New Hampshire

Day 68, August 14

We set off at 5:01 am after a rainless night. The air was somewhat foggy, and the trees were dripping. We hiked by flashlight down to road VT. 14 and crossed the White River Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out on a bridge. The nearby store had gone out of business, much to the dismay of our stomachs, which had been running on empty since yesterday noon, and water since not long thereafter. We had made only one water stop yesterday.

To our disgust we could find no blazes. We searched in both directions, and finally found the hint of an ancient blaze quite a distance from the junction. This section of trail blazing suggested that most other hikers were probably carrying the guide book.

Re-entering the woods, we hiked for a couple of hours. My body felt energetic enough, but my mind was having trouble dealing with the monotony. As such we decided to take a layover day in Hanover, New Hampshire, the town we expected to reach that morning. I wondered if my mental lethargy was a result of all the sugars we had eaten the previous morning at the store that had offered little in the way of wholesome food.

We reached Norwich, VT and followed the trail/highway across the Connecticut River. Now in New Hampshire, we were walking through the outskirts of Hanover when we met a south-bounder whom we recognized as "Reno." We had met this fellow back in Tennessee, south of the Nolichucky River, nearly two months ago. Reno had started his hike in New York, hiking south to Springer Mountain, then had flip-flopped to Katahdin and was now on his way south to New York. He had a lot of good things to say about the terrain in Maine.

As it happened, we arrived in Hanover Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out on the day of the annual Shriner's Parade. The town was a'bustle and we realized that the accommodations would be full. After buying a few pastries we walked to the post office and collected our box and two packets of mail, one of which contained two batteries for our camera; one for the camera itself, and one as a spare. Because of the dead battery, we had taken no pictures in the last eight days.

First photo in eight days, contrasting my gleaming new shoes to the old ones. I have a wide forefoot, and to make more room slit the forefoot of the shoes and inch or so toward the toes. And to make the shoes more comfortable to wear, especially in hot weather, I cut the tongue out. These new shoes came in our resupply box. We will buy a new pair for Jenny later today.

I had retired my Adidas Torsions here, in favor of a new pair of Brooks Beasts. It is interesting to note that I had not experienced any foot or leg problems in the Adidas Torsions, compared to the many problems in the Adidas Marathon II. These problems were pains in the lateral tendons and cramps in the calf muscles.

After sorting our things, we visited an athletic store and bought Jenny a pair of shoes. These were her third pair of Nike Air Pegasus (size 8 mens). Also, we bought a second flashlight, for Jenny, for better travel in darkness.

We lunched at a restaurant, then watched the last half hour of the Shriner's Parade. It was the first we had seen, and we found it delightful. Grown men, mostly well into their years and paunchy, entertained the crowd in all manner of ways. Some marched in bands, some drove about in miniature and even tiny cars, etc. The contrast between the light-hearted parade, and the seriousness and monotony of our trek was so intense that I stood there watching with tears of happiness streaming down my cheeks. The Shriner's parade was the best therapy imaginable.

The Shriner's parade

We eventually relocated to a Laundromat down a side street. I relaxed on the grass/dirt out back while Jenny tended the laundry.

The next best therapy happened as we were hiking out of town: a hot tub establishment. What eventuated was a half hour soak in a wonderfully appointed private room with Bette Midler playing on the CD and an ultra-soapy shower that left us feeling civilized at last.

By chance we made it through the grocery store just before its closing time. Out back we enacted the ritual of stripping as much packaging as possible from our supplies, then we dined on the leftovers from our lunch. Food to the marathon hiker is like gasoline to an Indianapolis racer. It takes lots. Re-entering the forest at the edge of town, we walked two-tenths and pitched the tent a ways off the trail at 7 pm.

Day's mileage: 11.0

Hanover was one of our favorite resupply stops, considering that the trail led right through town, with post office, restaurants, hot tubs, and co-op grocery store right on the "trail". Laundromat and a variety of restaurants were only half a block off route; the only lacking ingredient for a perfect resupply was an inexpensive hotel. We did not visit the Dartmouth College campus, nor take advantage of various amenities the hiking club extends to thru-hikers.

