There is not a thing in the world that wakes you up like putting on wet underwear. Well, I’m sure the cold, wet nose of a dog sniffing your bare butt might be just as stimulating, but that only lasts for a split second where the wet underwear has staying power. We had decided last night that we were going to have a small day today, so we were in no rush this morning. First things first, breakfast buffet.
Just like in Shenandoah, sometimes the house looses. This was one of those times because there was bacon on the buffet. I can eat bacon until the grease is oozing out of all of my pores. Bunny tells me I even sound like a pig when I clear my throat. I’m sure this means that cremation won’t be an option for me—everyone will just assume there’s a pig roast at the funeral. It’s a shame I’m not more aggressive…”you want a piece of me?”
After breakfast, we still had the issue of resupply. We tried to get the staff to drive us without success. We tried yogi-ing a ride without success. We tried to use a Star Trek transporter without success. We were left with just one option after calling several different shuttle services…let’s call him, Kevin, mainly, because that is his name.
Kevin is a life long resident of New Hampshire—Live Free and Die (or Die?). Whichever way the motto may be doesn’t really matter because NH people are NOT going to be told how to do anything. Kevin agreed to take us to the local gas station, wait for us while we purchased lots of healthy food options, and then take us back to the trailhead. He would perform these services (drive a total of 9 miles and wait up to 20 minutes while we shop) for a mere $50.
We had no choice but accept the deal. Bunny and I had no problem finding a few days worth of food, or rather, a few days worth of preservatives masquerading as food, but Sassy had some issues since she has chosen to live a gluten free lifestyle. When she ingests gluten, her joints hurt and she produces tremendous amounts of brown liquids which slow her down while walking, but it’s still a lifestyle choice which we all support because we have no desire to relive the trails of VT again.
It had been agreed that Kevin would wait for up to 20 minutes for us to shop but now after 5 minutes, he was getting impatient. It was also agreed that he would provide us safe transport but the truck’s brakes were squealing constantly while the vehicle was moving and there was a scary shimmy when the truck was moving at speeds in excess of 1 mph. He’s ripping us off but we agreed to that up front. What we didn’t agree to was the constant “ding, ding, ding” for Kevin NOT wearing his seatbelt. “By gawd, this is New Hampshire. (Live free and die!) No politician is going to tell me to wear a seat belt.” Not to mention, it probably would not have stretched far enough to cover him but that’s a different tangent than the tangent I was pursuing. He can wait.
On the way to the trailhead, Bear was getting the money together to pay him. He asked me for my share but all he had was $40 for his part. I thought he was going to tip him $10 and I was not happy about that. Sensing money at hand, Kevin offered to make us a deal that since we were so late in the year, he’d take us up to Baxter for $100 a piece so we could flip and not worry about Baxter closing on us. He also tried to make small talk about how there needs to be trash cans at every road crossing because he would just throw his garbage out rather than carry it. We all believed him on this point. I asked him how many times he had thru-hiked sensing from his girth that it was a number less than zero.
To my relief, Bear did not tip for the ride. We quickly got our gear and disembarked so Kevin could be on his way. We did leave a few pieces of trash in the bed of his pickup feeling pretty confident he wouldn’t notice the additional items when/if he ever cleans the truck. We all packed up on the side of the road in preparation for our climb up Mt Webster.
We have climbed enough mountains by now that we can remember which is the worst to date. That would be Kinsman just before the first hut. Webster was not on the same level of steepness as Kinsman, but it did have a few short sections which were similar enough that I broke out in a stuck pig sweat. It was clear that Bunny was having some difficulty as she kept falling further and further behind.
Bunny has very tight tolerances on every comfort zone concerning her body. If we are at home in the winter and the temperature strays up to 71: open all the windows so we can cool off, or in the summer, turn on the AC full blast (I’ve given up trying to explain that the AC doesn’t cool faster by turning the thermostat down to 50 which if we do cool the house down to 62 she tries to turn on the heat). The point is, there’s a very fine line between normal and exaggerated Bunny extremes. Today was one of those days.
