August 18: The thing about slack packing up a mountain, is that you then have to slack-pack back down. And when your friends meet you at the top of the mountain, drive you down, and then leave, it leaves you with the conundrum of how to get back up the mountain in order to walk down.
No matter; we have always been able to get rides.
Today, it was a matter of three different cars. The first, took us from the hotel to Pinkham's Notch Visitor's Center where we dropped our stuff off to pick up later in the day. The second took us from Pinkham's Notch to the Mountain Washington Auto Road. (and it turned out to be from the White Mountain Hostel, where we were spending the next night!) The third car was a couple of guys going up to the top of Mount Washington for a ham radio event. There are signs posted everywhere on the road strictly prohibiting hitchhiking, but nobody seemed to care that we were blatantly ignoring those signs.
We got to the top of Mount Washington and were able to get our picture taken at the summit sign, which was crowded with a line at least 30 deep the day before. (call me nuts, but I don't think you've earned the right to take your picture at the sign when you DROVE up. Just sayin')
No matter; we have always been able to get rides.
Today, it was a matter of three different cars. The first, took us from the hotel to Pinkham's Notch Visitor's Center where we dropped our stuff off to pick up later in the day. The second took us from Pinkham's Notch to the Mountain Washington Auto Road. (and it turned out to be from the White Mountain Hostel, where we were spending the next night!) The third car was a couple of guys going up to the top of Mount Washington for a ham radio event. There are signs posted everywhere on the road strictly prohibiting hitchhiking, but nobody seemed to care that we were blatantly ignoring those signs.
We got to the top of Mount Washington and were able to get our picture taken at the summit sign, which was crowded with a line at least 30 deep the day before. (call me nuts, but I don't think you've earned the right to take your picture at the sign when you DROVE up. Just sayin')
We started out journey down picking our way down the boulder field that covers the top of the mountain. It's hard to make out a trail in all the rocks, but we tried to follow the cairns and the white blazes.
Our timing was perfect for seeing the steam train come up the mountain. The cog railway that leaves from the Mount Washington Inn has ONE steam train per day in the morning. It was kind of cool to see, with the train chugging up the hill and the smoke pouring out of the smokestack. At times it seemed like the train was struggling just a little too much; if I were a passenger I'd be nervous that the train was going to suddenly go rolling backwards down the hill at breakneck speed. I'm sure that doesn't happen. But it sure seemed likely.
It is a tradition for thru-hikers to moon the train as it goes by. But I'm more about spreading love and goodwill, not glimpses of my mosquito bitten bottom. We opted to wave instead. And I'm sure the passengers are eternally grateful. (Us mooning them may have been more traumatic than rolling backwards down the hill at breakneck speed!)
It is a tradition for thru-hikers to moon the train as it goes by. But I'm more about spreading love and goodwill, not glimpses of my mosquito bitten bottom. We opted to wave instead. And I'm sure the passengers are eternally grateful. (Us mooning them may have been more traumatic than rolling backwards down the hill at breakneck speed!)
Then we continued along the ridgeline. It was a beautiful, though chilly, morning with clear blue skies, gorgeous views, and lots of photo ops. Alas, as has been the norm through the White Mountains, it was slow going with the need to carefully pick our way along through the rocks instead of speeding along like we did through Virginia. Sigh.
Finally, we reached the Madison Spring Hut where we stopped for a rest and a bite to eat. Turns out they were having an anniversary celebration there for the hut. I forget how many years the hut has been in operation, but quite a few. There was food and camaraderie for any volunteer who wished to come and have fun. Plus lots of food. We managed to finagle a snack out of the ordeal, like any good thru-hiker would. Then we pushed on.
Unfortunately, my synopsis of the morning as "slow" was about to get put into perspective. From the hut, we went up to the summit of Mt. Madison and then descended to the notch. I had thought the morning was rocky and slow. I hadn't seen anything. Mt. Madison was also covered with boulders. And loose scree. So careful foot placement was paramount. It was agonizingly slow. We got to a marker on the trail and I nearly lost my mind. "Three miles? THREE MILES?? That took us almost three HOURS!" Yes, slack pack or no, we were averaging just over 1 mile per hour since the hut. It was torture.
I guess Subaru felt the same way, because after a brief sustenance break at the sign, he took off like a cog-train plummeting backwards down a mountain. I was practically running to keep up with him. Over roots, over rocks, through streams, up and down hills. After smashing my shin on a rock for the forth or so time, I finally yelled at him to slow down. I mean, 1 mile per hour is ridiculously slow, but we don't have to try to go for 5 miles per hour to make up time. Just chalk it up to the White Mountains trying to show us who is in charge.
At long last, we made it to Pinkham Notch and called the shuttle from White Mountain Hostel to pick us up.
For only a 13 mile slack pack, we were much more exhausted than I had anticipated.
Fortunately, we had hot showers, warm beds, clean sheets, and a hostel so pristine you could have eaten off the floor awaiting us. We did a resupply in town, ate, and fell into bed for a well deserved night's sleep.
Unfortunately, my synopsis of the morning as "slow" was about to get put into perspective. From the hut, we went up to the summit of Mt. Madison and then descended to the notch. I had thought the morning was rocky and slow. I hadn't seen anything. Mt. Madison was also covered with boulders. And loose scree. So careful foot placement was paramount. It was agonizingly slow. We got to a marker on the trail and I nearly lost my mind. "Three miles? THREE MILES?? That took us almost three HOURS!" Yes, slack pack or no, we were averaging just over 1 mile per hour since the hut. It was torture.
I guess Subaru felt the same way, because after a brief sustenance break at the sign, he took off like a cog-train plummeting backwards down a mountain. I was practically running to keep up with him. Over roots, over rocks, through streams, up and down hills. After smashing my shin on a rock for the forth or so time, I finally yelled at him to slow down. I mean, 1 mile per hour is ridiculously slow, but we don't have to try to go for 5 miles per hour to make up time. Just chalk it up to the White Mountains trying to show us who is in charge.
At long last, we made it to Pinkham Notch and called the shuttle from White Mountain Hostel to pick us up.
For only a 13 mile slack pack, we were much more exhausted than I had anticipated.
Fortunately, we had hot showers, warm beds, clean sheets, and a hostel so pristine you could have eaten off the floor awaiting us. We did a resupply in town, ate, and fell into bed for a well deserved night's sleep.
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