Day 69, August 15

We set off at 5:00 am, feeling well rested, clean, fed, and laundered. In one place we traipsed across a meadow of wet grass. Feeling sufficiently removed from civilization and penetrating ever deeper into the wilds, we suddenly came upon a modern house, and soon found ourselves walking a street in a neighborhood. So much for the hike through the deep woods.

Beyond Vermont, the terrain changed dramatically, now being heavily understoried. We even saw poison ivy in a few places that left us feeling like we we had regressed back to Virginia. The trail kept us well exercised, as it climbed and descended, and consequently our progress was slow. The trail featured a great many rocks and roots, and these were slippery. Once I slipped on a rock and went down with a thud.

We climbed four mountains: Moose Mountain, Holts Ledge, Smarts Mountain, and Mount Cube; each one a sufficient workout in itself. Midday we stopped at a creek near Lyme-Dorchester Road Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out , and this proved the day's only water source. Mid afternoon we walked in a healthy downpour that lasted for about an hour.

It was also day of eating, as we ate most of our prodigious two-day supply of food. Walking by flashlights we reached what appeared to be the summit of Mount Cube Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out , but could not find where the route continued from a sign. We searched for about twenty minutes and finally found it after trying every possible way. Soon thereafter we lost it again, and after backtracking and pressing ahead again we eventually came to a blaze. We pitched the tent at the junction with the North Summit side trail at 9:30 pm.

Mount Cube.

Day's mileage: 30.0

Notes: Eye glasses fogging is a continual problem with us and other hikers we meet. A No-Fog Cloth might be a valuable accessory. Also, bleach in with laundry might help keep the clothes from souring. A heavy pack is more dangerous during a slip on a wet rock or root. Shoe uppers with thin foam, plastic, and other materials makes the shoe very hot. This causes the feet to sweat. A welt around toe of shoe is needed for inadvertently kicking rocks.

Day 70, August 16

We set off at 5:01 am, with no rain during night, and feeling very sleepy after a short night. We descended to a couple of roads (NH 25A and C), then climbed Mt. Mist which was something of a molehill. On the descent we met a south-bounder who called himself "Snag" - Kevin Dunn. He had many good things to say about the trail ahead of us, and we went away feeling encouraged. He was among the nicest hikers we had met. He said he wants to hike the PCT in '95. He told us that two days previously his partner slipped on a rock and dislocated his shoulder. Also that a woman thru-hiker had slipped and broke her leg and required an air-lift out. These two accidents had occurred in the White Mountains, into which we were now headed.

Throughout the morning I seemed to be hiking on legs-o-lead. We stopped for a few meager meals; our supply of food was dwindling. After collecting water we followed a side trail to an old cemetery and there I indulged in a ten minute nap. After another twenty minutes of hiking we stopped and made sandwiches, and from that point I slowly recovered, as we climbed the lower flanks of Mount Moosilauke.

Mount Moosilauke

This long steep climb took us into a stunted and dense forest of conifers that were less tall the higher we climbed. Then, for the first time on the hike we climbed above treeline. The feeling was one of exhilaration. The air was hazy, but we could see quite a distance in all directions. The sun was shining through distant clouds and a cold wind blew at about thirty miles an hour.

Summit of Mount Moosilauke

We climbed to the mountain's summit Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out at 4,802 feet, where because of the cold I had to don my shirt for the short descent back to timberline, to the protection of the trees. Next came a long and arduous descent that in many places resembled a talus field. Farther down, the trail began paralleling cascading Beaver Brook, and the route was categorically perilous. Uncountable man-hours had gone into the trail's construction here, and in many places, the crews had attached wooden timbers to the rock as steps down steep slabs. Descending this route in wet weather would be perilous.

Reaching the bottom, Kinsman Notch Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out (NH 112), we stopped briefly to scrub ourselves with hand towels, then we stood at the roadside with our thumbs extended. Within minutes a gentleman pulled over and offered us a ride the five miles down to the towns of North Woodstock.

