Day 126: Into the Whites!

July 11: When I got up to eat breakfast in the morning, Beast was already there and offered extra milk and blueberries for my cereal, which I happily accepted. Real milk! Not that powered stuff I usually had to use! And real blueberries--not some dehydrated fruit! It was a luxorious breakfast!

Then I hit the trail. The first couple of miles was relatively easy, trending uphill, but it was just a warm-up for, looming ahead, was Mount Moosilauke. It would be the first 4,000' peak since Virginia, and peaks well above that level at 4,802' above sea level. It's considered the start of the dreaded but beautiful White Mountains.

The climb up to the top isn't actually too bad. The trail climbs steadily and continuously without pause, but it's well-built and not particularly difficult to navigate. Views at the top were spectacular! I took an hour-long break near the summit. Not at the very top because it was so windy, but just a little way down behind a windbreak.

Other thru-hikers have heard about the Whites and tend to approach it with a certain amount of dread. How tough will it really be? When they reach the top, they're feeling pretty confident with themselves, thinking, that wasn't so bad! It gives them a false sense of security, though, because it's the downhill part that'll kill you.

The downhill part is considerably steeper than the uphill, and it follows alongside a stream for much of the way where--at times--the trail is actually steeper than the waterfall next to it! Lots of wooden steps and metal bars drilled into solid rocks to help with the descent, but it's a tricky place to navigate and the going is slow.

During the descent, I passed what seemed like hundreds of people heading up. They were everywhere! It was a beautiful summer weekend, however, which probably had a lot to do with the crowds. I hadn't seen so many people on the trail in such a short distance in quite some time, but most were day hikers just out for the afternoon.

None of this came as a surprise to me. This was my second time on the AT, after all, and I definitely remembered my first time over Mount Moosilauke. My biggest problem that time were the new shoes I'd been wearing that chaffed the backs of my ankles horribly. I'd been slackpacking since Amanda was there and my moleskin and other first-aid supplies were in my main pack back at the hotel so I had nothing to help myself with. I remembered the trail up being relentless and the trail down being treacherous, but at least this time I didn't suffer the crippling effects of new shoes.

At the bottom, at Kinsman Notch, the worst was over. Kinsman Notch was a parking lot of cars and humanity, crowds I couldn't stand, so I walked another mile or so up the trail before stopping to take a break where I took a whopping two-hour break. I had a mere 6.5 miles to the next shelter, which was my goal for the day. I didn't remember much about this section of trail so I figured it wasn't particularly noteworthy one way or another, and the elevation profile in my guidebook didn't look bad at all.

So I took a long break reading my Kindle and relaxing. A few people passed me during that time, including Bearfish, who seemed amazed at the treacherous descent from Mount Moosilauke.

Two hikers heading southbound passed me and said they had another companion behind them and wanted me to pass along a message that they'd be getting off at Kinsman Notch rather than their original plan of continuing on.

About 20 minutes later, their companion arrived and I gave him the message, but I felt really bad for him. He looked absolutely terrified, and perhaps he'd been crying earlier. He seemed greatly relieved when I assured him he was still on the right track and it was relatively close to the trailhead at Kinsman Notch. It was his first time backpacking--ever--and being alone on the trail I think was causing his imagination to run away with him. I kind of wanted to walk him back down to Kinsman Notch myself, except that it was literally a mile in the completely opposite direction I wanted to go. He'd be fine, though. I wanted to blame his two friends who ditched him, but to be fair, they might not have realized how rattled this guy had been hiking by himself and doubting his every decision.

So I ended up giving him as much encouragement as I could--you're doing great! You're almost there! In a half hour, you'll be at Kinsman Notch and hitching a ride into the Hikers Welcome Hostel! It's a nice place to stay, I told him, saying I'd been there the night before. (From Kinsman Notch, you'd have to hitch a ride to the hostel rather than just walk out and start hiking like I did.)

After two hours, I finally started hiking again. Mostly because I got tired of sitting around reading. I needed to stretch my legs!

