Lost!

September 13, 2017

How far should one go when leaving the trail to “find a tree”? I tend to err on the side of visibility. Jay, on the other hand, can disappear into the underbrush, effectively finding concealment when answering a call of nature. But perhaps he should tell the beginning of this story in his own words…

The forest in the Berkshires is beautiful in early September. Fall is beginning. There are splashes of red in the hardwood canopy. Acorns rain down from high in the oaks as squirrels busily prepare for winter. Sarah stops to “take care of business,” so I continue alone south on the trail as it winds unpredictably through the trees. After a few minutes, I stop to wait for Sarah. I set my pack down a few feet off the trail, grab my toilet paper, and walk into the forest to try and be productive during my wait. I push through the understory. Rocks and fallen trees make for awkward progress.

I am not in the best of moods. I have been dieting for the last week. This has made me a little grouchy and impatient. After finishing my chore, I grumpily turn to make my way back to the trail. A spider web in my face is my first warning. This is not the way I came. I change direction slightly and continue. More webs. For the first time, I pause and think about my situation. Visibility is good through the forest, but the terrain is featureless, and a tangle of shrubs and plants hides the trail from any distance greater than four or five feet. Unfortunately, I did not take notice of the actual cardinal direction the trail was heading when I left it. It is sunny… but clouds are moving in. I continue on, annoyed at the thought of wasting time, awkwardly climbing over and around downed trees and brush. I change directions a few times, until I finally admit to myself … I have no idea where the trail is.

Trying to suppress a growing sense of panic, I think of what I should do. I should sit down. Listen for Sarah, and call to her so that she can guide me back with her reply. But I am impatient. The adrenaline coursing through my veins compels me to keep moving. I don’t want to call out …. that would be embarrassing, and I know my voice carries poorly.

I begin walking in a search pattern. I turn so my shadow is directly to my left and stumble for 100 paces. No trail. I turn directly away from the sun and clamber 120 paces. Again, no trail. I continue this square, outward spiral. I know eventually I will find the trail if I can keep the spiral pattern accurate. But what if I lose track of my paces? What if my course varies too much around the many obstacles? What if I break my leg? What if the clouds cover the sun? All I have is what I am wearing and a roll of toilet paper. No cell phone. No raincoat.

It becomes excruciating to stick to my search pattern. Each time I finally reach the end of one direction and fail to find the trail, I have to turn left, knowing if the trail is actually to the right, it will be a long time before I get to walk in that direction. As I stumble, I muse at how fast my situation has changed. I recall reports of others who have died from merely stepping off the trail, and I begin to understand how it could happen. I marvel at how hard it is to travel in one direction through the forest without a trail. Then, a faint owl-like sound. I stop, but the sound does not continue. I resume my noisy travel until I hear another sound. I stop and wait. I hear my name! Eternally grateful, I abandon my grid and tromp towards Sarah. What a relief. She guides me back to the trail. My normal life resumes.

… Normal life resumes, eh? Well, perhaps, but we had to debrief as we continued together. It sounded a bit like this …

“Are you okay?” I asked anxiously.

“I am now,” Jay answered with a huge smile.

“I was worried. It’s been over 30 minutes! You never take that much time!” I couldn’t figure out what had just happened.

“Why did you wait so long to call for me?” Jay asked.

“I’ve been calling for at least 10 minutes! Couldn’t you hear me? I thought maybe you had fallen, or been snake bit!” I was still confused.

“I couldn’t find the trail,” Jay explained. “I didn’t hear you call until your last shout. Why didn’t you use the whistle on my pack? Your voice sounds like a barred owl in the woods.”

“Whistle? Oh, right. I guess I should have used it. I didn’t even think of it!” Embarrassment joined the jumble of emotions flooding through me.

“Are we on the trail now?” Jay asked.

“No,” I pointed. “It’s over there a ways. I’ve been looking for you through the woods.”

“Why did you leave the trail?” Jay sounded surprised. “What if we both got lost?”

“It’s okay,” I was quick to reassure. “I’ve been paralleling the trail. The packs are just over here.”

We picked up our packs, and Jay looked around. “Do you know which way to go?” His eyes reflected inner uncertainty.

“This way,” I gestured ahead. “There’s a spring just down the trail. Ummm, let’s keep within sight of each other for the rest of the day, all right?”

IMG_20170910_134336500_HDR — The underbrush can make the trail hard to see sometimes.

Southbound Moments

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The trail snakes around like a game of Chutes and Ladders, so that sometimes I wonder if we’re going backwards or forwards!

September 1, 2017

Whimsical rock sculptures along the trail near White Rocks viewpoint causes us to pause in appreciation. Someone had a lot of time on their hands! It makes me think of building with blocks when our son was very young. What fun!

September 4, 2017

Yesterday Jay and I hiked to the town of Manchester Center, and enjoyed sitting out a day of pouring rain in the comfort of an old-fashioned guest house called Sutton’s Place. Today we had planned to take a day of rest, but the weather forecast called for sun today and more rain tomorrow. So we decided to slack pack 17 miles, from the other side of Stratton Mountain back to Manchester Center.

We were picked up by a shuttle at 6:00 a.m., driven on small back roads for 45 minutes around Stratton Mountain, and let off at the AT trailhead. The sun rose while we were in the car, a huge orange ball of golden fire, glowing through the trees!

The top of Stratton Mountain was still in the clouds when we reached it, three miles later. Wind gusted above the tree tops, blowing foggy shreds past the lookout tower. The view from that tower is famous for inspiring the creation of both the Long Trail and the Appalachian Trail. But today, no inspiration was to be had from the view!

The top of Stratton Mountain.

The view is a little gray today!

