Date: 2007-07-11
From: Glencliff, N.H.

To: Eliza Brook Shelter
Miles today: 17.0
Weather: light rain

Early in the morning, I'm tossing and turning in my bunk at the "Welcome Hikers Hostel" in Glencliff, NH. I can't sleep. At the base of the White Mountains, all I can think about is the upcoming climb up Mt. Moosilauke, and the first time going above treeline on the AT. Ever since Georgia, whenver I described a grueling section of trail, undoubtably someone from the Northeast would say,"Ah, this was nothing, wait 'til you hit the Whites in New Hampshire." So now I'm here at the base of the beast. And, it has been raining for a week straight, adding to my trepidation about hiking up and down steep, rocky, muddy, and slippery segments. At 5 Am, I can stand it no longer. My fellow hiker bunkmates are all sleeping soundly. This is because they are all southbounders who have just completed what Bill Bryson, in A Walk in the Woods, calls 20% of the distance, but 50% of the work - New Hampshire and Maine. My northbounder friends who I've beeen leapfrogging with are all either a bit ahead or beind. So it's just me heading out this early. I quickly pack up. Having 1775 miles under my belt, I can pretty much do this blindfolded. At 5:30, I start the half mile walk up the road to the trailhead while eating one of my usual breakfasts, a 1/4 pound of peanut butter and nutella slathered ona couple of flour tortillas. yum. As soon as I hit the trailhead, the first thing I see is a stream. The whiteblaze trailmarker is on the other side. I can see the rocksteps that are meant to be a bridge are covered with 4 inches of rusing water. Keeping in mind I just spent the entire previous day drying out my one pair of socks and trailrunners, I quickly ford the creek, immediately soaking everything again. With the first splashing sound, all I can hear in my head is "Welcome to the Whites." How can I describe the hike up Moosilauke (and most of the White Mountain peaks thereafter)? For you Arizona hikers, imagine climbing up to the flatiron - in wet and slippery conditions. Then do it again. The concept of switchbacks do not exist up here. Fun stuff. After 3-4 hours I'm finally up on the ridge above treeline, 4800 ft elevation, a healthy 3700 ft gain. The ridge is shrouded in fog and the silence is eerie. Just the sound of my own footsteps through a misty damp cloud. I don't dawdle. Who knows when the weather will turn from drizzly to stormy. Now the descent, which at least 3 people had described with the word "treacherous." They were right. The descent, though aided in places with cables, rails, and rocksteps, simply put, was hard and slow. But finally I make it with only a few scrapes and bruises. Ok, the first "Biggie" is out of the way. But now the real fun begins. The rest of the hike to camp doesn't have quite the elevation gain, but it could also hardly be called a trail. I am either walking on exposed tree roots, slippery knife edge rocks, mud bogs, or streams. For the next 9 miles, all I can see is about 20 feet ahead, and I can can think about is the next step. Miserable hiking. At my lowest moment, I miscalculate and slip right off a rock into a foot deep mud bog. When I climb out, my right shoe stays in, swalled by the bog. Taking off my pack and sitting on the nearest rock, I must look quite a sight, soaked and dirty and wearing only one shoe. A couple of hikers show up while I'm stewing and we just look at each other, each of us wishing we were somewhere else. And then we all just start laughing. Why - I'm not sure, but it felt good. So I resolve to have a better attitude for the rest of the hike. I'm cold, but not freezing. Wet and dirty, but who cares. I'll just pretend I'm 10 years old again when tramping through the mud was a good thing. Finally, and I mean finally, I make it to camp at about 6:30 - 17 miles in 13 hours. Physically and mentally exhausted. The other hikers at camp look just as worn out as I do. Soon, southbound hiker with extensive hiking experience in these parts shows up. He hears our tales of the trail and the brutal section we just completed. He laughs and says, "Ah, this was nothing. Wait 'til you hit Maine." Nice.