August 3.

This morning I started hiking from Crawford Notch up towards the Presidential Range and Mount Washington.  This section of trail is both stunning and humbling, as you walk above treeline at 5000+ feet for miles along the Presidentials, including to the summit of Mt Washington.  It’s a vulnerable position in the event of threatening weather conditions.

Everyone I knew was well-aware of this fact, closely following the weather forecasts for the next few days and deliberating over their plan for the miles ahead.  As is common in late summer, the forecast for the next few days was clouds and scattered showers with a chance of thunderstorms.

But, the thunderstorms were more likely for the next day.  As Crawford Notch is over ten miles away from Mt Washington, I decided to hike closer, then reevaluate when I got to Lakes of the Clouds Hut, which sits at the base of a final climb up to Mt Washington.  The next day I could choose to bail out and descend from the Presidentials without crossing Mt Washington, if need be.

The morning was spent climbing up Webster Cliffs, a climb like the Kinsmans that required both hands, arms, back and strategy for scrambling over rocks, sometimes using only nubs and cracks to climb or descend.  I was glad to be hiking near two others, one of whom was particularly considerate and kept asking if I wanted to hand up my hiking poles to him to free my hands. 

 In spite of the difficulties, I enjoyed how the trail came out to another cliff view every 20-30 minutes.  As we climbed, the views got better and better, with clouds rising from many visible valleys between mountain ridges.  I took a long break at the highest cliff outcropping and felt glad to have that climb behind me.

Over the next several miles, the trail crossed a few high elevation bogs on boards, a pretty habitat up there.  The mud was dark, soupy and deep for anyone who fell in a bog or mud pit.  Whether it’s balancing on bog boards over mud or scrambling up rocks, there is no quick hiking in these parts.  Every mile is fought for!

It was nice to see Mizpah Hut finally.  I came inside and sat at a table.  The hut atmosphere was cozy with bright wooden boards, a crew member cooking stew, baked goods for sale, someone sweeping the floor, and big windows.  

We’d lucked out all morning with only a few drops of rain here and there, but it remained cloudy and ominous overhead.  Many hikers planned to hike onwards to Lakes of the Clouds Hut, and there was much anxiety in the room about how many hikers the caretaker would permit to stay there, if they’d be consigned to the basement area called “the dungeon” (mildewy and unpleasant), and if some would be sent forward to scale Washington.

After a rest long enough that I didn’t feel so weary, I shouldered my pack and set off again into the day.  I caught up to another hiker and we hiked together for a bit.  

The day really turned around as we climbed out into the Presidentials.  We kept looking around in wonder and appreciation as we neared Eisenhower, then climbed up Eisenhower and couldn’t believe the scenery as clouds shifted.  To see the winding path wending its way up and down rocky peaks, the green-yellow of the alpine grasses in the wind, other tiny flora, the dramatic size of the mountains, the crumbling granite peaks- it was all stunning.  It made for a barren, beautiful landscape, all the more dramatic with wispy clouds blowing in and out with each moment.  The views were engaging and the next miles passed by quickly.  We often stopped to look ahead and around and behind at all the views.

I reached the Lakes of the Clouds Hut around 3pm, ducked inside for a quick break, then made the decision to hike another 7 miles to Madison Hut, though I’d have to keep a steady pace to reach Madison by sunset.  It is always a tough call as to whether it is a good time to hike over Washington, as clouds are constantly forming, then dissipating, then reforming there, but it seemed like a relatively clear afternoon, and the forecast for tomorrow was worse.

I hiked up a boulder field, stepping from rock to rock and up into misty white that enveloped the summit of the mountain at that moment.  I wondered if this was a good decision, and was reassured by the number of day hikers who were also out in the mist.  It was a steady ascent to the summit sign, where I skipped a summit photo after watching a long line of people take turns with the summit sign.

I continued out into the grand beauty of the Presidentials, sloping golden Mt Washington underneath my feet, grand mountains of Clay and Jefferson before me.  I continued to take in the grassy slopes, alpine growth, crumbling granite summits, stunted conifers, steep mountainsides evidenced by the growth patterns of the trees, as if a steep mountainside were pulling the trees down with it, in slow motion.  It was incredible scenery that reminded me of any number of places including the CDT through Colorado, except that the trail didn’t hang precariously on the edge of a mountain, and people abounded.