There is also a caretaker’s cabin on top of Stratton Mountain. Jay and I met the caretakers, Jeanne and Hugh, in 2011 when Jay first thru-hiked the AT. We were delighted to meet them again. Jay told Jeanne how she had educated him about the Bicknell Thrush. I think she was charmed that he remembered so vividly, for she invited us into their tiny cabin, “just to see what it is like.” It was a cozy space, an original “tiny house”. I felt honored to get to see it! Jeanne and Hugh have been caretakers on top of the mountain since the 1960s. They feel that their job is to protect the mountain and educate hikers. They do a great job!

September 6, 2017

After taking a zero day in the town of Manchester Center, VT, and watching the rain pour down, we begin hiking today in a ‘hard mist’, the kind of rain that soaks in sooner than one would think! It is now that I truly appreciate the shelters along the Appalachian Trail. We take an early lunch at Story Spring Shelter, then an early dinner at Kid Gore Shelter. After feeling the rain hitting our hoods all day, it is a relief to sit inside a dry shelter, and watch the rain soak the ground outside! Also, it’s nice to be able to eat without fat water drops splashing upon ones raisins or chocolate bar!

September 7, 2017

Tonight we chose a very scenic campsite, overlooking the town of Bennington, VT. Evening-tinged blue sky arched directly over us, while out in the valley, we could see a thunderstorm raging over the town. About the time we were settled inside our tent, the edge of the storm caught our airy perch. Lightning flashed just a few miles away. Wind battered our tent in a frenzy, tearing out one tent stake! Tent fabric whipped around my head as the tent pole fell across my body.

I cowered beneath the pelting raindrops until Jay shouted in my ear, “I’ll hold the tent pole while you go outside and pound the stake back in.”

I wasn’t sure how I got elected to plunge into the rain, except that the stake was on my side of the tent. Too shell-shocked to argue, I obediently unzipped the tent, submitted the upper half of my body to a bombardment of dagger-like precipitation, and grabbed the tent stake as the wind tried to whip it into the bushes. I used the panicked force of adrenaline to shove that stake deep into the grass and dirt, then wriggled backwards into the dry ‘safety’ of our abode. Whew!

We lay and listened as the rain and wind slowly moved down the valley, and I finally fell asleep to the gentle patter of water drops as the storm subsided.

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September 8, 2017

We’ve been hiking in mixed rain and sun for three days now. Lots and lots of mud!

Great salamander and toad weather!

Three days of wet feet are beginning to cause problems. Though our feet have many calluses, soggy socks rub the tops of our toes, causing oozing sores and blisters. I think of the soldiers in the jungles of Vietnam, and wonder how they coped. Perhaps wet feet were not a priority on their list of problems. The sores on our feet, however, are getting to be too extensive to ignore. Tonight we use antiseptic wipes to clean our feet, and tomorrow we’ll wrap our toes in duct tape and band-aids! The true solution, however, will be some days of sunshine!

September 9-10, 2017

The weather begins to dry out today, hooray!

We climb to the top of Greylock Mtn, tallest mountain in Massachusetts. The sky is dramatic, clouds playing hide and seek with the sun. A war memorial, a beautiful tower with a spiral staircase, graces the top of Greylock. I must admit, more than half the fun of the memorial is climbing the stairs, around and around and around!

We stay on top of Greylock, at the Bascom Lodge, for the night, enjoying a hot shower, fresh clean sheets, and a chance to dry the mud off our shoes!

Breakfast is fun, discussing hiking and diet with two other hikers, Mary and Jane. When it is time to leave, Jay discovers that he is missing his hat. We look everywhere, but with no result. This is serious, as the wind is cold outside, and a hat is essential. Thankfully, Mary and her son, Kevin, come to our rescue, giving Jay an extra hat they had packed. Once again, trail angels work their magic on the AT! (Please see our Trail Angels page in the menu for a little more on this part of the story.)

The climb down Greylock is beautiful, with blue sky and sunshine! I can see the mud drying as we walk upon it!

We cross a corn field, then find wild apple trees littering the trail with ripe apples. We can’t resist, and collect about a dozen. Massachusetts wild apples taste much more delicious than Nevada wild apples! With fresh fruit in the back of my pack, we climb Cheshire Cobbles, a lovely, gently graded, loop trail which shares the AT. We stop and sit on the granite boulders, eating apples and enjoying a beautiful view!

September 11, 2016

The incredibly gorgeous weather continues with a beautiful sunrise through the trees.

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It’s too cold to eat breakfast when we first get up. We decide to walk for a while. After about two miles, we are rewarded with the most beautiful breakfast spot, a quiet view on Gore Pond, still waters reflecting azure sky and fall trees.

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September 12, 2017

Once again it is too cold to eat breakfast when we wake. We hike about an hour, and come to a trail angel’s house, The Cookie Lady. She sells boiled eggs from her farm, as well as sodas and candy bars to passing hikers. She also gives away fresh-made cookies. We eat boiled eggs and oatmeal-chocolate chip cookies for breakfast this morning. But the best part of the meal is the beautiful setting – food for our soul!

September 14, 2017

Salamanders and frogs begin to be seen on the trail again. We know this heralds a change from sunshine to wet weather ahead. Fortunately, we’re a day away from the town of Great Barrington, MA. Perhaps we’ll get lucky, and have our resupply and rest day as it rains!

You’re not really backpacking!

August 29-30, 2017

“I wish I could have backpacked the AT,” a senior citizen friend told me. “But it’s too late for me.”

“It’s never too late,” I responded. “Jay and I met a man named Graybeard, age 82, who is setting the age record for thru-hiking the AT this year.”

“I could never carry the weight of a big pack now,” my friend lamented. “And I couldn’t stay out that long, weeks and weeks of sleeping outside!”

