The dungeon door creeks and clangs whenever slightly moved. I know this for a fact because I had to get up 3 times during the night. If the door didn’t wake everyone up, I still had my Big Agnes sleeping pad with built in amplifier to ensure that I was the inmate most likely to get shanked. The only reason I didn’t wake everyone up was because of the mouse in the next room trying to chew his way through the wall only shut up when I made noise. Sleep was less than plentiful in the dungeon.
Bear managed to sleep in until 5:15. We were all slightly nervous knowing that we were climbing Mt Washington (the tallest mountain in the northeast and recognized location of the worst weather on earth—what could go wrong?). The agreed upon time to get up was 6. I could almost hear Sassy grinding her teeth. She is less of a morning person than Bunny. She had her toothbrush out and was shaving the handle down to a point. I was praying for Bear to get out alive but there was no way in hell I was going to get up and defend him before 6:01—he was on his own.
It’s amazing how people get up like dominos falling down. Bear got up, packed, and left just a couple minutes before 6. Sassy got up at 6, exactly, and exited with her toothbrush in hand. Bunny got up 10 minutes later (apparently not wanting to miss the show yet still be far enough back to not get caught in the middle). I was next at 6:30. I am the fastest of all us us getting ready so I take advantage of the extra time to lie in bed concentrating on how full I can get my bladder and still have enough time to make it to the bathroom. I grabbed my pack and left everything else on my bunk and ran for the toilet.
Breakfast was a sad affair. Bunny and I split a package of pop tarts and a bag of bacon jerky. I managed to get a half cup of coffee from the pot we are allowed to buy from. The lords and ladies had gotten up early and drained it by 6:45. Because this pot was available for thru-hikers to purchase from, it doesn’t get refilled until after all the “paying guests” finish eating which starts at 7 and usually runs until 8:30. When I went to the kitchen and asked for more coffee, they very kindly said “no problem, we’ll send more out right away” and a girl came out with a full pot to pour for everyone that is not a thru-hiker.
I was the first ready to go having accepted the fact that 1/2 cup is all I’m getting. Bear was almost ready but ran into what can only be called the “great brief caper of ‘18”. Sometime throughout the night, he lost, misplaced, or had stolen his underwear. All eyes turned to Sassy who said “go ahead, check my pack—I dare you!” Obviously, she’s not over the sock incident from The Lookout. In the end, Bear decided to go California for the day just about the time that we could get some leftovers and coffee (which we didn’t stay for).
While I was waiting for Bear to pillage his and Sassy’s packs, my eyes started acting up from the weird lighting in the hut. My vision occasionally goes haywire from my glaucoma. This really put me on edge with my forward vision being filled with rainbow colored lightening bolts. Usually I have to close my eyes for 20 minutes to get this to stop, but we were starting up the final 1300’ climb to the summit of Mt Washington. It was foggy and I was worried about wet rocks. I just kept my head down and stared at the ground as I walked. I don’t remember my vision clearing up, but it did.
None of us stopped on the way up. Let me make a minor correction to that. None of us stopped to rest on the way up to the summit. Sassy did stop when she decided to fall sideways as she is prone to do. She was trying to do three things at once: walk, breathe, and look up. TWO is the magic number while climbing Mt Washington—she was reaching too high. In all fairness, anyone not looking at their feet while climbing on a bald without a real trail to follow is risking a fall. Sassy’s tribute of blood to Father Washington was enough to satisfy. The clouds started clearing as we approached the summit.
We got our pictures on the summit but still didn’t have good views so we did what any thru-hiker does when they are trying to kill time—we went to the snack bar to eat. I don’t like the AMC because they have created an artificial class system on the trail: AMC guests (aka money gods) vs. thru-hikers (aka cheap scum that the forest service makes us let pass through our money squeezing venue known as the White Mountains). The beauty of Mt Washington State Park is that they treat everyone exactly alike—stupid people with money that we must pry from their hands. I appreciate the honesty and spent $33.50 at the snack bar on absolute junk food. Not only that, I did it with a smile and pride to be among equals. We all walked out shaking our heads and giving each other knowing looks that we had just spent $2.50 for a $0.25 bag of Doritos. Solidarity, Brother!
