An incredibly good atmosphere and even better luck

The truth is that I continued to press and continue to work. When I stopped in the white mountains, I knew what they had told me: that they would kick me, they would slow down and they shouldn’t do bad weather. All that is certainly true, but that was not my experience at all.

The tower at the top of Smarts Mountain gave me phenomenal views of what was to come, and the hiker box in the welcome hostel of the hikers provided two full days of free food. The next day, the views from the Mount Moosilauke summit were even better. The clouds gave a little shadow and added depth and beauty to the panorama. The descent was hard, as they told me it would be, but I got to the bottom and felt ready for more. They were nine miles to the shelter. I could do that.

I had become accustomed to having more energy in the afternoon than in the morning. The ‘Runner’s High’ is an infernal drug. My energy felt unlimited, so much that I had to slow down a bit to not burn me. The muscle hurt almost disappeared, and when I faced a rock slab of fifteen or twenty feet to climb, I hit a race and almost jumped on the top. My mood was unwavering, I held my trekking posts like a guitar and I destroyed myself with Lynyrd Skynyrd, smiling all the way.

When I arrived at the shelter, I had been walking for more than 13 hours, and it was in such a good mood that a part of me ever wanted to arrive at all. I did it just when the sky was attenuated, and I found a Dartmouth group already there. They had a lot of interest on the path and leftover to share. Before separating us in the morning, they gave me enough food so that I would no longer need to replenish the next day.

The Kinsman mountains were hard on my tired legs, but not unbearably. It wasn’t until I crossed them that I heard how feared they were noble and sobos equally.

When he faced the perspective of paying a camp in a place that two days before he had seen a bearing claw to open a tent, or take the opportunity to climb to Franconia’s crest late in the afternoon, I did. I could see miles in all directions, and when the clouds finally approached me, I took a side path to the green leaf cabin. They had told me several things about the huts, some good, others bad, but they proved to be a huge help to me. In Lonesome Lake Hut, the first one that I spent on my trip, ate four bowls of cold cold eggs for lunch, free leftovers for hikers. In fact, during my time I stopped me in each of the cabins and I would eat something free in all of them.

Greenleaf Hut took me to work for stay; The work was brief, the food was good, the stay was simple. In the morning I finished the crest of Franconia and continued moving.

I started seeing more nobles as I advanced, and discovered that there was still a bubble of hikers in the whites. I passed groups of two or three or six, and many solo hikers as well. It was almost to the Zealand Falls cabin when he hit the rain. It was the type of rain that did not care if he had a jacket or not. The high points had already passed, but it was still among the trees approximately the same height as me. The rain hit sideways, and I had to remind me several times in those last miles that it was better to reach wet than bleeding.

In Zealand Falls Hut I met other hikers, and one, Widget, and I stayed for a work by stay. We ate snacks from our bags and played a trail of the beads of the Apalaches that we had never heard. We dried our team, we did our work and ate a delicious thanksgiving dinner that was still hot. The floor was our bed and we were awake before the sun.

Another way to cross, another opportunity to replenish that I did not need. I went ahead. The afternoon provided cold oatmeal and hot soup and my first close -up views of Mount Washington. I pushed at night and in the Alpino Alpine. In the Lake Hut clouds, I caught another work for stay, and I was glad. The afternoon clouds were closed and temperatures collapsed. We had many of us there that night: some work to stay, some who stay in the emergency shelter called «The Dungeon», some buying beds for the night and some setback to try to get below the tree line before dusk. We played letters, we ate coffee and marinara paste, and we talked about our summit plans.

The morning came with unexpected darkness. We all knew what the mountain could do, but the prognosis had been clear. It wasn’t. We talked, ate and prepared, sharing plans and promoting ourselves for what was to come. It seemed that he had less warm clothes of all hikers. My seafood, a fleece, my rain jacket and a wool hat. I had warmer team along the way, I would find myself in a city on the path. But it wasn’t here now. He still wore the same purple «chicknleg» shorts he had for months; My legs were totally exposed. Oh well, I told myself The effort will keep them hot. I said goodbye and ran the way in a trot.

It was 18 ° with wind at the top. I took my picture of the summit and got into the visitors center. A couple of other hikers were already there, and we grouped as refugees. An employee went down with a restaurant’s packaged food tray. “Then, all these only expired yesterday or today, if you want any:“ The tray was already empty before it could end. Almond jewelry, mozzarella balls, spinach sauce, missing in a moment.

