Date: 2009-09-10
From: Garfield Ridge Campsite

To: Ethan Pond Campsite
Miles today: 14.5
Weather: scattered clouds

'ANOTHER PERFECT DAY'.Those were the words I diligently scribbled in my note book on the night of Thursday the 10th of September. In other words, today.That is how I write these journals you see, I scribble notes and then a day, or two, or later (sometimes much later), I sit back and try to capture something of the day. It isn't always fair, sometimes it isn't even accurate, it invariably misses things out (even when it goes on and on) and sometimes like today it is disproportionate. So lets make no bones about it. I was in the White Mountains, the skies were clear, the day was in no uncertain terms a 'corker'. The walk up to South Twin Mountain. The realisation that it was time to leave Franconia Ridge behind and to set my sights, instead, on the upcoming passage to, over, and away from Mount Washington. The silence (excepting the wind) on the open 'moor-like-land' near Mt Guyot. Zealand Cliffs, always Zealand Cliffs. The people and their stories: Phoenix, Tully, a great group of school kids. The sunset over Ethan Pond.Today had it all and then some and I really did use capitalisation as I scribbled my three word summary in the third last line of the page dedicated to Thursday the 10th of September.But the earlier lines, or more specifically the first 4 told a different story....Not one of perfection but of fear and a touch of dread. One where, if you chose to live closer to nature, you have to accept the influence of nature but not just accept it also respect and be aware of it. It was a story where you might lose a few hours sleep trying to balance (call it worrying about) the potentially negative effects of the elements, their uncertainty, their variability and your own preparedness to live among them. And maybe a story where you simply wish you had a larger bladder.It all started you see with a near midnight call of nature. If it had been a near 6am call of nature I would simply have rolled over and waited for daybreak; but daybreak is a long way off at midnight and discretion is, I have found, better than valour where such things are concerned and so instead I wriggled out of my sleeping bag and stepped outside. Not bad moments these, the night was cold and crisp, the sky was clear and I could crane my neck back to look at the star. Just another part of this great experience, a moment to ponder your luck (how did I get to be this lucky?) and to take a deep breath free from the cares of the world. Free as far as I new from any cares at all.And then the zip on my inner tent decided enough was enough.I messed about with it. I pulled it quickly. I pulled it slowly. I pulled it from either end. I pinched either side of the tent walls together. I prodded and poked at the offending teeth. I rubbed more sun block on it. And then everything I had tried that hadn't worked I tried again (and again).By now I was fully awake and my mind was working overdrive. With the coming fall; the northerly latitude; the longer nights; my, not particularly warm, cold weather gear, I sensed that no good would come of this. My inner tent was my sanctuary, my microclimate, the enclosed space where my body heat got at least partially recycled and where the worst of the external conditions could be kept well... external. Now it had a 4 foot gap running two-thirds along one side. My tent would no longer separate me from the elements, I would, instead, be surrounded by those elements! It should still keep out the rain but I sensed things would start to get decidedly chillier at a time when they were already threatening to get quite chilly enough. Any hot air would escape, any cold air would come in and that was before factoring in any inconvenient draughts, breezes, wind or, heaven forbid, gales.I didn't sleep well. Wether imagined or not the temperature plummeted. The still night I recalled from when I had stepped out earlier now seemed to be distinctly draughty and the cool night air flooded in. At 4:30 I put on my down jacket. I had been postponing this moment. Hoping I might even get to Katahdin without having to resort to it; allowing its place in my sleeping system to remain exclusively as a pillow. There were 350 miles to go and I had now dipped into the last of my contingencies against cold nights.I slept better after that but I wasn't sure if it was the warmth of the DJ or just the effects of a long troubled night. And of course at that moment I was not fully aware of the day that lay ahead. Maybe this was all just part of another perfect day.