Day 32 (August 1st): 9.8 walked (1755 – 1766.2)

Today was fairly “easy” with regard to the climbs. The tread was either a little easier to navigate, or we are developing “goat feet.” To mitigate my foot issue, we took regular breaks on the hour. We started with a bus ride from Norwich to Hanover and then decided on a road walk to the AT Trescott Rd. trailhead to see how the feet would respond. This way, if it became problematic,  we could hitch back and regroup.

It was neat to walk through the Dartmouth campus and the neighborhoods along the way. While on our road walk, at the base of hill, a man stopped us in front of his house and asked if we were “lost”. ‘No’, we replied, ‘Just testing out my foot on our way back to the AT’. He advised us that the road we were walking was steep and dangerous on foot and insisted that he drop us at the trailhead. Who are we to NOT accept such a strong suggestion? He dropped us at the Trescott trailhead, a mere 5 minutes drive from his house.

Back on uneven dirt. So far, so good. It appears that over tightened laces and the wrong shoes may have been the problem. Even so, we (I) didn’t want to push it.

At one point, a flash of rusty brown fur and a white tip tail crossed the top of my vision (while staring at my feet, of course). The west coaster in me immediately stopped and thought, mountain lion. Shit, it’s doubling back on us! Once I came to a full stop, I could see that it was a small button buck deer. It was now doing its best to be invisible and looking at us with curiosity.  For proof of fur, I clumsily snapped a picture, and we went our separate ways. Finally! A furry animal! They do exist out here. 

Up Moose Mountain, we gradually climbed. Even though I felt like I could go further,  we decided to stop at the Moose Mountain shelter. Sometimes, patience is the better part of valor. The miles will Come. And, we caught up with Sweat Potato!

Day 33: 12.2 miles (1766.2 – 1778.4)

Holy crap! What a brutal ending to a mostly enjoyable day, where we got our first glimpse of a sunrise.. While there were roots, rocks, and mud, it was all fairly “mild” in that no trips or falls were had. Our shoes are muddier than they ever were in Vermont, which was supposed to be muddy anyway, but New Hampshire,  what the heck?! Just before our big climb up Smarts Mountain,  we took a slight detour to a big blue (periwinkle, to be exact) house that rumor had it, they gave hikers ice cream sandwiches.

I am happy to say that we confirmed the rumor. Two ice cream sandwiches later (because the owner said we could) we were headed back to trail. Just before that, we noticed that the road we “detoured” onto went straight to the parking lot approach to Smarts Mountain.  Same mileage, just no mud, roots, or rocks. It was a no brainer…literally. 

For 2 miles, we did not have to think about where to place our feet. Little did we know, it was going to serve us well. While on the road, a car passed us and asked if we wanted a ride. We declined, as we were finally enjoying walking and talking. When we arrived at the lot, the same guy who offered the ride offered us beer. Now that we’ll take gladly. He was on his way to do a section SOBO. We gave him info about the trail as we sipped on an ice-cold beer. It was 3 p.m. and we had 3.8 miles and 2,134 ft to climb, with the last half mile covering the last 584 ft. All was good, and we were climbing with gusto until my foot suddenly started hurting under the arch by the heal. It felt like something was tearing away from my heal. OMG! Now what?! The day was going so well. About halfway up, after stopping and resting till the pain ceased, I discovered that the insole in my shoe (left of course) had migrated ever so slightly with all the wet and mud and twisting of footing, that the edge of it was rubbing my arch, causing the pain. Shit. Oh, and did I mention we were back again at near 100% humidity? With 2 miles to go, we had a view of what we later discovered WAS Smarts Mountain. It seemed way too tall and way too far away. I tell ya, this trail is so difficult to measure distance by any means. As it was hot, water was an issue. Apparently, one is supposed to carry their water up the mountain to ensure there is water as the spring by the ranger hut has been drying lately. With the last stream being highly tanic (rusty colored from plant material), we decided to trust the last comment on FarOut that there are pools from which to collect at the spring up top.

By the time we reached the last half mile ascent, I was on fumes (Paul was, too). The only thing that kept us going was a coming thunderstorm and Sweat Potato’s comment. “There are dumb asses that do this trail and make it.” If a “dumb ass” can do this, then so can we. Up we climbed over slick rock stairs with cascading water draining on both sides. Mud and even rebar steps to help you ascend the over 45° incline. Eventually, we crested the top as the day’s light was fading. ‘Holy Crap, that was brutal’ was the consensus of everyone packed into and around the Ranger hut. Whoever thought of this route was a sadist.

With a thunderstorm coming in, the climb up the fire tower was a no-go. Dinner was spent on the Ranger hut porch, and the night was spent on one of only a few semi flat places in which to erect a tent. In no time a cloud settled upon us, and down came the rain.

Day 34: 9.7 miles (1778.4 – 1788.1)

We awoke to a puddle under the tent. As long as it was on the outside, everything is okay. A breakfast bar, a hot cup of coffee, and a cat hole on the woods, and we were on our way. As the cloud was still settled upon the mountain,  we figured it would rain on us most of the way down, so putting on wet clothes once again somehow didn’t feel so bad. Today would be a descent, followed by an ascent to the Hexacube, and then back down to a road, where we’d camp nearby.

This trail is daunting. If we were 10 or 11, even a teenager, it might be fun getting muddy and crawling up over roots and rocks. Holding onto narrow tree trunks to ensure your footing. Finding cracks and groves over smooth slabs of curved granite in which to ascend…carefully. Our major destination reached, we basked in actual searing sunlight accompanied by a brisk, cooling wind. We were drenched in sweat from head to foot, and we finally had a view.

As we rested, and chatted with the other hikers that we have been leap frogging the last two days (Long Island, Fern, Cheddar), we helped ourselves to a yard sale and took the opportunity to dry out all that was wet…including ourselves.  And then, on the horizon the clouds began to form and turn Grey. Darnit, another (unscheduled) thunderstorm is on its way. Time to collect our gear and make the 3 mile descent to camp.

Noticibly worked from the previous day’s climb, as well as this one today, we took our time navigating the blackbean soupy trail to our stealth camp destination. Comment on FarOut tell us that this spot is “okay” if you’re fine with kids partying all night. It was Saturday night, so we were prepared.

We camped next to an old rock structure that appeared to be a settling pond for livestock or irrigation.  Sounds of joyfully screaming voices with a bass beat in the background ebbed and flowed through the evening and into the night. A cacophony of explosions and their rhythm in the near distance indicated a fireworks show was nearby.  Our map showed a Merriwood Camp in the vicinity of the noise. It must be the final night send-off for the week’s campers. We wish we could have at least seen the fireworks. Sadly, we couldn’t even see our hand in front of our face.

Day 35: 10 miles (1788.1 – 1798.1)

Hot. Stuffy. And muggy most of the night until it rained. I almost can’t help but welcome the seemingly nightly rain, as it cools things down just enough to go to sleep… finally.  Last night was especially itchy and stinky. We haven’t showered in two weeks, and the smell is nauseating. Our only hope is to get down the trail to the Hikers Welcome Hostel for a shower, laundry, a dry place to sleep, and to take a day off and plan for the Whites!