Posts Tagged ‘windy’

Night 44: Pink Wine At The End Of The Whites

Friday, March 25th, 2011

Pink wine at Jeffers Brook Shelter

Pink wine at Jeffers Brook Shelter

Sunday July 18, 2010

6.9 Miles, 1781.7 Miles to Springer, 397.4 Miles Hiked

Today’s hike would be my shortest in a while as my schedule was going to be dictated by the United States Postal service. My sister Caitlin had sent a package for me to the Glencliff post office which was just over seven miles away, unfortunately post offices aren’t open on Sundays so I would hike 6.9 miles to the shelter just before Glencliff and walk into Glencliff early tomorrow morning to get my package. Today would be  a relaxed day and I was looking forward to it.

I woke up as the sun rose, not because of the mileage I had for the day, but because I wanted to get over Moosilauke before it stormed again, if it was going to storm and I planned on taking a long afternoon nap at Jeffers Brook Shelter as soon as I got there. As I got my things together I talked with some of the weekend hikers who had shared the shelter with me. There was a man who looked almost exactly like a long haired Paulie Shore, which made me happy because Paulie Shore reminds me of being a kid. I was so distracted by his striking resemblance to Paulie Shore that I didn’t hear a word he said.

The other hikers I talked to were two girls who had attended Brown and Harvard and that was all they had to talk about. I lost interest in them immediately, and I got a very lesbian vibe from both of them, not that there was anything wrong with that. Believe me, I didn’t like them because they were elitists who loved to talk about how special and smart they were for attending an Ivy League school.

I kept the conversation brief, packed up my things and said goodbye to the Ivy League Lesbians and the Paulie Shore look alike and the other day hikers who I had shared the shelter with the previous night.

Before I left the Beaver Brook campsite and shelter area I stopped at the privy. A sign attached to it informed me that it was being maintained by the DOC (Dartmouth Outdoors Club). When I opened the privy door and stepped inside the odor was extra offensive. The door slammed behind me and it was like I was trapped in a four foot by four foot shit covered crime scene. It was terrible. What used to be the back window of the privy was now the toilet seat lid and was it was smeared with shit stains and crusted with dried urine and splashes of what I can only imagine was some poor hiker’s diarrhea.

After grabbing a corner of the plexiglass window pain that covered the toilet I lifted it up as though I was holding explosive material. With the dirty plexiglass removed I saw what was inside.

The toilet seat sat upon approximately a six foot high by four by four foot wooden box. We’re talking about 150 cubic feet ( maybe those calculations are wrong, but hey, math was never my strong suit)  for holding human waste.

Back to what was inside. The privy had been so heavily used and poorly maintained, cleaned, or composted that shit was literally beginning to overflow up and out of the toilet.

As I looked down at the rising, spiraling, tower of shit I knew it was decision time. I really had to poop and if I didn’t do it here I’d be squatting in the woods, potentially squatting above tree line trying to poop in the middle of an electrical storm.  I decided to chance it as I couldn’t hold it any longer and I sat down knowing full well that the poop tower could end up pushing up against me just from sitting or that whatever came out of me would be pushed up against me with nowhere to go down below. Yes, I had become a disgusting person. The decisions of my every day life were not what I had envisioned for myself when I set out on this Mecca-esque quest.

The privy incident left me unsmeared. I didn’t dare reach under myself to wipe for fear that my hand would make direct contact with the poop tower. I stood up with pants around my ankles and wiped while standing up. This is probably far too much to be sharing with the entire world, but this was the way I had to think now, these were my serious life problems.

Since it was a weekend the tent site was filled with weekenders, who had tents the size of Howard Johnson hotels, absolutely ridiculous luxuries that I was secretly jealous about. Just as I left camp I ran into a crazed looking Chihuahua that ran at me and tried to bite me several times. The dogs owners offered me some doughnut holes as a peace offering for the crazed dog nipping at my legs and I took them and gladly scarfed them down and headed to the trail away from the crazed Chihuahua.

