Yo-So into Hanover

The rain never materialized except for about an hour of heavy downpour. If you can’t handle an hour of rain, you probably shouldn’t be out here. I did enjoy a day of rest and watching “Slumdog Millionaire” again. 

Day 1 (59), Hexacuba Shelter, 14.6

I got up in the middle of the night (for some unknown reason) and the sky was completely clear. That’s why I was so surprised when I got up at 7 to see everything clouded over and it looking like rain. I decided to just take my time with breakfast and packing to see what would happen. I’m already a day behind schedule, so what’s another day going to do?

Break Away checked the forecast and told me with confidence that there wouldn’t be any rain today. If you can’t trust a Marine Colonel, who can you trust? I chatted a while but still got out of the hostel by 8:30. 

Not even 2 miles out I ran into a really nice old guy (by old, I mean even older than me). We stopped, talked, and clicked instantly. I thought he was from England, but he forgave me my mistake when he told me he was from Australia. This was his 140th day on the trail. Also his 140th day of not doing laundry. He showed me why you shouldn’t accept trail names with someone else in partnership—he was hiking with his son named Strength. Together they are Mental, Strength. His son is a few days behind (pink blazing, I think). Now this guy is running around the woods coming up to people and saying “I’m Mental.”

I had forgotten how beautiful the trail is from Hanover to Moosilauke. Or, maybe I was in so much pain (knee and plantar fasciitis) that I just didn’t look up and notice. At any rate, this is a fabulous dirt track that’s easy on my feet. It also doesn’t hurt that there aren’t any climbs over 2000’ for a while. 

Before I was able to start my hike, I watched a lot of current year vloggers on YouTube. As I was nearing the top of Cube Mountain, I ran into one that I had been watching: Ranger. We chatted for a bit about our experiences on trail. 

Right at the summit of Cube, I came across a guy in very colorful dress carrying a tea pot. He was friendly enough but something seemed a bit off, until I realized he was a bit stoned. This was Smoke Master. He’s making it part of his journey to spread peace, happiness, and love with everyone he meets on his journey by sharing a smoke. This is a very noble cause. Of course I gave him my full support. 

Day 2 (60), Trapper John Shelter, 12.0

It’s a good thing I didn’t listen to my Republican friends in Decatur, IL. They suggested I carry a gun with me. If I had been foolish enough to do so, I would be writing this submission from prison (if they would let me keep my phone). The guy next to me in the shelter snored all night long…on both breaths; in and out. Luckily, I had decided to sleep with my hiking poles lying next to me. About every 15 minutes, I would grab a pole and poke him. It was dark enough that he couldn’t see where the pole was coming from. Needless to say, I’m done with shelters unless I have 50mg of Benadryl or I’m by myself. 

I’m glad it was a short day for me. It wasn’t supposed to be. If I put in 17 miles today, I’ll be back on schedule. I’d actually like to build up a couple extra days of cushion because there’s some new hostels in CT I’d like to check out. I was just dragging too much today from lack of sleep to put in a big day. 

I realize I’m suffering from survivor guilt. I’ve been dealing with it ever since my sister died 31 years ago. It’s only intensified since my dad’s death this past December. My sister was a nurse, very outgoing, and loved by all. She had two wonderful young daughters (neither of which will let me live in their basements—when I told them I was going to live in one of their basements, they both bought slab houses). It made no sense for her to die at 38. It still doesn’t make any sense to me. She’s been dead longer than she was my sister, but I still think about her nearly every day. 

I still wonder about the way I handled stuff with my dad at the end. In between hospital stays last year when he was having a pretty lucid day, I took him for a ride so we could talk. I told him I knew he was suffering with his strained breathing. He had to focus 100% of his effort to just breathe. I told him not hold on for us. We’re all in stable positions and we’ll be fine. I told him I didn’t want him to die, but I also didn’t want to see him suffer. In less than 2 weeks, he was dead. 

When my brother and I made the decision to go to comfort measures, the Dr was very understanding and compassionate. He reminded us we weren’t killing our dad—the COPD was. He promised dad wouldn’t suffer. In the final hours, my dad started getting restless and rolling around in the bed. I went and got the nurse and demanded she increase his fentanyl so he wouldn’t be in pain. This still haunts me that I did this, but I couldn’t watch the misery. 

Whoever says it’s beautiful to be with someone when they die is FOS. It’s the most gut wrenching thing I’ve ever done. I knew it was coming—I was watching his breathing, heart rate, pulse ox, holding his hand, and talking to him. I knew he was dying and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I’d have gladly traded places with him. He was a good and gentle man. It makes no sense to me that my dad and sister are gone while I’m still here. 

Day 3 (61), Velvet Rocks Shelter, 15.2

I finally had a good night of sleep. I haven’t slept well since I stealth camped on Mt Wolf and it rained all night long. Last night, I got my new sleep system all figured out. If I can put in 15 today, I’ll be back on schedule. 

In short, I got 2 firsts today—1) I hiked my first 15 mile day of the year, and 2) I didn’t wear any knee supports. I’ll still carry my supports in case my knees start to hurt again, but the steepest and longest climbs are behind me (for now). I’ve actually got several days planned in the 15-20 mile range in the next month with even a 20+ thrown in for good measure. I’ll have to average over 17 miles/day starting in October to be able to finish by Christmas. 

The NOBOs are starting to thin out a bit. A few days ago, I was running across more than 25 every day. Today it was down to the mid-teens. By the time I get out of Vermont, I should pretty much have the trail to myself. That alone should be good for a 5 mpd increase—I easily spend a couple hours every day talking to people I pass. Maybe I can get the mileage I need without having to get up earlier.  

Day 4 (62), Hanover, 1.5

It amazes me that this shelter is so close to town. We are actually above houses directly below us but we can’t see them because of the trees. In reality, I could throw a rock and knock a hole in someone’s roof—oh to be a young delinquent again. 

I woke up, without an alarm (mind you) right at 6. I’d already set the water last night for my coffee (note to self: trail invention that’s needed is a timed ignition for my jet-boil). I still had my honeybun, pop tarts, sausage links, and instant coffee before I headed into town for second breakfast at Lou’s Bakery. 

I’m going to back track a bit here. DOC (Dartmouth Outdoor Club) maintains the trail from the other side of Moosilauke all the way to Hanover. In general, they are doing a fantastic job…the further from Hanover you are. Maybe it’s the locals topping off the privy (it’s only a mile out from the soccer field) but I actually felt myself grow in height, while sitting, this morning. The half height privy door was a nice architectural accoutrement—cudos for that, but it’s time to dig a new hole and move a few feet away from the present location. 

I plan to stay in Hanover long enough to get all the free food available (free donut at Lou’s and Pizza at Ramunto’s), resupply, shower, and do laundry. I will be in a new state (other than confusion) by the end of this day. 

EFG

Daily Mileages