Overnight on the AT

Well, this is more than a tad delayed but, what can I say, life happens. I had also hoped to be able to get in some awesome edited GoPro video however that is turning out to be harder than I had hoped. For now this account of our short time on the Appalachian Trail back in July will have to do.

So I feel comfortable saying the AT was one of the hardest things I've ever taken on. I did plenty of research before hand. I knew it was going to be hard. But it was reeeeeeally reeeeeally HARD. No joke, the White Mountains chewed us up and spit us out.

We flew out Saturday, and after delays, arrived at 2 AM Sunday morning. We then woke up at 8 AM with wicked jet lag, to head to the trail, which was still 2 hours away. There were thunder storms throughout the morning, and more predicted for most of our trip, but we decided to go ahead and see how far we make it. I couldn't quit before even trying, even if it probably was going to be miserable.

Josh had thrown out his back the week before. It was "betterish" but I didn't want to push it and have him unable to walk or carry his pack somewhere part of the way up the mountain. So we repacked our packs again at the last minute and redistributed things so I was carrying more of the load. I was so happy I had sent along my bigger pack so this was an option.

We said our good byes to our family who would be heading to Acadia while we were hiking and we were on our own to figure it out until my brother and sister in law came to pick us up on the way to meet up with everyone in Maine 5 days later.

Within minutes of stepping into the forest we were sweaty. The humidity was intense. It was rocky and root tangled just like I knew it would be and I was elated! I was fucking doing it! The AT! Me, I'm here! EEEEEEEK!

It was kinda flattish for the first mile and we talked with a family with 2 kids heading to the same campsite we were. They were the first of many people to pass us. It got pretty steep pretty fast after that and each step was hard work.

About 2 hours in we could hear the thunder starting up in the distance. We kept walking and it kept getting closer. Quickly it got too dark for the time of afternoon it was. Then I heard the rain coming. I literally watched the wall of rain move toward us through the forest growing louder and louder and then it consumed us. There was no time to get out a rain coat, it was there. The lightening flashed right above us and was instantly followed by a thunderous crack that may or may not have made me pee my pants a little.

Oh shit! This just got real serious. We dropped our packs and hunkered down away from them and each other near our respective "safe trees". It was full on pouring and I was simultaneously terrified of getting struck by lighting and thoroughly amused by our predicament. Ten minutes or so later it let up a little bit but we were already completely soaked, like we may as well have jumped into a lake with all our gear. The trail was now a a river that we had to continue to trudge up.

We were sure it couldn't be that much farther, and kept saying how close it should be...... for over an hour.....

Then we could hear more thunder, and the trees at that elevation were getting shorter and seemed to offer less protection. I was actually pretty worried. We pushed on for what seemed like an eternity all the while I was sure we should really be trying to take cover, though it probably would have been pointless.

FINALLY we came to the camp where we found a sign that indicated we should check in with the care taker. We stumbled down the short path to the care takers place. He was a nice guy with a pretty serious semi permanent set up. The thunderstorm was picking up and he let us take cover under his large tarp. We chatted and told jokes until it was apparent it wasn't going to pass quickly like the last round and we better go set up our tent and make dinner before it got any darker. The care taker wished us luck and offered us a shot of whiskey for the road. We eagerly accepted and set off to find a spot.

The camp was a series of platforms build up over the steep and rocky ground making it campable. I stumbled down what looked more like a creek than a path to the last platform that the caretaker had recommended. We got right to work setting up our tent. Since the rain fly isn't instantly on the tent, rain was going right in and starting to pool up.  We worked as quick as possible to get the tent up and the fly on, but there was only so much we could do. Everything was wet. We stashed our packs under the safety of the rain fly and resigned to deal with the rest of drying off and setting up camp after we ate.

Back up the creek we trekked to the designated cooking area. It was a mostly flat area partially surrounded by large boulders, that, had it not been raining would have made for perfect bench seating. There were two bear boxes in the center that would become our kitchen counters. And the best part was that the caretaker had hung large tarps over the whole space. It was now completely dark but the cooking area felt like a safe haven.

By the light of our headlamps we cooked our dehydrated mac and cheese and added a small packet of spam for the hell of it. While we waited we warmed our hands by the flame of our small camp stove and shoveled trail mix and cookies into our mouths. I grew impatient and started eating the main course before it was really ready and still slightly crunchy. It was a less than satisfying experience.

After cleaning up and stashing our food in the bear box we braved the creek trail one more time. It was time to face the soggy mess of gear. We were saved by our REI lightweight bath towels and their ability to soak up large quantities of water, be rung out, and do it all over again, and again and again. I swear we spent an hour, maybe more, trying to dry ourselves, dry the tent,  put on dry clothes, and set up beds. Then we also had the insane task of trying to wring out and attempt to dry our hiking clothes, pack, and shoes and other random soggy items as much as possible. 

