Date: 2007-08-26
From: Franconia Notch

To: Galehead Hut
Miles today: 13.0
Weather: overcast clouds

Thoreau so eloquently reminded me yesterday as I enjoyed all that Janet and her house, in Vermont, had to offer, to savor every moment of my journey, while it lasts, with these words: ¢Why should we be in such a desperate haste to succeed?...If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.¢ Or because he¢s looking for meaning above and beyond the norm of everyday existence. Or possibly she¢s a black sheep restless and in search of another adventure. Without minimizing the supreme hospitality bestowed upon me and my hiking companions in Vermont, it is time, as I¢ve said before, to once again pick up my fully loaded backpack and continue my journey in the woods. After all, the AT is supposed to be a wilderness experience, right? Even more, it is an odyssey of the human spirit, as so many generous others have taught me along the way.But enough of this new type of hiking we have dubbed ¢commuter packing.¢ Worse even than slack packing on the scale of hiker integrity, we keep sliding further down the slippery slope of the laziest and most comfortable ways to hike from Georgia to Maine, another sort of game we play to see who can hike the furthest with the least amount of time and effort on the trail. ¢Commuter packing¢ is the ultimate winner, or the new low, depending upon the way you look at it. It¢s like taking the train to work each day, but our train is the vehicle of a previous stranger, now friend, willing to drive for hours each day to haul our lazy butts to and from the far reaches of the trailheads. Shower, dinner, laundry, and bed included.We picked the worst terrain to head back into the hills: next up, The Whites of New Hampshire. Even hikers who have been hiking with their packs and sleeping in the woods fear the mighty Whites unlike any other mountains on the trail. These mountains are tough, not kidding around in the difficulty of the terrain, which reduces our pace to about 1.5 miles an hour, not because we are out of shape but because these mountains kick butt. Even the most conditioned hikers used to twenty-mile days are forced to reduce their sums to only about 12 to 14 on a good day. Bad weather can set in unexpectedly at any time. Like today.Franconia Ridge is reputedly one of the most gorgeous ridgelines of the entire trail, with views of the Whites extending for miles in either direction. If you have seen pictures of the Appalachian Trail, you have, without a doubt, seen pictures of Franconia Ridge. I¢ve heard that it is spectacularly beautiful and awe-inspiring for thru-hikers. Not today.Today the ridge inspired awe in other ways, as in, I just wanted to get off of there. It was windy and cold, with icicles freezing from the sweat drops on my face to make me look like I had an ice beard. There were no views, unless you count the hand I could barely see in front of my ice-covered face. On a day like today, you just need to maintain movement to keep warm before the rest of your body freezes into one giant stalagmite. I¢ll come back and look around another day.At least we all had a good laugh this morning when I slipped and fell, luckily to be saved by my trusty trekking pole, which itself was not so fortunate and is no longer. With my full weight, plus that of my loaded pack, coming down on it, after nearly 2000 miles of use, my pole couldn¢t take any more abuse. Now bent at a right angle, it soon snapped in two. Trusty trekking pole, you have been very good to me. Better you than one of my body parts.I couldn¢t have been happier to arrive to the Galehead Hut, aptly named for the weather this evening. Other thru-hikers had the same sentiments, for the hut was packed with about 15 of us sprawled everywhere under and on tables for the night. Hut caretakers reminded us that they were allowed to provide lodging for three at most, but don¢t worry, I assured them, for I won¢t tell a soul.miles remaining 359.7