The fellow had long white hair and a matching beard, and a huge paunch, and he drove a snazzy sports car and spoke with a thick accent - a Maine accent, we learned later. We enjoyed the conversation and he took us directly to a grocery store Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out before resuming his drive back home to Bangor, Maine. Forty-five minutes and a whopping $89 later we emerged with a magnum sized grocery cart of victuals; food enough, we hoped, for the next three days and dinner that night. Our packs were loaded to capacity and we hand-carried three grocery sacks full of food. Once again, the amount of food we were eating was phenomenal, and we were burning it almost as fast as we could swallow it.

Groceries at North Woodstock.

Walking back to the main crossroads, we stood at the roadside with thumbs extended again, and within minutes we snagged a ride with a girl who was on her way home, over the hills somewhere, from playing a softball game. She dropped us off at the trailhead where we had left it. The time was 7:45 pm.

We sauntered a short ways into the woods and quickly pitched the tent, as the sky was threatened rain and the wind was cloud-dump cold. We enjoyed a lavish buffet, including fresh, roasted chicken, milk and cookies, and culminating with fresh strawberry shortcake with whipped cream.

Day's mileage: 21.0

Day 71, August 17

In low light, the flash is bouncing off my shoes. We were shooting Kodachrome 64, and our camera had trouble focusing in low light.

The trail in this section was in bad shape.

We set off at 5:15 am and began climbing the flanks of Mt. Wolf in the darkness and fog. After reaching the top, we descended to Eliza Brook, and there filtered water. The ensuing ascent of Kinsman Mountain was long and arduous. Apparently this is a notorious section in inclement weather, as it involves a fair amount of scrambling on slippery slabs. We found these wet from condensation and a heavy fog drip.

Nearing the summit we encountered a day hiker going the other way, lightly dressed and carrying no pack. Rain was obviously in the offing, and this fellow had a long ways ahead of him. Even more curiously, he asked us where he was.

Soon we were hiking beneath umbrellas, and several hours later we reached Lonesome Lake Hut Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out . We were quite impressed by this elaborate and comfortable "hut," which was more like a one-room lodge. It was octagonal in shape, and the kitchen area took up about one quarter of the room. A half dozen hikers and hut guests were mingling at the tables, and the resident cook was busy baking bread. He sold us a delicious and filling lunch for $2.50 each: calizone and vegetable beef soup. We spread our wet gear on the picnic benches next to us, and they had reasonably dried by the time we had finished our lunch.

Lonesome Lake Hut.

Descending to Franconia Notch Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out (U.S. 3) and passing beneath the highway, we met two south-bound hikers parked out of the drizzle, under the protection of the bridge. Folding our umbrellas, we stood talking with them awhile, envying their dry camp. They told us that the trail ahead was not very steep or rocky.

As we climbed the next steep and rocky stretch, the rain fell harder, until it was coursing down the trail. Remarkably, we followed this water course for about a mile between water bars. On both sides of the trail the humus was 8 to 12 inches thick, but because the trail took the fall line, all the humus, soil, dirt, and gravel had been washed away to the bare rocks and roots.

Night hiking in pouring rain.

We reached Liberty Springs Tentsite shortly before dark and stood inside the caretaker's wall tent talking with him for awhile. Because of the money changing and paperwork hassles involved, and the late hour, he waived our $4 each camping fee. The area had one salient feature, a deliciously cold pipe spring. Otherwise, the camp was pasted on the side of the mountain. To our surprise, others were camped here. In such inclement weather we thought we would be the only ones. In fact, the caretaker, Ron, had allocated us the last vacant tent platform on the steeply inclined hillside. Reaching it, we found another couple apprising it. They had not registered. We offered to share it with them, then pitched our tent close to one side.

