The White (Fog) Mountains

At the end of our second day in Hanover, Gold Bond and I were starting to feel like minor celebrities. We were just repacking our bags on a bench outside the Salt Hill Pub, where we ate dinner, and half a dozen groups of people stopped to wish us luck or ask questions about our hike. We then made it over to Murphy’s, where we were hoping to meet up with Natalie (the girl from the bakery that hooked us up with free food that morning) for a drink, but we never specified a time and she wasn’t there when we were. We decided to stop for gelato on our way out of town and met three women who just had to have a photo with us.

After gelato, Gold Bond and I night-hiked the mile out of Hanover to the Velvet Rocks Shelter and pitched our tents in the dark around 10:20.

Some shots of Gold Bond from the next day.

At one point, we saw a sign for free water and ice cream and followed a side trail to the home of “Ice Cream Bill.” We sat on the porch with Bill and sipped some lemonade and ate some ice cream popsicles. Then we made the mistake of challenging Bill to a game of croquet, which he first taught us and then whooped us (especially me) at.

Whistler, Bill, and Gold Bond.

Bill admiring a nice shot of his.

I stayed later than expected at Bill’s and felt too tired to hike the extra four miles uphill with the rest of the guys, so I pitched a tent at the base of Smarts Mountain. Even though my reason for stopping was to rest up and fuel up with calories, I was too tired to actually cook a hot meal. Instead I just ate a cold dinner of crackers, cheese, and pepperoni and fell asleep in my tent.

The next morning I climbed to the top of Smarts Mountain and cooked in the fire warden’s cabin the dinner I didn’t eat the night before. As soon as I started downhill from the cabin, it started to rain and didn’t stop until right before the Hexacuba Shelter, where I’d planned to stay if the rain persisted. Since it turned nice, I decided to push on. No more than ten minutes after I’d passed the shelter, the rain returned. I ended up setting up my tent in the rain at the site of the former Ore Hill Shelter, which burned down last year.

The next morning it was still wet for much of the morning so I stayed in my tent before reluctantly packing up all my wet gear and putting on the previous day’s wet clothes.

As I was leaving, I met up with Whistler, who had waited out the rain in the Hexacuba Shelter. My first step hiking with him that day landed me right on the ground in an awkward handstand position as I tripped over my hiking pole. The rest of the day was slightly better. The rain was ever-present and I got pretty chilly climbing Mt. Moosilauke, especially above tree line.

Again I had the pleasure of replacing my warm, dry sleeping clothes with cold, wet ones the next morning. I hiked alone all day and had a really cool climb up Mt. Kinsman. I had to ford an overflowing brook a few times, and often the trail was the path the rainwater traveled down the mountain.

After summiting Mt. Kinsman, I stopped in at the Lonesome Lake Hut to see what the White Mountain huts are like. I was very disappointed to be completely ignored by the five hut employees and the twenty or so guests. Nobody would even look up to return my hello. I hastily signed the guest book and returned to the rain. I stopped at Franconia Notch and shared a shuttle to Lincoln, NH, with a former thru-hiker named Pete and two section hikers from New Jersey. We stayed at Chet West’s hostel, which is a cozy spot in the residential area of Lincoln. After filling up on pizza, I made plans to be picked up the next morning by my parents. I had already planned to take the weekend off to fly to DC and help my brother move our stuff into our new apartment. The disappointment of summiting in the fog the last two days pushed me to head off the trail a day or two earlier.

I spent Thursday washing all my gear at home and eating out at Cole Farms (fried Maine shrimp roll) and Hodgeman’s (frozen custard). Friday I was up at my camp on the lake and saw most of my mom’s side of the family, including my cousin’s new baby Brody and my cousin Ben and his wife Erin who were up from the DC area with their two girls. Early Saturday morning I flew to DC and helped pack up the old apartment with my brother. Sunday we drove everything over in a uhaul truck and unloaded most of the boxes. This morning (Monday) I flew back to Boston and my parents are dropping me back off at Franconia Notch. The weather is much better now than last week, so hopefully I’ll get some views of the White Mountains this week!