Category: Sherpa’s AT Thru-hike

The next morning Brenna and I finally met the notorious Dan Quinn, owner of The Barn. He lived up to our high expectations and was so welcoming, energetic, open, and selfless. He’s the best. Seriously, him and Betsy, the trail angel we stayed with in Hanover are my new favorite people and I want to be like them slash live with them forever. After chatting with Dan and the other hikers who had stayed at his place, Neon set off for her long 23 mile day. I got a ride with Dan into town so I could figure out what I was going to do.

After much debate, I decided the best idea would be to get a ride to Rutland so I could see a doctor. Dan had offered to let me stay as long as I need (and for free, bless his heart) but I figured the smart thing would be to get my knee looked at. Rutland is a much bigger town and would have more options of hospitals and doctors, at least from my brief research. My next task was to get to Rutland. It was about 30 miles and a 50 minute drive from where I was but all on VT 4, so I set off on a hitchhiking adventure. Dan, once again proving his greatness, made me promise I’d call him by noon no matter what to check in and gave me a big hug before I set off.

This was the first time I was hitching alone so I was a little nervous but promised myself I wouldn’t get in a car if I felt at all uncomfortable. Anyway, people usually see a girl hitching alone and immediately get worried a crazy person will pick her up so they’re more likely to stop to prevent that. It took about 20 minutes for my first ride and he took me to the next town of Bridgewater. My next ride took another 20 or so minutes and he could only take me about five miles up the road. However, he dropped me off literally right across the street from the Long Trail brewery. I had a moment of debate but in less than 30 seconds had decided “when in Rome” and ventured into the brewery for a quick and delicious Imperial Pumpkin beer. With that extra energy, I was ready to get to Rutland. I shortly found a ride that took me the rest of the way, from a guy that drives 185 miles to work to restore covered bridges everyday.

Once in Rutland, I walked, or more like hobbled, over to the hiker hostel. The hostel is called the Yellow Deli and we’d been told by many northbounders that its run by a cult. More on that later, but my initial impression of the cult was largely
Favorable. I asked if there was public transportation to the hospital and the man looked at his watch and declared it was leaving any minute and to follow him and he’d hold the bus for me. He ran through all these back hallways as I hobble ran behind him and we caught the bus and he even paid my fare for me.

Vermonsters (my term for people from Vermont) are all super friendly. The bus driver acted like he was my personal chauffeur and told me not to worry, he’d be back to pick me up and he hoped my knee was ok. And my new fellow passenger friend from the bus walked with me to the ER and sent me off with similar well wishes.

The doctor and hospital i went to was not very good. The doctor barely even examined my knee and only asked a few questions. He basically said some things he could prescribe me and asked my opinion and what I wanted. I don’t know, you’re the doctor! I left with prescriptions for Lyme disease antibiotics and Vicodin. He didn’t even test me for Lyme disease, as the results would take a few days. Not a helpful visit. Earlier in the day, back at the barn, a fellow hiker named Lost took a look at my leg and gave me much better advice. Lost was a medic in the army and deserves a blog post of his own to describe what an amazing person he is. He’s been through so much, including being blown up and run over, and a machine keeps him alive yet he hasn’t let this stop him from hiking the AT. Please take a second to read about him: http://www.outersports.com/blog/tag/danny-kennedy/

Anyway, Lost told me he thought I have ITBS (not IBS as neon joked) and that my IT band in my leg was hurt but would get better after a couple days of rest. He gave me some stretches that might help. Frankly, he did a much better job that the doctor in Rutland.

I waited for Shuffle and Neon to arrive back at my cult-run hostel. Shuffle texted me saying the boys spontaneously decided to hike the Long Trail and so wouldn’t be coming to Rutland. The southern section of the LT coincides with the AT and they split at Killington, from which the LT continues north to Canada. The boys were getting a ride to the northern terminus and hiking down to the intersection of the LT and AT, adding on an extra ten or so days. I was sad I wouldn’t see them but also glad they are taking advantage of every opportunity to do fun and awesome things. And if they take extra time, perhaps I would see them again soon since I’d be resting for a few days anyway.

Back to the cult. That’s a rude term I suppose. They are a small religious group called Twelve Tribes that has many “communities” around the US. They own and run a deli and hiker hostel in Rutland as a source of income since they don’t have “normal” jobs. The women all dress modestly in long skirts and loose blouses and the men all have long hair they wear in small buns at the nape of their neck. Just looking at them it’s very clear they are different. They all live together and also have a farm an hour from Rutland where they grow their own food to eat and use in their restaurant. They dont really use technology or read newspapers and I was absolutely shocked to find out one member said he didn’t know who was president of the United States until a couple weeks ago. What!

