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Glider

Glider

And the north peak was but a mile away - above which 3 gliders soared, riding the breeze up the western slope. Graceful birds, no noise at all. But the climb - hand over foot - everything but belays, took it's toll on my knees. By the time I made North peak, I was down to less than 1.5 / hr. Still high on the day. Began what I thought would be an easy, straight-forward descent. Not!

Took an hour to make the campsite (Kinsmen Pond), then things really began to fall apart. First, the camp signs renamed the trail. Thought I was on the Kinsmen Ridge Trail - but that one went due north. Then there was Jerry's Fishin' Trail. What? Jerry who?. Well, behind door number 3 was the Cascades Trail with promises of Rt 3 in only 4 miles. Dig it!

So, off to the shelter and a quick signin. Another AMC extravaganza. Tent sites, superprivy, and a functional shelter just up from the lake. Some lost lake or something similar - and a blue blaze to the Cascades. So, yeah - I take some bloody blue blaze. Go for about 1.5 miles, then figure I'm heading south so this sucks. Better turn around, DNA. And I do. Back to the shelter, back to the trail junction. OK, stay on the ridge trail - that makes sense... and as it closes in on 5:30, I descend down door number 1. Rt 3 was 5.3 miles according to that sign. And once again, the blue blazes appear - not the white blazes.

This is getting ugly but I need to make the highway, so I keep going. There is always, somewhere, a point of no return. Every trail has one. And the second ridge I crossed was that for the 'ridge' trail. I keep going - four more bloody ridges as the light began to fade. Then, when I was flat up against sunset, another trail junction. Sign said 1.2 miles to the hut, and another 1.9 to the road. Down I go. Losing altitude as I should have been for hours now. Light was fading, but I was making tracks. Made Lonesome Lake in the twilight, and find a side trail to the A.T. with ONLY 2.7 MILE jog to the road. The whole of NH has been a mileage mystery, so it doesn't come as a surprise, but when I need to make some precious extra minutes, mystery miles don't help! Halfway from there to the road, it's totally dark. Maglite time. So we (the Beast backpack, Thing the hiking stick, and me) make it to the Cascade Trail junction. (Campsite shelter, 2.0 miles). Figures.

Shortly thereafter, the batteries fade. I limp along and voila: highway. This, after several stream crossings and over a mile of putting the boots down on faith alone. No broken bones or teeth - whew. And the roadwalk to town begins.

Three miles later, I get a ride to the B&B - 9:45.

It's past midnight now. And here I am in a restaurant/bar in N. Woodstock, 'Truants Tavern'. Fella in the corner playing a Fender, strumming out 'Layla' or what do you do with a drunken sailor. Drum machine and reverb. Past midnight, and I want to hike in the a.m.?

'Whadda do with a drunken sailor early in the morning?
Put him in charge of an Exxon tanker...
Put him on ice with Tonya Harding...'

Moosilauke was cloud cover, cold, 30+ mph wind, 40 ft visibility. Lunch yesterday was sitting down on that summit in the rubble and cooking up a meal. Damn cold. VERY tough coming off that hill - hardest of the trail thus far. If the rest of the Whites are like this, I might be in for a rude hike - very rude.