Date: 2013-07-14
From: Zealand Falls Hut, mi 1,832.6

To: Lakes of the Clouds Hut, mi 1,851.7
Miles today: 19.1
Weather: light rain

Zealand Falls Hut as it turned out was perched only a few hundred yards up the steep slopes flanking South Twin Mountain. The descent in the late afternoon into dusk the day before had seemed infinite. From the front porch of the hut in the early light of dawn, the AT appeared to plummet into an abyss. Magnet and Nightwalker, who were headed south toward the Liberty Spring Campsite on the picturesque Franconia Ridge, had packed before me and were standing at the base of the stairs. I wished them a good journey, before hastily descending the short, steep section of rocks to some of the flattest, smoothest terrain in the Whites. The AT followed what appeared to be an old rail grade along a bench cut through white granite, occasionally obstructed by large scree slopes that required hiking over. The AT followed this flat grade south before dog legging east and gradually up along a now marshy terrain protected by boardwalks, before plunging abruptly into Crawford Notch. When you glance at the watermarked topographic profile in AWOL's Guidebook, the AT gradually gains about 500-ft of elevation over the last two miles, giving it a ski-jump-like appearance, before it plunges to Crawford Notch. On the way down the paved parking driveway, a trail angel was parked off to the side with folding chairs out and back trunk open. He greeted me with kindness and invited me to enjoy some food. He had an ice chest full of cold sodas, cold cuts, mustard, mayo, cheese, and other goodies. I could not resist! Another young male hiker was sitting on one of the folding chairs. He told me that this kind man had driven him 20 miles to see a doctor after getting a bad case of giardia from failing to filter water. I thought for a moment of the numerous hikers I met along the way that never filtered water. I had hiked for numerous days with a kid named FoxTrot, who would just dip is water bottle into any water source without question. He managed to avert illness, by pure luck! After thanking the trail angel, I continued down the hill, crossed US302, and began an almost 4 mile ascent up steep terrain into the Presidentials. The topography in AWOL's Guidebook was daunting for the first three miles out of the notch, climbing about 1000 feet per mile! Beyond Mt Webster, located at the cusp of this brutal climb, the AT flattened out, climbing in short, steep intervals, with equally steep drops, climbing another 1,200-ft vertically to the Lakes of the Clouds Hut, perched at the basal flanks of Mt Washington, which rose another 1,200-ft in just 1.5 miles. I contemplated earlier in the day, making it beyond Mt Washington, but after conversing with a group of hikers earlier about this idea, they seemed skeptical about the feasibility, given the extremely rocky trail and distance to the Madison Spring Hut. In the Whites, stealth camping was limited by regulations, exposure, and terrain. I had the daylight to push it, but decided to take the extra time to enjoy some time on the summit in the early morning. Along the long ridge, there were numerous opportunities to look back from lofty rock ledges along the edge of the ridge. The trail climbed in large steps (near vertical rock faces), followed by relatively flat terrain. Some ten miles to the north, the summit of Mt Washington could be seen with its multitude of antennae.   I stopped by the Mizpah Hut in the afternoon. There were no left overs for starving through hikers, so I purchased a few baked goods and enjoyed a couple of glasses of lemonade. I made it to Lakes of the Clouds Hut by dusk and was accepted to work for stay. Generally speaking, there was a curfew for through hikers who wanted to work for stay. The previous day, I had arrived at the edge of darkness, and learned from the "Hut Master" that several hikers had been turned away from staying, but he made an exception for me to stay, perhaps because it was dark, or perhaps because I was polite and had no expectations of being accepted. I had arrived at Lakes of the Clouds well before curfew time, and was accepted to work for stay. As I waited outside the hut on one of the benches, a young SoBo entertained the group with his portable electric guitar, which ran off a small amplifier powered by a 9-v battery that was about to die. I couldn't for the life of me recall the lyrics, or whether it was his own music, but it was catchy. He wore a pair of torn khaki Frog Tog pants, hopping around on the rocks above the stone retaining wall, as he belted out some rifts and emotional vocals. The croo, who were prepping dinner and washing dishes in the kitchen were equally inspiring as they banged on pots and pans with great rhythm. We enjoyed voluminous amounts of pasta and dessert, before being assigned to work in the kitchen. After dinner, a few late evening stragglers from the group paying to stay played cards and chatted in the dining commons where we had planned to sleep. By 10pm, I was sleeping on the floor beneath one of the tables.