The next four hours would be among the most horrible of this entire hike. It only spanned 6.5 miles, but the fact that I averaged 1.6 miles per hour over the terrain should give you some idea of how strenuous this section of trail really was. Even terrain I usually consider "difficult" I can typically do 2.0 mph, but not here. No.... It was a brutal, brutal trail.

The mud was epic. It was so deep in places that you had to try to find ways around it. Walking through it would just suck your shoes off! Although the elevation profile in my guidebook didn't look intimidating, it didn't show the countless scrambles up and down 20-foot cliffs. Fallen trees and rocks scraped at you. And the whole time I was thinking, "Why don't I remember any of this?!" And I didn't! It was a brutal nightmare, exhausting, and I worried if I'd even reach the shelter before dark at the pace I was moving. I was starting to wish I hadn't take that long, two-hour break!

I finally arrived at the Eliza Brook Shelter at 7:00, near dusk, and collapsed with exhaustion. I was the 8th person who arrived at the 8-person shelter. I was tempted to cowboy camp since no rain was expected during the night and I wouldn't be in such a crowded shelter, but I was just too tired to look around for a place to camp. There were maybe 20 other people set up in the woods nearby and it might take some time and effort to find an unoccupied location.

Bearfish a long, bloody gash in his leg that wasn't there the last time I saw him. "So what do you think of the Whites so far?" I asked.

He looked a bit shell-shocked, his mouth opened but no words came out at first. Finally he started saying words. Some of which included, "You could really hurt yourself out here!" and "This is not a trail!" He got the gash on his leg when he slipped on mud and banged it against a rock or something.

"That," I pointed back towards the trail, "was a hell of a lot more difficult than I remembered. And it took me a hell of a lot longer to get here than I thought it would!"

Which pretty much summed up the afternoon: hell.

But it was only my first day in the White Mountains. Hell was just beginning!

Views from Mount Moosilauke were wonderful! But there are a lot of big mountains ahead!

The descent from Mt Moosilauke was steep and treacherous!

Some sections were even steeper than the waterfall that was running just off to the left!

These sections were steep and slow to navigate, but they weren't sustained enough to actually show up on the elevation profiles of my guidebook. This kind of terrain is surprisingly difficult to get through!

 

Day 125: Blazing Saddles!

July 10: It rained during the night, but had stopped by morning. I was on the trail hiking by around 6:30. Milkshake, of course, was still "missing" since his getting lost yesterday, but presumably he'd be back later in the day to retrieve his gear.

A couple of weeks later, I bumped into Ultimate again--Eleven's mom--and she said she was still there when Milkshake had returned for his gear and I got more details of his unexpected adventure. We didn't know it at the time, but he had a whistle on him when he got lost and tried blowing it repeatedly, but none of us ever heard it. He was probably already too lost and too far away from the shelter for us to hear it.

We'd assumed that Milkshake had found his way to a road to managed to hitch a ride into town, but no--that's how we learned he'd actually stumbled onto an off-the-grid cabin. And while we were searching for what we thought might be his corpse in the woods during the night, he was indoors enjoying wild turkey pie. The guy who took him in drove him up to the fire tower on an ATV saving Milkshake from the long walk back to the shelter.

The overnight rain left the rocks wet and slippery, but otherwise the day was mostly easy walking. Hot and humid, but mostly easy walking. The trail crossed NH highway 25A where someone had left an ice chest of cold drinks as trail magic, but it only contained ice and empty soda cans. I was disappointed not to get a cold drink, but I wasn't going to pass up the ice! I wrapped a bunch in a handkerchief which I put under my hat to help keep me cool for the next two hours until it finished melting.

I finished the day just outside of Glencliff, NH, after completing my second consecutive 20-mile day. After poking along so slowly for two weeks, it felt good to get back into the grove and be kicking out 20-mile days. I knew it wouldn't last as soon as I hit the White Mountains.... starting tomorrow.... but for now, I'd savor the long distances.