Somewhere in there I was sure I heard a large animal rustling around near our tent. I immediately thought bear, but I had to keep all of my fears to myself because Josh is WAY scared of bears. (On a previous occasion he has left me in the tent so he could flee to the car because he thought he heard something.) So I'm trying to keep calm and act cool all the while running through escape strategies in the event a wild animal tried to enter our tent. At this same time Josh was stringing up some paracord across his vestibule area to hang clothes from so they had a better shot of drying. He had no idea he was really trapping us and ensuring our certain death.  I was half panicking but I couldn't say anything.

I forced myself to sleep but woke many times to the sound of thunder booming all around. It was so powerful but there was really nothing I could do but try and sleep.

Some how we survived the night and in the morning the sky was clear. I discovered a slug investigating my clothes. Ahhhhh.... nature. 

I wasn't looking forward to hiking in wet clothes so we put up clotheslines and hung up everything and continued to wring it all out while we made breakfast and broke down camp. A fellow camper said his fancy weather app had indicated three storms had merged right over the top of us.

The wet clothes were nothing compared to the wet shoes and the additional weight of wet gear. It was instantly awful. But this was the day I had been looking forward to for months so the wet didn't matter. The climb the rest of the way up was hard. Huge boulders and scrambles that took hands, feet and knees to get up. Every step was purposeful.

When we finally broke tree line and had our first view back at Mt Liberty I got my second wind. It was so satisfying to be living out this dream.  

We took a break on Little Haystack to appreciate the view and eat a snack in the sunshine but the wind on my wet clothes was miserable so it wasn't long before we moved on.

For a while I was downright giddy walking along the ridge. It was everything I had hoped. It was clear skies and mountains fading into the distance in every direction.  The ridge path stretched out in front and behind me and made it look easier than it actually felt to be walking along it. Alpine flowers clung to safe spaces near the base of the rocks and cairns had been erected all along the trail  and it felt almost as if they were standing guard.

Around Mt Lincoln we were getting  tired and sore. My wet shoes started to really wear on my feet. And the extra heavy pack was taking all my energy. Who am I kidding? We were struggling. I really had to push for the last climb up to Mt Lafayette. I just wanted to be there so I could take off my shoes and tend to my growing blisters. 

After I did the best patch job I could, I walked around and took some more pictures and crossed paths with another woman who had the same Buff headband as me. We exchanged a few words and then continued on.

At this point we had to decide if we wanted to continue on for the next 3 days to Crawford Notch (storms were predicted all three days and there wasn't really another place to get off trail between here and there). Or head down from Mt Lafayette to Greenleaf Hut and down to the road where we could try to hitch a ride into town another 10 miles away. With our still wet gear, tired bodies, sore muscles, and inexperience, we decided it was the best choice for us to go down. 

It was just as hard going down. Maybe not the same kind of work to climb up, but the impact on my feet and knees every step down from the large rocks was excruciating. My feet felt raw. We took a short break at Greenleaf hut and I cried. I wasn't sure if I could walk the next 3 miles down to the road but I didn't really have a choice. I was pouting when we left the hut.

Part of the way down it opened up to views looking back at the ridge. It helped to distract from the discomfort of the unforgiving trail.

We did that. I had dreamed about it and I did it. I was proud.

When we finally made it to the parking lot, I collapsed in a grassy patch and immediately took off my shoes and cursed them and their soggy status. 

Right then a group of people emerged from the trail and what do you know, one of them was same Buff chick! We shared stories of the day and she ended up offering us a ride into town that we gladly accepted. Not only did this amazing trail angel take us to town, she took us to the store to get beer and soap, and to a pizza place to get food, all before dropping us off at the dry comfort of a motel. There aren't enough thank yous in the world for this wonderful woman! She was our hero for the day.

This motel ended up being a fantastic choice. It was frequented by thru hikers coming into town to have a rest day, or to resupply. So each day I had the pleasure of talking with a new group of hikers. I had a new kind of appreciation for thru hikers. We had done two days and were a hot mess. They had all hiked almost 2,000 miles from Georgia to New Hampshire over many months so far and still had more to go to get to Maine. It's so impressive I can hardly contain myself. Having these interactions was possibly equally as meaningful to me as hiking the ridge itself.

One woman spoke about how you shouldn't compare your accomplishments to other people's accomplishments. One is not better or worse than another. They are each great accomplishments in themselves. This spoke volumes to me. And is why I won't let myself feel bad about not completing all 5 days and getting to Crawford Notch. We did a hard thing. And it was amazing and I'm so proud of us for every last step on the AT and Franconia Ridge.

We spent the next three days tending to our sore and wounded bodies, appreciating each other and our accomplishment, and exploring the area. Franconia Notch State Park is incredible and I am grateful for this experience. 

*For more pictures look at my Album on Facebook