Night 40: Mount Washington
Sunday, March 13th, 2011
Me at the summit of Mount Washington, and I'm alive!
Wednesday 7-14-2010
7.1 Miles Hiked, 1845.2 Miles To Springer
I met a NOBO hiker the previous night named Nefus, his name had something to do with being in the Air Force. He was great company and we were the last two thru hikers to leave the hut as no one else was interested in staying for breakfast, or more accurately, no one else wanted to wait around for the guests to eat so that we could then eat and then do dishes and then get back on the trail.
“How come you aren’t in the Air Force anymore?” I asked.
“We were flying somewhere and I got a scrape on my foot while we were grounded. I didn’t think anything of it and it seemed to be healing but then it got really badly infected and it ended up spreading into my bone. They ended up amputating one of my toes and some other bones in my foot. Once the infection gets to the bone there’s no other choice.” He said. “The Air Force doesn’t want anyone with defects either so that’s why I’m not in it anymore, but I loved it when I was.”
“I’m really sorry.” I said.
“Yeah.” He said with a shrug and a smile. “The trail and finishing it has been my rehabilitation.”
“That’s a really cool rehab.” I said.
“I think so too, once I finish I’m thinking about applying to some nursing schools, right now I’m thinking Colorado. ” He said.
Nefus and I spent the rest of breakfast in silence devouring the left over blue berry pancakes and oatmeal with peaches and I chugged the cranberry juice that remained and had a quick couple cups of coffee with cream and sugar.
I ended up back on the trail around 8:45 A.M. and it looked like the clouds might give way to some sun after the thunderstorms that raged last night.
The clouds quickly returned after about ten minutes of sunlight as if to laugh in my face for thinking they would go away and stay away. These weren’t fluffy pretty white clouds either, they were dark ominous ones. It looked like it might start storming any minute, which I believe is the way it always looks when hiking in the White Mountains.
I arrived at Thunderstorm Junction, an area where four different trails, including the A.T. all converge and split off in different directions. The four signs on the old wood post all pointed in different directions but none of them pointed to any of the four trails, they were all slightly off and pointing in between each of the trails.
The A.T. sign pointed in between two of the trails. One of these trails was marked about fifty yards down with another sign that read, “For Appalachia.” I made the immediate, and I would quickly learn unwise assumption that this sign meant it was for Appalachian Trail hikers, it did not mean that, it meant this was for the Appalachia side trail, a different trail then the A.T. altogether. The cairns through this section were topped with white rocks and I assumed those were in place of the standard white blaze used to mark the A.T., wrong again.
I hiked 1.1 miles almost completely straight down before I realized I had gone the wrong way and was now lost. After realizing the terrible mistake I made I looked through my camera photos cause I knew I had taken pictures of a map of this section since I didn’t have an actual map of my own.
I had the option of taking a side trail .6 miles that would connect me back to the A.T. but would also mean I wasn’t technically on the A.T. and would mean that I had skipped a small minuscule section of this mammoth trail which I had set out to hike in its entirety.
This was the moment I realized I was a purest. A purest is the type of dumb, stubborn, and imbecilic hiker who must hike every step of the A.T. because that is why they are here, it isn’t enough for them to simply walk all the way from Maine to Georgia or vice versa, they must make the trek entirely on the A.T. taking no short cuts, easier side trail, or safer alternative routes. I was a purest.
I climbed straight up 1.1 miles to where I had gotten lost in the first place and it immediately became obvious to me which trail was the A.T. once I was back on at the junction. I got back on the trail and the wind began to blow hard.
I was exhausted and pissed that I had added an extra 2.2 miles to my day and it had put me right back where I started. My anxiety rose and rose as the clouds became darker and darker and the wind harsher and harsher. I still had five miles to Mount Washington and if a storm hit there were no trees to hide beneath, and if I did happen to find a cave or large rock to hide under I’d heard that lightning is attracted to caves and cave like crevices in mountainsides so that would only increase my chance of being struck. I pushed on.
I ran into a group of campers who were slightly less bratty than the kids I had shared the hut with last night. They were turning around from their side trail hike because they heard on the radio it was going to be a bad storm today and it was supposed to hit anytime now.
I kept pushing on, scared to death, to the same extent I had been the night before when I was enveloped in clouds. Except today even more so because Mount Washington has such a storied history of hikers disappearing never to be heard from again, it even has a list of the hoards of people who have lost their lives to this wondrous terrifying wilderness. In fact, just days from now I would learn that a young man just a year older than me, who had survived cancer would die after slipping from a ledge and cracking his head open.
I ran into two older men walking in the opposite direction as me who I found out were section hikers.
“How much farther would you say it is from here to the summit?” I asked.
“About three hours.” The fatter of the two men said.
“How’s the weather heading toward the summit?” I asked.
