Date: 2004-08-29
From: Hanover, New Hampshire

To: Sweating Bullets
Miles today: 11.0

Before leaving Hanover, NH on this Sunday morning, I attended 9:00 mass at the Catholic Church in town. I placed my backpack in the foyer and took a seat in the pews. It was nice to mix with people and not worry about bad smells emitting from my clothes or body.Several pews in front of me, a man was using a missalette to cool his face. It was getting warm in the church. I realized that a hot and humid day lay ahead.The Appalachian Trail sometimes follows roads. In Hanover, the trail passes by the front of the church, goes by the football stadium for Dartmouth College, and then enters the woods beside a soccer field. Along this town stretch of the trail, the sun beat down on me. It was a relief to enter the forest and experience an immediate drop in the temperature.But the relief was temporary. As the day progressed, the temperature climbed into the upper eighties and the humidity spiked. Hiking uphill was exceedingly difficult in the humidity. I felt like a car that was overheating. I slowed up my hiking pace. I stopped frequently. I sweated profusely.My bandana, which I used to wipe the sweat from my face, quickly became wet. It emitted that all to familiar smell of ammonia.For several miles, there were no water sources. I met hiker Doc Narly. He was sitting in the middle of the trail, shirtless, and smoking a cigarette. He looked fatigued. I unshouldered my backpack, sat down, and chatted with him.He asked me how I was doing with my water supply. I told him that I had enough water for a while. I asked him about his water supply. He said that he had run out of water. I poured half a liter of water from my reserve bladder into his bottle.While chatting with Doc Narly, I sensed that he was not quite himself. I suspected that he might be getting dehydrated. Some day hikers came along and gave us directions to a store located less than a mile from a road crossing. Doc Narly said that he would visit the store and get something to drink.Later, I sat on a log and ate lunch. This rest break cooled me down. But I was low on water and was unable to drink my fill. My concern grew about finding water. To hike in this excessive heat and humidity without water is to flirt with heatstroke.At the base of Moose Mountain I came upon a stream. Thank goodness! I replenished my supply of water.The ascent of Moose Mountain was the hardest part of the day. The temperature and humidity was at its peak. There was no breeze whatsoever to cool me down. My skin and clothes became drenched with sweat as I struggled up the slope.On the summit¢actually, the south peak¢I was greeted with a breeze. What a blessed relief! I peeled off my shirt and hung it on a branch to dry, along with my bandana. Then I stood upon a rock which better exposed me to the breeze. I held out my arms as the wind evaporated the sweat from my upper body.Three birds of prey soared in the sky. They never flapped their wings, relying instead on the breeze and updrafts to keep them airborne.Hiking again, I turned off of The Appalachian Trail and followed a blue blazed path to an old shelter on the slope of Moose Mountain. There, I obtained some more water at a stream. This round trip for water required me to hike 0.8 of a mile.At 4:30 p.m., I had hiked only eleven miles when I reached another shelter; this one was also situated on the slope of Moose Mountain, but at a higher elevation. It was a clean and spacious shelter. A steady breeze was keeping the insects away. I decided to spend the night at this place, even though my mileage for the day was low. I could have pushed on for a few more miles and ended up in a location that might have been devoid of a breeze and buggy.Slimer hiked in and we chatted briefly. He informed me that his brother Gather was spending the night a short distance away, at the shelter where I had replenished my water supply. Slimer headed back out, wanting to push on six more miles to the next shelter.And then a surprise. Wipeout showed up! I had not seen her since back in Delaware Water Gap, PA. We embraced and then she unshouldered her backpack, intending to stay at this shelter.We spent the evening catching up on things. She told me that Chuggs, another one of the hikers from that first night in Georgia, was hiking one day behind us. That was great news. I look forward to seeing him.I am wearing my headlamp and composing this journal entry in the back of the darkened shelter. Wipeout, also wearing a headlamp, is writing her journal in the front.A cool breeze is flowing inside. Thunder is rumbling in the distance.Chances are, Wipeout will be hiking ahead of me as this journey takes me into The White Mountains. She is a faster hiker than me. But for now, it is great to have re-united for the second time with this friend from that first apprehensive night in Georgia. And Chuggs is in the vicinity. And Gather is camping one shelter back. Suddenly, I don't feel so lonely anymore.