“Hmmm, well, Jay and I almost never carry more than four days of food, and we get a real bed and a shower at least once a week! And my backpack only weighs about 20 pounds,” I laughed.

“20 pounds! That’s not possible! And only four days of food? You’re not really backpacking,” my friend accused.

Since entering Vermont, and rediscovering sloped (not vertical) trails with dirt (not rocks), our trek has become easier in many ways. But come walk with me, and judge for yourself…

The weather is cloudy, with temperatures in the 50s as we climb a total of about 2,000 feet in elevation going up and over several humps in the terrain, then ascending and descending Quimby Mountain. The top of the mountain doesn’t have much of a view, but the air feels fresh, and daylight filters more strongly through the smaller trees near the summit. Huge boulder erratics, left from the last ice age, dot the mountainside as we head down.

At the bottom of the mountain, I am delighted to see a lovely new boardwalk, leading us across a flower-strewn bog. Orange jewel weed, purple joe-pye weed, white and yellow daisies, and tiny sapphire bluets are tangled together in an awesome autumnal display of color!

Thundering Falls feeds the southern end of the bog, and I stand in enchantment for a few minutes, enjoying the play of roaring water and spraying mist. No camera can catch the joy of such a moment!

A mile and a half later we round a corner and see Kent Pond, with green grass running down to the edge of glassy, calm water. A side trail leads us another half mile to the small town of Killington, where we have planned to resupply. At the convenience store/deli, we order food for dinner (marinated summer vegetable salad and tri-tip for me), buy trail food for two more days, then eye the Killington Motel. Hmmm, it IS almost time to stop hiking for the day, and a hot shower sounds wonderful!

The next morning, after eating a bountiful hot breakfast at the motel, we hike the blue-blazed side trail back to the AT. A lingering dawn mist rises from Kent Pond. It seems a magical place as we orient ourselves and head south again.

The trail leads us around Deer Leap Mountain, through an old growth forest. We enjoy the gently sloping path as it climbs a ridge, then traverses across the side of the mountain.

Three miles later, the 270-mile Long Trail joins the AT. We will now be meeting Long Trail hikers headed north, as well as AT thru-hikers.

One mile later, the AT crosses VT Hwy 4. As we hesitate at the trailhead, a red and white bus pulls up and opens its doors. Obviously, this is another AT adventure calling us! We board the bus, giving the driver $1 each, then ride 8.5 miles into the town of Rutland, getting there just in time for lunch at a Burger King! We enjoy the fun of an unexpected meal of fast food when just a few minutes ago we were surrounded by forest. At the end of our meal, we realize that we have no idea where or when to catch the bus back to the trail! Fortunately, my cell phone holds the answer with its eternal connection to the internet. We consult, and realize that we have just missed the bus! The next one will be in an hour. So, what does a thru-hiker do with an unexpected hour in an unexpected town? Wander around and see the sights? Not us! We stay put, and eat a second lunch! (Oh, my stomach is sooo happy!)

We finally pry ourselves away from this source of easy food, and catch the bus, arriving back at the trail 2.5 hours after leaving. The hike up Pico Mountain, then Killington Mountain (2,000 feet elevation gain), fueled with two lunches and lots of caffeine, is painless! Pine trees put springy needles across part of the trail, making me feel as if I am walking on a trampoline. More flowers dot the trail, especially orange jewel weed. We even come across one slope of a different variety of jewel weed – bright yellow! A recently uprooted tree holds dirt in its rootball, making an eight-foot wall of rich black dirt, with jewel weed growing at its base, and raspberry bushes on its top!

We reach the Cooper Lodge Shelter on top of Killington Mountain at 7:15 p.m., with just enough daylight to put up our tent and brush our teeth before tumbling into our sleeping bags. I realize, as I hang our food bags, that we never ate dinner! I guess those two lunches in town were enough fuel for the rest of the day!

So there you have it, in two days on the trail, we have climbed over 4,000 feet in elevation, seen four mountains, enjoyed millions of wild flowers and trees, AND scored a lovely hot shower, a soft bed one night, and an unexpected meal of fast food! Are we backpacking? Yes, for we carry all we need upon our backs, and we continue hiking, no matter what distractions slow us down! We’re not out here to see how much pain our bodies can endure. We’re here to enjoy the forest, to have fun in nature. I know hiking the AT now is easier than 30 years ago. There is much more support for the hikers, and the trail is much better marked and maintained. But we still walk through the forest, and we still carry gear. Yes, we are backpackers!

SOBO Meets NOBO

August 27, 2017

Jay and I have felt uniquely blessed to see hiker beginnings at both ends of the Appalachian Trail. In February, we were NOBOs (North Bound), with approximately 80 other eager hikers. (3,112 NOBOs participated in the voluntary registration with the Appalachian Trail Conservancy. About 80 of them began hiking during the week that we started.) Then in July, we became Flipflop SOBOs (South Bound), climbing Katahdin and heading south with roughly 55 hikers that week. (A total of 387 registered with the ATC.)

Hiking south, the difficult terrain of Maine and New Hampshire presents south bound hikers with unique challenges, beginning with the arduous climb of Katahdin, then immediately slogging through bogs and rocks in the 100 Mile Wilderness, followed by vertical trails through mountains of granite! It has been a pleasure to share these challenges with some engaging personalities and exceptional hikers.

