Date: 2017-07-02
From: Road crossing at NH25A

To: Jeffers Brook Shelter, NH
Miles today: 10.7
Weather: broken clouds

While we were having dinner last night, I was aware of a certain amount of rain going on. Indeed, I received a couple of flood alerts for the area on my phone. But I didn't really think much about it, as I was very firmly in the dry. But around midday today, Tom was dropping me back to the trail. He had cooked eggs and ham for me for a late breakfast. I'd also had cereal and a chicken and cheese sandwich. The sun was shining. When we got to the junction for NH25A, the road was closed. Tom steered between the cones anyway and moved on cautiously. There was road damage. In places, flood waters had undercut the shoulder of the road, and small sections of the roadside had caved in. Where I was to be dropped off, water was streaming across the road, and traffic was taking turns going on the shallower side. Tom looked at me and suggested I cut in on the AT further north. This, of course, was anathema to me. I said I'd be all right. We both looked at the water level where the AT left the road and cut into the woods. I said "Look, there's a boardwalk. I'll be fine." I got out, geared up, and gave Tom a big hug. He told me to call him if I got into difficulties, but said that he couldn't bear to watch me go up to my neck in water after all the drying-out I'd done in the last few days, and he drove off. I walked towards the 'boardwalk', which was the usual affair of a log split in two, laid side by side and nailed on top of two square baulks of timber at each end. There were several of them leading across the water into the woods. As I stepped on the first one, it suddenly became clear that it was simply floating on the water, as it pitched down into the water and I fell forwards. I grabbed at the boardwalk and wondered if I could lie down on it on my stomach and paddle it towards the 'shore' like a surfer paddles a surfboard. I tried it, but it sank under me, and my arms and chest got wet. So I sez "Right, nothing for it but to get walking." I marched through the water past all the useless boardwalks towards the next white blaze. The water came up close to my waist. Even in the woods, the flooding persisted and detecting where the path was under the water was guesswork at times. But soon enough there was a slight incline and the path emerged above water level. Then it was back to that walk out of Daleville in Virginia, with the trail being more of a stream, and no worries about keeping boots dry. There was a lot of Vermont in the trail, too, with lots and lots of mud. There was even a sign some wag had written and put in a Ziploc bag beside one knife-edged rock sticking up in the middle of the trail, which said "Special sharp rock imported from Pennsylvania". [Yes, I know, I broke my own rule. Whaddya want me to do, sue myself?] It was annoying to have a sunny day, but be suffering from the effects of the previous night's extreme weather. I called Tom's number from the top of Mt. Mist, just to let him and Liz know that I'd survived. Liz picked up the phone. She was skeptical about me summiting Moosilauke today as I'd likely be in the dark for some of it. I said I'd be fine. However as I progressed further I decided she was right, and that I should call it quits for the day at the Jeffers shelter at the foot of the Moosilauke climb. When I had to ford a river with water again over my boots, I felt confident that I was being wise to be satisfied with a smaller mileage than I'd planned. During that mileage, I passed the 400-miles-to-go mark. At the shelter there were two hikers, a SOBO called Sam who works for the Democratic Party in Arizona, and Two Decades, a regular section hiker on the AT. Malink, Chef Boyardee, Crazy Horse and a couple of others rolled in later. I got one of the nicest tent spots I've had on the trail - level, on a bed of dry leaves and pine needles, and in the background the sound of the brook thundering over some rapids. I was happy that my back had not caused me issues during the hike, although as soon as I took off my pack at the shelter, I had to sit down to manage the pain that started up right on cue. It subsided quickly though. I ate a meal of Back Country Pantry Pad Thai - my old favorite - and some tortillas with Spam laced with Tabasco. I devoured the two oranges Liz had handed me as I went out the door, and had my usual two Snickers bars to round off the meal and the day. Yawn. Time for bed. Tipperary