Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Over NH, almost into VT

Sitting in the Hanover, NH library right now, racking my brain to think of everything to say.

First things first, Jeramiah caught up to me finally and we're hiking together again.

He caught up the evening after I finished Mahoosuc Notch, which has a reputation as being the "hardest mile on the trail." I like the way someone else put it: It's like an adult jungle gym. That is, it's a mile-point-one of huge rocks and boulders that are resting in a pile at the bottom of a notch, with some water running underneath. It requires a good deal of scrambling over and under and around, and a little strategizing, but nothing intense or dangerous. I went through alone, taking about an hour and forty minutes to finish. It was nothing like people built it up to be, not challenging at all, just different. I highly recommend that section.

Pretty soon after, we crossed into New Hampshire, kissed the ground, laid our final good-riddances in the Maine soil, and rejoiced. Deliver us out of these bogs and mosquitoes, New Hampshire. Time out for some visitation with my family, however. They all three drove to Pinkham Notch to meet J and I, and while the visit wasn't exactly restful, it was fun. And delicious. We drove around a lot, up the Mt. Washington Auto Road on the second day. I believe Washington (he'll kick you apart) is the tallest peak in the northeast? At any rate, it has the "worst weather in the world," with snow every month of the year and a planetary record windspeed of 231 mph many decades ago. It has a long history of tourism and research, and there is a weather observatory and little museum up there now, and a historical recreation of one of the early summit houses. We chilled there, contemplating pretending to be tourists to thru-hikers we did not know, showering them with the same old questions. But I would have laughed after the first few words and given it away. Later that day we went to a shopping town, where I got maple candy and some kid's secondhand keychain Ugly Doll, which I have named Guggers and now carry with me.

After that visit, several zero and near-o mileage days conspired against our hiking through the White Mountains very quickly. I got my first taste of mountain hospitality at Madison Springs Hut (Carter Notch had sent me out in the cold rain just before dark with a cry of "no room"). The Appalachian Mountain Club, which maintains many trails and the AT through New Hampshire, has run these "huts" in the forest by special permission for over a hundred years, I think. There's much criticism. They're very expensive, being situated on mountaintops in a popular location, and hikers and helicopters must bring in all the supplies, and bring out the waste. They charge thru-hikers for a mere spot on the dining room floor at night. But they also feed their leftovers, and sometimes make special food, for the thru-hikers. Work-for-stay is also possible. I lucked out at Madison my second night, for a group of old college buddies and some of their sons "adopted" me into one of their vacant reservations. I got to sleep in a bunk, and had special vegan food prepared for me. At Mizpah, I got to cook stir-fry for myself and sleep in the library, in exchange for washing dishes. At Lonesome Lake Hut, there was a spaghetti and salad feast, again in exchange for dishwashing. I felt I was for the most part, though with some exception, treated well. But then it was nice to hit some actual free shelters again, and escape the crowds.

Darn! Library closing! More later.

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