We sat at a table and did our best to consume as many calories as possible as slowly as possible to allow the sun to burn off the morning fog. The grill opens at 11 and we got there around 9. Of course, at 10:45 everyone else was ready to go when 3 cog rail loads of comrades descended on the cafe. To be honest, I could have eaten 5 hot dogs in another 15 minutes but I submitted to peer pressure and saved my $25 for something else down the road.
The fog was burning off. The summit was clear with blue skies above, but only the summit. We couldn’t stay in the middle of all these clean smelling comrades, so we started down the north side. By the time we got to the railroad crossing, the clouds had completely lifted. We had amazing views all around. We had less than 6 miles to the next AMC hut and its anticipated disappointment. We walked for almost an hour before we stopped on the side of the trail to catch some rays in the cool afternoon breeze…and eat a snack.
The Presidentials start with Jackson then move on to schizophrenic Pierce(Clinton) then pass over Franklin (he’s an honorary mention)—all of which we did in the last 2 days. Today we went over Washington, around Jefferson (he would have been tried for treason except for his brilliant writing), and around Adams (rounding out the first three presidents). By the time we got to Madison Spring Hut, we were running low on water, food, and energy (and possibly patience as may be seen).
The huts are supposed to sell soup to thru-hikers (and clean smelling people) for $2 a bowl with $1 refills. I’m pretty sure the crews of the huts split this money so very few of them actually follow the AMC guidelines. Only Lake of the Clouds has so far. I’ve been pretty disappointed by how the crews treat thru-hikers as well in case you haven’t been able to pick up on it in my rants. I waited patiently while some “guests” butted in front of me to check in. When they finally got settled, the Hutmaster kindly asked if I was checking in. When I said “No, I’d like to buy some soup” the attitude went from friendly to rude, “$3 per bowl.” I replied “No, $2 is the standard at the huts.” “Not at this hut.” I was done with AMC huts, the rudeness of the staff, and the inconsistency of their own rules.
Bear got a bowl, pulled out his Big Agnes tent and set it on the table next to the bowl as he ate it. He was forcing me to choose which I hated more, BA or AMC. Congratulations Big Agnes, you are no longer the organization I hate the most. From this day forward, I will only take water from AMC huts and leave poop in its place since they like to tell me how much it costs for them to handle hiker poop. I’d really like to know how much the organization leadership takes home in salaries. Let me throw out one caveat about the AMC, only the campsite caretakers seem to care about thru-hikers and treat them decently. I don’t mind spending the $5 a night for them (actually I do since no where else on the trail do we have to pay, but that’s a whole different rant for later—I’m far from done with bitching about the AMC).
Bear thought he’d ask about “work for stay” just to see what the response would be. It was less than kind with the response being “it’s early and there are campsites only a mile or two away.” Bear had not been a part of my exchange and had paid the extra for the soup. After we left, Deluxe came in and asked and got a very rude response. I think there’s a hutmaster that has been in the woods too long.
We left at 4:30 to climb Mt Madison which turned out to be a much more difficult task than the 700’ climb and 1.6 mile walk to treeline appeared on paper. One other thing the AMC is “supposed” to do with its revenue is trail maintenance. However, they only maintain trails where the “money gods” travel regularly. There is a direct path from Madison Spring Hut to a parking lot that doesn’t go over Mt Madison so the trail over Mt Madison is not maintained.
We pulled into a stealth site a little over 2 hours after we left the hut with a storm coming up behind us. The only thing saving us was that the center of the storm came over Mt Washington which held it back. We set up our tents in one of the sweetest spots we have camped on in our 203 nights out. The trail leading in was barely wide enough for our packs to fit in. It didn’t rain on us because Washington had changed the course of the storm, so we sat together and cooked our suppers before turning in for the night. We heard some strange animal noises in the woods, but weren’t worried because nothing big could get through the trees. I kept our food bag in our tent until I heard Sassy snoring away and then I tucked it under their vestibule. Big Agnes may not be number 1 on my list, but they are number 2.
EFG