It's a Crash! Bang! Trailjournals Thang!

“theres no information about hemis in there, however.....”

“Sounds like there should be :-(”

“yea, well, i have to consider my audience. i have respectable people reading my trailjournal. i can show my ass to you guys”

“got a couple more entries from my journal of last years AT thru-hike. only 8 months behind! yea! i promise to be more disciplined in writing every day if i do another thru-hike again”

“Saturday, August 07, 2004
Destination: Bromley Mt Shelter
Starting Location: Stratton Pond Shelter
Today's Miles: 12.60
Trip Miles: 1477.20

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Been hearing the occasional report by a hiker of moose. Have yet to see one. I figured the flat lowland stretch between Stratton Pond and the highway would be the ideal place to see one. I know that Milemonster (Endorphin) from Trailtalk and his mom Double Nickels saw one in Vermont. How they see anything at the pace they go is beyond me. They actually finished about four weeks ago, despite starting less than two weeks before me, while I'm still about 6 weeks out from Katahdin, plus New Jersey and New York still to do. April Showers and Luna did see one. Goody for them. They told me so when I saw them at the pizza place in Manchester Center (which has some of the best pizza I have ever had, and not just because I've been away). The hitch into town was ridiculously easy. About ten and a half miles of hiking took me to state highway 11/30, and about 1 second of thumbing got me a ride. The instant I got to the road I saw a truck coming from the right and so I stuck out my thumb despite the fact I was on the wrong side of the road. The driver pulled over right away, and my angel was a nice young man who had moved here from New Jersey not too long ago. We talked about how much nicer it is out here away from the city, and then he dropped me off in the more-or-less commercial center of town, a decent sized shopping center with a pizza place and an EMS (Eastern Mountain Sports). After a re-supply and eat, I started walking back to the trail, figuring to get picked up eventually. I did not get far when I got picked up by Don't Matter's uncle. Life is good. The hike from the trailhead to the shelter was a casual two miles with one minor (for New England) up. The shelter was crowded with a family and one thru-hiker, so I opted to tent. All the tentsites were wooden platforms, and my tent is not free-standing and would have been a pain to set up on a platform, so I found the best place I could down by the river and made a night of it.
It's a Crash! Bang! Thang!”

“Sunday, August 08, 2004
Destination: Big Branch Shelter
Starting Location: Bromley Mt Shelter
Today's Miles: 14.50
Trip Miles: 1491.70

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Early into today's hike, I found a spot I should have pressed on to: Bromley Mountain warming hut, where the skiers come to get warm during ski season. Only two hikers there and it would have been alot more comfortable and convenient. Have to remember that if I ever thru-hike again.
On the way to Mad Tom Notch, I met a hiker going at a very slow pace. It turned out to be the other hiker that tented last night, going by the trail name Yellow Weeble (as in weeble-wobbles). She is thru-hiking the Long Trail, which is concurrent with the AT for about half the length of Vermont, splitting off at the "Maine Junction" to head north up the spine of the Green Mountains (Verdmont means green mountain in French). I slowed down to her pace and we talked for awhile until we got to Mad Tom Notch, where I filled up with water at the hand-pump and she waited for a ride from her brother.

Up next was the climb to Styles Peak, a wide-open rocky peak with 360 degree panoramic views. The white blazes are painted right into the rock, and it's one of the best spots in Vermont. I sat up there by myself on that desolate peak for about half an hour, then hiked on.

At Big Branch Shelter I met two surviving family members of an avid hiker who had just died. They were conducting a private ceremony deep in the woods. The man's daughter, a skinny, pretty woman around 30, and his partner, a middle-aged woman were the family members. The recently deceased man was also involved with Native Americans out west, and knew a great many of their traditions. The women did a few small rituals, including a symbolic cleansing ritual from head to foot. I was touched when they asked me to join, and said I would be honored. Then they burned one of his boots in the camp-fire, and afterwards we shared food and stories and had a mini-feast (though the vegetarian daughter turned her nose up at my pepperoni). Overall, it was one of the most spiritually uplifting days and made me glad I am out here.

