morvasaaty/AppalachianTrail-LD-Hikers-Blogs-and-Weather-20-years huggingface dataset:
Date: 2008-08-24
From: Beaver Brook Shelter

To: Lincoln
Miles today: 1.5
Weather: clear sky

Cool morning,   Slayer and I left camp first, beginning the steep rocky descent off the mountain. The trail paralleled a brook which cascaded down the mountainside. Parts of it were gently sloped and covered with algae, looked very inviting. We decided to go slide down the one bit¢¦there was a six foot drop off, but there was also a cleft in the stream bed before the drop, and it looked like you could stop yourself before falling over the edge. Slayer sat on a rock to get warm in the sun while I jumped in the brook¢¦started off slowly before gaining momentum on the slick rock, picking up tremendous speed, flying right over the cleft, feet flailing for something to brace against, fingers scrabbling at the slimy rock, slipping, unable to find purchase, moment of horror as I sailed over the waterfall before landing with a crash on a rock in the pool below, a dull hard pain in my back, folded in on myself, breath knocked out, overwhelmed by surprising hurt. Slayer ran to the edge, looked over, had the presence of mind to look up, smile, give a thumbs up to let her know I wasn¢t dead before keeling over with the pain again in the cold water. Finally dragged myself out, not wanting to get hypothermic. My glasses were gone, but Slayer found them undamaged at the bottom of the pool. Hobbled back to the trail, sprawled out resting for awhile before gritting my teeth and shouldering my pack and beginning the tedious descent, the trail going straight down cliffs next to the cascades, bits of rebar, wood blocks affixed to the rock face, impossibly steep. Finally reached the notch, hurting too bad to hike further. Babu was getting dropped off by a friend at the trailhead, and she offered to drive us to Chet¢s hostel in Lincoln.   Spent the evening trying to relax, my right buttock ripped open raw, bleeding, massive purple bruise, swelling made my butt stick out. Chet¢s a great guy, very chill, even in the face of the ridiculous adversity he has to face Some SOBO¢s cooked dinner, baked beans, grilled corn and extra raw steak. Slept soundly on the couch.
Date: 2008-08-25
From: Lincoln

To: Lincoln
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: scattered clouds

Spent most of the day sleeping on Chet¢s couch. Snackies, Barackus and Walka were staying at the hostel with us, we all went to a little diner for breakfast. Just walking the quarter mile to the restaurant wore me out. Worried about not being able to hike. Babu showed up at the hostel in the evening, made burgers, potato salad, beer. Slept fitfully, uncomfortable, hard to roll over because of my swollen backside.
Date: 2008-08-26
From: Lincoln (Kinsman Notch)

To: Franconia Notch (Lincoln)
Miles today: 17.0
Weather: overcast clouds

Slayer and Snackies and I slackpacked 17 miles. Oats hiked out, having slacked the same section the previous day. The morning was grey and frigid, and even without a pack, walking was torturous. The first seven miles seemed endless. Took a long break at Eliza Brook, ate pudding powder and oatmeal. Began the scramble up South Kinsman, not as long of a climb as Mossilauke, but steeper. The climbing took my mind off the pain, I began to loosen up. Before the summit, the trail reaches a flat place where there¢s a deep bog full of mosses and strange carnivorous plants, pitcher plants with their pinwheel flowers, tiny sticky sundews. The sky cleared, warm sun accompanied me up to the alpine summit. Munched on lingeonberries. Met up with Snackies on North Kinsman , sat on a cliff looking out at Franconia Ridge, exhilarated at finally actually being in the Whites, taken in by the grandeur of the view.   Stopped at Lonesome Lake Hut for lunch, $4 AYCE soup, cobbler and bread. Stuffed. My hip began aching, and the last mile was agonizing. Relieved to be finished hiking for the day. Back at Chet¢s, a whole crowd of hikers had arrived: Burrass, Chuck and Naked Time, Bigglesworth, Holler and Pixie, people we hadn¢t seen in a long time. Noisy reunion.
Date: 2008-08-27
From: Franconia Notch