They celebrate their Sabbath (which is Saturday) on Friday evenings. It’s free to stay in the hostel on Fridays and they have a big celebration with singing and dancing and they feed all the hikers dinner. This Friday was SO crowded with hikers. They said it was the most people they’d ever had since opening the hostel seven years ago—44 hikers. They provided modest clothes for the women to wear to the celebration. The celebration was the most surreal situation. I felt like I was in a movie. When I told people I was staying with a cult, nearly everyone’s response was “don’t drink the kool aid”. Well, first thing that happened once I took my seat in the circle for the celebration was an older man brought me over a glass of iced mate tea. I hestitantly took it to be polite and only sipped it once I saw that cult members were also sipping it.

The celebration began and all the community members began singing and dancing. Some played instruments: a drum, the according, guitar, a flute and there were so many small children who already all knew the many dances that they performed in the middle of the circle. Eventually they invited hikers to the middle of the circle and taught us one dance step by step. When I set out to hike the AT I never thought I’d find myself dancing to a religious song with 44 other hikers surrounded by cult like community members. It was actually a lot of fun. Then we had adelicious dinner and the community members spread themselves out with at least one at each table of hikers. Over the course of my two days there I asked so many questions about the community. Cults are so fascinating to me so I had to restrain myself so as not to be rude (or I guess also so I didn’t appear to be over interested and a potential convert). That night, Brenna and my last night together, we went out on the town of Rutland. It’s the biggest town on the trail at 60,000. It was a weird experience going to an actual bar, especially since said bar had a fog machine.

The trail magic continued when, two miles after leaving the shelter, we came upon a cooler of snacks and sandwiches and even s’mores supplies. We sure have been lucky lately. After where the trail magic was, we had another six miles to the town of Woodstock and then another six to where we planned to stay for the night, a place called the Cabin on the top of a mountain that was supposed to have beautiful views.

Unfortunately, soon after leaving the area with trail magic, my knee really started bothering me. It slowed me down to a pace that was slower than even normal walking speed. The downhills were the worst, with each bend of my left knee causing excruciating pain that had me screaming out loud and practically in tears. Neon and Shuffle were so comforting, slowing their own paces so I wasn’t walking alone and not even showing the slightest bit of annoyance. I hate admitting or showing pain so I was trying my best to push through but this was unlike any pain I’ve experienced before. What upset me most though was that this was happening when brenna was with me. I just wanted to be able to walk with her and enjoy the day but this was really putting a damper on that. Somehow I pushed through the six miles, very very slowly and arrived in Woodstock to find that Cool Blue and Wolf Bird had waited for me. Again, I’m so lucky to have such great hiking companions.

We’d heard about delicious pies a woman sold in Woodstock so we ventured to her store to check it out. There was only one left, blueberry peach, and four of us split it. It was amazing and a great distraction from a tough morning. The boys were anxious to get going to hike the next six miles to the cabin (I don’t blame them since they’d waited an hour or two for me) and the pressure was on for me to make a decision. I could push on to walk the next six miles, but that was basically committing to walking all the way to the next town or Rutland, 23 miles from where I was. On the other hand, I could stay in Woodstock (a guy right next door to the pie lady lets hikers stay in his barn for free) but that would mean splitting from the group, and also that I’d have to figure out what to do about my knee–stay in Woodstock or try to find a way to Rutland or something else altogether. I was so conflicted and wanted to push on so badly. I hate giving up and always strive to push myself but after much internal debate I had to listen to my body and decided to stay in Woodstock where we were for the night.

Brenna, who is an amazing friend if you didn’t already glean that, didn’t hesitate in staying with me. This would make her hike the next day a huge 23 miles but she didn’t even bat an eye. Even though I told her it was fine if she went (and I would have been fine) it was nice and comforting to have her with me.

