Author Archives: atsioneva

Zerozerozerozero…

The mind was willing, (sort of), but the body was bonetired, and thus the only miles today were town miles. But it was a seriously needed respite. It really was.

I took the chance to switch up some of my clothing – I sent home some gear I didn’t need, including my yellow flipflop T-shirt, and purchased a long sleeved, lightweight, quick-drying shirt. The past few days I have been having issues with sunburned arms, reactions to sunscreen, and incredible itchiness on the arms, to the point of insanity. This shirt will provide UPF protection and help alleviate the problem. I also bought another pair of wool socks.

And beer. And food.

There is a campfire tonight with smores ingredients, but I limited myself to two marshmallows.  I will definitely be hitting the trail again tomorrow, I am feeling that restlessness building again. This is a great hostel, overflowing with great people, but it’s time to move on. Franconia Ridge awaits.

And I have clean socks. What more can anyone ask?

I hike on!

I failed to conquer the world. I couldn’t even hold onto the Eastern United States, though my single soldier dude in Irtusk or something like that fought on to the bitter end!

Oh. You want to hear about the hike, not my pitiful performance at Risk.

July 26
Morning Song and I caught the 7:30 shuttle to the Kinsman Notch trailhead, with just barely time to make and eat pancakes, because I overslept and did not wake him when I planned, but we still made it. From the getgo, the trail went up. Up, up, up. And it was all right for a while.

First we had to climb Mt. Wolf, which was very muddy. With granite, the water runs off, and collects wherever it can; into the soil, and the feet of hikers churn it into mud. There was a lot of rock hopping to avoid the worst patches. We climbed from 1870 feet to 3478 feet in about 4 miles or so, but the steepest part was at the very beginning before the energy levels had kicked in. There was a lot of up and down. And it was really great to be hiking with Morning Song again!

We ended the first day at Eliza Brook shelter, about 7 miles up. Days in the White Mountains are going to be inevitably shorter in terms of mileage, due to the elevation changes. The privy was almost full, but the shelter was not – MS and I were the only ones sheltering, the rest were tenting. We celebrated the first day climb with hot cocoa and peppermint schnapps; the temp is markedly cooler at the higher altitudes and I was grateful I had taken along the 20 degree sleeping bag, and sent the 55 degree one head to Gorham.

July 27
I woke MS at 7 am (I let him sleep in) and we were on the trail at 8:15. The actual climb up Kinsman waited… It was a pretty easy, if muddy climb, up to Harrington Pond and for the first 8/10 of a mile, the trail paralleled Eliza Brook, a very beautiful stream with plenty of small waterfalls. Then Harrington Pond itself was like a still mirror high in the mountains, with perfect reflections. We had to watch our steps carefully around this area – the normal wooden bog bridges that keep you out of the muck were there, but in this area, the mud and water were just over the surface of the boards, making them very hard to see. Every step was a routine of “tap with hiking pole to determine where the board is, and step very carefully, tap again”, etc. The mud was not just mud, it was liquid mud. Step into it and you sink knee deep, seriously. Though I did fall at another point on the trail where the mud was just thick and muddy, I escaped this section unscathed.

Then. Then the climb itself. Another hiker had described the climb as “brutal”, and I couldn’t help but agree! There was just over a mile of climb, but it was climbing up very steep rockfaces where poles were of little use. This was pure hand over hand climbing, and being short, I had a hard time reaching some of the crevices and rock handholds necessary for hauling myself up. Plus we were carrying 30 lb packs. MS was smarter than I was and took short breaks at times; I did not, and by the time we were close to the top, and confronting yet another very steep section, I broke down in tears. It was embarrassing. He patiently waited while I recovered myself, and after about twenty minutes, we continued… UP. Terrifying at times, almost impossible at times, and HARD.