To: Mt. Lafayette
Miles today: 6.0

Back to the trail. The weight of my pack was almost unbearable, my back and hips screaming in pain. Made it three miles up the trail, constant climbing over baseball-sized rocks, and didn¢t think I could hike any further. Stopped at Liberty Springs campsite, took a long break, spring water ice cold from a small cave. Longwe Tru and Willow hiked up, talked to them for a bit before finally deciding to continue upwards. Struggled to the saddle, a brief scramble to the summit of Little Haystack, finally penetrating treeline. The sun was shining brightly on the most exquisite bit of ridgeline, all raw pink rock, tinted green by the lichens.   Ahead, Lincoln and Lafayette loomed, naked rock rising up in impossible mounds of stone, the peaks falling away into the lower pine forests below. Hiked up with the ladies, stopping on Lincoln to rest and enjoy the view, mountains all around, Washington in the distance, even from miles away the black smoke from the cog railroad visible. The whole world shouting glory. Finally reached Lafayette, low on water because I¢d given some to an underprepared day hiker. Snackies was there, in a rapturous state, he was planning on sleeping on the summit so we decided to join him. Slayer hiked down to the spring for water. We lounged on the summit, the wind gradually picking up, making it quite cold. The sky performed a symphony of colours, clouds swirled in taffy pink, and the mountains upon mountains upon mountains of purple. We cooked dinner, looking out across the range to Garfield and the Presidentials. Dizzied by the altitude, a crawled into my sleeping bag, opening my eyes from time to time to take in the beauty of my surroundings. The stars were razor sharp and legion, shooting stars falling at times. Was cold most of the night.
Date: 2008-08-28
From: Mt. Lafayette

To: Galehead Hut
Miles today: 6.4
Weather: overcast clouds

Didn¢t even have to get out of my sleeping bag to watch the sunrise over Mt. Washington. The sky streaked scarlet, the world infusing itself with the day. Began hiking, reveling in being above treeline. Lichen-painted green rocks and low-growing scrub, miniature pines, lingeonberries. Pain beginning to struggle through the saddle between Franconia and Garfield. Sun in the eyes, saw a movement in front of me, Spruce Grouse standing in the trail staring at me. It flew up into a nearby tree, sat watching me, all plump, red crested. Long break on Garfield¢s boulder-capped slope. Found a bag of Mountain House dinner abandoned trailside¢evidentially some section hiker had decided that his food bag weighed too much. Some ladies gave us dehydrated green beans, all salty and buttered. The descent was steep, slick rocks, picking my way down rounded boulders, my hips screaming with pain. Miserable six miles to Galehead Hut, crying the last two miles. Snackies, Slayer and I stopped for the AYCE soup and bread, talked to the hutmaster for awhile before deciding to do work for stay and spend the night. Spent the afternoon trying to relax, sitting in front of the Hut looking up at the ridgeline, little yellow flowers in the lawn, tall pines, swarms of biting blackflies. Had to wait until the paying guests had finished eating, then sat down to eat dinner. Guests finally went to sleep, so we settled down on top of the tables to sleep. Groaning, stiff, uncomfortable.
Date: 2008-08-29
From: Galehead Hut

To: Dover
Miles today: 15.0
Weather: light rain

Stiff in the morning, but feeling a bit better than the previous two days. AYCE pancakes for breakfast¢¦I must have eaten at least 15 before setting out to climb Twin Peaks¢¦1000 ft. gain in 2/10ths of a mile. Had a fun time dragging my sore butt up over boulders, rewarded by the views above treeline, huge cloud masses, and a long flatish ridgeline covered by deep piney forest. Coming out onto a boulder slide, breaking treeline again at the summit of Mt. Guyot before plunging back into pine forest. Met up with a section hiker, began walking with him, chatting, all the way to Zealand Falls Hut. Stopped at the falls to clean out my toe, still infected. Pink loaf-shaped slabs of rock in the stream, sculpted pools, reminiscent of Colorado¢s 11 Mile Canyon.   Massive barn spiders spinning webs on the porch of the hut. Slayer finally caught up with me, and we decided to press on eight more miles to the road crossing. The trail followed an old railroad bed, perfectly flat and hedged by blueberry bushes. Moved quickly for awhile before my hip started to bother me. Dozens of bog bridges. Sky beginning to darken, slightly worried about getting rained on. Steep descent off the ridge, slippery scree field, aching backside, fed up with hiking, the miles stretching out¢¦.seemed like forever before I reached Crawford Notch, where Slayer and her friend Rob were waiting for me. We drove the two hours to Rob¢s place in Dover, showered and vegged on the couch. Rob¢s amazingly generous, bought us beer and is letting us invade his place in Dover for a few days.
Date: 2008-08-30
From: Dover