It's a Crash! Bang! Thang!
last edited: 4/17/05 11:55:42 AM”

“looking back, the funeral ceremony with the two ladies is probably the most special memory i have of the trip. at the time, i had no idea that i was just less than 6 months away from losing my father. i wish i could find them again and share, but i didnt write their names down and i have no idea what they are.

i didnt have any fanfare, ho hail to the conquering hero for my return to indiana. the day before i headed back home, i was chillin at the treehouse in nyc, when my mom called and told me dad had a tumor in his lung. that was my welcome home. the highest highs and the lowest lows in one year. but i dont regret being away, because everyone told me how proud dad was of my thru-hike, and i am so glad that is the way he went out. this hikes for you, dad.”

“to read the whole thing, go to www.trailjournals.com/crashbang”

“CB - did you ever write up a gear list (annotated or not) for starting, finishing and/or cruising at some point in between?”

“That's a great story about the funeral ceremony.
I would like to have my boys do something similar for me.
Of course that won't be for another fifty years.

Crash Bang, I'm looking forward to seeing you again.

You owe me a donut, pal!”

“I just read most of the journal (I am having a very slow 3-11 shift at work), I guess I missed most of the TT buzz during the first few months of the trip. It was fun to go back and look at some of the threads.”

“ped: my stormbringer account had a partial gear list. i dont think i got very far on the cb account”

“marko

didnt scorchfire try to burn your pack in your honor at harriman?”

“Scorch burnt a hole in my favorite purple sleeping bag with a carelessly flicked cigarette butt..”

“i talked to her the other day. she says shes only sorry she didnt do it while you were still in it”

“Hey, didn't I see a Scorch post on the 'quit smoking' thread? That's real remorse.

CB, that's a beautiful story.”

“harriman (the flicked cig) was last october
last edited: 4/17/05 10:22:43 PM”

“4 more entries!

http://www.trailjournals.com/entry.cfm?id=119239

yea, im just blazin right along here”

“just make sure they are good stories. We won't know if it is true or not ;)”

“Keep it up CB. I have really enjoyed reading your journal.”

“CB, thanks for 4 more entries, great stuff. But the suspense is killing me, I just want to skip to the last chapter to see how it ends LOL.”

“I look forward to the updates as well.”

“this is pathetic. i am now exactly 14 months behind”

“The most surprising thing to me reading any trail journals of AT thru-hikers is just how much time is spent not in the woods, in hotels and restaurants.”

“LOL, I would have given up by now, CB!”

“....But the suspense is killing me, I just want to skip to the last chapter to see how it ends LOL.”
birch
7:36:18 PM

LMAO!

Keep plugging away on this, C!B!!”

“Good reading. Thanks!”

““The most surprising thing to me reading any trail journals of AT thru-hikers is just how much time is spent not in the woods, in hotels and restaurants.”

the AT is not called the party trail for nuthin, yo”

“i dont know about other trailjournals, but i think mine is slightly skewed to seem like i spent more time in civilization than i actually did. its just that it seems there are more stories to tell about in town, at a hostel, or whatever because you tend to run into your friends more and do things, whereas on the trail, you just walk and see lots of pretty sights, and theres only so much you can say about that: "oh, climbed a really steep hill today, saw some pretty mountains."

story-telling is easier and takes up more space than description (at least for me), and it seems like more stories happen away from the actual trail. i notice i tend to read like that too. i skim the descriptive parts, especially setting detail, and pay much closer attention to the narration and character development, altho as a former english lit major i should know better.

but, yea, we did go into town alot
last edited: 10/18/05 2:22:22 PM”

“Not to take away from that awesome and impressive accomplishment, but I'd like to read a trailjournal that would be something like "Haven't seen anybody in 4 days. It's very tough mentally, but to overcome that ... etc. etc." - Or, "Ran out of food today. Had to kill my first squirrel. Tasted like stale chicken. Luckily, I had some tobasco sauce at the ready. Gotta learn how to fish."”