We have also enjoyed re-meeting north bound hikers that we had last seen in southern Appalachia. What a treat, to suddenly see a familiar face approaching through the woods! Henry, a fast-hiking engineer, was the first NOBO re-acquaintance. After almost 2,000 miles, he still reveled in every day of his hike. In mid-July, we met two hikers who recognized us, though the last 1,000 miles had changed them beyond recognition. Dakota had lost weight, slimming down to a trim hiker shape, while Cruise Control had gained muscle, bulking up from a slender weed to a sleek physique! After that, it seemed we recognized hikers nearly every day until mid-August before the stream of familiar faces slowed to a trickle.

Today, at a trail angel’s house, we met Mowgli, last seen in Shenandoah National Park. His companion back then, Dante, was no longer with him. “Dante had things happen,” Mowgli informed us. “Like, one time I told him the plant was poison nettles. He said it was just poison ivy, and he wasn’t allergic. Then he grabbed a bunch and rubbed it all over his hands. … It was nettles all right. Anyway, he finally had to get off trail when he got drunk one night and ate a rock. That sent him to the hospital.”

(For more about this trail angel house, see our page of Trail Angels on our menu.)

IMG_20170827_090209163 — Mowgli eats left over macaroni with meatballs on the porch of a trail angel’s house. The resident cat relaxes beside him.

Yesterday, entering the trees after resupplying in Norwich, VT, we were delighted to see Specs, a young man with whom we spent a zero day at Doe River Hostel, near Roan Mountain, TN. We stopped to talk for a good while, catching up on each other’s lives. Specs has lost 65 pounds while hiking, and is looking great! We shared jokes and stories, including Specs telling us about getting bluff charged by a bear in Shenandoah National Park. He has enjoyed support from his parents and sister while on the trail, feeling that his adventure has been part of a family affair. What fun!

IMG_20170826_130525667 — Specs and Jay trade jokes and stories.

Meeting all these NOBOs, while still hiking south with SOBOs, has reminded me that a large part of the AT experience revolves around each person’s unique hike. One never knows what or who is around the next bend in the trail!

Fashion versus Function

August 25, 2017

On the drive from Pennsylvania to Maine in July, my mother sent along a book about Lyme disease, which I read, first dutifully, then avidly, with a touch of terror. This book prompted further research on the internet, and I was horrified to learn that, according to the Center for Disease Control, Maine has one of the highest incidences per capita of Lyme disease. A doctoral student who hiked the AT and collected ticks in 2014 recommended wearing permethrin treated bug-net pants and a long-sleeved shirt to protect oneself. (“Touched by Lyme”, www.lymedisease.org) We decided to buy the bug-net pants and shirt from REI, and wear them while at low altitudes in Maine.

The seat of the bug-net pants quickly succumbed to sharp rocks and long reaches with our legs. So one night I took my pocket knife, ripped the net legs off the shredded pants, and hand-basted them onto our shorts. Voila! Durable bug-net pants!

Attached to our shorts, they were much more comfortable. Basted with needle and thread, they didn’t come off easily. So we continued wearing them even at higher altitudes, and enjoyed the added benefit of protection from mosquitoes. We received many comments from other hikers.

“That’s one of the scariest sights I’ve seen,” one hiker told Jay.

“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful,” Jay responded, laughing.

“I would have paid $1,000 for a pair of those in Pennsylvania”, sighed one hiker enviously.

Another hiker, Mowgli, commented, “Hey, I like your skeeter beaters!” (Jay thought maybe they should be dubbed Tick Licker Knickers!)

Many locals in Hanover liked the pants also. One woman told us, “That is pure genius! Next spring, when I start my garden, I’ll be wearing a pair of those!”

Another lady at a lodge confronted me, “I’ve been watching you walk around, and trying to decide, are you wearing those pants for fashion or function?”

I couldn’t resist, I struck a pose. “Oh yes, fashion is my middle name, especially on the trail,” I laughed.

Although many hikers have told us of finding ticks, we have not seen any since donning this outfit. With Lyme disease increasing across the United States, our attire may be the wave of the future!

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Whimsy in the White Mountains

August 11, 2017

This morning, Jay faced me as we packed up. “What do you want to do?” he asked.

I knew he was referring to yesterday’s panic on the mountain. I knew I didn’t have to continue. But if I stopped, I would give up the dream of this grand adventure. Somehow, during the night, my decision had been made. “I want to keep hiking.” My voice sounded strong and sure. “I might get scared again.” My voice began to waver. “But I think I can do this. I really appreciate all your help yesterday. If I keep hiking, maybe eventually I can conquer this fear!”

The trail led over Mt. Jefferson, past Mt. Clay, and up Mt. Washington, tallest mountain on the northern half of the Appalachian Trail. I was delighted to see that for many portions of the trail today, someone had made an effort to change tumbled rocks into a path. Numerous rocks had been moved, turned so the flat side was facing up, making steps and smooth tread.

Last night a thunderstorm had come through, and today the rocks were a bit wet, as well as the air around us. Fog swirled, constantly playing peek-a-boo with sun and mountain peaks. It cheered me, to see the playfulness of the weather!

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* * * * *

As we hiked this morning, we met two hikers coming from the Madison Spring Hut. “Were you outside during the storm last night?” one asked me.

‘Outside?’ I thought. ‘Who would be silly enough to be outside in the night during a thunderstorm on a mountain?’

“Well, no, I was inside my tent,” I told the man.

The hiker waved impatiently. “That’s what I meant. Not in the Hut. Outside.”

“Did the thunderstorm keep y’all up?” I asked.

“Yes, what a show! We watched the lightning crackle over the mountain! It was great … at least from the inside of a building.” The man grinned with enthusiasm.

“I must admit, I watched the lightning from the inside of my eyelids,” I laughed. “That was show enough for me!”

* * * * *

Later in the day, as we were climbing Mt. Washington, we met a group of young people shepherded by one adult. Intrigued, I asked one of the teens, “What group is this?”

