Night 42: Ink Smudges Lie and Hot Fudge Sundaes Can’t Fix Everything
Monday, March 14th, 2011
Fog on top of South Twin Mountain or North Twin Spur
Friday 7-16-2010
20 Miles Hiked, 1806.4 Miles To Springer
I woke when my watch alarm sounded at 4:45 A.M. Bishop woke too. It was still dark as we started reloading our packs. I grabbed some coffee and gobbled down the giant sugar cookie one of the crew members had given me last night and tossed two Advil down my gullet. I took out my good book and my permanent marker and wrote down the mile markers for the day on my forearm. With my pain meds down, my map on my arm, and food in my body I was ready to go. I was back on the trail just a bit ahead of Bishop and energized by another great hut breakfast.
The climb up my first 4,000 footer of the day, Zeacliff, wasn’t bad at all. The summit was what I had come to expect from any summit in the Whites. It was cloudy, misty, windy, cold and looked like it would storm any moment.
At the top of Zeacliff I noticed a man walking aimlessly through some pine trees next to the trail. He was a NOBO named Dwayne. That was both his trail name and his real name as he would explain to me. As we talked the sun came out and the clouds began to scatter. I realized I had heard about him from a few NOBO’s early on in my hike. They said he was a total oddball and that when he started his thru hike he was carrying a huge axe because he assumed there would be a lot of stuff that would need axing. Apparently there wasn’t enough stuff that needed axing because the axe was no longer on him. I was glad.
“You going to stop at Zealand Falls Hut for breakfast?” I asked.
“Yeah, if I can stay on the right trail. Damn near got lost a minute ago. Is that the A.T. you comin’ from?” He asked.
“Yeah, that’s the A.T. If you eat breakfast there don’t eat the oat meal. We had to pick bugs out of it for our work for stay last night.” I said.
“Hell, I’ll eat the shit outta sum bugs.” He said.
“Okay, then do eat the oat meal.” I said. “The trail is really smooth from hear down to the hut and a little further, enjoy your hike.”
I continued onward and upward over both South Twin Mountain and North Twin Spur. Both mountains were shrouded in thick clouds and at nearly 5,000 feet. The sunlight from earlier had gone back into hiding. The wind was ripping, and it was cold.
By the time I reached Galehead Hut the sun was out again and Bishop had caught up to me. The hut crew guy at Galehead, Mike, offered us the remaining pancakes which he said he’d have to add to the soup for the night if we didn’t finish them. I couldn’t imagine pancakes dissolving into a broth very, but I guess it was possible. We gladly devoured the pancakes like wild dogs. We drenched them with maple syrup, not real maple syrup, but some sort of imitation syrup and together we each ate seven pancakes and split one. We hit the trail again, this time stuffed to the brim and re energized .
I led the hike briefly, but then Bishop passed as I was messing with my tape recorder to try and take some notes.
The next summit I hit was Mount Garfield. I got to it just after I passed Garfield Ridge Shelter and campsite. Garfield offered a nice place for a lunch break. I sat in the insides of what remained of the base of an old fire tower and ate my fruit snacks, snickers, and crackers and watched as beautiful, non threatening, fluffy white clouds passed over the ranges before me. From where I sat I could see Mount Lafayette, Mount Lincoln, Little Haystack, and Liberty Mountain all of which made up the famous Franconia Ridge Range. I’d been hearing about it for days. Hearing about how the views from the ridge were the most spectacular views of the whole trail.
I wished only that I’d get to hike this section free of clouds and storms so that I could enjoy at least one section of the Whites.
I turned my phone on while I ate just to see if I’d get service. The bars came and went and came and went again, and then a text from Sarah came in that she’d sent that morning.
“ONE MORE WEEK!” It read. I was beaming, smiling so wide if someone had found me they’d think I was deranged. I felt on top of the world, and literally I was. I was laying down, basking in sunlight, protected from the wind by the ruins of the old fire tower eating fruit snacks and a snicker bar and fantasizing about being home and being with her again. I would be seeing her in less than a week and we’d be together, dancing, and laughing, and kissing and celebrating at our friends wedding. I couldn’t wait.
The text was what I needed and I knew in that instant that I could tough it out for one more week. I could hike through storms, I could be scared, I could be hungry, and smelly, and uncomfortable, because in a week I’d be home. I’d be with Sarah. I’d be with my family. I’d be safe.