We decided to carry almost 5 days worth of food (all healthy sized meals) plus snacks and city food (subs—yes, bread is a luxury item on the trail) for lunch today. Normally, I try to carry the tent, stove, fuel, and all of the food to keep weight off of Bunny’s hips, but with all the food we had today, I had her carry a couple extra pounds (she insisted on the 24 ounce Arizona Tea and I hate the crap so that is in her pack with the sandwiches). Bunny’s weight tolerance is 28#. If she tips the scales at even 4 ounces more, she starts crawling up the trail. I estimate her pack was almost 31#. Snails were passing her like she was standing still (because she was). The only thing that would get her going is a moose sighting (not likely or believable) or I take more weight off of her.
It worked to get her going, but now I was well beyond my tipping point. I was going so slow now that Bunny passed me (trust me, that is slooowww!). Bear and Sassy were so far ahead of us that I thought we might never see them again. They are coming to the pinnacle of their hiking bodies where we are so far past that are weaker than when we started in GA. They did wait for us at overlooks but they would be all cooled off by the time I caught up that I felt bad holding them up.
At the top of Webster, we got our first really clear views of the dreaded Mt Washington. Bunny has amplified it to Everest in its proportions. Once we get past Washington (so the thinking goes) all will be well, flat, and easy. We sat on top of Webster while we ate our lunch and watched Mt Washington. We could see the smoke billowing out of the cog railroad engines climbing up the side of the mountain. It was an absolutely gorgeous day; warm and not a cloud in the sky. Just this behemoth lay between us and success—how will we ever traverse that monster mountain?
Here comes our answer. While eating lunch, a youngish guy and his dachshund, Dinner Roll, came climbing up from the other direction. He told us Dinner loved to climb mountains and had been on every 4k peak in NH including Mt Washington. How intimidating can a mountain be if a dachshund has climbed it. Also, take into account that the dog was 8 years old and stood 8” tall. In Bunny’s defense, the dogs hips were in better shape than hers and he wasn’t carrying a pack so it’s not a comparison of equals, but the dog walked all by himself.
After watching Dinner negotiate the trail, Bunny became calmer about the trail ahead. If an 8” dog can hike the trail, surely she can manage. The biggest and steepest part of our climb was already behind us for today. We just had a ridge walk and Mt Jackson to get over today before we stop at the Mizpah Spring Hut for the night. It’s amazing to be at 4000’ and end up in a bog.
We were hoping to possibly get a work for stay at Mizpah Hut, but two other hikers had already secured spots which meant only 2 of us had a chance. Bear tried asking if there were any hut vacancies hoping we might be able to work out a deal. There were two spots open. If we would pay $170/person for two people, the other two could have work for stay. He tried to negotiate a deal to get the spots but it wasn’t happening.
Instead, we headed to Nauman tentsite to set up camp. There were downed trees everywhere; we found out there had been a microburst last October. With the amount of downed trees, we were afraid someone had gotten injured but, fortunately, no one was camping that late in the season. We got permission to set up on the overflow platform, but only if we could stay on half of it. Bear asked what time we could assume no one else was coming in so we could spread out—neither one of us could pull out our vestibules being so close together. We got the go ahead to take the whole platform if no one else showed up by 8:15. We synchronized watches and began our wait.
After we cooked supper, I took our food bags up to the bear box. The first bear box was beat to hell, the second bear box was too small, but the third bear box was just right. The caretaker told me a bear had tried to get into the beat up box just last week but couldn’t get it opened. Instead, it tried to roll the box down hill and break it open. I’m very surprised a bear would come around a hut and campsite right next to each other with so many people hanging around. I think it was really just someone pissed off at the AMC and they’re using the bear as a cover story. There’s no limit to how low the AMC will go to try to make themselves look good.
EFG