The amount of rain that had fallen the last several hours was disconcerting, and now had everything inside our packs soaked. Pack covers, packs, and stowbags do not keep out the moisture. Rather, the rain precipitates internal condensation, which then rains on the insides of our packs and bags. I was so wet, tired and bone-chilled that I felt anxious, and this was entirely uncharacteristic of me and I could not explain it. Later I realized I had been borderline hypothermic. The tent seemed like a dank tomb, and I was loathe to get in. Jenny took charge and encouraged me in, with instructions to mop the water from the tent floor. Our half-inch thick sleeping quilt was soaked, and we had scant insulation between us and the wooden slat floor. I feared we would endure a most unpleasant night. Also, we had climbed to altitude where the air was much colder.

To my utter relief, once secured inside the tent, we began warming and I began recovering. Despite the wetness we spent a very warm and comfortable night, thanks mainly to our quilt with its synthetic fill. We were very glad, this evening, that we had not made our quilt with goose down.

Sharing a tent platform with a larger tent.

Day's mileage: 19.0

Day 72, August 18

We packed our gear quietly so as not to disturb our close neighbors, who had pitched their much larger tent against ours, and set off at 5:18 am. We were fortunate that the rain had let up. We climbed above treeline and followed a rocky ridge a few miles. The wind was cold and a light rain fell. We held our umbrellas to it sideways, as protection from the elements in lieu of warmer clothing. Progress was slowed on the descents by the slipperiness of the rocks and slabs. The views were of course non-existent.

The camera is struggling in the low light.

Descending from Franconia Ridge and its fog.

Down in the forest again we passed a south-bound hiker wearing a nylon (uncoated) jacket and hood, similar to mine. He seemed to be doing well thus dressed, even in the rain. Like us, he was dressed lightly and moving rapidly. We stopped at Galehead Hut Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out for water, then continued galumphing over rocks and roots. The day's hiking was frustratingly slow. Even though we were moving rapidly, we seemed to be making scant mileage.

Mid afternoon the clouds parted briefly. We hung our fly and ground sheet in a patch of filtered sunshine and pitched the tent. These things had partly dried when the clouds closed in again. While standing talking to two south-bounders, "Nuclear Bob" and "Mooserock" ("smells like a moose, smart as a rock"), they pointed out a bird thirty feet away and called it a Sprouse (Spruce Grouse). It showed us remarkably little fear as we approached for a better look.

Approaching Zealand Hut.

Approaching Zealand Creek we stopped to wash our feet and socks. My shoes were not very breathable. They had a lot of plastic material that caused my feet to grow some sort of slimy bacterial coating. The bottoms of Jenny's feet were deathly white.

We stopped at Zealand Falls Hut Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out and collected water. I weighed our packs on a scale; they were 17 pounds each. Most of this was food. Perhaps thirty people sat inside. Glad to escape the crowd, we continued another four-tenths mile and pitched the tent near the trail, as yet another burst of rain was finishing.

Day's mileage: 17.6

Day 73, August 19

We set off at 5:04 and followed a surprisingly level and well-built trail that for a short while resembled an old railroad grade. A few miles farther we began encountering increasing amounts of water on the trail. In one area a substantial creek flowed down the trail for two-tenths a mile, inundating it. We rock-hopped, and in the process became sodden from the trailside bushes we had to scrape through.

The next few miles were not much better, and was the wettest trail we had ever hiked. Then a much improved AT led down to Crawford Notch Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out , where we crossed US 302 and the Saco River. Then it led steeply up the slope of Mt. Webster, towering overhead.

We stopped and half dried the fly and ground sheet, and our feet that had been suffering from the constant wetness. The trail was soft and cool so we walked barefoot for twenty minutes. As we were doing so, a thru-hiker passed us. Of course he didn't recognize us as one of his kind. We had grown weary of explaining ourselves, especially while walking barefoot and carrying running shoes. As usual with these fellows, he went powerhiking past us and quickly out of sight in a flurry of boot stomping and walking stick clanging.

