Date: 2003-08-07
From: Trapper John Shelter

To: Ore Hill Shelter
Miles today: 19.3

We get an early start, and at Lyme-Dorchester Rd. run into Songbird and DejaVu, Sparky and Zapman climbing out of a van. They've found a way to arrange another slackpack. It's a good day to do this, lots of steep climbing and poor weather.Grey and damp today - the story of this thru-hike. My shoes are soaked through, everything smells bad and today promises more of the same. "Sticky" is the word of the week. We keep walking, thinking the weather will improve, surely... but it never... quite... does.Tomorrow we should hit Glencliff, and Saturday start the Whites, which are best done safely in clear, dry weather. This helps with the views too. There is no let-up in sight.Finch, also out slacking, passes us later in the morning and tells us that the forecast through next week is for ... more rain. (He also tells us we missed his wife Judy back at the Trailhead, passing out strawberry shortcake. We came through too early. Some section hikers coming up after that tells us there was even whipped cream, and fresh strawberries as well. Later, Amble, who left camp a mere 15 minutes after us, takes great pleasure in describing to us the missed treat.)I must admit, everybody is a bit discouraged at this point. No one is quitting voluntarily so close to the end. But we're in endurance mode, hunkering down and enduring the grey damp and close, muddy forests.My feet are starting to hurt again with the constant wet. The cracks are starting up again, and the little toes are blistering. I'm starting to lose toenails too, just like they say you do. It's pretty gross, I must say, and they hurt. I wonder if they will grow back. We climb and climb and climb up what we think it Smarts Mountain, only to find out it is Lambert's Ledge, not Smarts Mountain at all. That comes a little bit later.It's a long, wet climb up Smarts. I am dragging butt. Sheets of water flow over slabs of mossy rock tilted on a 45 degree or so angle - just the sort of rock they tell you to stay away from around waterfalls, lest you slip and fall over. Here, it's the durn Trail.I'm having a bad day. There's not much zip in my stride climbing these ascents. I think I need a hamburger and a milkshake, and some sunshine. And ibuprofen. And a massage. And a gondola. Yeah. My thinking is pretty negative, questioning the wisdom of all this. I pretty much let my thoughts run on as thoughts do, and try not to buy into it too much. But sometimes I do, and then the climbs seem endless, wet and dangerous. And for what? Noodles and a damp sleeping bag tonight.Chief is good with me, not letting me get too down, jollying me along. We stop for an early lunch at the firewarden's cabin on top of Smarts Mountain. My feet are soaked and pruned. A little toenail falls off as I inspect the latest damage. Lip stuck out, I put on my last pair of dry hiking socks. Overly optimistic, I know, but I needed some small bit of cosseting. I didn't even climb the firetower, which is not like me. Why for? No view. We're in a cloud all day. Amble did climb, but reported there was nothing to see. See?But after a power lunch of tuna, a thick hunk of bread and a Snickers, I find the hike down moving more quickly. Well, it would, wouldn't it? We hike with Amble a bit, and the mud on this side of th mountain would curl your hair. It's just a mess and soon my dry socks are a thing of the past. Ah well, it was bound to happen.We start up the side of Mt. Cube, leapfrogging with Amble and Nick the Brit. Amble stops for the night at the Hexecuba shelter, but we are feeling strong, so we don't go the .3 miles down a side Trail to see this famous 6-sided shelter and its equally famous pentaprivy. We vote to keep moving.For some reason, probably a decent lunch, I feel more energetic. It hasn't rained yet today, and the rock climbing on the approach to the Cube summit is interesting and reminds me of the Long Trail. It's more fun than climbing slick sheets of wet rock.We summit shortly with Nick, and two sectioners Wildfire and Wounded Knee take our picture.There wasn't much to the other side, going down, just slick and muddy. It"s getting on toward suppertime. I was dragging again, and my feet hurt. We had planned to stay at a barn 2 miles down Hywy 25A, where Finch had gotten off to met his wife, but heard the hitching was poor. There sure wasn't much traffic upon which to to try our luck. Do we stay at a sweet little campsite beside a brook under the pines, or go another 2.8 miles to Ore Hill shelter?Suddenly, on a rock near the road are two Pepsis, and a note "Jan LiteShoe and Chief, Trail magic - leave the empties and I will get the in the morning. Finch."Neither Chief or I are big soda people, but we sure fell on those babies in a hurry. The cans were sweating, and they were still cool! We knocked those sodas back in no time flat. I wanted to thank Finch and Judy, but neither of us had a pen. So I picked up a twig and scratched a little heart upon the note with dirt, of which there was an abundance. It made a pretty good pen.All of a sudden, I had energy and wanted to hike. Imagine that - a little sugar and caffeine jolt to pick up the flagging spirits. So I chugged up that last hill. Chief was sore - I realized too late he'd fallen hard for that sweet little campsite under the pines. The trail ahead had 900 feet of climb still, and 2.9 miles, but we were charging along and soon he rather warmed up to the idea. Before we expected, we were there. We were glad we'd done it, thugh the mosquitos were fierce here. Thirteen hours of hiking to do 19.3 miles. Gone are the days of 2 miles per hour. We are in climbing country now, on the lip of the Whites.Tomorrow, an easy 8 mile walk into the famous Hikers Welcome Hostel at Glencliff. When we get there, we will be below 400 miles - 398, to be exact.I really didn't think I would be up here tonight, part way up Ore Hill, the way the day started out.I really must remember to thank Finch for that Pepsi.