We’d heard great things about The Barn, owned by a guy named Dan Quinn who all hikers seemed to universally agree is an amazing human being. Dan wasn’t home when we got to Woodstock but leaves his doors open so we were allowed to use his bathroom and kitchen. Brenna and I hitched the couple miles into town so I could get phone service to look up doctors in Rutland. We also got some beers and ice cream and nachos and some much needed relaxation time while in town. We hitched back–a woman stopped for us, found out she wasn’t going our direction and left, then three minutes later came back and took us anyway (and was an awesome and adventurous older lady who’d hitched across the country and done tons of international hiking in her lifetime). Once back, we set up our pads and sleeping bags in third story of the barn and chatted sleepover style for over an hour until we drifted off. I awoke in the night to a terrible skunk smell, which I originally thought was my own stench. But it got stronger and I think a skunk had snuck into the barn somehow and sprayed right near us, but luckily we weren’t actually directly sprayed.

From Hanover, we had three or four days walking to the next town of Rutland VT, where Brenna would leave me, hitching back to where she first met up with me. The first day out of Hanover was great. The difference between the trail and terrain in Vermont versus in New Hampshire was amazing. Where New Hampshire is mountainous and rocky with steep descents and ascents, Vermont is full of gradual hills on wide smooth trails covered by a bed of pine needles. And green. Just miles into Vermont, I noticed so much more green around me (hence the name Green mountain state) and loved the open fields sprinkled with wild blackberries to devour. Not to mention the idyllic farms with big red barns and rolling fields all around. It’s not a surprise I fell in love with Vermont immediately.

I should mention that since Neon joined us, we’ve experienced the most trail magic we’ve encountered yet. First, while still in NH we stopped by Bill Ackleys house. He lives 0.1 miles off the trail and provides free ice cream bars for all hikers. He wasn’t home when we went but he leaves his back porch and freezer open so I helped myself to three ice creams. We came across an empty cooler of trail magic on another day which was disappointing but also exciting because it was the first time I’d even seen a cooler of trail magic (present or not) on the trail. Another morning we came across a cooler of beers and sodas and even though it was 8 am I enjoyed that PBR chilled by the river. Yet another morning we came across more sodas. The amount of trail magic was insane–there are so many kindhearted people helping out us hungry hikers.

About 6 miles out of Hanover, we passed through the tiny town of West Hartford. We stopped in the general store, which also functioned as a post office and restaurant, and enjoyed freshly made sandwiches. Neon also convinced the boys to pack out beers to spice up the day. They each got twelve packs (they are crazy clearly) and after much peer pressure from the three of them, I set out with six beers. I was so full from lunch I didn’t want to drink any but beers are heavy, so my main mtviation to drink them was to lighten my load. We had a lazy day hiking the relatively easy rolling hills and sipping our beers. Hiking with Neon has been entertaining because since she is going the opposite direction, she keeps running into people she knows. It seems like every person we pass is someone she’s met before so it is like a social tour for her, surprising them by going southbound and then stopping to chat and catch up. She must have stopped to talk to at least 30 people and that’s just when I was hiking with her. It makes me realize how many more northbounders than Southbounders there are. If I had been the one to go the opposite direction I’m sure we would have passed far fewer people and I would have known no more than ten or so.

The last four point something miles of the day seemed to drag on FOREVER so we were happy to finally get to the shelter, me especially because my knee, which has been sore recently, was really starting to bother me. We hung out with some northbounders brenna of course knew at the shelter and went to bed.

The completion of Mt Moosilauke marked the end of the Whites. With the Whites and southern Maine behind me, that meant I’ve completed one of the most difficult, if not the most difficult, sections of the entire Appalachian Trail. I was so excited to have successfully done so and even more excited because getting out of the Whites meant I would see Brenna soon.

Brenna is my college roommate who is hiking the trail Northbound. She started in April and even before she began we were trying to figure out where we’d cross paths. Way back then I (very) roughly estimated that itd be in Hanover NH. It turns out my estimation wasn’t far off at all. We probably would have passed right around Hanover. However, Brenna, trail name Neon, had the brilliant idea that we should hike together for a few days. This meant one of us would have to skip a section of trail to come meet the other and hike in the opposite direction for a bit. Neon, being the braver and more experienced hiker, hitched from Rutland VT up to Warren NH with a fellow Northbounder, Surfer dude. Neon and I had texted about a couple road crossing we could potentially meet at but didn’t set a concrete place and time before I lost phone service after Moosilauke. So after moosilauke I knew I’d see Brenna soon but had no idea exactly where or when.