After lunch was done around 12:30 P.M. I started my hike toward the ridge with a new energy in my step. The climb up wasn’t anything brutal just the steady uphills I’d grown accustomed to in the Whites and Maine.
They sky began to grow cloudy, and not the previous unscary type of clouds either. These ones were dark and threatening. The clouds now enveloped the entire ridge line. Each time I’d think I’d reached the peak of Lafayette the clouds would move just enough to reveal a bigger even higher peak. This happened to me about four times before I actually reached the peak of Lafayette.
I was dead tired by this point so I sat down on a boulder and ate the last of my snickers and gulped down my last remaining half liter of water. Three NOBO hikers walked past and said, “I’m glad I’m not over there anymore,” and pointed toward the mountain I was headed to next that had severe black clouds overhead.
I got my pack back on and began walking. I had seen Bishop on top of the next mountain about ten minutes before and figured if I really pushed it I could catch him and then at least I wouldn’t be caught on the top of another mountain in another storm by myself. I don’t know why, but just having someone there eased my fear and anxiety so much.
I had hiked about a half mile from Lafayette which put me halfway to the summit of Lincoln.
CRACK! A loud burst of thunder echoed through the air with deafening sharpness.
I wanted to be home. I wanted to be home. I wanted to be home.
A rush of adrenaline squirted through my body and fear spread with it. I looked at my arm where I wrote the different mile markers in permanent marker that morning, but all the moisture from the clouds at high elevation and my sweat had made it smudgy. I thought it looked like Lafayette was at mile 368.3 and the next stopping area, Liberty Springs tentsite was at 370.1, and if I turned around it would be a mile and a half back to the closest Hut. I figured I could run 1.8 miles to safety before things got really bad .
Unfortunately, my eyes and the smudges had deceived me. Lafayette was actually at 366.3, 3.8 miles to safety and I was in deep shit on the top of an exposed ridge line in the middle of an electrical storm. Oh, and my hiking poles were two metal lightning rods held in each hand, but they were the only thing helping me stay on my feet on the uneven terrain, so I decided they were worth the risk.
The violent cracks of thunder continued like a whip being snapped right by my ear every couple minutes. My mind reverted to primal instincts, it was flight or fright time. I was no doubt frightened out of my mind, but flight won out, and I started running.
I jumped from boulder to boulder, jumping down four foot drops with little care if I landed or fell down them as long as I kept moving forward. My balance was tossed side to side with my quick movements due to the forty pounds of extra weight strapped to my back. I was moving recklessly on these sharp rocks, but all that mattered was that I catch up to Bishop and not die up here alone. If I was going to die I’d have someone by my side, yes, that was all that mattered.
The thunder continued cracking and at closer intervals. Things couldn’t be worse.
Then the sheets of sideways rain came. The drops fell hard and were ice cold. The temperature must have plummeted twenty degrees in five minutes. The wind came roaring and was now blowing at a sustained thirty miles per hour easily. The rain cover for my pack became like a parachute and the wind filled it and dragged me to the left hard. I fell, stood back up and kept hiking this time being more careful with my balance.
I was wearing my glasses because my contacts had been bothering my eyes the last few days. Both lenses were covered in water and I couldn’t see through them. The thunder and rain raged and I kept running without the slightest idea what was more than three feet ahead.
I stopped for the first time since I’d started running. I took my glasses off and tried to wipe the lenses so I could see better.
Both lenses popped out and fell to the ground.
I picked up the lenses.
CRACK!
I shoved them in my pocket and kept running, now actually blind. My heart was racing. I was praying to see the tops of trees to let me know I could take cover below the treeline soon. *(Treeline is the line where trees no longer grow on the tops of mountains due to severe weather conditions that make it impossible for a tree to grow)
“God, please get me out of this, I promise I won’t put myself in any more stupid situations, just please let me live through this. My Mom is going to be so mad.” I kept saying over and over and over in my head.
I’d been full on sprinting across slippery, wet boulders in the middle of a thunderstorm for about 45 minutes when I saw something better than trees, I saw people. A family, a father, a mother, and two young boys. If I was going to die up here at least it wasn’t going to die with this family of strangers.
“How far to the treeline.” I shouted through the gusting wind with water dripping down my face.
