Date: 2009-08-11
From: Frye Notch Lean To

To: East B Hill Rd (Andover, ME)
Miles today: 4.5
Weather: light rain

Happy 5 Month Anniversary on the trail today!!Two weeks ago we skipped over the Connecticut River, bidding a fond farewell to Vermont and skipping into New Hampshire. We were treated to lovely trail-magic at the home of Betsy and Bill, some two miles from the New Hampshire line, and then, literally walked along the quad of Dartmouth College as we began our journey through New Hampshire. The day was gorgeous, bright and sunny, and the trail ahead seemed filled with mystical opportunities.Then the horror began. The White Mountains.As hikers who've walked over 1,800 miles, we felt we were ready for anything. We'd heard people talk about the Whites; how tough they were, how steep and treacherous. We laughed at them. A few souls even said, "Oh, you'll be fine. You're in great shape. The Whites will be nothing." We called these people wise and walked on in our blessed ignorance. We entered the Whites feeling like conquering heroes, the ideal of human physical condition, the denouement of the species. We strode over Mount Moosilake with little problem. This was it ... easy sailing on to Katahdin, we cried. Then, on July 30th, our tune changed. Kinsman Mountain met us that morning, took each of our names and proceeded to kick our asses! WE went fifteen miles that day and felt as if we'd been beaten by a large man with a 2x4. This from hikers who are used to 20+ miles a day and now a 15 hurts us. No sooner had we decided that 15 miles might be the max for this area, than we were forced to a 10 mile day. This average continued for the remainder of the trip.As I've said, this section is very hard! But it is also beautiful. Some of the most amazing vistas we've come across have been from these high peaks. And there are the huts. You see, when you travel through the Whites, there are two choices as to where to sleep: 1) you can pay to sleep at a shelter, or 2) you can work-for-stay at a hut. A hut is a cabin owned by the AMC. It has propane cooking, a massive bunk room and enough solar electricity for lights to run for a few hours each evening. And here's the best part: people pay $100 plus dollars a night to stay here. Yes, folks from Boston or New York, hike a mile or two in cotton t-shirts and jeans, sleep in a bunk room, have a meal made for them and then go home to talk about their wilderness experience. For the thru-hiker, the only way to go through the Whites without having to pay is to go up to a hut, ask if they have any work you can do in exchange for sleeping on one of the tables in the dining hall. And yes, you get some food, but only what is left over after the paying guests have eaten. Being a thru-hiker in this place is the closest I, as a white male, will ever get to understanding what it must be like to live in a society that is segregated and working against you. Here's how the process unfolds: you show up no earlier than 4:30pm, as you risk being told there is still time to make it to the next hut before it gets dark. Upon arrival, you go up to the college freshman who is in charge of the hut and ask if you can wash dishes, sweep floors or some other form of menial task. If you are lucky enough to be chosen, you go and sit outside until the guests have finished eating. Then you are let in to eat the leftovers, a broom is shoved into your hand and you sweep the world. Then you sit on a bench until 10:00pm and the guests have all gone to bed (mind you, we usually go to bed around 7:30pm or so), then you can throw your bag onto a large wooden table and get to sleep. You are awakened at 6:00am, when you have to grab everything and go outside while the guests eat breakfast. After, you are once again let in to enjoy leftovers and do more work before hitting the trail around 9:30am. Now, don't let this sound all negative, don't get me wrong. We love not having to carry the food and meeting day hikers who think we're a mix between Jack Kerouac and a yogi. And several of the huts are truly wonderful and their staff amazing (Madison and Carter Notch).But enough of that. The Whites, purely as mountains, were simply magnificent. We spent a great deal of time over 4,000 feet and not a small mount over 5,000 feet. We spent a whole day above tree line, climbed Mount Washington (where the highest wind speed ever recorded by human beings was recorded) and trekked over Franconia Ridge. All high points of the hike.A few days back, after a tragic fight through the Whites, we crawled into Maine, the final state of our journey. Any hope that the hard terrain was over were quickly wiped away. If anything, these last few days have been harder than the Whites.I'm now in Andover, Maine, staying at Pine Ellis B&B letting the knees take a break from the grueling last few weeks. With only 250 miles ahead, I'm getting antsy for an end. But what will life be like afterward? How will I be able to look at a modern city, a highway, a mall the same way having had this experience? Perhaps it's the 1,900 behind causing the present lull. Perhaps the tough mountains has brought about the slow cloud that covers emotions. But, for better or worse, the terminus, and all it represents, looms ahead, visible on a clear day. Far away; in the clouds.