The day after Moosilauke I finally got phone service and received a text that neon had sent saying she was at one of the road crossings. It was five miles ahead of where I was but I had no idea if she was still there or had hiked on. I got so excited at the thought of seeing her that I sprint-hiked as fast as I could to the road crossing. At one point I did two miles in thirty to forty minutes rather than the usual hour so that shows the extent of my excitement. Unfortunately she was not at the road crossing when I got there. I figured she must have hiked on. At a road crossing further up I discovered a note she had left me saying she didn’t know where I was and the name of the shelter she was planning on staying that night–12 miles ahead of the shelter I was going to stay at! At this rate I’d never catch her! All day I passed northbounders who stopped me and asked “Sherpa?” and then passed on greetings from Neon and that she was looking for me. I felt like a celebrity with everyone knowing who I was. By the end of the day when I got the the shelter I’d planned to reach, I talked to a Northbounder who relayed Neon had cut her day short and stayed at a shelter only five miles ahead instead of twelve.

I went to bed excited knowing I’d catch Neon the next day. I got up early at 530 and was off by 630 to walk the five miles to her. Finally I got there and we had our much anticipated reunion. It was surreal but so great to see her in the middle of the woods in New Hampshire. I was, and am, so proud of her for coming so far and being so close to being finished with her hike.

It was great hiking and catching up with Brenna and she was kind enough to slow down her insanely fast pace to hike with me. We had a good couple of days and then hiked in Hanover NH. Unfortunately the day we walked the twelve miles into town it was the worst rain we walked in, downpouring most of the morning.

The entry of the trail into town was the strangest yet. Usually the trail passes by a road near a town and to actually get to a town you hitch a few miles down the road. Into Hanover though, the trail exits the woods right at the end of Dartmouth Colleges playing fields. Then the trail follows the road through the town of Hanover, right by the college and down sidewalks, passing shops and restaurants. I felt out of place with my big pack and hiking poles passing people on their way to work. I didn’t mind all that much though because getting to town meant an escape from the rain. I reunited with Neon, Cool Blue, Wolf Bird, and Shuffle in town and we spent the day doing errands and also getting a free bagel and free slice of pizza that stores give out to hikers. Score!

We went to go do our laundry and take showers at a rec center in town. One of my (and pretty much all hikers) favorite things about town is getting the chance to clean off and clean our clothes of days of dirt and sweat, so we were really looking forward to our showers and laundry. When we got to the rec center the woman at the desk told us it was too late to take showers and do laundry. It was 445 and the door said they close at 6. It didn’t seem that late to me and upon some inquiry the lady let me know they were closing early at five “because Sherry had to go home early”. Great. Now we couldn’t do laundry or shower for another four or five days. As annoying and disheartening as this was, I surprised myself with my ability to brush it off and not let it get me down.

That night the five of us were staying at a trail angels house. Dartmouth Outing Club provides a list of locals that are willing to host hikers overnight while they are in town. We called a few and found a place to stay pretty easily. Their house was actually right on the trail, as the trail continues on a road for another two miles or so through Hanover and into Norwich, Vermont (yay for crossing a second state border). The trail angels, a couple named Betsy and Bill, had asked us to come showered and with laundry done so we felt bad showing up dirty. However, they were so incredibly kind and welcoming I almost cried. They let us shower right away and do our smelly dirty laundry. They had luxurious air mattresses and REAL PILLOWS set up in the basement for us and even gave us unlimited bagels in the morning. Not to mention, they were interesting and had plenty of stories to share. Their son had thru hiked in 2007 and the reason they have opened their home to hikers for the past six years is because a kind family took their son in when he was hurt on his hike and asked them to pay it forward. They have certainly paid it forward more than enough, hosting hundreds of hikers over the years. I know I’ve said this before but I cannot get over the selfless kindness of others I’ve encountered on the trail. Betsy and Bill are just another example of this, making a tough day a thousand percent better and inspiring me to find my own way to pay it forward.

I planned to pass through Lincoln NH without stopping. I ended up living in Lincoln NH for four days by accident. Well, I guess more like three days and four nights to be fair

Our first night we got there after hiking all day. The next day we planned to head out after resupplying, which we hadn’t been able to do since hiking went later than expected the day before. As we went to resupply, we discussed as a group and decided to take a zero so we didn’t have to rush (and Chet’s place where we were staying is essentially free so it wasn’t a huge deal). We lounged around town and even saw a movie.