Just a couple of minutes walk off the trail is the Hiker's Welcome Hostel, and I walked in for the evening. I was talking with the owner of the place out front, not even walking inside yet, when Bearfish came out and said that he'd "vouch" for me, that I'm a pretty good guy.

"What are you doing?!" I told him. "Why would I even need vouching for? Are there bad rumors of me floating around?! He's going to think I'm a troublemaker if you keep vouching for me!" =)

In any case, it was fun catching up with Bearfish again. I took a shower, washed my clothes, and watched Blazing Saddles with some other hikers, one of the movies from what might be the largest collection of DVDs I've ever seen that lined an entire wall.

Later that evening, a few us gathered around a campfire in the back and were talking about nothing in particular when Beast casually asked if I was one of the people who searched for the dead body last night.

Well that certainly woke everyone up! They all leaned forward. "What?! What dead body?!" Of those gathered around the campfire, Beast was the only person who was at the same shelter as I was last night. Nobody else had any idea what she was talking about. In the darkness and excitement of the night, I guess she wasn't sure if it was me that went out searching for Milkshake or if it was one of the other guys nearby.

"Let me answer her question first," I told the others, "because hers is quick and easy to answer."

Then I turned back to Beast. "Yes," I told her, "I was one of those that went looking for the dead body."

Then we filled the others in on our excitement the night before. Beast was the one who had called 911 from her cell phone and I actually learned more details about that call which I hadn't picked up on while listening in on her side of the conversation. When she had first called, the 911 dispatcher ended up transferring her call to a forest service center or something which had details about Milkshake and where he was located, then they tried to transfer the call directly to the cabin where Milkshake was located but they never answered the phone. I hadn't realized that they were trying to connect her directly to Milkshake, although I wasn't really sure why. We didn't have to talk to the man--we just wanted to make sure he was okay!

But that was it for the day. I stayed up late into the night reading my Kindle then hit the sack. I needed my rest because tomorrow, I'd finally be entering the dreaded White Mountains. And still without my cold-weather gear!

This little guy was making pretty good time on the trail, but I still blew past him like he was standing still!

The Hexacuba Shelter is unique along the trail for it's unusual hexagonal shape!

Inside the Hexacube Shelter

Views from Mount Cube were great!

The drinks were gone, but I did take some left over ice to put under my hat on this warm and humid day!

My home for the night.

Day 124: Emergency! Emergency!!!

July 9: I woke up early and it was a beautiful day for hiking! We hadn't entered the infamous White Mountains as of yet, but the mountains were already getting tougher and more strenuous. Practice, I would tell other thru-hikers, for what was to come....

For the first time, I met a heck of a lot of southbound thru-hikers. I'd guess that I passed about 20 of them during the day, and I chatted with a few meeting the first one who said they had actually summited Katahdin. I'd been seeing southbound thru-hikers throughout Vermont, but all of the ones I'd talked to had skipped the top of Katahdin because it hadn't opened yet. Now I was getting into people who had started after Katahdin had opened for the season. For them, the hard stuff was now behind them.

The trail was rugged, and by the end of the day, I was getting pretty tired. My goal was the Fire Warden's Cabin at the top of Smart Mountain which would have put me at just over 20 miles for the day--my first 20-mile day in over two weeks! I thought I was about a half hour away from the end when I reached a viewpoint and could clearly see a firetower off in the distance at the top of a mountain. #*@&! It looked like it was hours away, but I knew that's where the trail was heading. It was rather dispiriting. I thought I was closer than that.

I pushed on, and the trail became even more difficult even including a section with steel bars driven into the rock to make going up easier. Somewhat surprisingly, I reached the fire tower about a half hour after I first saw it. I thought I was a half hour away--until I saw the fire tour and thought it looked a lot further away than that! It's a little surprising, sometimes, how far and fast a person can travel on foot.

The fire tower was closed because it's no longer considered structurally sound, but from the signage around it, it looks like they want to find the money to fix it up again rather than just tear the whole thing down.