Go back to the way again. The wind pushed strongly against me, but my soul was too happy to be upset about the cold. Each breathing said You are alive, Each step said You can do this.

Around noon, the clouds began to clear, and I saw someone ahead: a hikers sitting next to their backpack, eating. When I got to them, I realized that we knew each other. His name was Dugout, we had met at the Smokies and we had seen each other in the days of trails. I sat down with him and we were up to date, and then we started walking together. The casual meeting was taken with pleasure to both of us, we got along and we were pressing similar daily distances. We took together on the presidential field, we ate a massive left pasta lunch in the Madison’s cabin, and we fall into the valley and the night, speaking all the way.

At the Pinkham Notch Visitor Center we met other hikers I knew, but I didn’t. They sat in the buffet area, and one brought a tray loaded on the table, he announced to the room that he was not really hungry and slipped it towards us. I returned the food for (something) fixing a zipper in his package.

In the basement I found the hiker box near the bathrooms. He was loaded, someone had just left boxes and loot bags. I took a little and returned to the stairs.

«Boys, the hiker box has just received donations, it’s full of good shit!» They had no words, but they dropped what they were doing and immediately made the box. We hit knuckles when they passed.

In the morning, Bound and I shook the frost of our limbs, we have the buffet breakfast and drank coffee until the sun had heated the entire room. I loaded as many goves and empanadas of sausages as I could fit in a zipock as discreetly as possible. Then we get to the way again.

The Wildcats began with the most steep mile on the entire path of the Apalaches, and did not yield much after that. We ate free chocolate pancakes in the Cabaña of Notch Carter and advanced.

That was the day they reached us. Despite all the good of work by stays, they did not allow long hours of sleep. The big miles and the huge profits and elevation drops had also affected. On the day of the Mount Washington’s Summit had begun at 3:45 am, and had been protruding in the wind and cold until the visitors center opened. We find ourselves stumbling with a relatively flat path and struggling to go more than one mile without dropping our packages to stop.

We call it a little early that day, to eat a great dinner and sleep the full night we desperately need.

In the morning we arrived on the road and Dugout entered the city. Incredibly, I still didn’t need to do it, so I advanced.

A day and a half later I stopped at the border. New Hampshire to my left, Maine on my right. There it was. Thirteen of the fourteen states, complete. Maine. Latest. Here it was. And here Yo was. I ate a snack in the celebration and kept moving. I had enough food to get to the road, and nothing more. If I took too long, if I didn’t arrive on time to take a walk, I wouldn’t have dinner that night. If that happened, I would only sleep if pure exhaustion dominated my hunger. Any of the results encouraged me to accelerate my rhythm, so I did.

Mahosuc Notch is the most technical mile on the path. A narrow roller road through a steep ravine full of rocks that required both hands and a focused mind. That kind of fight is tons of fun, and had been waiting for this for hundreds of miles.

Paste, pushed through a narrow squeeze. Knees up, follow him, put it again. It jumps from one rock to another, a gymnasium of the jungle of high consequence. I put my rock escalation skills and wanted to do it twice. When I pushed between two rocks, I left a couple of hikers so suddenly that they jumped. From their perspective, I must have appeared as if they number from the rock itself.

Another hardcore goes up the Mahosuc arm. I could feel that my energy began to hesitate, and I ate the latest of the granola that the Dartmouth group gave me before starting. A few hikers here and there while crying the old mountain of Speck. I ate my last calorie and started in the last fall of the day.

In ten minutes of trying to get hooked, only one car passed and was on the wrong way. My stomach growled. You don’t look good. Then a car was lit, decelerated, indicated and got into the parking lot. The side said «Transport of Montaña Blanca.»

The driver’s name was Ziggy, and was leaving a hiker. He made fun of when I asked how much trip to the city. «No, I don’t charge self -establishrs, I go that way anyway!» He took me to Bethel and left me in front of the grocery store. Just in time for dinner.

My feet hurt. My legs hurt. I smelled terrible. I couldn’t stop smiling. He had paid approximately one in three meals in the last 160 miles. I have had bad days on the way, and good morning too. I have been lucky all kinds. But I’ve never had a great week.