The next day we slackpacked. Slackpacking is where you hike but only carry snacks and water and what you might need just for the day, lightening your load by many pounds. Thus, with slackpacking you are usually able to do more miles than you would with a full pack. We slackpacked 17 miles over the Kinsman range. The northbounders at Chet’s had repeatedly warned us it would be a very long and difficult day, taking them over ten hours. I was really nervous especially when we didn’t get started until 9. My fears were unfounded though when we easily completed the day in about 8 and a half hours. Those silly northbounders. I think the whites helped condition us so we were able to complete the day faster than nobos who have been hiking for 1300 miles more than us. We got a ride with a trail angel, Rock Ocean, back to Chet’s in his awesome van from 1982 in which he made us tea before driving us back.

The next day we planned on getting hiking again but woke up to rain and a forecast of thunderstorms all day. We had Mt Moosilauke ahead of us and didn’t want to be above tree line during storms so we decided to wait a day. We saw another movie and again enjoyed the amenities of town.

Finally the next day was nice and sunny and we left what had become our second home at Chet’s place. The climb up moosilauke was much easier than expected. Northbounders warned us the trail was insanely steep and basically up a waterfall. There was even a sign saying tragic results would occur if you weren’t an experienced hiker. However it was not any steeper than other mountains in the whites and turned out to be a beautiful climb up to the top. It was an interesting experience simmering moosilauke because I’d climbed it solo on Memorial Day weekend as prep for the AT. It was snowy and there were freezing wind chills when I last came up. It’s crazy to think where I was in life then versus now. It was only a few months ago but I was in what feels like a very different place and mindset. Not to mention I had nervous thoughts and anticipation about the AT swirling around my head when I climbed moosilauke before but here I was doing what I was so worried about and it was going wonderfully. I took a photo at the sign at the top to compare to the one that is my blog ID photo. It may not look it but I’m already a changed person from the one back in may.

Other happenings in Lincoln were that I got to see several familiar faces. My brother, Ms Devon Bonney, and Mr Kyle Connolly all drove miles out of their way to come see me in the tiny town of Lincoln. With each of them i got a quick meal and we caught up, nothing too special, but their visits made me so incredibly happy. Each of them are starting exciting new journeys in their lives and it was great to be able to hear about it. I can’t thank them enough for taking time out of their busy schedules to come see me and brighten my journey, leaving me smiling a week later.

Wrote this a few weeks ago:

At least once a day I think to myself, “I can’t do this.” Not a I-physically-and-mentally-can’t-go-on-and-need-to-quit “i cant do this.” Rather its more of a its-so-uphill-I’m-tired-and-would-rather-be-in-bed-watching-Netflix-with-a-big-bowl-of-ice-cream “I can’t do this.”

This thinking isn’t exactly negative. It certainly isn’t helpful but it’s not me actually not believing in myself. It is more of a realization and acknowledgment of the difficulty of what I’m doing. Hiking the AT isn’t all pretty views and connecting with nature. Sure, that does make up a part of it. But then there are the less glamorous aspects. Being sweaty and dirty and smelly and having to trudge through mud and strain up relentless uphills and joint destroying downhills. Dealing with rain and being freezing cold or burning hot. These aren’t meant to be complaints, rather the challenges I face that lead me to have that inner dialogue that says “I can’t do this.”

Lately though, that inner dialogue is changing. I still get tired and frustrated and think, “I can’t do this.”

But now there is an additional aspect. A little part of me follows up the “I can’t do this” with a challenge. A rebuttal: “yes you can”. I think about how I thought the same thing yesterday and the day before but managed to push on. And by the end of those days it really wasn’t so bad after all. I got through it.

So now when I think “I can’t do it” its becoming more of a ugh-this-is-really-tough-and-I-don’t-want-to-do-it-right-now-but-ill-get-through-it-I-got-this “I can’t do it”. I think im slowly on my way to changing that cant into a can. And to me, that’s worth something.

I realized I never explained what trail names are or how I got mine so this will be that much delayed post. Trail names are just what they sound, the names thru hikers go by on the trail. No one goes by their real name (with the exception of Peter who was pretty resistant to the idea of having a trail name). I don’t know many people’s actual names. Instead, hikers either assign themselves a name or are given a name by other hikers. If a hiker names themselves, they usually start the trail with that name and it has personal significance. Cool Blue falls into this category–from day one on Katahdin he introduced himself as Cool Blue. I didn’t even know his real name until like day five. The name Cool Blue comes from his camp where they had nicknames so he decided he also wanted it to be his trail name. Shuffle named herself too but did so after a couple days on trail.

