Days 142-150: The White Mountains of New Hampshire
Day 142. September 1st: Beaver Brook Trailhead to stealth MM1814 – 13 miles
The next morning, we take the Hikers Welcome shuttle back to the Beaver Brook trailhead, but this time we head north on the Kinsman Ridge Trail. The miles pass quickly in first half of the day, but then North and South Kinsman require some scrambling to ascend the steep trail. At the summit of South Kinsman, we find two bearded thru-hikers sitting beside the cairn, both leaning in to listen to a cell phone, cans of beer in their hands.
“You guys okay?”
“Oh yeah, we’re fine,” one hiker replies. “This is just the only place we can get service to listen to the game!” I’d forgotten that college football season had started. It’s yet another reminder that summer is fading into autumn. We wish their teams luck and keep moving.
Day 143. September 2nd: Stealth site to Garfield Ridge Shelter – 14 miles
Franconia Ridge is one of the most famous hikes in the Northeast, and we’ve happened to hit it on Labor Day weekend. Still, the Liberty Springs trail is not overly crowded. It’s not until we reach Little Haystack Mountain, where the more popular Falling Waters trail intersects with the AT, that we begin to see day hikers in droves. The ridge is amazing. Clouds periodically block out the views down into the valley, but in the sunny moments, you can see all the way to the summit of Lafayette, and the humans in the distance look like ants until they can’t be distinguished at all. When we reach the north end of the ridge, we are completely socked in, but I pose for a dramatic photo anyway.
Day 144. September 3rd: Garfield Ridge to Stealth site MM1843 – 15 miles
After a night at Garfield Ridge Shelter, we follow the AT as it traces the Garfield Ridge Trail and then turns onto the Twinway Trail. It’s a steep climb up to South Twin. The weather is the same today as yesterday. At one moment, we stand beneath blue sky, looking out at the valley below, and the next moment, clouds have blown into obscure our surroundings. Thankfully, it doesn’t rain, so we hike down the rock trail to Zealand Falls Hut.
The AMC Huts in the White Mountains get mixed reviews from thru-hikers. In a few places, they are the only viable option for shelter, but a bunk is $85-$125 depending on the location. Because this is far above many thru-hiker budgets, the AMC also offers the option of work-for-stay for 2-4 thru-hikers per night at the discretion of the hut crew (stylized as “Croo”). These spots are highly sought after, because for the price of an hour of chores, a thru-hiker can obtain meals and permission to sleep on the dining room floor. However, the timing can be tricky. If you arrive at the hut too early-- say, before 4pm-- the Croo might turn you away, saying you have enough time to hike to the next available campsite or shelter. If you arrive too late—say, after 5:30—the work-for-stay spots are probably taken.
Our first hut experience yesterday morning at Lonesome Lake provided a bad first impression. We entered around 7:30am, hoping to purchase baked goods or leftovers from breakfast, but we walked in on a cringy skit in which the Croo not-so-subtly hinted to the guests that a $20 per-person tip would be appropriate upon their departure. When the skit was over, we were told we couldn’t buy any food for at least an hour, so we’d just hiked on instead of waiting.
But now, the Croo at Zealand Hut completely reverses that first impression. They welcome us, quickly explain the process for buying soup, baked goods, or hot drinks, and encourage us to relax and make ourselves at home. The soup is only $2 per bowl, with additional slices of warm homemade bread for $1 each. This food seems weirdly affordable in the same place it costs $100 to sleep in a wooden bunkhouse with 40 other people.
After Zealand Falls, the AT follows a rails-to-trail path that is spacious and level. For the first time in weeks, we can hike as fast as we would walk on a city street. After picking our way through the mud of Vermont and the rocks of New Hampshire, moving over 3mph feels amazingly fast, like I’m on a moving sidewalk at an airport. We cover another five miles in less than two hours before tenting on an uneven patch of ground half a mile past the no-camping zone around Ethan Pond.
Day 145. September 4th: Stealth site to Lake of the Clouds Hut – 13 miles
The hike from Crawford Notch to Mount Washington is among the most beautiful stretches of the Appalachian Trail. The climb up Webster Cliffs Trail to Mount Jackson is steep enough that I strap my poles to my pack so that I can use both hands. We can see Washington from the ridge, but the weather station at the summit is obscured by gray clouds in an otherwise clear sky. “It’s like a supervillain has a lab up there,” I say to Etienne, “and they have a machine to generate clouds to hide their evil plans.”
These first few miles of the day were so challenging that I begin to grow nervous that I won’t be able to make it all the way to Lake of the Clouds, but after a bowl of soup at Mizpah hut, we press on, and the trail actually gets easier as we climb higher. When the AT joins the Crawford Path at the summit of Mount Pierce, it grows more level and less rocky. We cross a few bog bridges and proceed up along the rolling ridge line past Mount Eisenhower and Mount Franklin. It’s late afternoon now, and the landscape above treeline is cast in a soft, golden light. As we skirt the summit of Mount Monroe, the Lake of the Clouds hut appears.
