I awoke to a rustling outside. Mouse? Nope, too big. Bear? Too small, plus I was camping outside a hostel so a bear would be unlikely. I sniffed. Skunk. Great. How do you get rid of a skunk? I peeked out the screen of my tent. Sure enough, a black and white form had found its way under my rain fly. I groped for my headlamp. "Shoo!" I whispered, "Go away!" He didn't pay me any attention. My fingers finally clasped around the lamp, and ducking behind the thin nylon in case of a stink bomb, I turned the light on. It didn't phase him. Instead, he stuck his striped nose into my pack and started pulling out my food bag. There is little more precious than food on the trail, so I was willing to risk everything to keep it from the beast. I slowly unzipped my tent and reached out. The next 30 seconds were spent playing tug of war with the skunk. He appeared to be winning at first, as I didn't want to startle him into blinding me with stink, but once I realized what was at stake I ripped it from his jaws. HA! He waddled away, defeated.
The battle left me exhausted so I slept in. A morning of movies turned into a lazy afternoon, and I stayed at the hostel til 4pm. It was hard to motivate myself to do what many SOBOs considered to be the hardest mountain, so I delayed hiking as long as I could. The plan was to hike up the mountain four miles and watch sunset before descending a few miles to the shelter. Finally I escaped the hostel vortex and made my way up the mountain; the climb turned out to be rather enjoyable.
Breaking treeline, I made my way over the open ridge to the summit, the white blazes giving way to rock cairns to mark the path. The wind nearly knocked me over, and I pulled on another layer as the sweat from the climb up evaporated. I waited for sunset behind a rock wall constructed to be a refuge from the wind. As the sun sank, I stepped on top a rock and spread my arms, leaning into the wind. I could fly.
There are a few places in this life that are beyond beauty. The kind of beauty where you can look for hours and still not take it all in. A beauty that takes your breath away, that leaves you grasping for a way to absorb everything around you. It cant be captured with pictures or brush strokes. There are no words to describe what the eye can't even comprehend. Yosemite is one such place, as is Death Valley, Big Bend, and the Whites. Layers upon layers of mountains, shifting shades of blue as the sun roams across the sky. Fog obscures one peak only to reveal the magnificence moments later as it lifts into a cloud. Indescribable. Unfathomable.
They say by the time a thruhiker makes it to Katahdin, he will have climbed the equivalent of Everest from sea to peak 16 times. I'm pretty sure I achieved at least one of those climbing up to Franconia ridge. Or maybe it just felt like it because I was carrying a watermelon and a pineapple. You may wonder what possessed me into doing such a thing. Well, when people are in groups, sometimes they do stupid things. I had only been hiking with Disco, Siddhartha, and Moose for a few days, but it already felt like I had known them for years. The trail can do that- speed up time by slowing it down.
I'm not sure whose idea it was, perhaps mine, but we decided to hike a mere six miles out of a town we had stopped in and cowboy camp under the stars on top of a mountain. Since we had access to a grocery store, we each would pack out some delicious food and have a feast once we arrived. Somehow I ended up thinking a watermelon was the way to go, while the other three were wiser and chose lighter foods.
Despite my heavy load, Moose and I made it to the ridge line first and scoped out a good place to camp. We ignored the no camping sign as we claimed a nice flat spot sheltered from the wind.
When the other two joined, we broke out the goodies: hummus and carrots, bread with coconut oil, oreos, watermelon, pineapple, and sparkling grape juice. We could see every direction for hundreds of miles. As the day grew late we all headed to a lookout rock to watch the sunset.
The wind was relentless and cold, forcing us to our sleeping bags early. As the light faded, the stars slowly came out. Next thing I knew, I woke to stars so thick I could feel them, in an unhindered view of the night sky. I willed myself to stay awake long enough to identify constellations and appreciate the majesty of it all.
I was the only one up to see the sky painted in pastels as the sun rose. Wrapped in my sleeping bag, I watched the light fall over the mountains, chasing away shadows. Soon the others stirred, daring to get out of sleeping bags despite the cold and hurriedly packing in order to get moving. The wind picked up and stung our faces til they turned red. One by one, we headed over the exposed ridge, amazed at the beauty and strength of the mountains.
It had been a long day. On top of the 16 miles, I decided I wanted to see what it would be like to go south for a half mile, so after descending the biggest, steepest, rockiest boulder scramble of a hill I turned around to go back up.
Ok, fine, that's not the whole story. I had been hiking along, going steady when I came up behind a dad and his two small daughters. He wasn't moving over any time soon so I just decided to stop and wait until the got further ahead. While I was sitting there, I figured I might as well check AWOL the guidebook. He informed me that there was a campsite two miles down a steep side trail. Oh no. I was on a very steep trail. I hadn't seen a blaze for ages. The terrain I had just covered looked different than the elevation in the guidebook. Had I somehow gotten off trail? I checked google maps. It showed a trail that took a 90 degree turn and ended at a campground. The little red dot representing my location happened to be on that trail. Shoot. Either google was wrong and AWOL was wrong, or must have gotten off the AT. Maybe that's why the dad looked at me funny. I turned around and headed back up the trail, up the huge pile of rocks I had just descended.
I met Siddhartha coming down. "This is the AT, right?" "Yeah," he looked at me like I was crazy and pointed to a freshly pained white blaze. "But the side trail could be blazed white as well," I argued. "They wouldn't do that, would they?" he countered. I shrugged, I wouldn't put it past them. "Its steep, its rocky, its dangerous, it must be the AT," he said. He pushed past me and continued down the trail. He was probably right, I was probably dehydrated and overreacting but I wanted to be certain, so I climbed all the way back to the sign that pointed out I had indeed been on the AT the whole time.
It was late when I made it to the hut. The American Mountain Club (AMC) owns huts spaced periodically throughout the Whites, and for a small fortune hikers can sleep in the bunkroom and eat delicious food. These huts make it easy for people who like to hike without a heavy burden, and many visitors will spend days in the mountains hiking from hut to hut carrying only water and snacks. To many thruhikers, huts are like gold. If you play your cards right, you can get a work-for-stay (WFS) at the huts, which means you can sleep on the floor of the dining area and eat all the leftovers in exchange for doing a few chores like sweeping the floors, washing dishes, and folding the blankets. Each hut only takes two thruhikers, and only after a certain time. If you arrive too early, they will send you on; "you can do more miles." Too late, and the spots are already filled.
When I arrived it was late. I was sure they already had two people, but I waited outside as the guests finished dinner. I considered moving on; I even got 20 feet down the trail before turning around. I should just wait and see if they had space, plus I really didn't want to filter water and they had a sink inside. When it looked like the dinner chaos was dying down, I rushed in to get water and inquire about WFS. I was the only one so far. Unable to believe my luck, I waited outside until they called me in to clean up the leftovers. I wasn't sure where Siddhartha, Moose, or Disco were; I hadn't seen them for hours. No matter, I was sure to run into them sometime.
A spread lay before me. Lasagna, salad, bread, vegetables, soup, pineapple. My tummy grumbled. All for me. That is, until Moose and Siddhartha decided to show up and beg the hut worker accept both of them for WFS. The food dissolved before my eyes. What could have been a feast left me scrounging for crumbs. I was happy to see them, but the food... or lack thereof. Thankfully I had at least gotten one plate full before the savages took over. Its a painful dilemma to have to choose friends over food. After washing a few dishes and losing a game of Scategories, I fell asleep soundly under the table, eager for the pancake breakfast in the morning.
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