The day was cloudy, yet the clouds were not all-pervasive. The occasional views both downward and upward were inspiring. We climbed Mt. Webster and Mt. Jackson where we met a great many day hikers who seemed to take little notice of the trail's rough character: bogs, roots, rocks, boulders and scrambling. Coming round a bend, I encountered a steep slab 35 feet high, and at the same time a fellow appeared at the top. We both looked at the obstacle with some misgivings, me upward and him downward. I hollered to the fellow in jest: "Throw me a rope!"

Approaching Mizpah Spring Hut.

Mizpah Spring Hut.

We reached Mizpah Spring Hut Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out and were delighted when the caretaker/cook offered us soup and a variety of sweet breads. We stuffed ourselves for thirty minutes at a total cost of $2.25 - all you can eat soup: fifty cents, All you can eat bread: fifty cents, and lemonade twenty-five cents a glass.

First good view of Mt. Washington.

Lakes of the Clouds Hut.

Climbing Mt. Washington in the late afternoon.

Waddling onward, we climbed Mt. Pierce, then laid our gear out on the slabs of granite to dry. This was our first good drying in days. The ensuing hiking was above timberline. A number of hikers were put, and the views were spectacular. We stopped at the Lakes of the Clouds Hut Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out for water, and then late in the afternoon we climbed to the summit of Mt. Washington in a frigid wind. This mountain stands stark above all the others and is notorious for its foul weather. The summit house was empty of people, save for a ranger on duty. He told us that in the two years he has been there, ours were the smallest thru-hiker packs he'd seen, by far.

On the summit of Mt. Washington.

Pressing on, we descended the mountain's upper flanks and crossed the cog railroad tracks. At the onset of darkness we hauled off the rocky trail and pitched the tent on a thick layer of heather that easily surpassed Grandmother's feather bed mattress. We stopped at about 8:30 pm.

Day's mileage: 21.2

Our low mileages the previous two days were partly because of our slow pace over slippery rocks.

Day 74, August 20

After a night of wind and intermittently heavy rain we packed our packs while still inside the tent, then while Jenny held down the windward (aft) end of the tent I folded it. We set off at 5:18 am into a windy, foggy and decidedly forlorn early morning.

Progress was slow because the wet rocks were slippery. After an hour of hiking with umbrellas braced into the wind, and wearing our every garment save for two pairs of spare socks, we reveled at the sight of breaking clouds. Soon the scenery began to open. We reached the Madison Hut Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out at 8:00 am and enjoyed leftover pancakes on the cheap, all we could eat, 50 cents total. One of the "Croo" told us that supplies are helicoptered in to the huts twice a summer, while fresh goods are hiked in on pack-boards.

Madison Hut.

We enjoyed the high trekking the previous day and this one also, but after the trail had climbed Madison Peak and descended along a ridge far into the forest below, it began an ascending traverse four miles back to the base of Mt. Washington. Such routing seemed curious, particularly when we reached a spur trail that led up three-and-a half miles to Mt. Washington. This blue-blazer's special would have saved many hours of traipsing.

Descending from Madison Peak.

We reached the AMC Visitor Center Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out Pinkham Notch at 1:40 pm and gorged on lunch items, in all consuming $22 of food. Jenny paid for a shower, but the men's was broken so I did not get one.

AMC Pinkham Notch Visitor Center

At 3:00 we set off, after a one hour and twenty minute hiatus, and typically after a huge meal our bodies felt lethargic. After hiking half a mile we stopped and took a fifteen minute nap. The ensuing section of trail was another of the typically steep series of steps leading up the fall line for a few thousand feet. We could hardly force ourselves to keep following them. The trail seems to attack the mountains with brute force. It demands your full attention and leaves you not a moment to contemplate the surroundings.

The trail demands your full attention.

Looking back at Mt. Washington and the AMC Pinkham Notch Visitor Center.

Finishing the day walking in the rain, we stopped at 7:09 and quickly pitched the tent on a spur trail near the summit of Wildcat Mountain, Peak A.

Day's mileage: 15.7

It is only natural to begin formulating a finish date while still four-hundred miles from the end. And on these rugged sections this was proving a mistake. The trail becomes much more demanding, beginning with Mt. Moosilauke in southern New Hampshire.