“Looks like this, probably a little more stormy looking, I’d say it’ll surely be storming by the time you get there. If I was you I’d just get your tent fly out and crawl in your sleeping bag, wrap yourself around with the tent fly and find a rock to hide under for the night, cause honestly, I don’t think there’s a chance in hell you make it to Washington before the storm hits and hits hard.” He said, and walked away as though nothing he said would have been terribly upsetting to me.
As if my inner voice of panic and terror that was constantly telling me doom was impending wasn’t enough I now had this fat man’s words to push me over the edge. I was in over drive and thought I might drop dead at the mere sound of thunder.
I began hopping from boulder to boulder and running whenever it was feasible.
As I got about 1.1 miles from Washington I ran into an older couple my parents age and in similar physical condition, which is to say not good physical condition. They told me they were headed to Madison Hut which was 6 miles from where we stood. My panic for my own safety changed to fear for these older people. They instantly became my parents and I would never have wanted them to head out in conditions like this walking at the slow pace they were and in such low visibility. I begged them to turn around and come back toward Washington with me. The man’s wife clearly wanted to, but he insisted he thought they would be fine, after all they had their trash bag ponchos with them.
I realized I was not going to change the man’s mind and my safety once again became my top priority. It had been almost four hours since I’d finished my water, in fact I hadn’t seen flowing a water source since Pinkham Notch. On top of being scared I was getting tired and thirsty.
Up ahead through the mist I heard the sound of a train. The sound of the cog was beautiful, not really, but just beautiful to know I must be close, very close to the top. It was the encouragement I needed for the last stretch to the top. The trail took me straight across the raised tracks of the cog railway. After looking both ways I crossed. The final half mile to the summit of Mt. Washington was a cake walk. When the observation building came into view through the clouds every bit of fear and nervousness drained from my body. Nothing was more comforting then walking through the misty White Mountains and seeing a structure in which you could take cover.
Once in the building like any thru hiker would I headed straight to the cafeteria. I got myself a slice of pepperoni pizza, a bowl of clam chowder, a 20 oz. Sunkist soda and a Nutty Buddy ice cream for desert. Everything was bland and kind of a let down compared to the feasts I’d been enjoying at the huts.
I called Sarah and we got into a fight, well less of a fight and more of a she-hung-up-on-me-for-being-an-insensitive-jerk-and-not-thinking-before-I spoke type of thing.
I had told her about how pretty the girls at Carter Hut were and I guess after not talking to me for two days she did not want any of the conversation to be devoted to how pretty girls who weren’t her were. This was one of the dumber things I think I could have said to her, and I just wasn’t really thinking I guess, and after she hung up I realized I deserved to be hung up on.
It made me sad though, cause I realized I had fucked up today’s conversation, and after fearing for my life the last two days I really just wanted some encouragement from someone I loved, from my biggest fan, but I’d have to be my own cheerleader for at least another day. I tried calling back a few times but to no avail.
I decided I would take away from this that the only girl I would mention anything about to her would be her, she deserved that for standing by me and being there for me through this crazy, dangerous, and yes, selfish journey of mine. This journey was all about me, I knew it, she knew it, and she still said she wanted to support me the whole way through. She deserved the same in return and that was what I would try and give her from now on.
I sat on a bench with my head hung in exhaustion and self pity and looked out at the clouds that surrounded me, a real panoramic of grey and white that would have made even someone who wasn’t down on themselves feel damn depressed.
A NOBO hiker, and older man with white hair and beard named Love-It-Or-Leave-It sat down next to me and offered me an orange. I think he could tell I was feeling down because everything he said was upbeat and positive. He told me that I had done the hardest of the White mountains and that the rest would be a breeze.
It worked, I did feel instantly relieved.
I took this new found hope and bought some post cards and sent them out before I packed my things up and got back on the trail. L-I-O-L-I told me he was spending the night at the Lakes of the Clouds Hut too and had just come up to the tower to see if there was anything interesting. He left and I told him I’d see him down there and hung out up top a few minutes longer.
Just before I left I turned my phone back on and sent Sarah a text. “I’m sorry I upset you. Just because I say someone is pretty or attractive doesn’t mean I think they hold a candle to you. I always have and always will think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I’m sorry. I probably won’t be able to call you again until I get to Lincoln which is 40 miles away so two or three days.”
She texted me back, “Good luck I love you very much.” It felt good to know that she was at least not so angry that she was going to ignore me.
I texted in response, “Love and miss you more than you now.”
And she replied, “I just felt bad because I sit here day after day missing you terribly and thinking about you every second and I don’t want to hear about you talking about other girls.”
“Okay I’m sorry.” I said.
“I know, I’m sorry I made you feel bad.” She said, and I left to finish my remaining hike happy that Sarah was still cheering me on.
The 1.5 mile hike from the summit to the Lakes of the Clouds hut was easy and all downhill. Right as I got to the hut I even got a little view as the clouds began to clear and continued to clear for the next hour.
The hut crew was friendly and told me I could do work for stay even though I had arrived at 4:00 P.M. and most crew’s will tell you to keep hiking unless you show up after 4:30 P.M. I was relieved and glad to be done for the day even if I had only made it seven miles, I was just glad to be somewhere I could sleep with a roof over my head and walls around me.
