Date: 2020-09-14
From: Kinsman Notch (North Woodstock)

To: Franconia Notch
Miles today: 16.3

Slackpacked the Kinsman Ridge with Trash today. Trash (Bill) is a retired corporate treasurer turned Treasury agent and fraud investigator. He now divides his time between skiing in Utah, diving in St. Croix, and hiking AT sections. Guy doesn't know how to slow down! I met him in Hanover before he took off for a weekend in Cape Cod with his wife and friends. Now he's back to finish up New Hampshire. He'd planned to start with the Moosilauke section I did yesterday, but flipped his schedule so we could hike together today. I haven't had a hiking partner since my daughter Snickers came out for a couple days in Pennsylvania so I was happy to have company. I remembered Kinsman as a very challenging stretch. When I section-hiked the north I'd gone over Moosilauke and straight into the Kinsman ridge thinking I'd finish it the same day. Big mistake. Hours later I struggled into Eliza Brook Shelter at dusk, having only done half - the easier half - of the ridge. I Nero-ed the next day.Trash drove us to Franconia Notch in his Audi TT where Marlene of Ali's Taxi (named after her grandchildren) met us at 7 and took us over to Kinsman Notch. Marlene charges only $5 per person for trips I wouldn't be surprised to pay $20 for in other areas. Don't know how she does it. She, like Roger in Waynesboro and others I've met, also drives locals to work and errands, not just hikers.The ridge started out with a climb as they always do, and Trash soon decided he was holding me back. But I was actually enjoying slowing my pace. It would take longer, but I had the whole day. And it was much less taxing. The climb wasn't bad at all. In fact all morning I kept wondering what had been so bad about Kinsman. Sure it had lots of rocks and boulders and sharp ups and downs, but that was becoming my new normal in NH and Maine.The weather was chilly and windy, my first real taste of winter this year.We passed some tranquil and scenic ponds, and the ridge started to seem downright pleasant. Had lunch at Eliza Brook Shelter, situated by a crystal clear stream. The shelter itself looked almost brand new, despite being a decade old. Not a mark of graphitti or carving on it. The logs were expertedly cut to join perfectly at the corners. All of it apparently done on site, and some of the logs weighing over 400 pounds. A simple note in the shelter asked occupants to respect the labor that went into it, and they have.Halfway in we started climbing South Kinsman Mountain. It was pretty brutal. I hadn't encountered anything as unremitting as this climb on the hike before. The boulders just didn't stop. I had my trekking poles stowed away the entire day because the moment I was tempted to take them out I needed my hands again to clamber up some bedrock or ledges. They are now just dead weight on my pack, necessary only to erect my tent.Near the summit we met flip-floppers Mountain Goat and Miles-A-Foot. I recognized them immediately, either from Instagram photos or from meeting them in Virginia. None of us could remember. They had both just reached their personal AT halfway point. I made them promise to eat their half gallon of ice cream in the next town. Ironically it was cold enough that we'd all started donning jackets from standing around too long, so off we hurried to warm up again.Further on we passed Dabs and Copper, who'd stayed at the hostel, heading south. But more surprising was a family of four, with two teenage girls, dayhiking and already over North Kinsman but heading further from the road. With over seven miles to get back and already past mid-afternoon I wondered how far they planned to go. They must have as well, as we heard them arguing in Chinese after we passed. Their string backpacks didn't look prepared for bad weather, darkness, or running short of water.The terrain remained strenuous and tiring. I remembered now why it ground me down last time. On one summit, North Kinsman I think, a giant cairn of stones was formed into a throne. A momentary lull in the march. Then we descended North Kinsman at literally 1 mph thanks to endless boulder scrambles. Trash thought he was slowing me down. But it wasn't him, it was me adapting to my new reality and practicing my rock hopping for much more to come. The trail relented a bit at Lonesome Lake Hut. The hut was open and the croo cook inside fried me up a large quesadilla and poured me a hot cocoa. I'd had a good-sized pastrami sandwich for lunch but I scarfed the quesadilla down like I hadn't eaten for days. After that it was a relatively (relatively) easy several miles to the road, and a mile walk down a paved bike path to reach the Flume visitors center where we'd left the car.All told it took 10 1/2 hours to go 17 miles, a definite hit to my usual 3 mph. Again, primarily due to the terrain. Once back at the hostel and showered Trash offered to drive us to town to eat at the Woodstock Inn. There was a long wait for an inside table as even in the valley it was quite chilly in the evening. Had a huge open-faced meatloaf and mashed potatoes "sandwich" and a flight of local microbrews. That was enough to put me to sleep nice and early.