“some of the journals of the more remote trails like the cdt and pct might lean that way more, but you wont likely find much like that on the AT journals. its a very user-friendly trail”

“there was a guy on the trail we kind of snickered at because it was a big deal to him that he carried his pack the entire length of the trail, never slack-packed, didnt take just a day-pack up katahdin, even carried his pack down the blue-blazes to water. he kinda looked down his nose at those who didnt follow his rules, especially the slack-packers, and traveled with a guy who thought that the fact that he didnt carry a stove and made small cooking fires every night made him more of a stud. im thinkin "buddy, if youre so tough, what are you doing out here on the party trail? go out to the pct or cdt if you wanna prove what a stud you are"”

“Destination: Beaver Brook Shelter
Starting Location: Hiker's Welcome Hostel
Today's Miles: 7.90
Trip Miles: 1622.40

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Met Up and Down last night, a charming young couple, one very tall (Up) the other short (Down). After one of my typically sarcastic cracks at dinner last night, Up said to me "you must be Crash! Bang!" Apparently some people have a good appreciation of humor.
Now we are seriously entering the Whites. Oliverian Brook, immediately out of Glencliff, was supposed to be some sort of obstacle, according to Wingfoot. Luckily, the water level was not high and the crossing was easy. I suppose in wet weather it could have been a bit tricky. The book does describe a high-water route, just in case.

Nothing came easy after that, however. I had a long, hard climb ahead out of Glencliff to the top of Moosilauke waiting for me. The last few miles were the toughest (2800 feet of elevation gain in 3.8 miles). Slowly, the dense forest gave way to more open space and shorter, scrubby trees, until I was entirely above treeline. At the summit was a walled-off area of stone, in case the weather turned really inclement, and an unfortuneate hiker could take minor refuge. A blue-blazed trail led from the summit, but my trail, the white-blazed AT, was not immediately apparent, although I found it shortly. The view was good but not great, overcast, but not socked in by fog. It was slightly windy and chilly at the top, so I didn't linger.

Going down was the worst: steep and extremely rugged. The worst downclimb I have ever faced, and I fear it is only the beginning. I am very clumsy to begin with, and this was sheer hell. I have never been so relieved to find the shelter trail. Even once the sidetrail came into view, it was a slow, painfully trepidatious downclimb. I was so glad to have my trekking poles to keep my balance. I'm glad I did not have a lot to do at the end of the day, getting such a late start, and so were my wobbly knees.

The shelter was filling up, so I chose a nearby tentsite, just barely big enough for my very long tarptent. As the evening wore on, we were wondering aloud what happened to Sanguine, a bright, upbeat 30-ish woman thru-hiking. She was not a fast hiker, but she should have been in by that point. She did finally wander into camp, frazzled but none the worse for wear. She took a wrong turn at the trail junction before the climb up Moosilauke (we figured it was the Hurricane Trail), and went a couple of miles before she back-tracked to the AT. She could have just continued on to the summit by this route, but she wanted to do it the right way, not missing any part of the AT. May the mountain gods bless her.

It's a Crash! Bang! Thang!




pictures from the day

http://www.trailjournals.com/photos.cfm?id=121685&back=1”

“yea, yea, im 17 months behind now. i havent given up on finishing it yet”

“mmm i thought you were all caught up”

“Destination: Eliza Brook Shelter
Starting Location: Beaver Brook Shelter
Today's Miles: 9.10
Trip Miles: 1631.50

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I got my first taste of a seriously steep downhill in the Whites, and am really glad I did not tackle it any further than I had to last night. 3.6 miles from the summit of Moosilauke to a stream right before Kinsman Notch dropped 2972 vertical feet. That's 825 feet of elevation loss per mile walked. That, ladies and gentlemen, is steep! And rugged! At some points, blocks of wood were bolted into the boulders along the path to keep you from falling and killing yourself. Well, they did not help my trekking poles at all. Not very far into the day, I caught the left one in a crack in a rock as I slipped to catch myself from falling, and SNAP!, right in half. The prospect of tackling the rest of this monster mountain range on one pole is very daunting. I'll have to find an outfitter soon and get it fixed.
It's a Crash! Bang! Thang!

pictures:

http://www.trailjournals.com/photos.cfm?id=129752&back=1
last edited: 1/15/06 7:43:11 AM”