Nearby is the Fire Warden's Cabin--presumably where the guy manning the fire lookout tower lived while it was in use but was now turned into a shelter for hikers.

When I arrived, there was only one person there: Milkshake. I'd toyed around with the idea of cowboy camping nearby rather than inside a dark structure, but I felt a couple of drops of rain and decided to set up camp inside. The only thing I hate more than a dark shelter is sleeping out in the rain! I was surprised to see that Milkshake had set up his tent inside of the shelter which I didn't think was very considerate, but it was a huge shelter--expected to fit 12 hikers, and it was just the two of us there. I knew of one other person that I had passed who planned to camp there as well, but I wasn't aware of anyone else behind me who planned to hike this far and given how late in the afternoon it already was, it seemed unlikely that the shelter would be very crowded. I didn't say anything about his setting up the tent in the shelter, although I still thought it was an inconsiderate thing to do.

Once I laid out my groundsheet and set up camp, I went back to the patio where it was brighter to cook dinner and chat. I wasn't out there very long when I heard an alarm go off, and Milkshake pulled out his smartphone to turn it off telling me it was to remind him to take his medication. He pulled out a big ziplock bag full of prescription bottles with a comment that it sucks to be old, but he had had a heart valve transplant (or something--I don't remember the specific details, just that it had to do with his heart) and now he has to take all these medications for the rest of his life.

I'm glad he was still out here and enjoying life, but at the same time, I hoped that didn't mean he might die in his sleep during the night either. I really didn't like the idea of waking up next to a corpse in the morning. But he had also hiked from Georgia to Hanover the year before--nearly 2,000 miles of trail experience so I figured he knew what he was doing.
 
A few other hikers soon arrived, including a mom and her son that I had passed much earlier in the day and had thought they were hiking in the opposite direction so I was rather surprised to see them. It was totally an assumption on my part about the direction of their hike since I passed them while they were stopped on the trail. I hadn't stopped to chat, however, because I accidentally caught the mom relieving herself near the trail while her son was running off the trail to the shelter's privy.

The mother and son were named Ultimate and Eleven, although Eleven was actually 12 years old. He got the name when he was 11 and was camped at a shelter where everyone tried to convince the caretaker to not charge extra for him because he was "only 11." 

After a few people had arrived--and I was as surprised as Milkshake about all of the people suddenly showing up--Milkshake decided to take his tent down which I agreed was a prudent idea.

Milkshake said he was going to get water, so he took a water bottle and left down a side trail. The water was from a spring maybe a five-minute walk away, although I hadn't gone down there myself. I had enough water in my pack that I didn't need any more.

And I didn't think much of it at the time. More hikers arrived--far more than I would have ever guessed. The shelter was actually filling up! Where did all of these people come from? I'd done over 20 miles, but they all did even more than that over some fairly rugged terrain.

It wasn't until about 9:00pm in the evening, as it was starting to get dark, when one of the new arrivals asked about the person who had set up their camp in the corner of the shelter.

My ears picked up at this. Milkshake hadn't returned yet?! I hadn't checked the specific time he left, but I figured it must have been around 7:00... maybe 7:30 at the latest. The water was only a five minute walk away. He should have returned by now. He should have returned over an hour ago! With all of the other hikers now milling around, though, I had completely overlooked the fact that he had failed to returned--not that I was supposed to be keeping track of him.

But I remembered him waving around that big, plastic bag full of prescription drugs and his comment about the surgery on his heart and had a sudden vision of Milkshake keeled over dead at the water source. It seemed unlikely that he'd have gotten lost--the water was just a five minute walk away and I knew he'd hiked from Georgia to here. It seemed unlikely that he could get lost so badly on such a short section.

"We need to look for him," I announced to everyone. "Right now!" Then I told them about his medical condition and that he had merely gone to get water nearly, but that was two hours ago and the fact that he hadn't returned was a very, very bad sign.

Someone suggested that maybe we should call 911. It wasn't a bad idea--and at the top of the mountain, one of our phones was bound to find some sort of weak signal--but I suggested that we look for him first. We really didn't know what kind of problem we were dealing with yet and out in the wilds where we were, emergency personnel wouldn't be getting here anytime fast. We had to be the first responders!