I had some time to kill so I climbed towards Monroe to get some sunset views while all the paying hut guests ate their dinner. The sunset was glorious as the rays broke through the clouds. It looked like what I imagine heaven must be like.
Once dinner was over for the real guests I returned inside to eat the leftovers and there was plenty. It was glazed ham night and the warm meat was a nice break from the tuna in a pouch I had come to depend on for protein the last month and a half. They had a bean soup that was so hearty and so tasty and they had fresh homemade bread that tasted like no bread I’d ever had before.
If there is one item I will say the huts make better than any other it is there homemade bread. Something about bread baked in the White Mountains at the high elevation in the rustic kitchens of those huts can’t be beat or even matched. For dessert I ate a baked apple and some sort of cake with a jam frosting. I was stuffed.
After dinner my work for stay was supposed to be cleaning the grease trap for the stove, which sounded like it would be my worst work for stay yet. Much to my luck, the hut girls, who I will add were far less attractive at this hut had filled all three of the giant sinks with hot water and were bathing in them, four girls in total, and there was not any hot water left for me to do my job. Never have I been so glad to see so many half naked, disgustingly hairy girls, I mean hairier than most men you’d meet on the street or even the trail bathing in the same tubs the dishes I had eaten off were being cleaned in.
Saved from degreasing duty my work for stay became much easier and much less labor intensive. My job was to fill up all the salt, pepper, sugar, creamer, cinnamon, and hot coca containers that were put out at each table during breakfast.
With my work done I walked outside to look at the stars since it had cleared and I turned my phone on to see if I had service. I did.
“Got service at the hut. I just wanted to tell you I love you. Shutting my phone off for the night will text you tomorrow if I get service.” Nothing came in return, I figured she was busy, but I decided to leave my phone on for another half hour in the hopes that I’d get something.
After my work for stay I met some more NOBO’s all people in their fifties or older. There was a woman named Nature, short for Mother Nature’s Daughter and a guy named Frost who was section hiking. Everyone was fairly tired and we didn’t talk much, but in the short time we did Nature informed me that she had thru hiked last year and was thru hiking this year as a result of an accident of sorts.
“Yeah, I thru hiked last year, and then I’m thru hiking this year on accident.” She said.
“How did you start thru hiking this year on accident?” I asked, immediately assuming her to be insane.
“Well, I told a friend who wanted to hike Georgia that I would hike it with them, and then I didn’t stop when they did, I just kept hiking, and kept hiking, and here I am in New Hampshire.” She said as though this was the most normal thing anyone could do.
I feel it is necessary to say there is no such thing as thru hiking on accident. Thru hiking is something that requires effort, planning, toughness, and a mentality that never gives up. If you’re going to thru hike it’s because you have it in you and you want to do it for whatever your reason is, it doesn’t just happen on accident. Sure that’s why she was saying she was out here, but people thru hike for all sorts of reasons and she had to have had another, a real one, but if the one she wanted to sell was “accident,” then I would let her sell it.
Her accidental thru hike made me wonder if by the end of the trail my mind would be so altered, disturbed, and warped that I might ‘accidentally’ hike the trail again next year. I couldn’t see this happening, I am much too level headed, but then again why was I out here in the first place, because of a dream, because I wanted to prove I could, because I thought it would be cool. Maybe it would be so cool by the end it would be all I’d ever want to do. Nah, don’t see it happening. I sure as hell hoped not, cause at this point in my hike I’m not sure my body or mind will make it to the end, let alone make through this whole thing another time.
I decided she must be insane, anyone who hikes the trail more than once must be out of their damn mind.
I set up my sleeping pad and bag on one of the dining room tables. I made sure my head was facing away from the windows after the ghost story I’d heard at Carter Hut and I desperately hoped I would sleep through the night without waking up to a tapping on the window and a ghostly child just behind the glass pointing at me.
My phone vibrated.
“I love you more than life.” Is what I read and I shut my phone off with a smile on my face thinking how lucky I was.
As I closed my eyes and said my usual prayers for family and friends, I added an extra one for myself. I asked that I would get through this thru hike and not become as mentally deranged as some of the thru hikers I had met, or that I would at least still be somewhat the person I was when I started because I’d grown to like that person, to love that person, and the people around me had too, and I was scared of what or who I might become out here in the woods by myself. I was scared I might not like me, or worse that the people I loved might not like me.
Rose – The text from Sarah.
Bud – Getting away from Mount Washington and hoping for clear weather.
Thorn – Having Sarah hang up on me and getting lost and thinking I might die alone…..again.
Tags: appalachian trail, cog railway, crazy people, death, fear, fight, food, girlfriend, hung up, lakes of the clouds hut, lightning, lost, love, mount washington, mount washington observatory, pizza, sleep, storms, thru hiker, thru hiking, thunder | Posted in Appalachian Trail | No Comments »