The sunlight that greeted me at the shelter that morning was pretty much completely gone by the time I was getting close to breaking the treeline. It appeared I might just make it through the Whites without a single good view from any of the major peaks. The thing is that I didn’t care at all. I was just so excited to be out of the damn White mountains, and excited that I would never have to come back. These mountains as amazing as they were scare the fucking shit out of me.

As I reached the summit of Mount Moosilauke the large cairns came into view as white and misty clouds rolled past me with 20 mile per hour winds that blew and blew.

MVI_2165

When I reached the top I saw a tiny slit of blue between two massive dark clouds. I saw a young couple enjoying lunch behind a pile of rocks, protected from the wind. I sat down next to them and we talked. I wasn’t exactly in a rush with less than six miles to go to the next shelter and with no sound of thunder.

“I’m Lola.” The girl said.

“And I’m Sunrise.” The man said. They both wore copper wedding bands, something I’d never seen before and something about them seemed more free and wild then anyone I’d met so far, these people were travelers.

I told them about the Whites , the hut system, the insane weather, and I ate lunch with them.

Since I was in no rush I just waited at the summit even as Lola and Sunrise moved on. I envied them the fact that they had each other to hike with.

I met another couple a half hour later, Moose and Tetherball. They too were so full of life and positive energy they made me wish I was headed North with them. They gave me the boost I needed to keep on keeping on. They were accompanied by another young man named Chewy.

“The only animals I’ve seen so far are deers and bears.” Chewy said. “You get to Virginia and deers will be trying to get into the shelter to spoon with you.” Chewy said.

Moose gave me some of her swedish fish and then departed North. I ate them and then I too left the  and headed the just under five miles I had to hike to get to Jeffers Brook Shelter. I arrived around 2:00 P.M. with plenty of daylight left so I decided that after I finished what I had allotted for my lunch that I would take a well deserved nap. And I slept on the hard wooden shelter floor like it was a feather bed.

I woke up to a white trash looking couple named Tracy and Owen. They had two lab and pit bull mix puppies that were terribly disobedient.

They chatted with me and told me they had parked their car just a half mile away and were going to get their tent and food. Food that included hot dogs which they offered me, I was very excited.

When they headed back to their car to get their gear an older couple named Grace & Glory and Walking Man arrived. Both loved to complain and did plenty of it to anyone near enough that had functioning ears.

“As soon as I finish my hike I’m writing a letter to my senator about those huts.” Walking Man said.

Bishop arrived not too long after them and I was glad to see a familiar face who I knew I could talk to who I also knew was not crazy.

Turkey and Thrasher arrived shortly after Bishop and told me of the early troubles they faced in their hike.  They said Thrasher got hurt early on and they had a 1000 medical bill to pay and no insurance.

Tracy, the woman in the white trash couple walked back into the campsite dragging a giant cooler on wheels while Owen, her boyfriend carried more than the average camel could hull. Good thing their car was so close.  Tracey opened the cooler and pulled out two giant bottles of pink Sutter Home wine and poured us all very full glasses. One glass had me tipsy and the half bottle shared between Tracy and Owen had them talking about dropping everything and starting their own thru hike. They asked Bishop and I questions and said they were dead serious about hiking, I knew this was all bar talk and would amount to nothing, but bar talk with strangers is at least entertaining.

There was about two cups worth of wine left in one of the bottles as everyone headed to bed. Tracy and Owen offered it to Bishop and me to finish and we did. I poured half in my tin cup and Bishop drank the rest straight from the bottle.

Since Bishop was getting a new phone soon I gave him my number in case we got split up and so he could let me know how far ahead he was when we really got split up when I left Hanover and headed home for my two friends’ weddings.

I had pulled out the card Sarah had given me before I started my hike, the same card I read every night before I went to bed. The front had three pictures of her.  In the first she was pointing to herself, the second making a heart with her hands, and in the third pointing at me and on the inside was a picture of her blowing a kiss with the words ‘I love you’ underneath the picture.

“What are you looking at?” Bishop asked.

“A card my girlfriend made me before I left for my hike that she asked me to take with me the whole way.” I said.