“Destination: Carriage Motel, North Woodstock, New Hampshire
Starting Location: Eliza Brook Shelter
Today's Miles: 8.80
Trip Miles: 1640.30

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The climb up South Kinsman was a killer. Pulling myself up by my hands in places. Made it to Lonesome Lake Hut just in time to avoid the heavy rainfall. Hung around for awhile and snacked and watched the yuppies thinking they were roughing it.
Now or Never, Maya Guez, Diesel, and I got together and decided to get a room in North Woodstock. Upon emerging from the forest, we left the trail and walked about a mile of road toward town before two vans coming out of a side-trail trailhead picked us up. Now or Never is a doctor who lives in the state, Maya Guez is the name of the city that our Puerto Rican hiker friend is from, and Diesel is Diesel. We had some words because of his unfriendly attitude towards a friend of mine, but he's alright.

The four of us crammed into a two bed room and hastened to take our turns at the showers. Later, N or N did all of our laundry. Later, when he returned, I thought he had lost my shorts. Instead, I just didn't recognize them because they were so clean. Later, at dinner, I got a really cool surprise. I found two of my best friends from the trail, Beagle and Moo Juice, along with Don't Mind and Don't Matter. I had not seen them since PA and was really excited. They had hitched in from Kinsman Notch, about 16 miles behind my trail progress at Franconia Notch. The rest of the evening was good as I spent time with both old and new friends, and finally made my way back to the motel and to bed.

It's a Crash! Bang! Thang!

pictures:

http://www.trailjournals.com/photos.cfm?id=121687&back=1
last edited: 1/15/06 7:48:51 AM”

“CB, I think you are just making stuff up as you go. Like you really fought a dragon...jeeze.”

“yeah, and he dreams about hiding salami's too.”

“the dragon that i fought was the proprietor at the carriage motel. actually cussed at me cuz i woke him up too early”

“hey, some of us are touchy about our sleepy time.....”

“this was several hours later. i admit i shouldnt have woken him up so early, i was still in trail mindset and not civilization mindset, but thats no excuse for talking to me the way he did”

“your right on that one.......civility toward paying customers is always expected.....at my previous job my boss had a sign that read "The Customer Is King"..........”

“theres a king that wants you to have it your way....”

“bow to the burger..................lol.”

“After reading these entries I fully expect my PTSD to kick in again. Thanks!”

“ptsd?”

“Three Rivers House Inn, North Woodstock, NH
Starting Location: Carriage Motel, North Woodstock, New Hampshire
Today's Miles: 0.00
Trip Miles: 1640.30

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Up very early today, to the dismay of the entire world. The hotel owner was not pleased when I asked for towels a little before 6am, and was extremely grumpy and rude when I saw him later. He told me his wife wanted to kick somebody's ass and other less family-friendly phrases. I suggest avoiding this hotel at all costs possible. Now or Never did not like the owner either, and he did not have a run-in. Stay at Three Rivers House Inn, our location tonight. It is much better. Three Rivers is a nice little place, in the bed and breakfast style, with rooms like apartments. My roommates were not pleased with my early rise either, so they put me in the single room, one slept in the common room, the other two in the double room.
After breakfast I walked in the rain to the next town over, bought a raincoat (cheap), watched "Aliens vs Predator", and went on a wild goose chase for an outfitter that would fix my trekking pole. I knew that LaHouts in Lincoln would do it, but there are 2 or 3 in town, and every time I stopped to ask directions: "oh about a half mile that way". This went on 3 or 4 times. City people who don't walk have no concept of distance. Those of us who do nothing but walk, however, know exactly how long a mile or half mile, or 2.3748509 miles is. It's all we do all day.