“About two minutes that way.” The father shouted back.
“Turn back now and get under treeline with me!” I shouted to the whole family. “It only gets worse the higher up you get.”
“Okay, let’s go.” The mother said to her husband and the the two boys.
We got below the treeline and I felt safe for the first time in about an hour.
“Will I be below treeline until that next campsite?” I asked.
“You come back above for about five minutes, but that’s it.” The father said.
“Okay good. Where are you guys trying to get to?” I asked.
“Greenleaf Hut, about four miles away.” He said.
“There’s no way you’ll make it in this. It’s way too dangerous, just wait it out here below treeline or head back to your car until it clears up.” I said.
“Have you seen a young guy about my age recently?” I asked.
“No, you’re the first person we’ve seen out here.” They said.
“What had happened to Bishop?” I thought.
“Okay thanks. I’m getting out of here now, but whatever you do don’t go out above treeline in this, it’s terrifying.” I said as I quickly turned and started running again.
I made it to the shelter about a half hour later, refilled my water and sat down on the ground thanking God for getting me off that mountain alive.
By the time I reached the main road it was 5:05 P.M. So I headed to the visitor center, at the Flume or something, and was hoping to use the phone. My cell had no service and I wanted to call Chet, a guy in Lincoln who runs a free hiker hostel called One Step At A Time. I called to make sure I could stay there tonight and Chet gave me the go ahead. I called a local shuttle service, I was in no mood to hitch after my near death experience and I would have paid any amount to be taken somewhere safe. The Shuttle Connection van came to pick me up about fifteen minutes later.
The guy who picked me up in the white shuttle van was morbidly obese and told me he had never once climbed anything around here, even though he’d lived here his whole life.
“Why would I hike somewhere when I could just drive there.” He said as he drove me. He knew exactly where Chet’s house was, pulled into the driveway and let me out after I paid him.
Chet came out from his garage. Much to my surprise, in a wheel chair and rolled toward me with a smile and an outstretched hand.
“Thank you so much for taking me in tonight. You have non idea how glad I am to be out of the White Mountains for a night and somewhere safe.” I said with actual tears welling in my eyes. I was an emotional wreck. I don’t think Chet could tell though. Besides being in a wheel chair he was almost completely blind and had two service dogs, one of which was half wolf half German shepherd. It was the coolest and most massive dog I’d ever seen. Chet had the most bad ass guide dog in the world.
“No problem, right on, right on, glad I could help you.” He said.
After I got my things situated in a bunk in Chet’s converted garage, Chet gave me the name of a good pizza place, Elvio’s. I walked from Chet’s house toward down town. It was no more than a ten minute walk. The walk took me past this crazy house that was painted in all sorts of wild colors and had all sorts of crazy sculptures. When I asked about in town they told me the owners had experimented with drugs and liked the way the visual effect of everything the house offered. At Elvio’s I ordered three slices of pizza. Each was the size of my torso and a 24 ounce soda that I must have refilled eight times with every soda flavor they had.
I talked to some locals and they asked me where I was staying.
“Chet’s place.” I said.
“He’s a great guy isn’t he.” The local man said.
“Yeah he’s been great to me so far.” I said.
“You hear about how he ended up in that wheel chair?” He asked.
“No.” I said.
“He was preparing for his own thru hike years and years back. He was practicing using his stove. It was some gas stove or other that lit by being pumped and the thing exploded right in his face. Nearly killed him. Right as it exploded he lifted his hands to cover his face which is why he isn’t horribly disfigured, but he also inhaled right as the explosion occurred. His lungs were essentially incinerated. He only has thirty percent lung function or something crazy. He holds some record for being the only person to survive an accident so severe.” The local man said.
“That’s terrible.” I said.
“Yeah, the company that made the gas canister settled with him. No one knows what company it was, part of the settlement said the name can’t be released and he can’t talk about it, so no one know’s for sure what really happened. It turned out he wasn’t the only person this happened to though, just the only one to survive and file suit. Rough deal for him, but he’s set for life, that’s how come he can help you hikers out. He’s a hell of a guy.” He said.
“He sure is.” I said, thinking how amazing it was that this man was even alive. It was so cool that even though he would never get to do his hike, he was going to make the best of his circumstances and help as many people as he could achieve a dream he wouldn’t be able to. Chet had just become the most interesting person I’d met on the trail.