“Can I see it?” Bishop asked.

“Yeah, but you can’t read what’s inside, that’s just between her and me,” I said as I handed him the card.

“She’s really pretty.” He said.

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous.” I said.

“How long you been together?” He asked.

“Just about two and a half years.” I said.

“That’s a really long time.” He said.

“It hasn’t seemed that long to me.” I said.

“Every girl I’ve ever been with has told me I have commitment issues, or maybe it was intimacy issues, I can’t remember.” Bishop said as he handed the card back to me.

“Maybe it was the girls that had the issues, and they just blamed them on you.” I said with a laugh as I tucked the card back in my journal and put it in my pack.

We turned our headlamps off and I felt so ready to be back home, back in the real world, back in the life I once inhabited even if it just was for a week.

We went to bed and I really hoped I’d see Bishop again, but I wasn’t sure if I could make up 10 days hiking on someone who hiked just as fast as I did. I’d really have to move fast if I was going to ever see him again. But people had told me you’d be surprised at what can happen that will bring hikers back together on the trail.

Rose – Glass of Wine.

Bud – Getting closer to Hanover.

Thorn – Only getting 6.9 miles hiked.

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Night 21: Saddleback Mountain Magic

Monday, July 5th, 2010

The view from the peak of Saddleback Mountain In Maine

Friday, 6-25-2010
16.9 Miles Hiked, 1,960.9 Miles to Springer

Mud informed me that the General and the Cadets woke up at 4:30 A.M. and were hiking by 5:00 A.M. Mud and I on the other hand didn’t get started hiking until 8:55 A.M. and ABEAR had left about a half hour before us.

We blazed through the first eight miles of the day. Mud stopped for an early snack break, but I pushed on looking to get some more mileage in before I rested and refueled. By the time I had reached the Poplar Ridge lean-to it was only 12:30 P.M. and I had caught up to the General and Cadets and caught ABEAR too. We all sat in the shelter and enjoyed lunch before we made our final push of the day.

Monkey, Giggles, Abraham, and Bishop probably hadn’t even left the last shelter at this point as they were planning on an eight mile day today. They only had sixteen to go because they were stopping in Rangely to watch the next US World Cup game. ABEAR was getting off in Rangely too, but he wanted to get the majority of his hiking done today.

After we finished lunch we left the General and Cadets in the dust, not expecting to see them again based on the fact that we started almost four hours behind today and had caught them in four hours. ABEAR hit the trail around the same time as us and quickly passed me as my pace has been so slow lately, but Mud was dragging today so I was at least faster than him.

The three of us all met up again at the top of Horn Mountain.

Mud arrived about fifteen minutes after me looking pretty rough.

“Hiking just sucks when you’re feeling shitty. It really ruins your day.” He said.

Upon hearing Mud’s troubles ABEAR said, ” Want to make your day a lot better?” He pulled out his blue and purple glass piece and motioned it toward Mud.

“I think I’ll be okay.” Mud said.

“I’m good.” I said as he motioned it toward me.

It was three weeks into my thru hike and I couldn’t think of a three day span in which I wasn’t offered free weed. I had officially been offered weed more times in twenty one days on the trail than I had in four years of college.

If you’re looking to get a high on a very regular basis and for very cheap, hit the trail and you’ll get what you’re looking for. Maybe this is a sign that I need to start smoking weed?

From the Horn we were headed to our highest mountain of the day, Saddleback Mountain. I loved the ascent from the Horn to Saddleback. Both mountains sat high above the treeline. You were able to see exactly where you were headed, no trees to cover up all the hills and valleys that lay ahead. Mud and ABEAR flew by me, but since there were no trees I could see exactly where they were the whole time.

The views from the top of Saddleback rivaled those of the Bigelows. Mud and ABEAR were sitting and snacking behind some piled rocks to block the twenty plus mile per hour winds. After being up there for just a couple minutes I became very cold.

I put on my fleece and windbreaker and then ABEAR called me over. He showed me a grave like indent in the ground.

“Lay in it.” He said.

