Opportunity Knocks and An Adventure Begins

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Appalachian Trail, White Mountains, NH – 8/17/12 – CrawfordNotch to Nauman Campsite – 6.4 Miles (8 Hours)
Opportunity knocked and I answered:  My hiking friend Judy (Heartfire) was working on anotherlong section of the AT, conquering Massachusetts and Vermont, having a greattime, she messaged on Facebook.  Was sheheading through New Hampshire?  For yearsI’ve wanted to hike the AT through the White Mountains but couldn’t work it out.  Here’s my chance!  A few phone calls and emails, Judy’swillingness to rearrange her itinerary, a couple of days to think about it, aclick of the mouse for a plane ticket, and New Hampshire, here I come.
If I have learned anything about hiking, especially withJudy, it is to be flexible and ready to change plans.  (Read about our infamous boat shuttle experience.)  I flew into Manchester, NH,on a Thursday.  Judy picked me up and wedrove to Crawford Notch, looking for a campground to pick up her resupply packageand spend the night before beginning our 5-day section.  Well, the campground people did not acceptpackages from the post office, did not give shuttle rides to the trailhead (we hadto turn in our rental car) and did not seem all that interested in us evenstaying at their campground.  PlanB:  find a motel, eat a nice dinner, andarrange for a cab to shuttle us in the morning from the car rental dropoff tothe post office and then to the trailhead. 
On Friday morning the logistics worked out smoothly, Judygot her resupply package with food and warmer clothing, and we found ourselvesstanding on the side of Highway 302 at the Webster Cliff trailhead at 9:00 a.m.  Let’s pause for a moment while the intrepidbackpackers are still fresh and eagerly anticipating their adventure.
Mt. Webster, 3,000 feet straight up in 2.8 miles.  We can do this.  People do it all the time.
The trail started off in a dense forest, stepping over thickroots and some rocks, and moderately climbed, getting steeper but okay.  The first mile climbed 1,000 feet in about anhour (Judy’s altimeter helped us gauge our progress.)  Not bad – we can do this.  If it’s all like this we’ve got it made.  Just a matter of one step at a time.  The effort was heating me up plenty, withsweat dripping off my nose and elbows. I had heard that when thru-hikers get to the White Mountains they slow down from their 20+-mile-per-day pace, but this seems doable.
Yes, it’s a trail
So far the view looks like the Smokies
At the first big rock outcropping we met a couple of youngAT thru- hikers.  I missed the woman’sname, but the guy was a young African-American who called himself Mr.Fabulous.  He wore a knit cap into whichwere tucked long dreadlocks.  We had anice conversation, and as they moved on we wished everyone luck and we’d seethem later on down the trail.  But…I’m surethey got further than we did and we’ll never see them again.  The randomness of briefly connecting and thendisconnecting on the trail is mysterious and awesome.  I don’t remember everyone, but because I madea note and am writing this blog entry I will always remember Mr. Fabulous.
First overlook where we met Mr. FabAnd THEN…We faced our first wall of rock, maybe eight feet high, maybe not animpossible pitch, maybe not so bad if you didn’t have a 30-pound pack on yourback.  We muttered under our breaths aswe got up the first one, stepped up some big rocks for a few dozen yards, andthen met our next wall of rock.  Timeafter time, relentless, scaling small walls. I put my poles away once, but then wanted them back and they wereimpossible to retrieve from my pack without help.  When I wanted them out of the way goingforward (upward? downward?) I collapsed them down and let them dangle from mywrists.  Sometimes we threw our poles upover the wall before climbing, holding onto tree roots and branches, evenhandfuls of spruce branches. 

Oh, andthen we’d encounter a wall that we had to descend – throw the poles down andthen scoot on our butts down to the bottom. How long is this interesting and entertaining?  Not very long.  But we made it over Mt. Webster, check it offthe life list, never goin’ back again.
Rock cairn at Mt. Webster, 6 feet tall
View from Mt. Webster
A little rest beside the white blaze











Judy was not amused by the amount of bouldering weencountered.  Her pack felt heavier thannormal and unbalanced from her resupply. She was concerned about the precarious footing and the possibility of slipping on the rockwalls.  I was not having much fun either, but wasn’thating it as much as she was.  I hoped tofind reassurance that this was the worst of the trail and a good night’s sleepwould help her regroup and regain her confidence.  We slowed down through this obstacle courseand began to rethink our hike plan, agreeing to stop at the Naumann Campsite atthe Mizpah Spring Hut rather than looking for a primitive site farther alongthe trail.    Layers upon layers - the view is beginning to rival the Smokies now
Nearly 5 miles in we reached the summit of Mt. Jackson, abusy place with several groups passing through via the AT and different sidetrails.  A large church group of men andteenage boys was taking a break.  Judyhad run out of water and they shared some with her.  (I ran out too by the time we reached MizpahSpring Hut).  The trail mellowed out fora while with the occasional rock wall scramble, but it still required 1.5 hoursto hike the remaining 1.7 miles to our day’s end. 
A bog on top of the mountain
Note that the trail signs don’t always indicate the AT(sometimes the symbol has been carved onto the signs).  Hikers need to know the names of the localtrails that follow the AT route.
Mizpah Spring Hut
We arrived at Naumann just before 5:00 p.m. (remember the9:00 a.m. start?) ending our 8-hour, 6.4-mile day.  The tent sites are all on raised woodenplatforms, thus real estate is precious so don’t even think of spreading twotents over a six-tent platform.  Theenergetic young camp cop said they expected to be filled to the max.  So Judy and I found a platform where a niceman named Ian had already pitched his one-man tent on one end sliver and we setto work setting up ours.  (Ian and Judydiscovered they had mutual friends in the AT long distance hiker community,i.e. small world.) 
But how to put up my Lightheart tent that requires tentstakes?  Fortunately I had the tent makerherself there to teach me.  Judy showedme how to tie guy lines to the stake loops, run the thin ropes under theplatform board and secure them using the stakes as wedges.  I am a visual person so a verbal explanation wasuseless, but a demonstration was all it took. I was tired and hungry but tickled to death to learn something new andvaluable. 
Next we walked up to Mizpah Hut to fill up with water fordrinking and for cooking – their water is already treated.  As we prepared and ate our meal, Ian gave usthe scoop on what was ahead of us, as he was hiking southbound and had justcovered the section we were beginning. He did not paint an attractive picture. He had hiked over from Madison Hut to Mt. Washington in a thick fog andstruggled to go from cairn to cairn over the rocky terrain.  He also clued us in to the emergency shelterat Lake of the Clouds Hut (where we could not get reservations for the mainbunk rooms), that the cost was $10 per person per night and the accommodations,although rough bunks in the “dungeon”, were better than hiking past the pointof pain to get to a legal camping spot (it’s illegal to camp above tree line inthe White Mtns.)  We noted all that hesaid and began to revise our plans for the rest of the trip.
After dinner we walked back to the far end of the campingarea to store our food bags in the bear boxes provided, and along the way Islipped on the path and fell hard, flat on my back, with no backpack to softenthe blow.  I had the wind knocked out ofme and when Judy asked if I was okay I couldn’t speak.  After all we had done today, I can’t believeI fell down in camp!  My neck was stiff,a little touch of whiplash, for the rest of the trip.
Before calling it a night, Judy shared a little of thebrandy she always carries and we toasted the end of the first day.  I was in my sleeping bag before 8:00 p.m.,ready to crash, and I heard little tiny raindrops pitter-patting on mytent.  I hope it’s not raining in themorning.
There'salways gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb  
~Miley Cyrus – “The Climb”