7/8/08 16 miles to White Birches Hostel Gorham, New Hampshire
Like any challenge, the White Mountains have been just as rewarding as they were challenging. Summitting the mightiest peaks in the Northeast, braving the glut of tourists, maneuvering my way through the grip of a domineering Mountain Club, and finding my way to the glorious boundary of the final state were all part of the Whites’ endeavor. Just as it is difficult to see the forest from the trees, or the universe from one world, the Appalachian Trail cannot be fathomed from one mile. But after my four months of adventures and now stumbling into a new crowd altogether—the Southbounders, I realize what a magical trip this has been!
7/7/08 11.7 miles to Carter Notch Hut
Today fell to the leisurely side, but after my aggravating voyages through rough climbs and mobs of tourists, I feel justified in relaxing. Plus, with the last state in sight, literally and figuratively and the miles quickly disappearing, I know it is time to savor the end. I earned work-for-stay at the northernmost hut, Carter Notch, and their kind treatment helped redeem my pessimistic view of the New Hampshire huts.
7/6/08 15 miles to Osgood Tentside
Trekking through the Presidentals (of the White Mountains) requires conquering both the jagged cliffs as well as the pampered mobs of tourists. The crew at Mizpah helped me begin the day with a sumptuous breakfast—giving me the adequate energy to overtake the yuppies summitting the magnificent peaks today. I was constantly overwhelmed with the sheer volume of tourists, especially at Mount Washington, where I had to stand in line to reach the summit! I wanted to throw up on the day hikers. In addition to my social struggles, I was rejected from Madison Spring Hut because the crew claimed that three thru-hikers had already taken the work-for-stay positions. It’s a little disheartening to get shunted to the ridgeline in the evening, to rush down the rocks only to find the shelter of the treeline. These woods are my home, and I have nowhere to stay when the affluent tourists have a monopoly on the mountains. Luckily I found a disgruntled hiker named Derrick here at the tentsite just as pissed as I am.
7/5/08 21 miles to Mizpah Spring Hut
The demons of the mountains did not punish me as hard as in the past few days and I was fresh enough from my plush stay last night to conquer more Whites, including a 3000 foot climb. The mountains are both plush and rugged, civilized and untamed, devoid of warmth and disgustingly crowded. Tonight is my second night at a hut, and each time has given me only a glimpse of the pampered and insecure who move their comforts to remote places. It’s a distracting way to view this beautiful state, but hopefully I won’t miss it in the wide wilderness ahead.
7/4/08 13 miles to Galehead Hut
The volatile adventure through the Whites continues after two days of leisure at Squam Lake and a day of conquest again on the rocks. Brett rescued me from Franconia Notch two days ago, to return to the only place on the trail I can call home—Squam Lake, New Hampshire. I spent one day meandering around Plymouth, NH and the next reliving old times with old friends. It was almost more than fate that Paul and Ryan were in town with me, so Brett ironically chartered us to repair a spot on the swampwalk we built last fall—toil I never thought I would return to. But nothing could spoil a beautiful boat ride on Golden Pond and free pizza afterwards. The sight of all of my friends—Brett, Paul, Ryan and Sarah, happy and at peace, gave me new inspiration for hiking. This was certainly one lucky thing since the mere thirteen miles of hiking today wore me into the rugged ground. But the evening was saved when I met Kirty Harry and LT at the hut and received good food from the kind crew of ladies at the hut.
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