Check out this website. It's for the place we stayed tonight. Really sweet.

http://www.threerivershouse.com/

It's a Crash! Bang! Thang!

pictures:

http://www.trailjournals.com/photos.cfm?id=129863&back=1
last edited: 1/16/06 5:29:51 PM”

“Destination: unofficial campsite near Galehead Hut
Starting Location: Three Rivers House Inn, North Woodstock, NH
Today's Miles: 13.10
Trip Miles: 1653.40

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An enormous vanload of thru-hikers tumbled out at the trailhead this morning. Along with my 3 companions of late, there were the insanely (and sometimes annoyingly, but they're still sweet girls) chipper Skippy and Poppins, Hawk, Enigma, Cat-Dog, Raven, The Friar, Sanguine, The Hobbits, and a few others. So much for the remoteness of the far northern end of the trail. Another long, grueling climb, led by Hawk and I, weighted down greatly by 6 days worth of supplies. The reward more than, well, it was more than a reward. I would have carried 20 more pounds to see the beauty of Franconia Ridge, one of the jewels of the Whites. Yesterday's, today's, and tomorrow's pictures on the website are all taken from Franconia Ridge. I can say that because I am writing this many months later.
The culmination of our effort was attaining the tree-less ridge on a crystal-clear, cloudless day nice enough for shorts, but not hot, either. We celebrated, we whooped, we took pictures. April Showers came along shortly, gasping for breath and needing a hand up to the ridge. After taking in the endless majesty of the mountains, we enjoyed a comparatively effortless ridgeline stroll to the first peak of the day, Little Haystack Mt. This being a Sunday, a gaggle of dayhikers, probably from Lafayette Place Campground or Greenleaf Hut, were scattered about on the peak, along with a scattering of long-distance hikers. From the summit we could see the next peak, Lincoln, the second highest peak on the Franconia Ridge (5089 ft), just 7/10ths of a mile away. With nothing to obstruct our view, it looked even closer.

Those who come to the wilderness casually can be very casual about their wilderness ethics. This was evident as I left Little Haystack for Lincoln. An unleashed dog pickded me up as a hiking companion along the trail. Now, most of the time I do not have a problem with unleashed dogs (although, technically, it is considered a no-no most of the time) in the wild, but in an alpine area like we are in, it is considered a major offense by anyone even remotely familiar with Leave No Trace and wilderness ethics. At such high altitude, plant life takes months or years to recover from being stepped on, due to such slow growth rate. The only way to avoid being an offender is to stay on trail and off vegetation, and keep your dog leashed.

Evidently, a clueless hut or campground dweller brought their unleashed dog up to the mountain-top, and was not aware, or did not care about LNT. However, this is no excuse. The owner was not even keeping track of their dog, seeing as how it left with me. So, a ranger hiking from the opposite direction saw the dog with me, assumed it was mine, and requested rather curtly that I not let the dog walk off-trail. Just as curtly, I replied "not my dog" and let him know if it was my dog, he would be leashed, and encouraged him to find the dog's owners.

On Lincoln, a large group of us gathered for a group shot, about 20 of us, handed our cameras to a couple of hapless dayhikers (who were really good sports), and they stood with arms draped with cameras of all kinds and patiently snapped picture after picture in assembly line style, quickly taking one shot and setting the camera down, repeating until all cameras were shot.

That business over, it was a mile to the high peak of the day, Lafayette, and the last really magnificent view of the day. I've been saying in the shelter registers that this right here is our reward. I wish I could describe how rewarding it is to feel your blood and adrenaline race, to be pumped up on endorphins, to breathe the clean air and view 360 degrees of unspoiled mountain country going on for miles. This is the natural world, the way it is meant to be.

Most of the group stopped at Garfield Ridge campsite, a relatively short 10-mile day. Hawk and I, plus a couple other hikers I really did not know, pressed on a few more miles to Galehead Hut, where work-for-stay was available to the first two hikers to ask. Everyone else pays $80+ to stay in a crowded little cabin and sing songs and watch skits. It was rumored that thru-hikers got a "reduced" rate of $75. That turned out to be false. The two work-for-stays taken, I pressed on.

A quarter mile later, a faint path led to the left into the trees. I followed it a brief distance and set up my tent. Pulled on the longjohns, and balaclava. Pullled the facemask up. Clad all in black except for my green Crocs, I looked like a really silly ninja. I made my way back to the hut and cooked dinner on the porch, came back, and retired for the evening.

It's a Crash! Bang! Thang!

pictures:
http://www.trailjournals.com/photos.cfm?id=129866&back=1
last edited: 1/16/06 5:30:25 PM”