Date: 2004-09-03
From: Route 93, Franconia Notch, NH

To: Viva Lafayette!
Miles today: 9.2

This morning, I hitchhiked out of North Woodstock, NH. I got a ride from a young man who works at a motel. He told me that business has been off ever since the Old Man of The Mountain, a granite bust resembling an elderly man located on a mountain, broke apart. But there is another such attraction in the area. He let me off beside a hill upon which protrudes a rocky profile of an Indian's face, or the Indian Head as it is called.I probably set a personal record on this journey for the weight of my backpack. I hit the trail packing food to last me five days, from Franconia Notch to Pinkham Notch, a distance of 55 miles in high elevations.The additional weight was a burden during another day of rigorous hiking in the White Mountains. The most demanding ascent was from the highway at Franconia Notch up to Little Haystack Mountain at 4,760 feet. Near the summit, I walked out of the tree line and was buffeted by a cold wind. I retreated back into the trees and put on warmer clothes and a hat. When I again entered the exposed summit, I was rewarded with spectacular views. From that point on, I walked along a wide open ridge that led me up and over Little Haystack Mountain, Mount Lincoln, and Mount Lafayette, the tallest of the three at 5,249 feet. I ate lunch on the lee side of a rocky facade on little Haystack Mountain. There were day hikers present and I chatted with some of them. One man told me that today, he could not bear the thought of going into the office at his job in Massachusetts, so he opted to drive up north and go for a hike. It was warm in the lee and I removed the extra clothing. But as soon as I stepped back into the top of the ridge, the change in temperature was dramatic. In the outer pouch of my backpack was a Milky Way chocolate bar. During the ridge walk, whenever I rested in a lee, the chocolate inside the wrapper would melt from the sun and become soft. When I hiked in the wind, the chocolate would harden.I lingered on the summit of Mount Lafayette, enjoying the views of other mountains. There was one mountain with a summit that reached into the clouds; that was Mount Washington, the highest point in New England which I will soon be ascending.On Mount Lafayette, I chatted with thru hikers Chris and Ellie. They wanted to know where I intended to spend the night. I told them I was considering an AMC campsite for a fee on Garfield Ridge. They told me that it might rain during the night, and that they intended to push on for an extra six miles and try to stay at a hut and work for their stay. Hearing about the possibility of rain worried me. At 3:00 p.m., I reluctantly descended Mount Lafayette and began hiking on the Appalachian Trail. I was not sure where to go, the hut, the AMC fee-based campsite, or a stealth camp. I soon grew tired and thirsty. My water supply was getting low and there were not any streams where I could replenish my supply.The thought occurred to me that I have experienced many times on this journey anxieties late in the day about finding a place to camp, or getting to a shelter before dark.I decided to stealth camp near Garfield Pond, a place other thru hikers have camped at. It is located at a high elevation but within a forest, so it has some protection from the wind.I strung up my hammock and tarp 75 yards off the trail in the woods. Several hikers passed by on the trail and none of them noticed my camp.Whenever I string up my hammock, I lie inside of it momentarily to ensure that the chords at both ends are holding. This time, I lay back and heard a cracking noise. The limb upon which I had tied a chord was cracking open and falling over. I covered my hands over my face, waiting for the limb to crash down upon me. The limb stopped cracking and did not fall all the way over. I bailed out of the hammock. After that near disaster, a stronger tree was chosen for my hammock.I walked to Garfield Pond to get some drinking water. The pond has lily pads floating on the surface. This was not the kind of water I wanted to be drinking, in spite of my chemicals to treat the water. But I was thirsty from hiking and needed to drink some water. Near the pond, I noticed some water seeping out of the ground into a tiny pool. I touched the pool of water; it was cold. What a lucky break. I had come upon what appeared to be a spring fed seep. That is where I replenished my water.As the ambient light dimmed, I heard two hikers walk by on the trail; they were speaking French. They have set up a stealth camp near mine, but are not aware of my camp. I can not see their campsite, but from the sound of their voices, their camp is apparently situated close to the trail.It is becoming evident that I will be hiking fewer miles per day while in The White Mountains. The terrain is often exceedingly steep and the elevations are high. Those conditions are slowing me up. I also want to enjoy the spectacular viewpoints without having to push onward in order to fulfill a vague mileage quota.I am sitting on a log and composing this entry. The woods around me are pitch black. A chilly breeze is blowing through the evergreen trees at this high elevation. The sky is full of stars; maybe that prediction of rain was inaccurate. I feel content at my wild, high elevation stealth camp.