So we haven't picked up our pace. It is just how things are working out. Besides, we keep hitting beautiful campsites that seem like they just have to be camped in by us. It doesn't seem right to not do what these locations clearly want. Otherwise, it has been another nice section of the trail. The trail just keeps going straight up and down, which is tough but enjoyable. There are also great views everywhere.
Two major events stand out since the last blog entry. They came on the same day but both stand out quite nicely in my mind. The first one came while hiking down Goose Eye Mountain. I guess the first thing to do with this story is to explain a bit about high elevation hiking in New England. If there are things that resemble flat areas they are probably very marshy. These areas are usually traversed with the help of rustic bridges that are just two boards between two logs. These work quite well but are almost always slightly run down. There are so many of these bridges, trail maintenance clubs can't keep up. When run down, the muddy ground has usually partially engulfed the bridge.
So Goose Eye Mountain has a ton of these bridges as you move between the east and north peak. Usually when I get to a run-down bridge I use my trekking pole to see if the bridge is just below the mud and stable. If it is just barely below the surface and stable, I use the bridge; if my pole sinks a few inches or more, I work my way around the edge of the muddy area. This usually works; sometimes working your way around the edge is a bit difficult but otherwise everything goes fine. Except this once.
I checked the submerged bridge, solid and just below the surface. In my head I was thinking that I was getting sick of trying to work around edges so the solid bridge was a relief. I hopped to the bridge. Suddenly things went wrong. Before I knew what happened I was thigh deep in mud. As I assessed my situation I quickly figured out what had happened. My hop had been accurate, sort of. I had hit where the bridge was but the two boards that made the bridge were farther apart than most of the bridges. I had gone right through the crack.
UV quickly made her way past me, dropped her pack on dry ground and returned to help. She got my pack off of me and took it to dry ground. Once she got there, I told her to get out my phone and document this with pictures. She had gotten a photo of it all with my pack on but photos on my phone could be put on my blog and I figured it would be appreciated. As I tried to get out, I realized that my right knee was just a bit wider then the crack in the bridge. With the force of my hop and the added weight of my pack that hadn't stopped me going thigh deep. Now I was trying to pull my entire leg out of the suction of mud. Not nearly as quick and easy. As I was struggling, all I could think was: I wish I hadn't decided to put on never-before-worn socks this morning. After a bit, I finally extricated myself from the bog and stood on dry land once again. My leg was completely covered in mud and if I looked close a bit of blood mixed in around my knee. Luckily, mud is good for cuts, right? We hit a stream in about a mile and I washed off, and you couldn't even tell what had happened but I doubt I will ever forget.
The other stand-out event was a bit less spectacular but was quite impressive in a different way. Later on the day of the mud pit of doom we hit Mahoosuc Notch. This is described in the guidebook as the most difficult mile on the AT. It is a narrow notch between Fulling Mill Mountain and Mahoosuc Arm. This section of trail basically makes me think that giants were up on the cliffs to either side cleaning. This crack in the earth probably seemed like a convenient place to sweep all the rocks that were messing up the cliff tops. The AT makes its way through this. It is roughly a mile long intense boulder climb.
I personally didn't find it extremely difficult, like the book said, but I did find it fun. Hiking is much more entertaining for me when it involves some amount of thinking. The journey through the notch took us about two hours. This seems like it is probably about average. We met people going south that said it took three and a half hours and someone who said they did it in one and a half. Everyone said it was fun, though. Our two-hour trip ended just in time since we got out of the notch and to the campsite right on the other side as it was starting to get dark enough to have to use headlamps. It was a great end to an interesting day.
So, based on our outrageously slow pace and lack of dedication to miles, we decided it made the most sense if our next resupply was at Grafton Notch and involved jumping ahead to Rangeley. There wasn't any section of the trail between that I really wanted to see and this puts us at least in shooting range of doing the hundred mile wilderness before I want to start readjusting to real life before work starts. My dad picked us up and drove us to Rangeley. Resupplying went smoothly, except the Leki dealer couldn't fix my poles and said I had to call them, and I was able to get a good charge of my phone at the IGA.
Mid afternoon, we got back on trail and headed off into the woods for what is hopefully a beautiful section. Saddleback then Spaulding mountain with the Crockers after that and then the lovely Bigelows. It is clearly a good section because the shelter two miles from the road has a two-person privy with a cribbage board! I've been looking forward to this for a while. UV even humored me and played a full game with me. :)
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