Others get named by other hikers, sometimes against their will (and sometimes the names stick and sometimes they don’t). For example, originally Wolf Bird wasn’t Wolf Bird. During the 100 mile wilderness Thorny tried to name him Big Cheese due to his bringing a giant two pound block of cheese on the trail when everyone else was packing as light of food as possible because we had to have ten days worth. Wolf bird was somewhat offended by the name and resisted it. The name Wolf bird later came about when we heard a loon one night across the lake. He claimed it was a wolf while others argued it was a bird and then somehow wolf bird developed and it stuck.

I was given my trail name, Sherpa, during the 100 mile wilderness. I kind of accepted it even though it was the first name and didn’t have a hilarious story, mainly because I was worried I’d get an embarrassing name. Thorny gave me my name after we bonded over talking about Nepal. I studied abroad there in college and he’d spent a good amount of time trekking there and we talked of all the places we’d been and how much we loved it. Also, Sherpa is relevant as I am carrying a pack up mountains across long distances like Sherpas do. Unfortunately I do so with much less grace and ease than actual Sherpas. So that’s how I got my trail name. I like it because its simple and reminds me of a place that has had a profound impact on my life.

Some trail names are hilarious. Today I met a Mr Gigglefits. Others are somewhat inappropriate, like the group termed Stoners with boners. Either way, pretty much everyone has a trail name. It’s unclear why they exist. We argued about if it was to allow you to establish a new identity on trail or to avoid confusion with common names or even for safety in anonymity. I’m not exactly sure what the reason is, but Sherpa has definitely become a real name to me–I haven’t been called Julie in weeks.

The next three days through the Whites were good. After Mt Washington we went over and around a few of the presidentials and then down to Crawford Notch. It rained a little and ominous clouds followed us all day but it wasn’t terrible. We stealth camped by a road in Crawford Notch.

The next day we encountered something unheard of in the Whites: flat terrain! We had seven miles of easy and mostly flat trail that were awesome and we beasted out quickly. We took a break at Zealand hut and scored some awesome leftovers: chicken and stuffed shells. We were even allowed to take some to go if we wanted! After the hut we went over Mt Guyot, which was right near where id gone hiking with my brother in April when we got caught in a big storm and had to camp on the trail and I got self diagnosed minor frostbite. It was crazy being back in the same area but without all the snow and with actual visibility. The summit that was in a cloud and with huge wind gusts and whipping rain in April was now just a half mile away in the sun—and I could now see how exposed the bald summit actually was. After Guyot we continued onto the Twin range and then stealth camped right near Galehead hut. Wolf bird, whose tent is just a rainfly and mosquito net, camped the roots of a fallen tree.

The next morning we scored leftover breakfast from Galehead hut then headed over Mt Garfield followed by Franconia Ridge. We had great weather, which was good news as Franconia Ridge is two full miles above tree line. I did this hike with Rama, who I studied abroad in Nepal with, last summer so again it was weird to be back in a different context. This hike is a popular day hike so we passed tons of families and even a girl hiking wearing a dress and Mary Jane type shoes. The views were beautiful but it was a long day that felt well over the 12 miles it was.

We got to the trailhead and went to hitch into Lincoln NH. One car stopped for us (me, wolf bird and cool blue) but didn’t have room. The girl had hiked southbound last year though and gave us beers! It was awesome.

We quickly found a different ride and stayed at Chet’s place in town. Chet’s place is not a hostel. It’s really just this dudes house. He allows hikers to stay in his garage. He has a room with couches and some chairs and bunks and also lets people set up tents in his yard. He doesn’t charge anything but accepts donations.

That night we went out to dinner at a restaurant in town and I just happened to run into Andy, a kid I went to high school with who is hiking northbound. I’d known he was thru hiking and he called me a couple weeks back to see where I was and where we would cross paths. We hadn’t talked in a while though and I think neither of us expected to see each other for a while yet. It was crazy we just happened to be in the same restaurant in the same town at the same time and a crazy situation to see someone the first time since high school.

Speaking of seeing people I know, I also met a girl that graduated from Wash U that worked at one of the huts in the whites. We chatted about mutual friends and which dorms we lived in and gushed over a professor we both loved. It was crazy to meet someone from Wash U in the middle of the woods in NH. At another hut I met someone who went to Tufts who knew people I know. It’s such a small world sometimes.