I was to hike into the evening, stopping often to study the changing view, watch the unfortunately dark polluting smoke from the cog train, and hike into approaching clouds.  It was exciting to be out in this grand landscape.  As I deliberately picked my way from rock to rock, I was amazed by various encounters with other hikers who didn’t seem to grasp the rugged and risky nature of hiking on these slopes.  A man and son asked me for directions, out on a trail in the middle of nowhere, miles away from their destination of Mt Washington.  An older man with a partner told me that, “I’m not doing well” with a what-can-you-do shrug, and a pair of girls appeared in the late dusk, heading away from Madison as I headed towards it, seemingly unconcerned by the lack of camping options anywhere nearby.  It would seem that many people hike over these mountains in the dark in the summertime, which made me cringe.  The footing required great care and concentration.

I hiked by Mt Clay, then Jefferson, then Adams.  Each mountain was spectacular.  Wisps of fog rolled through and swirled around the cairns, and I felt as if I were in a fantastical land with a name like Mordore or something.  The grasses bent and audibly whispered in the breezes. 

I hiked down to Madison Hut in fading light.  I was pleased I had made it there with time to spare.  All the spots inside for walk-in thru hikers had been taken already, but someone tipped me off on a nearby campsite I could stay at that night.  I nestled in under some pines. 

I slept well that night.  I was thankful for the way things had worked out- that I had been able to hike over Mt Washington on a clear afternoon and see the incredible surroundings. 

August 4.

This morning I packed up and walked a few minutes up to Madison Hut, as a light rain became a shower.  I stepped inside the hut to finish my coffee, escape the rain, and read the latest weather report.  I only had 1.7 miles left above treeline, and was hoping to make it back into the trees before any afternoon thunderstorms crept up. 

It was a bit surreal to step inside the bright warmth of the hut where hikers were finishing their breakfasts and watching a loud crew (summer staff) skit, unconcerned by the rain outside.  I was glad to have the hut to duck into, and even appreciated the King Arthur-themed skit about leave-no-trace (don’t litter) and the natural area.

I sat a while, then stepped out into the fresh air to begin the summit of Madison, followed by a long descent to Pinkham Notch.  There were some scattered rain drops, but these soon dissipated.  I worked my way up the boulder pile of Madison, thinking about how exhausted I’d felt in recent days, only to later feel so inspired and uplifted by the incredible views throughout the Presidentials.  I was glad I hadn’t cut the hike short yet.

The first mile and a half of the day took me all morning because it required balanced boulder stepping, careful foot placement on slanted rocks that were slippery when wet, and because I kept stopping every couple of minutes to look around me again at the awesome scenery.  Like any setting of a grand landscape, as my position changed, new details and views opened up on the massive mountains around me and the valley below.  It’s unusual on the East Coast to have such a massive land area viewable all at once, and I loved being here again to try to study it all.  Also, it was neat to descend and see the lower parts of the mountains and think how I’d been on the summits, how when you’re up there, you don’t always realize how much a mountain spreads out, and contains all the ravines and crags and shoulders that extend to its base.  You don’t realize what a massive mountain lies beneath your feet.

I continued to look behind me and wonder at the fact that humans even could scale mountains on such a grand scale.  The rock cairns marking the trail atop Madison soon looked far away, nearly unreachable, and yet, I had just been there.

After a snack break I reached the treeline, and continued the long descent, though now under cover of the spruce firs.  My neck and shoulders ached with soreness from yesterday and the impact again today as I braced myself with each step of descent. 

The next several miles seemed to take forever.  Hours later, I reached Pinkham Notch, and took a lunch break in the cafeteria there.  I took my time.  While descending Madison, I had been able to see a mountain ahead with a series of steep ski trails, which would be my next climb, Wildcat Mountain.  I was in no hurry to start the climb up Wildcat, the known steepest mile along the entire AT (including an ascent of 1000 feet in a half mile!).

I left the cafeteria and hiked by a pretty creek and lake, then started the brutal ascent up Wildcat.  The climb felt nearly vertical and at times required scrabbles up rock faces, or several moments to form a plan for how to scrabble up a craggy rock.  I felt tired.  I checked my phone frequently to gauge my progress, and saw that I’d be climbing over 700 feet in the next 0.4 miles!  Slowly I climbed up the mountain, stopping often to catch my breath.  I sweated with exertion, in spite of the 60-70 degree conditions.

