Washington's Rag Doll

A view from Mt. Moosilauke

It's been a few days now that I've been back on the trail, tackling the White Mountains of New Hampshire. After nearly two weeks of rest, I was ready for the challenge. And indeed I was mentally, but my body soon let me know it thought differently. When your first miles out are a 3,700 foot climb, that's not exactly a warm-up routine. My tendons were inflamed, my joints throbbed, and in general I finished that first day over Mt. Moosilauke feeling a bit beat up. Despite the aches and pains, I quickly realized the mystique of the Whites. Even with encroaching thunderheads, the summit was remarkable. For the first time in a long while I could see for miles unobstructed from the bald, rocky summit. The only plant life was unique, low-lying shrubby plants that have adapted to the harsh, windblown alpine environment.

Alpine plant life

All in all, the climb was worth it, and there were many more vertical feet to come.

Things didn't settle down from there. Day two in the Whites brought the twin peaks South and North Kinsman. The climb up was steep, rocky, wet, slick and tiring. At times my feet were not enough as my hands helped balance and leverage me up the slope. Still, the summits opened up a view of my next target: Franconia Ridge with it's crown jewel Mt. Lafayette. As I sat and looked on, Franconia made the Kinsmans look tame. I knew I was in for a haul.

A view from Franconia Ridge looking at Mt. Lafayette

The climb out of Franconia Notch was my first day of hiking in the Whites with good weather. The sun was out and the mountain breeze cool. After the initial climb from the notch, the trail followed the ridge for more than two miles over Little Haystack, Mt. Lincoln, and finally Mt. Lafayette. The views were stunning as gliders cruised around on the thermals overhead. I sat on the ridge and tried to soak it all in, still being mindful to pay attention to the small alpine flowers that I wouldn't see anywhere else. After moving on to Garfield Ridge and hiking over Garfield Mountain, I finished the day doing a work-for-stay at Galehead Hut, one of eight huts operated by the Appalachian Mountain Club in the Whites.

The morning brought a relatively easy day with South Twin Mountain the only formidable challenge. I quickly dropped down into Crawford Notch to sleep on my next project: the Presidential Range. This stretch started off in the rain and stayed that way for most of its entirety. Mt. Webster meant more long, steep, slick slabs of rock that had to be navigated; it's summit meant stiff winds that drove the rain through the seams of my jacket. Six miles up the eleven mile climb to Mt. Washington, I earned some relief from the cold and wet in the Mizpah hut where I enjoyed three warm bowls of soup. Trudging on, I put back on my wet layers and braved the weather to the Lakes of the Clouds hut, just shy of Washington's summit. That walk was brutal with 40 degree temperatures, a steady rain, and sustained winds of 20-30 miles per hour with gusts up to 50. I felt like Washington's rag doll getting tossed about, my trekking poles bracing me against the gusts. Two hikers just behind me were blown over by the wind; I stayed afoot, but was in the beginning stages of hypothermia by the time I found shelter at the hut.

The next day I was conflicted on whether or not to leave Lakes of the Clouds. The weather forecast was just as bleak, and I had the 6,288 foot summit to tackle. All my clothes were wet, and the risk of hypothermia was real. If one of the hut workers had not loaned me an extra wind-proof layer, I would have stayed holed up for the day. The climb to the summit wasn't bad, but the top of Washington was encased in a thick fog. I stumbled my way to the visitor's area, changed clothes, and snapped a quick picture of the summit's sign.

The next six miles to Madison Spring hut were difficult. The entire walk was across boulder fields where the risk of misstepping on a rock that was slick as ice was real, and with no way to tell a good foothold from bad, the going was slow. I found myself chilled to the bone once again, and the lore of a warm bowl of soup to help take the edge off the cold kept me going to the hut. I debated on weather to stay, but the worker was reluctant to offer me a work-for-stay because it was still early afternoon and I could “easily” make the next shelter and campsite. I bought a pair of gloves, layered back up, and reluctantly left, only this time I was finally descending off the ridge into Pinkham Notch below. Once sheltered by the trees the wind died down, and the rain followed suit. Aside from a wrong turn that cost me an additional two miles, I was safely off the mountain, thankful to be warm and dry.

The last day in the Whites was no less epic than any of the others. The weather was welcoming, but the hiking extremely difficult. The trail seems to either go straight up or straight down, with very little in between. These slopes would go up or down 1,100 to 2,000 feet at a time. The lactic acid built up quickly as breath was lost more quickly still. The twenty miles it took to get over the four peaks of Wildcat Mountain, down and out of Carter Notch, and up over Carter Dome, Mt. Hight, Middle and North Carter Mountains, and finally Mt. Moriah, was a stern test both mentally and physically. This was easily the most difficult section of trail that I've encountered, especially given the conditions of the two days prior in the Presidentials, and I'm glad it's behind me.

What now? I can look forward to a few easier days hiking with a group of students from Calvin College who are joining me for a week on the trail. It will be a good change of pace for me, a chance to share some of my stories, and an opportunity for others to experience what life on the Appalachian Trail is like. I'm looking forward to it.

And just in case you were curious, two important milestones have been reached: I have less than 300 miles to go and only one more state. One. Thirteen down, one to go. Maine is all that is left, and it's prize is closer than ever. The end is clearly in sight.