When I returned to Chet’s I asked him if I could borrow one of his bikes to go exploring through Lincoln.
“No problem.” He said.
Just before I left again I noticed that Abraham was sitting on one of the bunks.
“Abraham, where the hell did you disappear to on the ridge. I saw you in front of me, and I tried to catch you, and then you disappeared during the storm.” I said.
“When the storm hit I started climbing down the side of the mountain looking for somewhere to take cover. I found a little cave, crawled in there and waited out the storm while I rolled and smoked a cigarette. It was a really great hiding place, kept me dry and safe.” He said.
I wanted to kill him. Not sure why, but I had hoped he had been as scared and miserable as I had been. In fact I was angry that he hadn’t been fearing for his life the same way I had.
I had officially gone off the deep end. I was angry that someone else had been safer and in better circumstances then I was.
“I’m headed into to town and I’m stopping at McDonald’s, you want anything?” I asked, as if this would make up for my insane thoughts.
“Nah, I’m good, I’m going to head into town a little later, but thanks.” He said.
As I explored Lincoln I realized this town had everything I would need or want. A book store, a movie theater, a McDonald’s, a grocery store, a moose tour company, an ice cream shop and an outfitter. McDonald’s was the most important of these. I have come to crave fast food on the trail like nothing I’ve ever craved before and McDonald’s is usually the thing I think of most.
I stopped at the McDonald’s and got myself a hot fudge sundae and the world seemed right. I wasn’t so flustered anymore and I certainly wasn’t thinking I was going to die, not today at least. Today I was sitting in a McDonald’s eating a hot fudge sundae and I most certainly wasn’t on some high up mountain in the middle of a lightning storm.
On my bike ride home I bought some ice for my ankle and as I rode past the movie theater I contemplated going to see the new Twilight movie. I couldn’t bring myself to go see it alone, even if it would have been a great distraction from reality.
I ended up back at Chet’s a little after 7:00 P.M. I showered and put my clothes in the wash then talked to a flip flopper (Someone who starts in the middle and heads to one end, then goes back to the middle and heads to the other end) named Speaker, and a group of NOBO’s who were also staying there and who had dubbed themselves The Traveling Circus, with individual names of Lightening, Monkey, and Ringleader.
After talking to them I tried calling Sarah and walked around the yard trying to find a place with stronger service, but had terrible reception and we kept getting disconnected. I was really upset on the phone because today had been really rough and all I wanted was to talk to her about it. I could hear how upset it was making her that I was having such a bad day, and that we kept getting disconnected. I kept my phone on, but no calls came through, not that they could, my service would stay for a second and be gone for thirty minutes.
I walked down the cellar steps into Chet’s basement where the laundry machines were and I sat in an old rocking chair under the glow of a fluorescent tube light. A new text came in from Sarah. “I love you, I hope you’re ok.” It read. I sat in that rocking chair, in that musty basement, that smelled just like my grandparents house and my eyes welled with tears.
I cried because I was alive, because I was safe, because I had people out there who loved me, because I wasn’t sure I could do this anymore, and because I didn’t know how much more of this I could put my family through, put Sarah through, put my friends through and most of all I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could or wanted to put myself through. I cried for everything I hadn’t and should have been crying about for the last 42 days.
Monkey of the Traveling Circus came walking down the stairs. I wiped my eyes before he saw me and made small talk with him for the next fifteen minutes or so pretending everything was fine. Everything wasn’t fine.
Rose – McDonald’s hot fudge sundae.
Bud – Hiking in non thunderstorm weather.
Thorn – Being stuck in an electrical storm on an exposed mountain top and missing Sarah and home.
Tags: adventure, appalachian trail, appalachian trail thru hiker, blind, broken glasses, eclipse, Elvio's Pizza, falling, Franconia Ridge, Galehead Hut, Greanleaf Hut, guide dog, guide dogs, half wolf dog, half wolf half german shepherd, Haystack mountain, hiker, hiking, lightening, Lincoln, Moose tours, Mount Lafayette, Mount Lincoln, musty basement, new hampshire, poor service, text messages, the traveling circus, thru hiker, thru hiking, thunder, thunderstorm, twilight saga eclipse, washing machine, wheel chair, wind gusts | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 3 Comments »