To: Dover
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: broken clouds

Got up early, went to this insane kitschy garage sale decor'd diner called the Friendly Toast. Amazing breakfast: omelete with bacon, sausage, ham, pecans, cheese, fresh eggs, huge pile of lightly flavoured fried potatoes and a two-inch thick slice of cinnamon raisin bread. After we ate, we drove to Pinkham Notch to pick up Oats. Rob's friend Pat was waiting for us back at the apartment, and Ularu arrived after a little while. He brought some chocolates and a bottle of Harviestoun's Ola Dubh whiskey-aged beer for me for my birthday. Booze and candy--what a guy! We went to the market to get supplies, then made a huge salad, thick steaks with onions and mushrooms, sweet corn, mashed potatoes and extra-jiggly coconut cream pie. Watched some movies and drank some tasty beers before bed.
Date: 2008-08-31
From: Dover

To: Dover
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: few clouds

Up early Sunday morning to cook bacon, french toast, yogurt parfaits. Went to the Red Hook Brewery to sample some tasty beers, then into Portsmouth to hit their brewery. We got some ice cream, sat by the inlet to watch the tide and smell the briny air. Now back at Rob's place, enjoying some Rose wine and Eggplant Parmasane. Life is good.
Date: 2008-09-02
From: Crawford Notch

To: Lakes of the Clouds Hut
Miles today: 11.2
Weather: broken clouds

Joel drove us back to the trail. Slept most of the way, hit the trail feeling groggy and pained. Trail a mess of roots and rocks, loose dirt. The ascent up into the Presidentials seemed neverending as I limped along. I hurt so much that I actually thought of giving up.   Sweat streaming, even the slower hikers passing me, each place I had to climb up bringing new hurt. Reached Webster Cliffs, a flat sweep of grey rock. A break in the trees revealed a jagged rigeline across the gap, its face a giant slide of boulders. Onward, upwards, now deep in evergreen forest, having left behind the grey-trunked beech trees and silver aspen of the valley. Finally penetrating treeline on what seemed to be the summit only to look ahead and see a much higher peak. Dipped back into pine forest before reaching a cliff wall that had to be climbed hand over hand. Tricky with a pack. Finally reached the actual summit of Mt. Webster, horrified to realize I¢d only hiked three miles. Sat down and took a long break with Slayer. Snowplow hiked up, and we all hiked on together. It seemed like the hut was a million miles away, unatainable. But on we hiked, down off the summit and back up, less painfully, to Mizpah Hut, and, after a short break for water, on to Mt. Monroe, the trail cresting treeline, the entire bare ridge of the Presidentials stretched out in front of me. Talking with Slayer and Snowplow made the time pass, and the beauty of the mountain foliage, all stunted spruce and delicate alpine plants, trail carpeted with scree, the bright lichens and sour mountain cranberries, bright red bunchberries, rosy evening sunglow, mountains spread around, a sense of held breath and calm. The wind kicked up, buffeted me about a bit. I had gotten ahead of the other girls, hiking alone, reflecting on how easily a day can turn around¢¦at that point, there was no place I wanted to be other than on the AT. Reached Lakes of the Clouds Hut in the low light just before sunset. The place was crowded, with about twelve other thru¢s doing work-for-stay. K1 was there, and Bigglesworth, Lee, Medium Rare, Hare, Chaco and Snowplow.   Alex, the hutmaster was very friendly, made sure all of us were well accomodated. We did our work, cleaning out the bunk rooms as the sun turned the windows golden, the whole sky filled with a rich molten colour, slowly turning crimson as the rest of the world cooled into the lower shades of blue. We watched the sun disappear, drinking coffee, until they called us in for dinner. They didn¢t have any leftovers, so they cooked us a huge dish of pasta, which we ate with soup and lots of coffee. Lights out finally rolled around. Slepth, fitfully, on a bench.
Date: 2008-09-06
From: Gorham

