by us at over 60 mph, then descend and evaporate as they fell down the other side into the valley. We reached Mizpah in early afternoon. The four guys, Scott, Ken, Rick and Jack invited me to join them in some cheese, crackers and wine. They have been for years going on trips together all over the world and were here for a few days to climb some of the presidential peaks they have not completed in past years. Their goal was to get all 48 of the 4000+ summits in the White Mountains.   The next morning I hiked out with three other men on a weekend expedition to Crawford Notch where their car was parked. There I ran into one of the families I met on the first day t Carter Dome Hut. Sanjay gave me a ride back to the AT trail after I said goodbye to the three I descended with. This day would be an easy hike on an old railroad bed level, and clean of rocks. I could move fast and got to the Zealand Falls hut by midafternoon and not tired.  Zealand Falls hut stood looking over a huge valley with a clear view of the mountains. Next to the hut was Zealand Falls, a beautiful cascading river that also was the only hut that derived electricity from a small hydroelectric dam. The last three days were perfect including the weather. I came to sit for dinner at a table from a family out of New York. They had two children, twins, with the girl named Hanna. She was very inquisitive about the AT hike. Her mother told me that Hanna, now 16 wants to hike the trail so I told her of my adventures. After dinner the presentation was about the plants that grew here. In front of the hut were raspberries to which the staff indicated the seeds were actually from mule poop when resupply was accomplished by mules carrying loads up the mountain.  I suddenly had the urge to brush my teeth. I awoke around 3am for a bio-break where the night cloudless sky gave an incredible view of the stars and planets.  Another wakeup call, this time one staff member playing a violin as she strolled the hut. After breakfast it was time to head off to the Galehead hut. The descent close to the hut was only eight tenths of a mile but was brutally steep and rocky. It took me almost two hours to navigate the trail down where I came across Hanna¢s mom, Lisa again. She was sitting on a large boulder with an exhausted and dejected look on her. She asked another hiker how much farther and he stated about a mile. This was not what she wanted to hear. She saw me and asked if I knew so I pulled out my GPS and to our surprise we only had about 300 more yards to go. Again I was assigned a bunk, this time with five women from California on an REI sponsored trip. They all were friends living up from Sacramento near Lake Taos. We traded stories and conversations until dinnertime. At dinnertime I again sat with Dan, Lisa and the twins.  As morning came, I realized I had only one more night in a hut and just two days of hiking left before this was over. Greenleaf Hut was both theirs and mine final destination. It was a brutal day with another steep descends. I did not reach the hut until around 7pm, well after dinner started. I looked around the tables and only saw Dan. He was worried as Lisa was still out there and heavy fog with night fast approaching. About 15 minutes after I got in, both Lisa and Hanna who went out looking for her came in. Staff brought us both our dinners they saved and it was actually the best to date. As I was getting off the trail the next day, we agreed to hike down together. Dan and I hiked together talking and discussing physics as he is physics major practicing in that field. For me it was great as he could help me understand many of the concepts I wanted to know about. By noon we reached a trailhead parking lot in the state park. They offered to drive me to the hostel I would stay that night and on the way took me out for lunch which of course would be the largest, greasiest, cheeseburger with bacon and fries. I was happy.  In hindsight using the hut system was an amazing experience. I got to understand their culture built on hundreds of years living in the birthplace of America, and in the places where farmers and shoemakers dropped their tools to defend and drive the British to defeat during the American Revolution. This was a place of history for them and it was evident they were very proud of their heritage. These were the descendants of the first ¢minutemen¢ those citizens who became soldiers in a minute to create this country, that we now call the National Guard. My next Epiphany!  Upon reaching the hostel I took a hot shower and got into clean clothes. Ordered some delivery Chinese food with other hikers then retired outside to sit by a campfire.  The first hiker that sat down was someone I had crossed several times over since July. He was about 30 years old and went by the trail name ¢Denim¢ because he always wore cotton jeans, a cotton shirt and a big cowboy hat. The first time I met him in that outfit I little confidence he would make it far. Cotton is a killer when wet or cold yet there he was. He came across as a drifter; most likely homeless and most likely everything he owned was in that backpack he carried. It was the first time I had a chance to actually talk with him. I was a little stunned to actually see him assuming he would have dropped off long ago, yet here he was. I was still judging him poorly, and assumed his life was filled with failures with no breaks. Yet as he talked, I became to admire this wanderer. It was clear to others of us Denim was truly a lost soul who had a rough life and hiking was his way of coping with his past. No matter what the conversation, while the rest of us were complaining about everything and every brutal climb. Demin always found something positive.  If we mentioned a specific spot, our stories were about pain and agony, yet he would recall in clear details the best of each of those locations, remembering every flower and animal he encountered. I was astounded to meet someone who had nothing and most likely a very hard life who could only see good, never once complaining or finding fault.  You could tell he cherished life and the opportunity to explore the mountains that seem to give him such comfort.  He was there hoping to get a work for stay bed for the night but the hostel was full. The owner came out and told him that if he was willing to hike four more miles, another hostel owner would hire him for a few days and pay him as well. All he could say was how lucky we was to know that someone was willing to hire him and give him a bed. He left shaking each of our hands with such force and appreciation for knowing us and allowing him to sit with us by our fire. As he left, I quietly cried and asked god to take care of him because he earned that right. I hope god was listening as he disappeared into the night and hoped I would cross paths with him again.   After Denim left, another hiker around 33 years old came in whose trail name was ¢The Traveler¢.  He too had such a positive outlook on life. He quit a high paying job to the dismay of his parents. He stated that his parents were so concerned that they thought he was suicidal. He wanted to prove to himself that he could endure such a hike and actually was looking forward to the white mountains while the rest of us were happy it was over. He said that he had used the last 1700 miles to prepare himself for the upcoming onslaught to prove to himself that he was capable of enduring any obstacle, and the whites were the biggest on the AT. He went on to tell me that by the time he got to Pennsylvania, both of his parent not only supported him but flew out by surprise to encourage him and give him some much needed time off the trail. They even brought his sister and other brother who flew in from around the county. As he spoke you could see how happy he was for what they did and how proud he felt of his accomplishments.  He was now only four weeks from completing the trail and you could hear in his crackling voice the emotions he was having as he found out his entire family will be waiting for him at Mount Katahdin in Maine and will hike up the final mountain with him. He hoped he could talk his brother in sometime joining him in another hike sometime. It was clear he knew he was loved and his family¢s support was very important to him. My only regret would be I was not there to see that celebration and reunion.  Tomorrow I will depart the White Mountains for good with one more mountain to summit.