Finally, above tree line, and on a rounded bump of bedrock, we were on South Kinsman Mountain. MS pulled out his sleeping mat, and took a short nap; I pulled out my fleece jacket to use as a pillow, and reclined as well. Before we left, we each added a rock to the tall rock cairn marking the top. Then it was on to North Kinsman Mountain, close by and not a hard hike; it had killer views of Franconia Ridge and the Presidential Range beyond.

This day ended at Kinsman Pond Shelter, after a grand total of 4 miles, with hot cocoa and rum this time. The water source for this shelter was a pond, which was also great to soak one’s feet in after a long, tiring day.

July 28
We veered off the AT to take the reportedly easier Kinsman Pond Trail instead of the Fishin’ Jimmy Trail that the AT follows… and somehow stumbled into fairyland. The trail in the early morning was lined with moss-covered trees and rocks, followed a bubbling, lively, tumbling brook downwards that often burst out into waterfalls, and the light filtering through the trees gave the whole scene an otherworldly quality. We often sat and just drank it all in.

And it /was/ a much easier trail. We reached Franconia Notch in plenty of time to meet his wife, Patti, at the prearranged time, after walking a mile on a paved bike path to reach the Flume Visitor Center, though we did not go to see the Flume itself. They kindly took me into Lincoln to resupply – I will need to carry 5-6 days of food to cover the next sections – and then dropped me off at the same hostel we stayed at two days ago. I had considered hiking on to the Liberty Springs Campsite close to the Franconia Ridge, but strong storms were predicted, and I did not want to be up at altitude if it could be avoided.

And oh, what a great night. The hostel is full of interesting hikers, including two from Nebraska… one is Carlee’s physical therapist and the other knows Marc Rowan. Go figure! A group cooked up a gourmet Italian meal with shrimp pasta, baked garlic bread with cheese, and tomatoes with mozzarella slices on top; beer was abundant; there were musical interludes, including a couple of us singing Veggie Tales songs at the top of out lungs; and hiker conversation continues as I type, though people are retiring now. Hiker midnight.

Tomorrow I plan to hike 10 miles, and cover the whole of the Franconia Ridge, and onto the Garfield Ridge. I also will turn in shortly; it will be a long day with an early start, but I am so full. I am told that this section will not be as tough as Kinsman. I can only hope!

Life is good. I will miss Morning Song all over again though.
I hike on.

It was a good zero day. Half the morning at one hostel, where I had the luxury of rolling over and going back to sleep, and The rest of the day at another hostel, where I will strike out from in the morning.

I will again be hiking with Morning Song. For a few days. This makes me smile! He and his wife Patti treated me to a delicious dinner at a local restaurant and brewery… Mmm, steak and beer! They would let me pick up my part of the tab.

Tomorrow we will hike either 7 or 11 miles, depending on terrain. I am holding out for 11, but I have no problem adjusting to the possible. Tonight I am mellow, and just feeling lazy. Very lazy.

I hike on.

My next maildrop will be in Gorham, NH, on the other side of the White Mountain National Forest, in a week or so…

This song kept running through my head today during the climb.

I Could Not Ask For More

If only all days could be like /this/ day…

Today started with a hearty breakfast of huge pancakes, bacon, and eggs, with strong coffee and the V8 juice I bought. A good breakfast for what promised to be a most challenging climb up the third steepest mountain on the AT.

It did not disappoint! By 8 am, I was standing in the parking lot by the trailhead, staring almost 5000 feet up Moosilauke. I tried to take a picture from the bottom, but it didn’t come out – when the sun washes out the screen, you can’t always be sure you actually TOOK the picture.

Then, from the getgo, the trail climbed. This section of trail is also called the Beaver Brook Trail, and said brook runs right alongside the trail, often with some pretty spectacularly beautiful waterfalls; the water sprays the trail, making footing all the slicker. At times, at the steepest parts, there were wooden steps, beams bolted into the rock. There were also times where there was iron rebar to grab onto. But usually, I was scrambling up under my own power, with or without poles. A mile and a half of vertical rock scramble, the purest fun. Then, at the mile and a half point, the Beaver Brook Shelter, a great place for a break, a snack, a pitstop, refill water bottles, etc.