Because this hut is the only shelter in a 13-mile unbroken stretch above treeline in the volatile Presidential Range, the Croo almost never turns away thru-hikers. Once the work-for-stay spots are filled, they will charge $10 and allow you to sleep in “the Dungeon,” the musty, concrete basement room that serves as an emergency shelter in the winter when regular hut service is discontinued. We’re in luck, because although work-for-stay is full, this Croo allows us to pay for the emergency shelter but sleep on the dining room floor instead of the damp, cold Dungeon. The sunset from Lake of the Clouds hut is incredible.
Day 146. September 5th: Lake of the Clouds to Madison treeline – 8 miles
Mount Washington is famous for having “the worst weather in the world.” At a modest height of 6,288 feet, the mountain is easy to underestimate, but you really, really, shouldn’t. The notoriously variable weather and steep terrain on Mount Washington have claimed nearly 150 lives. We pack up and leave Lake of the Clouds early, and it’s a mile to the summit. By the time we arrive at the weather station and visitor center, the usual helmet of gray clouds have begun to gather, but there’s still a glimpse of the valley below.
From Washington, the AT snakes around Adams and Jefferson on its way to Madison Springs Hut. Here in the northern Presidentials, the terrain gets rocky and rough. We pick our way across boulder fields, and the rock is as abrasive as coral. All the rock-hopping has left my knee throbbing, and we ask if we can work for stay at the Hut. “The winds are supposed to pick up tonight,” says a Croo member. “And it’s going to rain in the morning. You’re probably better off getting up and over Madison tonight.” She checks the time. It’s 4pm. “Anyway, you’re too early for work-for-stay. Good luck.”
Short-tailed weasel, spotted between Adams and Jefferson
We’ve been extremely lucky with the weather on this long, exposed stretch of trail. I don’t want to hike one of these mountains in 60mph winds and rain. The climb up Madison is steep, and once again I pack away my poles so that I can use my hands. The view from the top is gorgeous. From the summit, the tree line looks close, but it takes over another hour to reach the scrubby alpine trees and then sweet-smelling evergreen forest. Once we are clear of the alpine zone, we find a dispersed campsite and set up our tents. That night, the wind does pick up viciously. I’ve never heard anything like it. The gusts whip through the woods with a noise like a car speeding past on a highway. I’m glad to be below tree line.
Day 147. September 6th: Madison tree line to Pinkham Notch/Gorham – 7 miles
After hiking through seven miles of pouring rain, we call from Pinkham Notch to reserve beds at The Barn, a popular hiker hostel in Gorham. That afternoon, we resupply and rest. The owner, Paul, offers shuttling to slack pack the 21 miles from Pinkham Notch to US2, but I don’t trust my body to attempt such a long day here in the Whites. Instead, Paul agrees to pick us up in two days to bring us back the Barn for another stay after we have traversed the Carter and Moriah range.
Day 148. September 7th: Pinkham Notch to Carter stealth site – 10 miles
Day 149. September 8th: Carter to US 2/Gorham – 11 miles
We have lovely, clear weather on our two-day hike from one road access to Gorham and the next, but it is cold overnight. I chose to keep my 32-degree bag for this last stretch of trail, unable to bear switching back to my heavy, bulky 20-degree bag. Now I’m wondering if that was a good decision. I cross my fingers for a mild September.
Halfway through the day today, a familiar, unwelcome tightness takes hold in my abdomen. It worsens throughout the day, as if someone is twisting my insides like you would to wring water from a towel. Sure enough, that night, it’s back. After only nine days of respite, somehow, I’m already menstruating again. Ibuprofen wards off the pain, but I think back to the end of Vermont and my first few days in New Hampshire, recalling how some days I was so fatigued I could only hike five miles of easy terrain before hitting a wall. It would have been impossible to maintain our pace through the Whites from the last week if I’d still been feeling that way. The terrain north of Gorham is supposed to be just as difficult.
We’ve come almost 1900 miles. Fewer than 300 miles remain to Katahdin.
It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. I can still do this. I have to.
Day 150. September 9th: Gorham to Gentian Pond Shelter – 8 miles
The next day is my dad’s 60th birthday, and I give him a call before we leave town. I flaked and didn’t send him a gift, but I don’t feel too guilty because I intend to give him a kidney in a few months. Presents are allowed to be late when they’re human organs, I think. I don’t mention the kidney, though. That’s a conversation that needs to happen in person.
Instead, I tell him that we’re going to be in Maine tomorrow.
I can barely believe the words coming out of my mouth.
We’re going to be in Maine tomorrow.