“Oh, we’re a Christian academy,” the boy answered cheerfully.

‘Wow!’ I thought. ‘That is cool, a school that takes their students out hiking! I wonder what academy it is?’

When the chaperone approached, I asked, “What religious affiliation are you all?” The man looked confused. I explained, “The student ahead said you were a Christian academy.”

The man laughed. “Oh, he’s always joking. We’re just a group of friends out hiking for the day.”

Just then the boy called back, “Come on ‘Father Paul’. Don’t get too far behind us!”

“Shut up, you scalawag!” the man yelled. “I told her the truth!”

I doubled over in laughter as the man passed me, still talking to the boy. What fun!

August 13, 2017

This morning we saw Sasha and Dragonfly after several days of trailing behind them. As we greeted them, Sasha informed us, “Dragonfly has been renamed to Firefly!”

“Oh?” I asked. “How did that happen?”

“Well, when a hiker comes dragging into Lake of the Clouds Hut after climbing Mt Washington in the dark, we figure she’s really a firefly in disguise!”

* * * * *

Lunch time near Ethan Pond turns into a siesta. It feels so good to just sit and rest, soaking in the warm sunshine! As we finally marshal our forces to leave, I notice a spider spinning a web between my legs! Jay laughs. “You know you’ve had a long lunch when a spider manages to attach a web to your knees!”

* * * * *

There is actually a section of flat trail in the White Mountains! Four miles of lovely trail lie between Ethan Pond and the approach to Zealand Falls Hut! Even better, there are blueberries on part of it! I’m in heaven as we stroll along the flat path, picking handfuls of blueberries!

August 14, 2017

We’ve met hordes of hikers today, and as the day comes to a close, more hikers appear! We had been planning to camp at Garfield Pond, as we were sure the Garfield Ridge Shelter was full to bursting. But approaching the pond, we could see a tent city springing up. “Let’s keep looking,” Jay suggested. “There’s bound to be a flat spot somewhere before the next mountain.”

We hiked on, racing the coming dusk. Jay pulled ahead, disappearing between the trees. Suddenly he reappeared on the trail. “I found a place,” he told me. We followed a faint deer track a few yards until the trees opened in a perfect circle, flat and not too rocky. ‘Oh thank goodness,’ I thought. ‘But where shall we get water?’

“Do you think you could get enough water from the little puddle we passed a few minutes ago?” Jay asked.

I walked back through the deepening twilight and looked at the small pool. Perhaps a gallon of water, with a sprinkling of frog eggs on one side, came from a slow seep on the side of the trail. I dipped up a liter and looked at it. Wow, clear, cold water! We only needed three liters. There would still be enough for the frog eggs until the seep replenished. A perfect place for a quiet evening!

August 15, 2017

The trail undulates up and down between Mt. Lafayette, Mt. Lincoln, Little Haystack, and Liberty Mountain. Franconia Ridge is so picturesque, it’s hard to know where to point a camera! The ridge slopes steeply on each side, but the trail tread invites feet to walk safely, especially today, with bright sun shining! “It reminds me of the Great Wall of China,” Jay remarks. I look at the wall of the ridge, and find myself transported to China. What a treat!

August 18, 2017

The fun thing about a day of rain is being able to decide, “Hey, we can quit walking anytime!” At 3:00 p.m., as the rain continued falling, we stopped near Beaver Brook in the Kinsman Notch, and pitched our tent. What a treat, to snuggle down into dry sleeping bag while the air outside is filled with water!

August 19, 2017

Mt. Moosilauke is considered the southern edge of the White Mountains. We climbed from Kinsman Notch to the top of the mountain this morning. The first 1.5 miles is notoriously steep. It took us 2 hours! But the climb was always in the trees, and wood blocks made easy steps up a few of the steep sections! After that, the gradient gentled slightly, turning the trail to rocks, but not cliffs.

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We marked the end of the White Mountains by staying at the Hiker Welcome Hostel. They took us to a burger joint that served grass-fed beef, had live music, and a campfire! What a way to celebrate some of the hardest miles I’ve ever hiked!

Misery on Mt. Madison

August 10, 2017

Today we climb Mt. Madison, an ascent of 3,300 feet from Pinkham Notch. Beautiful sunshine and a gentle cooling breeze encourage us to leave the comforts of the Joe Dodge Lodge and begin our climb. The first six miles are below tree line. I am happy.

The trees thin, and we break out into high alpine countryside. I discover Mt. Madison is not made of friendly granite. The rocks are rough volcanic blocks, tumbled like a pile of rubble, haphazardly leaning against one another, for miles and miles. I begin climbing, but acrophobia rises much faster than my bodily ascent. I try to remind myself of the importance of living in the now. Unfortunately, ‘now’ is terrifying, and I DON’T want to be here! Panic brings on very real physical symptoms, and suddenly I’m not only fighting emotional upheaval, but also dealing with nausea, dizziness, and shaking muscles.

IMG_20170810_163244528_HDR — Mt. Madison strikes fear in my heart on a gorgeous day!

Jay stops to wait for me. I approach, with tear-filled eyes and trembling lips. “I’m scared,” I whimper.

A look of determined cheerfulness comes to Jay’s face. “You know this is irrational,” he counsels. He gestures around us. “The weather is perfect. These are just rocks we’re climbing. It’s not even cliffs. You can do this!”

“I know,” I whisper. I try to marshal what little brain the panic has left me. “Please, just tell me that you’re glad I’m along.”

Jay looks at me in disbelief. “You want me to tell you I’m glad you are here?”

I nod miserably. “It’s important for me to feel like you are glad I’m with you.”

“Well, okay.” Jay spaces out each word. “I…am…glad…you…are…with…me.” Then he turns and quickly strides upward, putting space between us.

