I'm writing to you from Pine Ellis Lodge here in Andover, ME.
The last few weeks have been interesting and difficult. I entered the Whites soon after Hanover, which was by far my favorite town on the trail. There was a night I stayed after some slackpacking (which came to be because my package was waiting for me and interrupted by Labor Day) and wandered the streets of Hanover for a while looking for something to keep me occupied. I came upon a ukulele group who was practicing outside due to their normal location being shut for the day. What attracted me was that they were playing the song "The Boxer" which I remember from Bob Dylan's Self Portrait album. Everywhere I go on the trail, if there's some bobby, it's worth listening.
They played several songs and they played them quite well-- I was by far their most attentive audience member. Sitting on the Dock Of The Bay, House Of The Rising Sun, I'm Yours... so many beautiful bits. I couldn't help but feel overjoyed by it and sing along-- especially to "Don't Stop Believing."
I finished listening at around 9pm-- talked with a few of the people playing and they told me I should take up ukulele because it's simple and really fun-- I couldn't help but be hopeful at that moment. I wound up sleeping near the soccer field at Dartmouth college and woke up to rain. I walked on and took the bus into a nearby town to get gaiters and rain pants which I got for super cheap and also picked up my package. Soon after, I got a 40-mile ride to where I left off-- the base of Mt. Moosilauke-- I slept in the shelter that night and I was in The Whites.
I got up that morning to fog-- the day wasn't exactly cold but it wasn't perfectly warm either. I tried having my gaiters and rain gear on for the climb up but I wound up taking them off. I wasn't sure how to deal with climb-- it would be my first time above 4000 ft and it would be cold and windy but honestly, who wears all of that shit and sweats their ass off on the way up? One of the first things I noticed once we peaked alpine zone on Moosilauke, the air smelled really sweet. I had to laugh to myself and wonder if there were Dartmouth girls up there somewhere hiding. I soon found out there weren't, the top of Moosilauke was pretty much inhabitable.
The pine trees I was in got smaller and smaller until they were gone-- the top of the mountain was a massive, windy bald. When I went to put on my rain jacket, it took off in the air at light speed and blew into a tree. I had to climb some brush to get to the jacket and put it back on. There was a constant roar of static as the rain hit me and I rushed just to get down to the other side of Moosilauke. When I finally reached the shelter, I found the indications that the climb down would be terrible. I didn't get any pictures but it was as near vertical as it could get and there was rebar and wooden steps built into some of the rocks to hold on to. Some of the jumps and g-forced reminded me of Super Castlevania when you jump down from a platform but are perfectly OK. So it goes for a thru-hiker!
At the bottom of the hill there was trail magic that kept me busy for a while. I met up with a few nice folks like Stitches who were hosting it-- at the trail magic there was a SOBO named Piper that we both thought we knew from SOMEWHERE but couldn't quite figure it out (I got her e-mail anyways). I took off way too late for the next shelter, Eliza Brook, and made it there near dark where two gentlemen were pretty much sleeping. My feet were soaked, my gaiter had torn and I wasn't in the best spirits.
I woke up the next morning and just laid around for once while everyone got ready-- I found myself tired but relaxed so I talked with some of the folks at the shelter. One of the gentlemen, Sven, was section-hiking and offered to pay for my tent site at the next campsite, Liberty Springs. I told him I might just do that. I didn't, I hiked to Lincoln, New Hampshire which was a rough hike on it's own-- it took me up and over some difficult rock and around some stream crossings that were totally something I wasn't used to. When I finally arrived, I dried out my stuff by the side of the road-- a cop rolled by and saw my tent set up, my rain jacket in the trees and asked what I was up to.
"Just drying out!"
"Are you aware of Chett's place?"
"No, what's that?"
Chet's is a free hostel in Lincoln, New Hampshire-- I got a ride from the shuttle service there and to the super market and wound up staying. It was rather smelly there but at least I found out who had been staying there just the day before. I was catching up.
The next day was absolutely beautiful-- I got a shuttle to Franconia Ridge where I left off, unaware the type of day I'd have.
Franconia ridge was a climb but I didn't feel it.
I had the most beautiful day up on the mountains and I couldn't believe this place existed in the US-- it was my favorite spot on the trail so far.
I went on past Galehead Hut to camp for the night and had a pretty shitty stealth site in the woods. It was foggy that night and then it was cold in the morning. I pushed through the day and did some crazy climbing-- once even DOWN A STREAM (Moosilauke was next to a waterfall, so I guess this wasn't so bad). I pushed on to Mizpah hut that night and we had a terrible storm while I was hiking on Webster Cliffs. Yes, my dumb ass was hiking on cliffs while it rained hell on me. When I got over the cliffs, I was met with roaring streams coming over the rocks at me, blocking any white blazes and leaving me to feel my way along. It was dumb, there were no stealth sites but I knew I should push to Mizpah.
And I finally rolled into there and it was the best feeling in the world. I was warm, I got up to the library where all the other thru-hiker's were at and met up with 70%, Firefox, Short-term, Eva, Jungle Cat and Lucky Trout-- people that I've been hovering around on my hike since then and I'm very glad to be doing so.
The next day, over Mt. Washington to Madison Springs Hut just requires the pictures. It was like walking on the moon and encountering an unknown beauty. There were no white blazes, we were guided by cairns that really weren't all that reliable (some spots, they just weren't well-marked and I was going on a prayer).
Views back to Washington and a "chaos blaze" as we hiked down a ski slope for fun as we south-bounded Wildcat Ridge. Enjoyed it so so much.
Afterwards, we headed on to a hotel, went on to hike some more together and have been enjoying it since.
Maine though... Maine....
Upon reaching the Maine border, we automatically hit the rough stuff. Real rock climbing, sheet rock you walk straight up the side of and winds and cold. It's going to make this finish quite a finish-- let's hope I make it!
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