It's not a cloud, that's HAIL
J: The cloud took us well above treeline (OK, 1 mph hiker vs 60+ mph winds -- it's not much of a race). Then as we adjusted to being fog-bound, whipped by the gusts, and going from cairn to cairn, the hail began with spitting rain.
Tupelo, 'Real men don't cry.'
DNA, 'Real men pee in their pants.'
We scurried around some of the larger boulders looking for shelter to maybe crawl under. None. Save for one little patch Stumpy found. He'd race from outcropping to outcropping, or mini-cave to the next, to manage in the storm. Fine. We'll stagger on, trying to keep our balance in the gusts, pelted by the stinging hail, walking on wet rocks and loose talus. Oh, and it was getting on toward sunset.
The hail turned to rain. Wind and rain followed us to treeline where things died off just at dusk. In the waning last bits of daylight, we made Osgood tentsite. It was full.
We headed down trail a while. Seemed to be less maintained here, but it had been a few days since we had been in thicker forest coming up Webster. Wait. Out with the maglites. No blazes. Walk on. No blazes -- we've lost the A.T. It's dark. We're beat. The heck with it. We've stealth-camped on this abandoned trail. I can hear a stream nearby. Stumpy, Squirrel and Tupelo are tented right next door. About time I kicked the Hut habit. I'm tired and pretty beat up, but in good spirits despite no dinner, being lost, and the interesting big day. Can't make Gorham for the P.O. before it closes for the weekend so will enjoy the countryside until Monday. Tired - need rest.