IMG_20170810_151401184_HDR — Mt. Madison has several false summits, all covered in tippy boulders.

I continue carefully inching along, grabbing rocks with a death grip, planting each foot as if it would grow roots. I envy Jay’s quick stride, each foot skimming the tops of the rocks. I watch him pause, arms akimbo, drinking in the incredible view. In my panicked state, I can barely look from one rock to another. The light breeze feels like a pounding force against my body. The view is just so much empty air as far as my brain is concerned.

I try (oh how I try!), to conquer this fear. I know this kind of mountain climbing is Jay’s favorite, and I hate to ruin it for him. But I am gripped in unreasonable panic, and I have a long ways to go before reaching tree line again.

IMG_20170811_163640 — Jay relaxes and enjoys the view while waiting at a cairn.

Jay waits for me at each cairn. I try to smile at him, but I know it’s a miserable failure. In desperation, I try talking again.

“I’m sorry I’m so scared. You really have done everything you could to prepare me for this. You’ve helped me lose weight, gain muscle, learn to walk with better balance. Right now you are waiting for me often, and it helps as I see how much you enjoy the views. I’m just scared!” I wail. “And I hate that I’m ruining this experience for you!”

“You aren’t ruining it,” Jay replies. “But I don’t want you to lose focus and break a leg out here, just because I brought you up this mountain.”

A dim light dawns through my anxiety. I try to explain more. “You didn’t bring me up here. It was my idea to test myself on the AT, knowing it would include the White Mountains. It’s just, we are doing this adventure together, and if I think my presence can make you happier, it might help me get over my fear. That’s why I asked you to tell me that you wanted me along, earlier. But I am responsible for myself. I just hate that I’m failing at keeping my fear of heights at bay.” I start crying again.

Our hike continues. Nothing is really solved. I’m still scared. Jay’s still stuck with me. But I do know that we love each other. And eventually, we’ll finish this mountain.

IMG_20170810_164222283 — Still climbing, with many false summits behind me.

Whether I’ll ever climb another mountain is still an unanswered question, I reflect. Why couldn’t this mountain have a trail? Negotiating this pile of rubble would have been a lot easier then. Of course, it would take an army to turn this mound of debris and fragmented boulders into a mountain with a trail. And I’m sure our generals think their soldiers have more important things to do than make a path for the comfort of one small, scared hiker. Sigh.

The rest of the climb over Mt. Madison is spent in irrational misery. That night, as we pitch our tent just a mile from the top of the mountain, I’m still very near tears. Jay reaches out and gives me an hug. Suddenly, I know tomorrow will take care of itself. I am in the present, and that includes hiking with my husband, hiking with fears, just hiking.

Now is All the Time There Is

August 9, 2017

We have now hiked north for four months, and hiked south for one month and five days. Each day has brought us closer to the White Mountains, a milestone in the 2,190 miles of the Appalachian Trail. People love to tell horror stories of hiking through the Whites. Howling winds knocking hapless hikers off ridges, pelting hail, slick rocks, frozen fingers, impenetrable fog … the list gets longer as the campfire burns lower. The more I have heard of the White Mountains, the more fearful I have become. Jay has tried to reassure me. “People like to make things sound worse than they really are. A story seems only worth telling if it exaggerates a bit.” But even Jay has worried over how to get me down Wildcat Ridge safely. And that, frankly, scares me witless!

I have always been a bit clumsy. (At the age of nine, I fell off a sidewalk and broke my arm!) So far on this trip, I have broken my clavicle, injured my knee, jammed my thumb so badly it swelled to twice its size, and received numerous bumps and serious bruises from various falls. The looming hazards of the White Mountains has brought on an unwelcome state of terror.

We’ve crossed some rough countryside since the Mahoosuc Notch. We’ve ascended and descended several thousands of feet of mountains and rocks, sometimes in rain (slick!), sometimes in sun (hot!). Each day there have been times of fear as I negotiated tough spots on the trail. There has also been fun and delight; picking blueberries on Mt. Hayes, seeing a rabbit on Mt. Moriah, changing into warm dry clothes each evening in the tent.

As we begin today’s hike, climbing 1,000 feet out of Carter Notch, I reflect upon my emotions. I realize that I learned something important in Mahoosuc Notch. When all my concentration is being used, there is no time. The present is all around me, encompassing. I live in the present, and there is no use in worrying over the future. Now is what matters.

Wildcat Ridge – a climb out of a notch, over four mountain peaks, then a descent into another notch. Only six miles, but length of trail has little to do with amount of effort needed in this stretch!

The first two miles, out of Carter Notch, took me three hours. Many times I was slowed by vertical rock scrambles. Fresh muscles, and my newfound wisdom, helped the climb go by quickly. For the next two miles, we walked the ridge, just below tree line much of the time, among stunted pines and soft moss. We crossed over four of the peaks of Wildcat Mountain, often slowed by rough tread. We paused at an observation tower to enjoy the view, then passed a ski gondola on Wildcat Mountain peak D. It was tempting to take the gondola to the bottom of the mountain! Instead, we utilized a sunny picnic table sheltered from the wind, and ate an early lunch, preparing ourselves for the 2,000 foot drop into Pinkham Notch.

IMG_20170809_100517583 — Jay enjoys the view from the observation tower on top of Wildcat Mountain peak D.

It’s hard to describe that trip down Wildcat Ridge. Measurements tell me we took four hours to hike 2 miles and descend 2,000 feet. Adjectives include steep, long, steep, rocky, steep, tough, steep, strenuous, and steep! My focus narrowed to each separate footstep, taking care to place feet and hands safely as I descended.

