30 Camp children not prepared in MT Moossilauke $ 17.36

I woke up at 5 am, a little earlier than expected. The reason for the early increase was the potentially poor climate prognosis and the desire to start drying. I was on its way at 5.30 in the morning, moving away from the beautiful pond that still hid its beavers and classes.

The first two hours passed without incident on another easy path (I am sure that NH will get difficult soon), and soon we were spit on a road. A sectionist from the section called Aaron who had been camping in the same places that Chestnut and I in recent days had the kindness of running along the way to the General Appleknockers store for a mini refueling.

I devoured some hot food, a breakfast burrito, and grabbed a couple of days of supply, since we were still sure that the whites and the cabin system would realize that they realized a free extra meal.

Hiker Welcomo Hostel

Aaron then returned to a shelter that was only 500 meters from the path. We thought we would advance and see who we could meet there, and see if it was well to load our Powrbanks before entering the whites.

The patience, the owner of the shelter, could not have been more complacent. After asking our plans, he suggested that we would probably want to move about the first mountain, Moossilauke, sooner rather than later, since the weather forecast seemed poor in the afternoon.

Then he displayed the magic of the path in the form of leftovers of the dinner for breakfast. Apparently there had been great cooking the night before, and needed our special type of help to eat all the food.

Like a hoot attacking crumbs on the floor, I moved to the second breakfast like Frodo and devoured all the foods that dared to enter my line of vision.

We were also lucky to find some half -empty fuel cans in the hiker box. Chestnut has a fuel transfer device that allows us to loot these half -empty cans left by other hikers and transfer the gas to our own cans. This methodology has not meant fuel purchases from Massachusetts, frugality bringing a smile to my face.

After eating too much food, we thank Patience for his hospitality. Then I needed to convince Chestnut that we did not need to take the two blowers that had been left in the hiker box (yes, two dryers in the hiker box, read correctly) and returned to the path.

The white mountains

So this was all. It is time to assume the most feared and spoken section of the path of 3,500 km. From what I had heard, there would be orcs, elves, trolls and vampires and werewolves and … do you know abundant?

We begin to climb Moosilauke. With the Ages practically in the name, the expectations were at its highest point.

It became clear that some basic things had been forgotten by New Hampshire’s paths when it came to whites. The first and most obvious was the lack of doing what would be called a path. Everything before me was a collection of large rocks and rocks that ran directly towards the top of the mountain. This seemed a significant supervision of what is apparently called the path of the Apalaches.

Continuing for this landslide of a road, it was also clear that no real concern had been given for the aerobic capacity of humans who are directed in this general direction. The road was relentless, without a room.

So I suppose this is what people were talking about when they refer to New Hampshire. Fortunately, my month on the path had me in good condition for this level of discomfort, and happily stepped on the mountain.

Obviously, one of the most prominent aspects of climbing these large hills are the impressive views you get from the tops without trees.

I mean, just give it one or two minutes and the cloud will separate and the epic view of everything you have walked in recent days will be deployed before your own eyes.

OK. They fulfilled the 50 km/h bursts once we cleaned the line of the proper tree, and our only real option was to feed the upper part without flying and returning to the tree line to the other side of the mountain.

Once back safely on the tree line, I found the horrible vision of a group of 12 -year -old children walking through the mountain. In t -shirts and shorts. No bags. Or water bottles. Or anything.

If I could print a recipe for disaster, this was surely. The children were with their camp leaders, a couple of 20 things that seemed to walk cats.

I heard from any rescue in the next few days, so they were good news. As for the fun the children had when they reached the top … I suppose not so much.

Around 230 pm, we arrived at the shelter on the north side of Moosilauke, and I was very happy to call my first day in the whites. Apart from the children of the camp, we had not seen anyone else along the way, most likely due to bad weather, and we spent the afternoon eating and resting after the hard climb and partial offspring.

I put my store late in the afternoon and fell asleep around 730 pm, when a group of young men and women arrived at the camp at night. I did not think much at that time, since I knew that whites were particularly popular among the day and night hikers who wanted to climb these little spikes.

At 11 pm, when I was awakened by the same group that was still laughing and shone its torches around the camp, I decidedly decided in its invasion of the camp. It is the great challenge of through hikers and superiors around the world.

Long distance hikers tend to fall into a rhythm of ascent and fall with the road of the Sun. Night hikers are still in tune with their home life routine, which generally implies being awake later and sleeping far beyond the rise of the sun.

I put my ear plugs in my ears, I put on the mask of my eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

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