In my head, I was frantically working out what might have happened to him. My first, immediate thought was that he was dead by the side of the water. But he could have had some sort of medical emergency that disabled him and left him unable to get back to the shelter. Or--which I considered unlikely given his hiking experience--he could have gotten lost. Dead, injured or lost. None of which were happy scenarios. He had walked out of the shelter with nothing but the clothes on his back and an empty bottle of water. It was now getting quite dark and looked like it would start to rain at any time. Even being lost without any of his gear could get him killed from hypothermia. This was bad.

Of course, the best scenario would be that he took a nap next to the water and we'd find him sleeping, he'd wake up, and walk back to the shelter. Nobody really believed that was likely, though. No, something very bad had happened--and until we went out and looked for him, we wouldn't know what it was.

The last person to see Milkshake was Eleven, who had walked down to the water with him. The first water they saw was from a slow, shallow spring, and Eleven told us that's where he got water from but that Milkshake continued further down the trail hoping to find water that was running a little better and that was the last time he'd seen Milkshake. Eleven got his water and returned to the shelter.

A couple of other hikers had went down to get water during that time, and we quizzed them if they had seen anything strange or suspicious even though it seemed unlikely. If they had seen a dead body on the side of the trail, wouldn't they have mentioned it already?

When you see something like this, it just doesn't make you feel very safe as you cross on the unbroken log, does it? =)

So we're all discussing this in the shelter as I work to get some shoes and socks on my feet and put on my fleece jacket. I slipped my smartphone into a pocket, just in case, and put a headlamp on my head. I was ready to search for Milkshake.

Ultimate (Eleven's mom) and Mac joined me for the search and we all headed down towards the water. None of us said it out loud, but we were all thinking it: We're looking for a corpse. We're going out in the dark, in the woods, looking for a corpse with headlamps and flashlights. If this were a horror movie, the audience would be telling us to stay in the shelter. Don't go out! Only an idiot would go out and separate from the rest of the hikers!

But we had no reason to believe there was a serial killer in the woods either, so the three of us left to look for Milkshake. Ironically, none of the three of us had been down to the water before so we were all walking into unknown territory, although others who had been down there described what we should expect.

We soon found the first spring--more like a seep that looked like stagnant water than an actual stream--but there was no sign of Milkshake. We hadn't expected to find him right there, however. He'd have been difficult for other hikers who got water to miss if he was laid out at the very first pool of water, and Eleven had told us that he went past it looking for better water.

But at this point, we needed to keep our eyes peeled. The search for Milkshake really begins here.

Being as dark as it was, our headlamps and flashlights didn't pierce very far through the trees. We could see clearly maybe 15 feet on either side of the trail, but presumably, if Milkshake just keeled over, he'd be close to the trail.

We continued along the trail, seeing nothing. A few minutes later, we found a small stream trickling across the trail. It had a good, strong flow. If Milkshake was looking for a good place to get water from, this would have been it. He should have been somewhere between that initial, stagnant water and this stream, but he was still nowhere to be seen. What the hell happened to him?

I wanted to follow the creek upstream in the unlikely event that Milkshake had done the same--to be as thorough as possible in our search, but the other two women didn't think that was a good idea. The trail also continued going down the mountain--it wasn't just a trail to the water source, but an actual trail that led to who knows where. Somewhere off the AT and outside of the scope of our guidebooks. Maybe he went further down the trail? I wanted to look a bit further down the trail as well, but I couldn't search two places at once and I suggested we split up. They go a bit further down the trail--maybe five or ten minutes--and I'll follow the water source upstream.

They really didn't like the idea of us splitting up--especially with me going out on my own, but I assured them that I'd be okay. I had a headlamp and a cell phone which I could call for help with if I needed it. (I didn't tell them that I hadn't checked if I got a signal.) But it was just a short way and they'd know exactly where I'd been looking.

