Ahh, the Whites

We finally made it to Gorham, NH, less than 20 miles from the Maine border. Maine! Our last state on this epic journey! I have to admit that we went into the White Mountains with a certain amount of trepidation, even hysteria, mainly due to the excessive warnings we heard from South-bounders, trail angels, hostel owners and the general public. Basically, we expected the terrain and/or weather to kill us.

Well, we made it out alive, and even had a great time hiking the White Mountains. The adventure began with Mt. Mousilauke, the first of the mountains above treeline. We started out tramping up wet, heavily forested trail, but the top of the mountain was relatively clear. The tricky part was the descent on the other side into Kinsman Notch, where the trail drops an abrupt 1,000 feet in under a mile. Wooden ladders and steel cables are placed in some, but not all, of the steepest areas. We took our time and enjoyed breathtaking views of the waterfall cascading beside the trail on the way down.

Having conquered Mousilauke, we gained some confidence, and set out the next day over Wolf Mountain. The terrain was rocky and wet, due to some scattered showers, but it didn't seem too bad. We hoped to hike somewhere around 12-15 miles that day, shorter than our previous average to account for difficulty. We hiked and hiked and hiked, and then had a heart-sinking moment when we passed the first sign. Three miles in almost as many hours! We consulted the map and discovered that we weren't even on Wolf Mountain yet! We struggled to pick up our pace, but I soon slipped on a rock, smashing my kneecap, in what I first thought would be a trip-ending injury. Luckily, I was able to bear weight and the pain subsided somewhat. We limped into the first shelter, a mere 7 miles from the road, by four o'clock, and declared an end to that day's hike. We played some cribbage to cheer ourselves up, but were both feeling pretty discouraged. It would take us weeks to get through the Whites at this rate. That night the wind howled through the trees, and the creek next to the shelter roared from the recent rains. The forest seemed very wild and inhospitable.

However, the next day proved to be easier, and we adjusted our expectations, aiming for a 10 mile a day average. We lucked out with some good weather over the next week, and really started to enjoy the challenges and rewards of these rugged mountains. We hit the Franconia Ridge on a day when the AMC was reporting 107 mile views - incredible for this area. We could see the clear outlines of the Adirondacks to the west and into the province of Quebec to the north. Mt. Washington was clearly visible, as was the smoke pouring from the cog rail as the trail inched its way up the mountain. By the time we actually summitted Mt. Washington it was, as usual covered in fog, and we hit several windy rainstorms above treeline, but this is to be expected, and it turned out to be kind of fun to hop from boulder to boulder through the mist.

M and I took advantage of the "work-for-stay" option at nearly all of the huts in the White Mountains. The huts are maintained by the Appalachian Mountain Club and staffed by enthusiastic crews of college students who cook and clean for guests staying there. At $60-80 per night, they are far too expensive for us, but in exchange for 2 hours of work, the crews let us sleep in the dining hall and eat the leftovers from dinner and breakfast. This way, we carried very little food, which made for lighter packs and therefore easier hiking. Most of the people who stay in the huts go on short hikes in the mountains, and don't have to carry a full backpack. Unfortunately, this means that a LOT more people than usual are using the trails, and there were points when we were really slowed down, just from passing so many other people on the freeway, err trails. In general, though, I think it's a really positive thing to see people exercising in fresh air, so I can't complain too much about the AMC making this feasible.

As a special bonus, the last three miles out of the White Mountains are on smooth, flat trail at a very slight downhill grade. Pure bliss, after pulling ourselves hand-over-hand up ridges in blustery wind, and lowering ourselves carefully down trail that resembled waterfalls. We trotted happily and even met some dayhikers on the way out who gave us a ride into Gorham. So here we are, taking a "zero day" - ie, no hiking - and feeling really enthusiastic about the upcoming weeks.