To: Gentian Pond Campsite
Miles today: 14.8
Weather: light rain

Slept in a bit. Stayed up too bloody late the night before. Susan made us breakfast, bacon and toast and muffins and coffee, then drove us back to the trail. We set out, roadwalking a ways, then off into young hardwood forest, climbing slowly, up and up, to rock outcroppings grown with scrub, almost like being above treeline, english soldier moss, blueberries, tufts of grass, and a coral-like lichen, pines. Sat on a warm rockface eating leftover pizza, then hiked on alone, down off the mountain into shady pine groves, having to walk a quarter mile off trail for water, then finding a stream in the trail less than a half mile further north. Frustration. The trail ran along a granite ridgeline, a huge mountain jutting up on one side, stark grey edifice. The trail skirted several beaver ponds, and we stopped to rest by one of them. It began to sprinkle, and we quickly donned our rain gear and set off hiking again, down a trail thickly choked by pines, arms getting scratched as I pushed my way through. We were climbing again, and the trail was slick and I had a hard time not falling, since I¢d broken my stick coming down off Madison and had yet to find a suitable replacement. Soaking shoes. Finally came to the water source for the shelter and stopped to fill up before heading in to camp. The shelter was nice and large, with a raised platform. It overlooked the waterfall that is the outlet for the weed-choked Gentian Pond. There was a great grey cliff across the ravine. Changed in to dry clothes, sat watching as the rain came harder and harder. Hare had taken a detour to the P.O. and left town later than us..he arrived with toffee bars his grandmother¢d made, and we gratefully ate them. Just Mike, aka ¢the Good Aussie,¢ and Gonzo hiked up, soaking wet,and were easily persuaded to spend the night. We sat ep talking awhile, bundled into our sleeping bags.
Date: 2008-09-07
From: Gentian Pond Lean To 

To: Full Goose Lean To
Miles today: 10.2

Left the shelter reluctantly, shying away from the dripping pine branches that surrounded the trail. Climber Mt. Success, the final one in N.H. It was steep, and the wind bit coldly, a wet grey mist blocking any view there may have been. Reached the state line, sat in the gap staring at the sign, a bit overwhelmed by the fact that I¢ve now hiked from Georgia to Maine. I wasn¢t sure if I should cry or scream with joy. Slayer hiked up behind me, and we sat, eating a snack, until it got to cold to sit still. Began the climb of Mt. Carlo in a drizzling rain, which became more uncomfortable as we climbed beyond the shelter of trees, clambering up slick boulders, rotten log ladders in some places, slippery rebar footholds in others. Upon reaching the summit, the wind hit with full force, probably around 70 mph, at least. It was a constant struggle to not get blown over, the rockface slick, footholds hard to find. I spent a few minutes simply standing still, trying not to get blown over, unable to go forward. We forged onwards, struggling against the wind, the summit covered with bogs, puncheons carrying us across them, deep puddles on the bedrock, deep mud in places lacking bog bridges, beautiful alpine tundra, but no chance to enjoy it, fighting the wind all the way, physically draining, cold, my rain cloak flapping around me. I was leaning against the wind, to my left, trying to maintain balance, when the gust subsided, leaving me to stumble and fall into a bog. Muddied, cold and wet, a hurried towards treeline. As soon as the trail ducked back beneath the trees, it was possible to walk normally again. The temperature was a few degrees warmer, too, off the wind swept summit Down over slippery rocks, log ladders, beginning the climb up Goose Eye Mtn, reaching the summit to battle harsh winds once more. The trail going down the mountain consisted of planks skirting the rockface, wooden steps and ladders, bits of rebar. We reached a plateau, and could see bits of Maine through gaps in the clouds, uninhabited forest, pine-clad mountains, dark ponds. The clouds were whipping through the gap between Goose Eye and Mahoosuc Arm with dizzying speed. It was vey bleak, yet lovely. Down in the valley, the trees dripped on us, more evergreen forests. Slayer and I reached the shelter together, to find it packed with hikers who¢d decided against tackling Mahoosuc Notch in the rain: the group from Gentian Pond Shelter, Kirk, Brahma Bull and Sweet Potato, a section hiker. It was still early in the afternoon, so we made coffee and huddled in our sleeping bags for warmth in the dreary afternoon. Of course, the sun poked briefly through the clouds a little while before it set, only to rain again in the night
Date: 2008-09-10
From: Andover Guest House