The path for the rest of the way up the mountain was gentler, but still fun to climb. The summit was above tree line, and marked by tall cairns, since there was nothing really to paint white blazes on. The path was small rocks at that point; the summit itself was marked by a circular rock wall that people were making use of to shelter from the wind. It really was quite chilly up there! I didn’t stay too long, I was getting cold.

My arms remind me I forgot one crucial fact – the higher you get, the more easily you sunburn, and because of wielding the hiking poles, in areas I don’t usually burn. It’s going to be an uncomfortable night. I just took Advil, that will help some.

Back to the trail though. What goes up must come down! And the coming down is rarely ever as pleasant as the going up. Steep, rocky, and really hard on the knees. Eventually, the steepness eased, but it was pretty much all downhill for five miles. Toward the end was another shelter; I stopped in for another pitstop, and chatted with the two hikers staying there, trading stories of trail magic, before moving on.

The hostel I am again staying at was only a mile and a bit further, and I caught the shuttle to the convenience store/deli – I was starving! A huge roast beef sub, a large can of Sam Adams, and a shower later, I feel much better, but very tired, and the arms are hot!

Today was a great day. Tomorrow will be just as great, despite the fact I’m turning 42. Tomorrow I catch a shuttle to North Woodstock, NH, where I will zero at another hostel, and be reunited with Morning Song for a few days! He says he is old and fat again… Well, we’ll see about that! Tuesday we’ll hike up into the Whites. I’ll just have to remember the sunscreen this time.

I pause.

So, clam chowder. Was that where I left off?

After dinner, we watched a short Discovery video on sugaring that this couple had helped create, which took me back to grade school field trips to maple sugar farms. Then it was off to bed – a real bed! With a pillow and sheets!

July 23:

Pancakes, bacon, juice and coffee. What an excellent way to start the day… with made-right-here maple syrup for the pancakes. I’d left my sweaty clothes on the clothesline to dry, and of course it rained overnight, but Toni was kind enough to put them in the dryer. I left with a bag of dry clothes, instead of sopping wet. She also made us each a lunch to take with us – peanut butter on cinnamon bread, and an orange. Very kind people!

Today was probably the last easy day for a long time; 10 miles, and the terrain was not hard. I had to climb Mt. Mist, but at 2200 feet, I was at the top before I knew it, and a good thing, too; I kept hearing thunder, though I was hiking in bright sunlight. I did put my pack cover on, though.

And then, down the final hill to the road, and what’s this? A canopy? With chairs? A very kind couple was doing trail magic, and then some! Sloppy Joes, chicken salad, Brie cheese and crackers, fresh veggies, chips, soda, Oreos, homemade lemon-blueberry bars, homemade gingerbread… the list goes on. Hikers gathered like bees, there were at least six of us, including the father and daughter from Smarts Mountain. Eating was a great pleasure!

Dark clouds also started to gather, however, and we all made a break for it. Some, like me, made for the hostel .3 miles up the road, some headed for the shelter 2 miles uptrail. We made it before the storm broke, but just barely; they did not.

The Hikers Welcome Hostel is known as a party place, but I think we disappointed the hosts, because no one was partying, even though it was a Saturday night. When I went by the main room about 8:30, it was pretty empty. It is a good place though – there are bunks a floor above the main room, and they just expanded a barn and put a lot of bunks in there as well, for those who like it quieter. I am in the barn. The place also has a flush toilet – YAY! – and a hot outdoor shower. Plus laundry facilities.

Everyone may have turned in early tonight because Mt. Moosilauke is looming on the horizon. Literally. We will climb this 5000 foot mountain in the morning. And then the next day… I get to see Morning Song again! If I can get messaging to work enough to coordinate with him – I still have no reception, I am using Wi-Fi at the moment. So, MS, if you are reading this, text me details! I will be at the NH 112 road crossing 5 miles out of Lincoln, at whatever time we decide. And I have a maildrop in North Woodstock I need to pick up.