We made our way 0.6 miles up the hill from the tentsite back to the trail, which was right next to Madison hut. We stopped in the hut to get water and also had some coffee and pancakes. The huts are an awesome way to have convenient hot food along the trail. We had to pay for these pancakes but at other huts we would just ask if they had leftovers they wanted to get rid of and we’d often get tons of delicious free food.

From Madison, it was only six miles to the summit of Mount Washington. At 6288 feet, it’s the tallest mountain we will encounter for months. As we ate our pancakes at the hut, clouds began rolling in, covering the mountains in every direction around us. It sure looked like a storm was brewing. We didn’t really have a choice so we put on some layers and headed out literally into the clouds.

I was (once again) terrified it would start thunder storming while we were so high up and above tree line. This resulted in me scurrying along at a faster pace than usual. Because I was scared for my life, the trail actually seemed easier than usual and the miles flew by quickly. In reality, it was just cold and really windy, but no thunderstorms happened.

The summit Mount Washington is a strange place. People come from all around to hike to the top. But there is also an auto road and a cog railroad to the top. So next to hikers that labored for hours and sweat their way to the top are families with babies, women in high heels, obese people, etc who sat in their car or train to the top. I’m conflicted about the auto road and railroad because on one hand it allows people who might not otherwise want to or be able to experience the outdoors and mountains to be able to do so, but on the other hand the cars and train (not to mention huge lodge at the top) obviously take away from the truly natural.

I was hiking with Cool Blue and Wolf Bird as we neared the summit. The trail goes right near the railroad toward the top and there is apparently a tradition of thru hikers to moon the train as it goes past. Conveniently, as we neared the tracks, a train was headed down the mountain. Like a true lady, I yelled up to the boys to tell them about the thru hiker tradition. Before it seemed I’d even said what the tradition was, the boys had their pants halfway off and were mooning the train for a full two minutes. Unfortunately for the passengers, I don’t know how visible this sight was through all the fog and clouds.

We finally made it to the top as the weather was really picking up. The wind was insane, we later found out it was a peak gust of 72 mph that day with 30 degree wind chills. I was grateful for the lodge for its protection from the elements and its warm food. There were so many people in the lodge and many tourists. It was really overwhelming. Luckily they had this strange segregated downstairs section they labeled “hiker room” and “hiker bathroom”. Don’t know why we require separate areas to sit and pee, but it was so much quieter and tolerable there. We hung out for far too long, not wanting to go back outside in the freezing cold.

Finally we mustered up the energy to face the whipping winds. The wind was so strong it was hard to stand at times. We were going to try for work for stay at the next hut, Lake of the Clouds, about a mile and a half down from the summit. Work for stay is when thru hikers do chores for an hour or so at a hut and in exchange they get to stay at the hut overnight… On the floor. You also get leftovers after dinner and breakfast. It’s not glamorous but it’s nice to have real food and a roof over your head especially in bad weather. With so many thru hikers, and the Whites being where a significant amount of North and Southbounders cross paths, work for stays aren’t always easy to get. Most huts only take about three hikers a night and then turn everyone else away. They say 4 to 5 pm is the best bet to show up and be most likely to get WFS.

Luckily, Lake of the Clouds is the “mansion” of the huts–it sleeps over 100 people. As a result, they take more hikers for WFS. We had no problem getting it. Blue and I were immediately assigned our chore that would earn our stay. We washed a ton of dirty dishes but were pretty efficient so it only took 20 minutes tops. We lucked out big time because other people’s chores were much worse and took far longer. Later in the night, Wolf Bird and Shuffle scrubbed pots and pans for an hour and a half.

Doing a WFS was a weird experience in some ways. There were about eight thru hikers doing it and we were segregated from the paying customers staying at the hut. We sat at a table off to the side and just sat talking while the customers were served their hot dinners. The hut crew never really acknowledged us or explained who we were to the customers, so I’m sure many were confused who these smelly dirty people off to the side were. I didn’t mind that much but some other thru hikers were really offended and outraged and felt like we were getting treated poorly and it was rude no customers spoke to us. I took the position of trying to be grateful that we were being allowed to stay for free when everyone else was dishing out over $100 a night. Anyway, finally after the customers ate we got leftovers at around 7:30. The food was so good. Turkey, gravy, peas, couscous, mashed potatoes, salad, and pumpkin pie. We all had seconds and cleared our plates.

We had to wait for the customers’ lights out at 930 to be able to get out our sleeping pads and bags and set up under the kitchen tables to go to bed. It was cold and rainy out and I was so glad to be inside.