To: Campsite
Miles today: 13.0
Weather: overcast clouds

Awake late, had some cereal, drank some leftover beer. The hostel keeper drove us back to the trail in her big truck, Van Morrison on the stereo. Content and slightly tipsy, we hit the trail, making good time over the gradual terrain. Sun streaming through the trees, a light warmed by the yellow leaves. We forded a small river, catching up with Brahma Bull and Sweet Potato, then began the climb of Moody Mtn. It was ludicrously steep, although not particularly rocky, and the climbing was arduous. We reached a place where there¢d been a landslide that had taken out a portion of the trail. Had to scramble up over a huge fallen tree, then through the loose dirt of the landslide and off through the woods for a bit before rejoining the intact part of the trail. The mountain went on and on, exhausting in its endlessness. Finally reached the top, which was covered in trees and afforded no view. Walked on, sweating, my shoulder chafing painfully, my packstrap rubbing a hole through my skin. The climb off the mountain was even steeper than the ascent, and my knees were crying for mercy. Finally reached the river, and waded across to see all the other hikers who¢d been ahead of me sprawled out on the side of the road¢Snackies, Hare, Oats, Brahma Bull and Sweet Potato, Just Mike and Gonzo. We took a long break to read and drink the last of the beer, and Hare dressed the wound on my shoulder, which made it feel much better. Finally, we began the climb of Old Blue, a mountain about as steep as Moody, if a bit better graded. Hare was hiking with me, and we spent most of the climb talking, which made the time pass quicker. The trail climbed up through beech forests, with gaps in the trees affording us views of the road far below and a small town in the distance. Then, upwards through stands of pine, the trail growing rockier and requiring some scrambling, water running down the trail in places, deep puddles. We finally gained the summit, the sun low, sky a creamy blues with great purple clouds floating in it, glistening silver lakes below us, the moon rising in a bright sliver. It was intensely cold, and I put on all of my clothing, soaking in the evening¢s beauty for as long as I could stand the chill before finally hiking off into the evening in search for a place to camp. The trail lead down off the bare summit, over a wet, rocky slope down into a quickly darkening pine swamp which we crossed on puncheons. No place to pitch camp in the quagmire, so we hiked on as the darkness thickened. We passed Brahma and Sweet Potato, who¢d found a small spot in between the thick pines that hedged in the trail, but there was no room for even one more tent, so we pushed on. Finally, we saw the light of a campfire¢¦Lee and Clause had found a small clearing, and there was space for Hare and us girls to cowboy camp, too. Huddled by the campfire to eat, then crawled into the sleeping bag. Freezing cold night, frost on my bag. Perfect stars.
Date: 2008-09-12
From: Sabbath Day Pond Lean To

To: Rangely
Miles today: 9.5

Dry morning. Hare had seen a moose by the lake, so I went back with him to see if she was still there. Loons floating on the water, still crying back and forth with their companions on another lake. Heard a rustling in the bushes, and presently were rewarded for our patience when the cow emerged and waded in to the lake. We sat and watched her graze on water plants, then dog-like , she began to swim across the lake to the far bank where she climbed out, shook herself, and ambled off. We were only planning on hiking ten miles, and the terrain was pleasantly easy. We came to a pond where there were several old canoes with paddles. The three of us and Hare and Lee took turns paddling around the pond, chasing ducks, enjoying the fluidity of motion, giving the arms a work out for a change. My upper body strength has disappeared since I¢ve been hiking. Got to the road crossing, and got a hitch easily, because there was a flagger stopping traffic just past the trailhead. A woman in a pickup truck took everyone who needed a ride¢¦.four of us rode in the bed of the truck, me, Lee, and a woman and her shepherd. Freezing cold, whipping down the road. Got our maildrop from Mom at the Rangely P.O., all candy and snacks. Went to get Thai food with Naked Time, Chuck, Hare, Motorbutt. Then there was the thing with peeing in a phone booth¢¦it¢s a good story. Went to the Pourhouse Pub, former thrus work there bartending, gave us free shots. Tasty Sebago Red beer and excellent corned beef. Slayer wasn¢t feeling very well, so I went with her to Gull Pond Lodge. Not a great experience. A bunk collapsed on Slayer, the owner¢s flyers were misleading¢laundry and rides back to the trail cost extra¢there was a brash jerk named Detour who talked nonstop at the top of his voice about nothing, stayed up spewing nonsense late into the night so that none of us could get to sleep. Shared the hostel with Powder River, Brushstrokes, Serene and two SOBO¢s