I’m hungry. I’m typing at 2:30 am. Why?

I hike on.

Oh, people.

It feels good to lie down. It has been a very hikeful few days, but the cell phone reception has been terrible. Also, somehow I cracked the screen on the phone, but it still works. Maybe I can get it repaired.

So, let’s see what my notes and memory can come up with…

July 21:

I bounced out of Tigger’s Tree House bright and early, about 7 am. I was planning a long, 17 mile day; I was five miles behind schedule and needed to make them up.

Moose Mountain was first, and not very difficult. No moose to be seen, but it did have two peaks, a north and south peak. Such bifurcated mountains, I quickly found, are common in the White Mountains.

So I came down off Moose Mountain onto Goose Pond Road, where I decided to take a break on a handy rock, have a snack, and drink water. Aaaaaaaand just as I was standing up and putting my pack back on, up rolls a car, parking in the tiny lot next to my rock.

“Would you like a Coke?”

Five minutes later, I was occupying one of three lawn chairs next to a cooler full of soda, chatting with trail angel Chuck, and enjoying a Coke! Five minutes later and I would have completely missed some great trail magic. I ended up staying about 45 minutes, but reluctantly had to move on. There was a lot of distance yet to cover.

So… Let’s talk about Smarts Mountain, because it was the first taste of what the Whites truly have to offer. There was an 800 foot climb, then a bit of level, then a 500 foot climb, then a bit of level, then another 800 foot climb, then a bit of level, and a cabin that served as the shelter. But these climbs were not the steady dirt and rock paths Vermont offered in the last three days. These were boulder scrambles, and stretches of white granite bedrock. These were “throw the poles up, and use your hands alone”. These were FUN! The only problems were a) late in the day, and I was getting tired, and b) no water sources for about 4 miles before the summit, and about 4 miles after, so I had to be very careful rationing water – and it was still hot. I finally made it to the second summit where the cabin was about 7:45; no water for cooking and daylight was waning. I quickly ate a dry supper, set up my gear, and crawled into the sleeping bag. There were some people tenting, a father and daughter who were hammocked, but I had the large cabin to myself. Very nice!

July 22:

Late start; I was lazy. I hit the trail about 8 am. Still rationing water; it was a long 4 mile downhill to the nearest spring. Compared with the path up though, the path down was a piece of cake. Steep, but dirt and rocks, not boulders. I made great time, and was feeling good about finishing the 10 mile planned day quickly.

And then came Mt. Cube.

While not as high as Smarts Mountain, it was similar… I think it had even more white granite “whalebacks”. But tackling it in the middle of the day, with enough water, I had a lot more energy. Still, it ate up a lot of time; really loved it though!

Coming down was not as much fun. I was relieved to reach the road. Originally, I planned to stay at the Mt. Cube Sugar Farm, about 2 miles up the road, but there was a notice posted at the trailhead that Toni and Jerry were willing to put up hikers, including dinner and breakfast, for a donation… and they were only a quarter mile up the road. So… It was off to their house!

They were lovely people, a retired farmer/maple sugarer and his wife. There were three hikers staying, including me, and they fed us each a sandwich when we got there, followed later by crackers & cheese, clam chowder, and fruit cocktail.

…

Lost the network again, and a lot of what I typed, will do another entry in the morning to bring this up to date. Apologies!

Happy Murphysday to everyone! Seemingly almost everything that could go askew today DID!

Oh, the day started out well. Don’t get me wrong. I had the wonderful, rare luxury of sleeping in late, until 7:30, on a wonderfully comfortable bed. Once underway, the first stop was Walmart, for some cheap non-cotton clothing to replace my dearly departed clothing, wherever it is now. This Wal-Mart had a Dunkin Donuts… Danger, Will Robinson, danger! A croissant and a blueberry donut later, back underway.