We split up. There wasn't an actual trail that led up the creek, so I bushwacked a bit through the brush and fallen trees, working my way back uphill and eventually to the original stagnant-looking pond. Still no sign of Milkshake.

I started to head back down the trail again to catch up with the girls and help them search the side trail, but they were already heading back up saying that it didn't look promising. Mac asked if we should call 911 now.

"Yes," I replied, "we really need to call 911. But let's get back to the shelter first."

I figured any search for Milkshake wouldn't get started until the morning when it got light again and that he'd be stuck outside all night. Which was no small concern because now it was started to sprinkle and he literally had nothing on him but the clothes on his back. He might not be dead or injured yet, but he might not be able to survive a cold and wet night. I thought about maybe walking further down that side trail--maybe for a half hour or so in an attempt to find him. I didn't want to get caught out in a storm during the night without my gear either, though! By morning, though, I hoped there would be a lot of boots on the ground searching for him.

When we got back to the shelter, I asked if Milkshake had unexpectedly arrived while we were searching for him. We doubted that was the case, and sure enough, he was still missing. I wanted to search Milkshake's bag and get a real name for the guy. Calling 911 to report that "Milkshake is missing" might sound like a prank!

Beast pulled out her cell phone and called 911. I started emptying out Milkshake's backpack looking for any information about the guy. I found his headlamp--not a good sign if he was still out in the woods in the dark. I also found his smartphone--another bad sign since if he had gotten lost, he wouldn't even be able to call for help assuming he was somewhere with a signal. And there was his big bag of medications--which clearly he wouldn't have deliberately left behind since he needed them to live.

What about the hikers?! What about me?! Maybe I should start wearing a tracking collar just to be safe....

We were all listening on Beast's side of the 911 call and her answering questions about where we were located (on Smart Mountain, at the Fire Wardens Cabin along the AT), the hiker who had gone missing and explaining our search for him.

She stopped talking for awhile, and eventually looked back up at us. "They found him."

We were all a little puzzled at this. "What do you mean that they found him? We just reported him missing!"

She didn't seem to know what was going on either, but put up her hand to signal to us to be quiet as she listened into her phone.

The story eventually emerged that Milkshake had, in fact, gotten lost during his hunt for water. We still weren't sure how that happened--it seemed fairly straight-forward and we had no trouble finding our way to the water in back in the dark with our headlamps. We were, quite literally, at the top of the mountain. Just go uphill! If you're going downhill, you're going the wrong way. How did he get lost?

But in any case, he did get lost, badly so but managed to find someone living in some sort of off-grid cabin who took him in for the night. Because he was lost and knew he'd eventually be reported as such, they called 911 to report that the "missing" person had already been found, so when we actually did report him missing, they'd already knew about him and that he was safe and taken care of.

Well, we were all greatly relieved to hear that he was doing well and was okay. For about an hour there, however, we had quite a scare going on! Presumably, he'd have to hike back up here to retrieve all of his possessions. I stuffed everything back into his backpack and Ultimate was going to write a note to leave with his gear in the morning to not remove it since he would be coming back for it soon.

I headed back to my sleeping bag, staying up an extra half hour to write down all of the details of the evening in my journal while it was still fresh in my head, but it took me a long time to get to sleep after that as the events of the night replayed themselves in my head.

The Trapper John Shelter had a chimney nearby!

The privy at the Trapper John Shelter might, perhaps, be the most comfortable of the entire trail!

I didn't stop to see Bill Ackerly, although I heard he wasn't there at the time I passed by.

The trail is getting rough!

Bad weather is rolling in....

You know the trail is tough when....

Smart Mountain lookout tower was closed due to structural problems, so there won't be any views from the top today.

When I arrive at a shelter, I'd always take a photo of it for use on Walking 4 Fun. So I took this photo of the Fire Warden's Cabin when I first arrived. Little did I realize when I took this photo that it might be the last photo ever taken of Milkshake, and it might be needed by the authorities to determine what he was wearing when he was last seen!