As we lay snug inside the tent, the rain continued with increasing intensity for several hours. Three or four times enormous bolts of lightening traveled far across the sky, sending long reports rolling and echoing through the mountains. Water was finding its way into the tent, but once again we could not determine the source of any leaks. We slept warm despite the wetness, thanks again to the synthetic insulation in the quilt.

Day 75, August 21

We slept past the alarm because the conditions were not amenable to a darkness start. Rising, we found the foot of the quilt sopping wet. The rain had stopped, but the trees were still dripping, and the wind continued to blow strongly. We packed up, from within the tent, then struck the tent and set off at 5:54 am.

Here is why our backpacks look so large.

We reached Carter Notch Hut Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out as its full house of guests were in the midst of breakfast. After debating outside the hut, we bravely entered, curious to determine any possibilities of rustling something to eat. One of the croo said we could eat all the cinnamon rolls we could for twenty-five cents a person. Bonanza! We sat at a table with the guests, with a huge bowl of cinnamon rolls between us and a cup of hot chocolate each. The people were talking so loud we could hardly communicate with each other. Someone asked us where we had come from and they found it incredible that we had slept in our tent on such a night.

Carter Notch Hut

Bonanza! All the cinnamon rolls we could for twenty-five cents a person.

Climbing Carter Dome.

On the peaks the wind blew fiercely. Usually the trail was protected by the trees and we hiked with our umbrellas to ward off the copious fog drip. On a peak called Mt. Height, trees were absent and the cold wind penetrated our scant clothing. We could not have lasted long exposed to such conditions, and of all places, here we lost the trail in the dense fog. We traipsed down the opposite side of the peak to the treeline. Realizing we were off route, we climbed back up. Soon we found a cairn that marked the AT and we were quite relieved when we reached the shelter of the trees. With conditions like this here, we could not imagine what they were like back on Mt. Washington.

The day's miles did not come easy, as we ground our way slowly up and down, always climbing up on, or stepping on rocks and roots. In a few places the trail was level, but it was too muddy to walk on, and required rock hopping. With the passing of noon, the conditions began ameliorating. One time the sun appeared in a break in the fast moving clouds. We stopped and spread our things to dry on a rock slab, tying them to trees to prevent their dashing away in the tempest. Within minutes though, the sun disappeared, so we quickly packed and continued galumphing ever onward.

We began meeting other hikers, none of whom expressed pleasure in the day's weather. On the summit of North Carter Peak we spread our things in the sun again for several minutes. We had dried everything except the foot of the sleeping quilt, so we hiked on with it dangling from my pack. Note: the white color is not as fast drying as a black one would be. This is an important consideration.

After climbing nearly to the summit of Mt. Moriah in a stiff, cold wind, we descended to the Rattle "River," more of a healthy trickle. Here in the lower climes the day became quite warm, and coincidentally the trail leveled and became a pleasure to walk on.

One of the hikers we met worked for the Forest Service. He was documenting historical evidence along the trail, supposedly. He mentioned talking with a thru-hiker earlier who had argued that the AT should not climb every peak to its summit, but should skirt around many of them. The ranger considered this ludicrous. "Why shouldn't the trail climb to the tops of the peaks?" he asked. "Thru-hikers are burnt out from everyday putting on the same wet boots and eating the same oatmeal."

I mentioned the burn-out is caused more by the monotony due to the nature of the trail. The hiker's attention must be focused constantly on one's footing. After months of this, the hiking becomes a chore. This type of burnout does not occur, to such an extent, along the PCT and CDT, where the traveller is allowed to admire the scenery gliding by, and much of the time this is above timberline where the scenery is something to admire.

After a pleasant amble, at 5:30 pm we reached US 2 Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out and the turn off to Gorham. The cars were numerous but none would stop to give us a ride, so we began walking toward Gorham, three-and-a-half miles distant. Within half a mile a car stopped, and the fellow and his wife kindly gave us a lift. They were not much at conversation though, and we did not learn where they were going or where they lived.