The hostel owner kindly dropped me off at the post office, and then I…

WE INTERRUPT THIS BROADCAST TO GIVE A HUGE SHOUT OUT OF THANKS TO GINNY, TO MONTY12, TEAM DAAK & SUPPORT STAFF, AND TO MR. YUCK!!! LOVE YA’ALL!

… picked up some maildrops, and went over to Lou’s for breakfast. This place has incredible food, and they love hikers… As soon as I was seated, out came a free maple crueller! I followed it up with excellent coffee and a bagel with lox, capers, and cream cheese. Full stomach, oh, yes!

AND IF I FORGOT ANYONE, I APOLOGIZE AND THANK YOU, TOO! *struggle sounds and weird screeches over the microphone*

I should have learned this yesterday, but Hanover is very easy to get into by car, and very hard to get out of on foot, even with white blazes. With some resupply, and some getting lost, it was nearly 12:30 before I was back in the foresty part of the trail.

Immediately, New Hampshire had a different feel than the last few days in Vermont. More granite and fewer roots and dirt. The first shelter, Velvet Rocks, was only .7 in, but it felt a lot longer – there was a lot of road walking yesterday, and my feet took a bit of a pounding. And there is where it all started to go wrong.

The vast majority of AT shelters have one path in. Usually clearly marked with blue blazes. This one, for some reason, has at least three blueblazed trails in. And, due to my frantic search for a privy THAT WAS NOT THERE, I was confused, and took a different blueblazed trail out than I had taken in.

A comedy of errors and a swarm of aggravating, biting horseflies and mosquitos later, I emerged from this blueblazed trail onto a paved road, roughly two miles from where the white-blazed AT was also supposed to hit this paved road. So began a long, boring, sunlit roadwalk, far from any blazes at all. The biting insect population loved it though – raw Ziptie was tasty, but they just could not get enough of cooked Ziptie, evidently. Bleh.

Finally, I reached a small parking lot, with a shaded rock to sit on, and threw in the towel; I called one of the shuttling trail angels of Hanover. As it turns out, if I had walked even 5 minutes more, I would have reached the AT trailhead, but honestly, I was done in and hot.

So it was back to the hostel, where I am typing this entry. I had planned to take a nearo, and hike about the distance I did hike today… But, you know, I kinda planned to hike those miles on the AT, not on roads and city streets and unofficial blue-blaze trails. Ah well. Tomorrow I will pick myself back up and keep going. Tonight… BEER.

I hike on.

I am very melancholy. Also, very amused.

You see, I have left Vermont for New Hampshire. But the majority of my clothes did not. Most of my clothes, in the clothes bag, are in the trunk of Trailmouse’s rental car, headed for Burlington, and potentially points south. Tomorrow’s resupply in Hanover will include some cheap clothes shopping as well; it’s just as well I am only planning on a 10 mile day in easy-looking terrain tomorrow, because getting out of town before noon may be problematical.

Me, I will miss Vermont. The last two or three days of hiking have been incredibly beautiful, through forests of pine and hemlock, open meadows, tallgrass meadows full of flowers. In the tall pines and hemlocks, the cathedral feeling is there – the trees block the sunlight, so there is very little undergrowth, just tree trunks in seeming rows. The weather, too, has been perfect. Sunlight and breezes, humid, but not overwhelming hot. The miles flew by, especially when slackpacking.

Tonight I am staying at the Tigger’s Treehouse hostel – they have two small RVs outside that they put hikers up in. I have “the tank”; the other hiker has “the tepee”. This is going to be fun! Enjoying a Long Trail Ale tonight to salute Vermont. The shower – oh, the shower! It was sublime! Feeling relaxed and very mellow. My hike is back on track, and I can still crank out 14+ mile days, so all is well.

Tomorrow I will begin hiking my ninth state. Two more to go in this northern section. Just two, but the hardest two. The is going to be a challenge!

I hike on.