One place on our trail profile is described as “rocky crevasse, stairs”. In reality, the bedrock of the ridge pokes outward and splits, providing a fissure into which the trail builders threw smaller rocks. Those that stuck became “stairs” for hikers. Halfway down the fissure, the rocks end, and we had to climb out onto the edge of the bedrock again!

IMG_20170809_134505089_HDR — Sarah, with a grin born from terror, climbs down Wildcat Ridge. The road through Pinkham Notch is still very far below!

There were a couple of places where trail builders had bolted blocks of wood onto the sheer surface of the cliff, giving hikers a different type of stairs to use while climbing or descending!

I did lose focus once, as the trail turned, providing a tiny spot of flat ground. My loss of focus coincided with a waver in my balance, a catch of my foot on a root, and a fall. A rock thumped my knee, and a sharp point on a branch snatched at my neck. For a few moments, fear and pain overwhelmed me, and all I could do was lay on the trail, taking deep breaths and trying not to cry too much. Jay sat down above me, giving me time and space to work through the accident. Later, when it was established that all I had was a few scratches and a couple of formidable bruises, Jay told me, “You get hurt in the creepiest ways!”

Pinkham Notch, when finally reached, was a welcome change of the present! Jay had arranged for us to celebrate our first major challenge of the White Mountains by staying the night at the Joe Dodge Lodge, along with a delectable all-you-can-eat dinner and breakfast! Yes, now is all the time there is, and I am trying to live there!

Time Stands Still in the Mahoosuc Notch

August 3, 2017

Today we climb Old Speck Mtn, gaining 2,500 feet in altitude. From there we climb over and down the Mahoosuc Arm, with many boulder and bare granite ledges to ascend and descend. While walking down the ridge line of Mahoosuc Arm, we observe a thunderstorm pouring rain into a valley on our left. It is a little scary, we are so exposed on the bare ridge! But the wind keeps the thunderstorm away from us, and the rocks stay dry as we walk.

At the bottom of the Mahoosuc Arm, a creek, Bull Branch, burbles through the trees. A large campsite invites us to stop early. “I know we’ve only hiked 7 miles today, but we’re very near the Mahoosuc Notch. I think it would be better to camp here, and face the Notch in the morning, when we’re fresh,” Jay tells me. I don’t need a second invitation to drop my pack! Camp chores get finished quickly, and we curl up in our cozy shelter. Relaxation and ease, hurray!

About 4:45 p.m., our storm buddies from yesterday come by. Camel, Peeps, Sasha, Emma, and Sawyer stop to consult with one another. Do they go on through the Notch now, with three hours of daylight left? Or do they follow our example and make camp early? Being young and energetic, the five decide to continue on. We wish them well, and crawl back into our tent.

Fifteen minutes later, that thunderstorm in the far valley sends a few buckets of rain our way. The water pelts down, pounding our tent, puddling around us on the ground. I watch the liquid gather and flow, feeling smugly warm and dry. Ah, the comforts of technology!

Another fifteen minutes go by, and suddenly we hear loud splashing footsteps. It’s our five hiker friends! “The Mahoosuc Notch is crazy in the rain!” Camel tells us. “We decided retreat was the better part of valor.”

“Yeah, not that we’re running away or anything,” Peeps chimes in.

“You’re just being intelligent,” I tell them. “We’re glad to see you safe!”

The five set up their tents, and we all settle in for an early night, getting a well-deserved rest before tomorrow’s test!

August 4, 2017

Morning fog drifts past as we pack up, while blue sky shimmers above the swirls of gray mist. The Mahoosuc Notch awaits!

This is perhaps one of the most famous miles on the Appalachian Trail. Huge tumbled boulders are crammed between incredibly sheer cliffs. A stream runs underneath, with ice pockets lurking deep in shadowy clefts. Moss, ferns, and trees fight for purchase on and between the granite boulders, filling the area with a jungle of greenery. The temperature drops 10 degrees as we begin negotiating the boulders, and the fog continues to swirl between the cliffs above us. It’s been described as a climbing gym for grown ups, and many hikers find this to be their favorite mile.

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Jay and I inch along, sometimes near our five friends, sometimes getting left behind as their youthful enthusiasm (and muscles) carry them forward. We meet many northbound hikers also, making the Notch a very social occasion!

Some imaginative person has painted white blazes through the Notch, but the blazes are really more of a suggestion than an actual trail. I hear one hiker tell another, “This is a game of choices. Try a way and see if it works for you.”

At one point, faced with 10 foot high slabs of granite, I decide it might be easier to follow a tunnel under a boulder, hoping it will lead me to the other side. Emma has a more adventurous spirit, and stronger muscles. She climbs to the top of one boulder, balances on a knife edge for a moment, then grabs a tree root above her head and swings through the air to the top of another boulder! What an amazing move! And with a full pack on her back!

Jay and I continue to crawl, jump, climb. I grab at finger holds, haul my body and pack over obstacles, balance on corners and edges. Over, under, around, between … it just keeps going. I hear Sasha ask Emma, “Are you finding this to be fun?” I grin at Emma’s cautious response, “Well, I’m not hating it. It takes a lot of concentration.” I silently agree. My brain feels as if I have been putting together a very large 3-D puzzle. I’m so focused on route-finding, everything else disappears. There is no sense of passing time, it’s as if the sun is standing still, all the world stops as we work our way through.

IMG_20170804_082434796

I come to another tumble of granite slabs. Just as I reach high for a hand hold, a hiker’s head pops out from a hole beside my left foot! Startling, to say the least!

A few yards further on, Jay follows me through a boulder tunnel and gets slightly stuck. “Did you go feet first or head first?” he asks plaintively.

“Ummm, I kind of oozed through sideways on my stomach,” I tell him with a grin.