I did and I was surprised to find that no wind hit me where I lay.

“I’m sleeping here tonight.” He said.

“Wow, it’s way too cold for me up here, plus I didn’t bring enough water to make it through the night. ” I said.

“I didn’t think about water.” He said. “I also need to check the forecast and make sure no storms are coming in overnight too.”

As ABEAR and Mud talked a fourth hiker came  into view. He had hair down to the middle of his back and wore a baseball cap that said, ‘AT Caretaker.’

“Name’s Ed.” He said. “You a thru hiker?” He asked.

“Yeah, headed to Georgia.” I said.

“Cool.” He said “I brought an extra one of these up here in case I ran into s thru hiker.” He said as he pulled a 16 oz. can of Budweiser from his jacket pocket.

“I’m alright, but I think my friend, Mud over there would be happy to take it off your hands.” I said after thinking about the fact that the beer had been in his warm jacket pocket for an entire day of hiking and was probably best case scenario luke warm Mud and ABEAR finished it off while we talked to Ed.

“What are your names?” He asked.

“Triple P., ABEAR, ans Mud.” We said.

“Were you a thru hiker?” I asked

“Yeah, started SOBO in 1997 and got the trail name ‘It’s All Down Hill From Here’ cause if you think about the elevation at Springer Mountain compared to Katahdin, you’re really dropping about one foot every mile you hike. It’ll help keep you positive if you think about that when you’re climbing up some of those killer mountains.” He said.

“I had to come off the trail in Hanover that year, got too banged up.” He said. I started a NOBO hike in 1999. I’ll tell you SOBO is so much harder, Maine is bad ass. Once you get through Maine and New Hampshire you’ve only done 20% of the trail, but you’ve done 80% of the work. The rest is going tot be so easy for you guys.” He said.

“That’s good to hear.” I said. “Maine is kicking my ass.”

“Yeah, Maine is bad ass, it’s killer.” He said.

“What’s the caretaker hat for? Are you still doing that? I asked.

“No. I used to be the caretaker at the  Piazza Rock site a few years ago.  Now I live in Rhode Island and try and come up once a year and do some trail magic. I left a cooler full of beer, soda, and sandwiches up top for some thru hikers last year. Being a trail angel is pretty sweet.” He said.

“Yeah I’m definitely going to do some trail magic once I’m done.” I said.

The conversation came to a lull and Mud and I said bye to Ed and ABEAR and headed straight down hill to Piazza Rock lean-to.

There was no sign for the lean-to, but I saw one for a toilet so I knew I must be close. After seeing the toilet it made sense that the toilet had a sign and the lean-to didn’t because the privy was pimped out.

There were two toilets, a mini set of Sponge Bob poker cards, and a PCT and AT hiking magazine. Theoretically if you had a friend you were that close with you could poop together, while holding hands, while playing gin rummy, and reading each other hiking articles. Could you ask for anything more?

Mud and I opted not to participate in the simultaneous poop and instead began preparing dinner. While we set our stoves up and got our water ready ABEAR appeared much to our surprise.

“There was a chance of a storm so I figured I better not chance it.” He said.

“Good thinking.” I said as I ate my Lipton soup mixed with deviled ham spread chunks.

Just as I said it I felt something warm run down my lip and I looked in my soup. It appeared as though my soup was a foamy yellow sea and one of my noodles has been shark attacked as clouds of red blood surrounded them. Pretty soon my soup was looking pink.

I cupped my nose and my hands were covered in blood. The blood began dripping through the cracks between my fingers. With my left hand I unzipped my pack and rifled through everything to find my toilet paper.

I took a wad and held it to my nose. The wad was quickly soaked with blood. I twisted some more toilet paper up like a tampon and shoved it in my nose.

The bleeding stopped. I looked at my toilet paper roll. I had used so much to stop the bleeding that I only had three squares left. I hoped I wouldn’t have to poop tomorrow and fell asleep.

Rose- Meeting It’s All Down Hill From Here.

Bud- Getting closer to getting the hell out of Maine.

Thorn- Bloody nose.

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