After a long couple of hours, I made it out to the ski path clearing and gondola at the summit of Wildcat.  I had only hiked 10 miles by 6pm, but had no desire to hike further.  My legs were heavy and my neck was sore.  

The clearing offered an amazing view of Washington and Madison and the Osgood Trail descent, not to mention many other ravines and paths on those slopes.  Washington loomed up in the landscape, spanning miles.  Clouds that formed then dissipated were forever changing the view.  A valley and peaks in Maine were visible to the east, often with a totally different weather pattern- mostly clear throughout the evening, whereas clouds and rain hovered around Washington and the Presidentials.  I thought of all the hikers who might be up there, in the midst of the clouds, but hopefully getting some good views when the clouds dispersed, as well.  I could see why the forecast was so often cloudy or rainy up on the summits.  The mountains appeared to keep their own weather patterns.

I had a great evening, cooking on the ski lift platform, eating in a ski lift chair, setting up my tent under the lift.  A rainstorm passed through as I wrote and stayed dry under the lift and watched the mountains.  I couldn’t believe I’d been able to witness an evening pass from up there, and in the dry.  It was beautiful.  

August 5.

I journaled until it got dark, watching lightning strike over at Madison, then start in on this mountain.  Thunder rumbled loudly enough to rattle the loose parts of the lift.

I laid down to the sounds of rain and thunder.  I woke once to see clear sky and dim stars above, with the Big Dipper glowing above Madison.  

My body was like lead weight towards morning.  I sat up and peeped out to see the sunrise, but it was cloudy and colors were subdued.  I gratefully laid down again and felt affirmed that my body had been working really hard the past couple days- it sure felt the effects!  I guessed I was due for another rest day soon.

I had a slow morning, looking out at Mt Washington and texting Newt about her dilemma.  She was at Lakes of the Clouds Hut, where it was rainy and windy, and was reluctant to hike over Washington.  I could see lots of cloud cover up on the summits over there.  

I finally decided enough time had passed that I better start hiking.  I hiked through spruce fir forest, first past a viewing deck not far from the gondola, then up to other Wildcat peaks.  The weather was really nice, fall-like weather, maybe 70s, lightly breezy and clear.  The hiking was slow going as usual, but no intense scrambles.  I got to the lookout that looks down on Carter Notch Hut below and the pretty ponds and boulder field in that area.  

I was the first hiker to arrive at the hut that morning, and was happily surprised that there were many leftovers set out: eggs, bacon, pancakes, oatmeal, juice.  (Huts leave out free leftovers from meals provided to their paying guests, which thru hikers often take advantage of.)  It couldn’t have tasted better to me.

I set off again, feeling satisfied and full.  I hiked slowly up to Carter dome, a long climb that I had to take slowly.  

A few thru hikers and others passed me here and there.  I hiked out to Mt Hight and enjoyed the 360 degree view there, with the backdrop of Washington and the bowl to Madison, still a massive looming panorama.  The weather over there looked to be finally clearing.

A hiker pointed out the other Carters (Middle and North Carter Mountains) ahead, summits that then took the rest of my day, but mostly weren’t too bad.  The trail often led out to rock patches amid the spruce fir that offered views ahead to other peaks or rock patches.  Pretty.

The descent to Imp shelter and camp area was steep and required holds on trees.  A few had written complaints in the hiking app, one saying the Appalachian Mountain Club should do better, and that “at least there’s a stream ahead where I was able to wash the blood off” ha- dark humor.  It was cathartic to read.  As I painstakingly lowered myself down rock faces with a full backpack, I couldn’t help thinking that the steep descents weren’t as much fun as they were the first time, seven years ago.  I kept thinking of the impact on my joints and how bad a fall would be- a sign of getting older, I guess.  

Ah well.  It was good that I was stopping soon.  I stopped early to camp at Imp campsite as the skies darkened overhead.

August 6.

I ate breakfast and packed up, then headed out to climb up Mt Moriah.  Thankfully after raining overnight, it was cloudy without rain.  The moist forest dripped around me, watering the vibrant green mosses and mushrooms.

After a few miles of climbing, I came out to a curving rock slab, typical of the rock patches on these mountains.  Before my eyes, the thick surrounding mist became wisps, then blew away to reveal the Carters behind, then Washington and Madison, still looming large in the view.  Better than tv!  No matter how many times I saw them, the grand scale of the Presidentials amazed me.  Also, from that viewpoint it was neat to see the entire series of the past couple of days: Washington, Madison, Wildcat, the Carters. 