By the end of the mile, as the cliffs widen, my legs are distinctly rubbery, and each knee wobbles between tibia, fibula, and femur. What a fun, but strenuous puzzle to solve! Our reward for solving it is another mountain to climb. The south peak of Fulling Mill Mountain, only 900 feet above the Mahoosuc Notch, saps the last of my feeble muscles. When camp is made, exhausted sleep claims me almost before my head hits the sleeping pad!

Timing is Everything

August 2, 2017

Slack pack: Stash one’s gear at a hostel, utilize a shuttle, and complete a segment of one’s thru-hike as a long day hike, unencumbered with the weight of a full pack.

5:30 a.m. – Wake up. Walk to a nearby deli for breakfast. Get back to the hostel in time to grab our lightened packs and…

7:00 a.m. – Take the shuttle to Grafton Notch.

7:30 a.m. – Spend a few minutes puzzling over our direction! We’ve been hiking south on the AT, but today we’ve skipped ahead, and are hiking 10.2 miles north, back to the hostel. From which side of the trail head do we leave?

Our goal is to climb both east and west peaks of Baldpate Mtn before the afternoon thunderstorm hits, and hopefully catch the 5:00 p.m. shuttle to the hostel for the night.

We begin hiking, through birches, pines, firs, and spruce. For a few hundred yards, the trail is flat, with mud and boardwalks. A rather large green frog hops through the mud, pausing long enough for me to snap a picture. We pass a trail register sign where someone has written, “Rewild your mind.” I smile. Yes, the AT can change one’s brain a bit!

The trail slopes steeply, with a 2,600 foot climb ahead. We take our time, walking extra slowly for the first 30 minutes as our muscles warm up, then settling into our usual steady plod. A hiker named Rob once told us, “I’ve watched the two of you going uphill. It seems as if you’re barely moving, but you never stop! My heart’s banging away, my lungs are laboring, and you just keep inching along, as if you could go forever.”

Blue sky above, dirt and granite below, light packs, and light hearts make the climb up the west peak of Baldpate Mtn feel relatively easy, though long. We break out above treeline just as we reach the top, with 360 degrees of a gorgeous view! The sight of most interest to me is the east peak of Baldpate Mtn ahead.

IMG_20170802_105754190 — Looking to east peak of Baldpate Mtn.

The trail drops a precipitous 300 feet into a saddle, then climbs another 600 feet to a granite top. Our path becomes bare granite, marked with rock cairns. Jay calls this the ‘granite sidewalk’. I say it’s a very STEEP sidewalk! We come to one 25 foot vertical drop, peer over the edge, and I give a cheer. Some industrious soul has built a wooden ladder to aid hikers! Hurray!

IMG_20170802_110451342 — Jay climbing down. It’s a looooong ladder!

The climb up the east peak feels longer than 600 vertical feet. There are many bare granite ledges to scramble up and over, with lengthy pauses to look at the view. I’m so thankful we decided to slack pack, thus climbing this mountain in the morning, when my muscles are fresh, the weather is still beautiful, and the rocks are dry!

IMG_20170802_113039704 — The picture never makes it look quite as steep as it feels!

At the top of the mountain, our attention is claimed by ripe blueberries! Our forward progress slows still more as we pick and eat this most delicious trail treat. With attention focused on searching out nuggets of blue among green bushes, we ignore the large black cloud coalescing in the air above us. The sun is shining, my mouth is happy, all is well in my small world!

As we move down the mountain, still picking blueberries, we suddenly hear branches creak, and a loud exhale emanate from the middle of a pine thicket ahead! What could it be? Surely not a deer so high in altitude. Could it be a bear? We carefully move around the thicket, still picking berries, but giving a wide space to the mystery animal concealed there.

We finally reach taller trees, and the blueberries fizzle out. I happily continue down the mountain, sometimes on the ‘granite sidewalk’, sometimes climbing down boulders, and occasionally getting to walk on a bit of dirt. About 1.5 miles from the top, that large black cloud which had begun forming earlier decides it is time to take action. First I hear rain spatter in the tree tops. I know I am near Frye Notch Lean-to, but how near? Just as the rain breaks the leaf barrier and begins to sprinkle my hair, I hear the unmistakable laughter of a hiker named Camel on the slope below me. “Oh good,” I think. “If Camel is laughing, that means he made it to the shelter before the rain. It can’t be far.” Jay is ahead, rapidly disappearing between the trees. The rain increases in intensity, spattering cold wet drops across my shirt and pack. I begin to run, just a little. As the cloud opens its floodgates, with thunder and lightning accompanying, I see the roof of the shelter. I tumble inside as the water sheets down! Jay and five other hikers are crowded under the metal roof, with the rain battering above, and speech all but impossible to hear! Whooeee! Timing is everything!

IMG_20170802_132228349 — Hikers waiting out the storm together.

We eat a late lunch as we wait out the storm, laughing and talking with the other hikers. I’m so blessed, to be surrounded by other happy adventurers. I reflect upon the gifts of technology, that we could plan our day around the storm, hiking above the treeline early in the morning, and now with only 4.5 miles left through wet trees. Life is good!

5:05 p.m. – We reach the road just five minutes too late for the first and shorter shuttle. Dang! Nothing to do but wait.

5:35 p.m. – We catch the next shuttle, which makes a larger loop before getting back to the hostel.

6:40 p.m. – We stagger out of the shuttle van, our leg muscles protesting sudden use after being cramped in one position so long for the ride.

7:00 p.m. – We slide into a seat at the nearby deli a few minutes before closing. The waitress and cook graciously feed our ravenous hiker appetites!

8:00 p.m. – We tumble into bed, worn out from our active day.