Walking through town, we were surprised to find it so busy with weekenders, and especially with motorcyclists. From a telephone we learned that all the motels were full.

Thru-hikers were also well represented. We saw a number of them. We talked with one fellow who had a constant stream of negative monologue, and we decided we'd best keep to ourselves to retain what good spirits we had managed to salvage.

We washed our clothes at the Laundromat, then bought a few groceries and enjoyed dinner at Welshe's Restaurant. Then in darkness we pitched our tent - by invitation of the owners - behind the hiker hostel called "The Barn" which is behind the Gorham House Bed and Breakfast.

Day's mileage: 16.4

Day 76, August 22

Layover day, Gorham, New Hampshire.

Using the garden hose on the lush lawn of the Gorham Bed and Breakfast, we tested our tent fly for leaks by pitching it without the tent. Jenny sat inside searching for leaks while I sprayed the outside vigorously. We found no leaks. We could only assume the drips we had been experiencing all summer had been due to condensation. Condensation on the inside of the fly is knocked loose when rain drops hit the outside, making it seem like the rain passes through the fly unimpeded.

After packing our small packs, we moseyed over to The Barn, where a few hikers were starting to awaken. Rumor there had it that 250 north-bound thru-hikers had passed through Harper's Ferry, and that less than 40 had stayed at The Barn. Thus, we had passed about 200 thru-hikers.

We walked through town, passing an open air market where Jenny purchased a small bottle of Avon Skin-So-Soft. She wanted to experiment with this as an insect repellent (It did not work very well.). At the Royalty Inn, we paid for a room. We should have known that we would not sleep well inside a stale, stuffy motel room. We slept poorly due to the lack of ventilation and stench of cigarette smoke that pervaded everything, including the bed and pillows. If only we had camped somewhere uncivilized, quiet and clean.

Speaking of foul odors, all of our gear smelled of jungle rot. We washed nearly everything: shoes, tent, sleeping quilt, backpacks.

Day 77, August 23

We left the motel at 5:30 am, walked back to The Barn, where Jenny had left a bottle of orange juice in the refrigerator. With that, and a grocery sack full of food in each hand, and full loads of food in our packs, we set off. The hitch hiking was not productive, despite an abundance of traffic. We walked the entire three-and-a-half miles back to where we had left the AT.

Back in the mountains, we had been hiking about an hour when we met two fellows who greeted us with "We were wondering when you were going to pass us." This was perplexing until they explained that they had driven past us on the road not far from the trailhead. "Judging by the size of your legs we figured you were thru-hikers and you'd be passing us real soon."

The early morning had been chilly and fog-bound. Climbing higher, we broke out of the fog and greeted a bright, sunny day. Despite the sunshine though, the day remained cool, suggesting that Autumn was in the offing. The trail was rough-hewn and ill-maintained. Moose droppings were well in evidence.

Once again, off-trail campsites were rare. The trail passed a few stagnant ponds, including Gentian Pond Click on "trail segment"
select "terrain"
then zoom out with its shelter and solar privy. Apparently the solar aspect had not proved successful, as the unit had been converted back to the standard compost. We climbed a number of mountains, and made good progress - due both to the rekindled energy and enthusiasm from our layover day, and from the dryness of the rocks and roots upon which we trod.

Welcome to Maine.

Late afternoon we crossed the state line into Maine. Farther on, I was hiking with a will, head down as one must do on this trail, when suddenly I saw a hiker coming toward me. We were on bog bridges at the moment, and about to collide. His head was down also, and he had not seen me. I stepped quickly aside, and straightway tripped over a root and crashed into the bog. Imagine the irony: I was not embarrassed in the least. It was simply another AT-type stumble. I stood up, we chatted awhile, then parted company.

We stopped at 7:40 pm on a plateau half a mile south of Goose Eye Mountain East peak, and searched for twenty minutes for a tent site. There were plenty of possibilities, but we were loathe to damage the fragile alpine flora. Eventually we found a suitable place protected from the cold breeze.

Day's mileage: 22.3

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