  I continued the descent from Moriah.  I was surprised that it grew chilly enough to put a coat on, until I heated up again from a few tricky descent moves.  My knees were sore.  I was glad I was headed to the town of Gorham for an afternoon break.

In town, I enjoyed eating a sub, stopping by the library, and talking with Mom and Dad.  It was good to catch up.  I told them that I’d considered quitting every day lately, especially in the brunt of a challenging climb, but then I’d get to an incredible view and feel entirely different, just so glad to be seeing it.  I knew they’d laugh about that with me.  Mom said, “You can’t quit now, you’re so close!”  I knew they’d be supportive no matter what I chose, but I also agreed with that reasoning.  I had enough desire to see the mountains in Maine again to keep me going.

I left Gorham in the afternoon and hiked a few more miles.  The trail was so clear, first literally a road walk by a dam, then a climb up through hardwood forest, none of it too steep or rocky.  It was a refreshing way to end the day.

August 7.

I was so happy that the trail was easier going than it had been in a while.  Though I continued to climb mountain upon mountain, there were fewer rock scrambles requiring climbing.  It was a nice break.  

A few southbound hikers passed me and mentioned a hurricane rain- Debby- coming in a few days, and asked if I was ready.  A hiker suggested staying at a hostel ahead, and as we were talking it over, asked if I could make it to Grafton Notch before the storm.  I laughed and said that I should be moving fast and steady, but I’m tired.  I said that as I took yet another snack break on a rock.  It was one of those days when I felt content to just move at my own pace

I called and made a reservation at the hostel.  It was good to have a restful day to look forward to.

It was a great sunny day, absolutely beautiful weather for hiking.  I really enjoyed making ramen with bacon and cheese and eating a hot pocket and candy for lunch.  I ate until I was full, a hearty portion of everything.

I started hiking up towards Mount Success, one of the larger climbs of the day.  I continued to meet southbound hikers throughout the day.  One stopped to chat and told me that he was so glad to be out of Maine.  It was amusing to hear, given that New Hampshire is no easy state either.  Southbound hikers had the Whites in front of them, but we northbounders also had tough climbs ahead.  I think we were each thinking, I’m glad I don’t have the climbs in front of me that they do!  I couldn’t help telling one southbound hiker that I was so glad to be over Mt Washington, it’s so tricky to get over that one in clear weather.  

After Mt Success, I hiked up towards Goose Eye Mountain with its west and east peaks.  I remembered this as a highlight from last time, and sure enough, it was a pretty scene again this time.  The fact that the trail ascends near west Goose Eye peak and then shows the East Peak, a steep climb away, and that it only takes a hiker a few minutes to cross over to that one, was so neat.  The lush boggy path visible from Goose Eye to Mahoosuc Arm ahead was pretty as well.

August 8.

I headed down the trail, then up a small climb and over to Mahoosuc Notch, a deep gap along the AT filled with boulders of all sizes.

The mile-long notch section required much strategy, leaning, pulling, pushing, gentle lowering, and throwing of hiking poles ahead.  Some rocks were painted with arrows indicating the path forward.  I was glad that there were other options at times: a painted arrow indicated a climb down into a wet cave and a squeeze through a tunnel, but I climbed around, staying up in the light of day instead.

It felt good to reach the end of the notch and see clearer path ahead.  I celebrated by sitting down along the trail to eat a snack.  It was another beautiful sunny day. 

I started up Mahoosuc Arm, another trail feature with a reputation for being tough.  At least I was prepared.  The climb involved some of what I’d expected- technical areas requiring pulling up a rock slab by tree branches- but then turned into walking up an angled rock slab itself, almost like walking up a tilted sidewalk.  It was unique.

I stopped for lunch by a pretty pond between Mahoosuc Arm and Old Speck, and had only hiked 4ish miles by noon!  Definitely not a “10 by 10” kind of day, as the trail mantra goes (hike 10 miles by 10am).  I was hungry and lunch was extra good- ramen, precooked bacon and cheese. 

The afternoon climb was over the open rock faces of Old Speck, and up to a summit view of the Carter-Moriah Range and Mt Washington behind, growing smaller each day.  From there I descended to Grafton Notch, and a couple days’ stay at a hostel, to wait out Hurricane Debby.