[at-l] (no subject)

[kahley@ptd.net (kahley)]

No doubt about it, we are dragging. "I don't feel like
walking today," says Clyde. There, he has said it.
We do, though. I don't feel like walking either, but I
will. Things will loosen up. I want to walk to Canada
  and, before that, I want to see what's around the next bend.
I haven't quite lost my groove out here, but the heat
has been rough, and lots of things from home are tugging
me out of the present, off my hike, and I am not happy
about that. I can't get my mind to chill.
Sunrise over Skyline Pond is beautiful, the White mountains
to the east, and I snap a picture. Hard to believe such a
pretty sight is a scummy, slimy, shallow water hole up
close. I will bid goodbye to the beauty with sadness, but
not the stagnant "succor."
The next water hole, at old Emily Proctor shelter is - hurray ! - active,
but barely. A trickling brook, still a weak flow but clean and a deep
pool allows dipping. There are several trails leading out though,
and getting going is confusing.

The trail itself is not always evident. Several times we were
walking up rocky, cracked washes looking at each other,
wondering "is this the Trail?"

The weather is cooler today, and that puts some spring back
in our steps. This is a blessing. We walk over two mountains
by lunch, Mt. Wilson, a butt-kicker, and Mt. Roosevelt. The
Whites have nothing on us - we have our OWN Presidentials...
By the end of the day, we had Cleveland and Grant's scalps tucked into our
belts. On to Lincoln Peak and Mt. Abraham
tomorrow.

Some of the rocks in this part of the world have a coppery
sheen, which is lovely. It looks but doesn't feel like what I
would call soapstone at home. One night, Clyde looked
down at the toes of his boots: "I have sparkles."

On the way, I pass a friendly family with two preteen boys.
They are from Massachusetts, and the boys were getting the
  Intro To Backpacking 101 course. The parents were wisely
taking it at the boys pace, in pretty scenery.

I hooked up with Clyde at Cooley Glen Shelter, and went down
to the marginal water source to stock up. I filled three bottles
from the little puddle, and moved over to a clearing to have my
cat bath, wash my shirt and hair. It's only bark water, but I feel
  tons better.

When I get back, horse-trader Clyde has arranged a slack-pack
  with the Armstrong-MccGuire family, the ones I had passed earlier.
All we had to do was walk five more miles. Great plan, Stan...
We would hike our packs down the Long Trail to Lincoln-Warren
highway below, where the A-Ms had parked their Subaru. We
would camp there for the night and stash our packs under their
car in the morning.

They would then hike down in the morning, and drop our packs
at the Hyde Away Bed and Breakfast, where will get our maildrops.
We would then slack the next intense 12 miles over the bald Mt.
Abraham, etc, and the hair-raisingly steep Appalachian Gap, then
hitch to our packs.

Sounded like a plan to me. That Clyde is one great yogi.
We spent a pleasant two hours eating and socializing at the
shelter. A young man, Amos, bunks down, as do Carob and
SBD (Silent But Deady). Branch and Stick blow in and out again
as thunder grumbled in the distance.

About 6 PM, we decide to risk hiking the next five or six miles it
will take to get down to Lincoln Gap. One of the things on Clyde's
wish list was to night hike. He will get his wish.

 From the start, the hike went splendidly. The air had cooled off.
The slanting, setting sun lit a golden light in an amazing paper
birch park, stark white soldiers underlaid with bright green fern.
As dusk fell, we were atop Grant's rocky summit, a scoured
stone top. As I rested there, standing with crossed arms, taking
in the deep, dusky view, the Trail Princess mutated into Indian
Princess. There was the sense of what it must have been like in
a more primitive time, looking at green mountain after green
mountain rolling away from the summit. To the east, a stunning
golden half-moon rose, lighting the scene. All that was missing
  was the call of a wolf.

What a great energy. There came an overwhelming sense of
space. I felt the most peace up there of any single moment on
the hike. The respite was from thinking was like a cool breeze.
Thank you, summit gods. Thank you. Thank you.

What followed was Jan and Clyde's Excellent Night Hike Adventure.
We switched our head lamps on about 9PM, and proceeded down
some hairy-ass trail in the dark. Often, we would lose the trail in the
dark. But we were working as a team now, and always managed to
bring it to heel. We went down a number of sheer rock faces that left
us incredulous: "What kind of people would put a trail THERE?"
It was great.

We finally found the parking lot and made camp. switching off the
headlamps as cars went by so as not to attract unwanted attention.
  But it was a Thursday night, and the drunks were limited to the
regulars. We slept unmolested, or at least Clyde did. My feet
and legs throbbed so badly it was hard to sleep.