I am reflecting on the satisfaction and disappointment of this weekend. Leaving work on Friday, my plan was to head-up to Gorham for the night for an early start on 19-Mile trail to hit Carter Dome, then over to South Carter and Middle Carter and back to 19-Mile. Doing this solo meant no car spotting, but only an extra couple of miles to back track.
I had opted not to camp this weekend, so in Gorham I looked for an inexpensive room. I went to the ‘Hiker’s Paradise’ and found that they had a ‘hostel’ for $17. The price seemed right, but it turned out to be a bit of a dump. To make it better and worse, I was the only person there for the night. I sat in the dumpy kitchen eating my take-out pizza and drinking red wine from the bottle. Soon it was time to go to bed – or rather get on the Kleenex-thin mattress with the wooden board springs. Suddenly my demons came to play and my mind got dark and shifty. I was alone in a dingy place where I couldn’t lock the door. I went to the kitchen in search of weapon. I took out a long knife and looked it over, but it wasn’t right for the job. I picked-up a long, plastic serving spoon and felt better. It was my piece of mind next to the bunk. Silliness!
Saturday morning I started up 19-Mile trail with Godsmack music in my head motivating me forward. 19-Mile was fresh and pretty, and Carter Dome trail was snuggly until I reached the ice. Carter-Moriah trail was still all snow, but I kept the post-holing to a minimum by balancing on the firm section in the middle of the path. On Carter Dome, I ran into a young guy who was soaked up to his knees. He said he was from Maryland and couldn’t believe that there was still snow in the Whites!
On to South Carter. Just after passing Zeta Pass, the sky got dark and it started to sprinkle. The woods got denser and my mental demons came out again. Fear tightened my chest and pushed me forward more quickly. I started looking for the bear or cat I knew I was going to run into. On top of South Carter, the sunshine and beautiful views edged out my darkness. South to Middle Carter was worse as post-holing slowed me down and I was clearly the only person who had been on the trail in days. On Middle I decided to succumb to my fears and get back to the road as quickly as possible. I sure as h*&% didn’t want to head back toward Zeta Pass. I headed for the Imp trail and was relieved to run into a couple of hikers on North Carter trail. Once down, I walked back along the road to the 19-Mile parking lot with both relief for being out of the woods and shame for opting to walk along a road rather staying in the beauty of nature.
I drove to Bartlett and found an inexpensive, clean hotel room for the night. After washing up, I went to the pub next door and had a great conversation with a woman whose grandparents had taken care of the train depot in Crawford Notch in the late 1800’s. That night I had peace and a good night’s sleep.
Sunday, I drove to the Crawford Depot and headed up the Avalon trail. The views from the summit of Tom were breathtaking and I didn’t want to leave. The Willey Range trail toward Field was more sparsely wooded and the sun came through. On top of Field two grey jays and I had lunch. Suddenly my body was tired, I was feeling alone and my visions of bears, cats, yeti (damn it Artex and Pennsy!), and the clown from Stephen King’s IT clouded my head. I really didn’t want to venture over to Willey just to have my throat ripped out by some hungry animal. It would be over quickly and the pain would be brief I assured myself. I bolted over to Willey in the snow and slush, following bloody moose tracks, completely missing the summit and heading down the other side. I quickly caught the oversight, checked the map and turned around. Then it was like heading for the barn!
I am happy and satisfied with the 24-mile, 6 peak weekend, but dismayed that I let my fear dampen the joy of being in the best place I know, outdoors.
I had opted not to camp this weekend, so in Gorham I looked for an inexpensive room. I went to the ‘Hiker’s Paradise’ and found that they had a ‘hostel’ for $17. The price seemed right, but it turned out to be a bit of a dump. To make it better and worse, I was the only person there for the night. I sat in the dumpy kitchen eating my take-out pizza and drinking red wine from the bottle. Soon it was time to go to bed – or rather get on the Kleenex-thin mattress with the wooden board springs. Suddenly my demons came to play and my mind got dark and shifty. I was alone in a dingy place where I couldn’t lock the door. I went to the kitchen in search of weapon. I took out a long knife and looked it over, but it wasn’t right for the job. I picked-up a long, plastic serving spoon and felt better. It was my piece of mind next to the bunk. Silliness!
Saturday morning I started up 19-Mile trail with Godsmack music in my head motivating me forward. 19-Mile was fresh and pretty, and Carter Dome trail was snuggly until I reached the ice. Carter-Moriah trail was still all snow, but I kept the post-holing to a minimum by balancing on the firm section in the middle of the path. On Carter Dome, I ran into a young guy who was soaked up to his knees. He said he was from Maryland and couldn’t believe that there was still snow in the Whites!
On to South Carter. Just after passing Zeta Pass, the sky got dark and it started to sprinkle. The woods got denser and my mental demons came out again. Fear tightened my chest and pushed me forward more quickly. I started looking for the bear or cat I knew I was going to run into. On top of South Carter, the sunshine and beautiful views edged out my darkness. South to Middle Carter was worse as post-holing slowed me down and I was clearly the only person who had been on the trail in days. On Middle I decided to succumb to my fears and get back to the road as quickly as possible. I sure as h*&% didn’t want to head back toward Zeta Pass. I headed for the Imp trail and was relieved to run into a couple of hikers on North Carter trail. Once down, I walked back along the road to the 19-Mile parking lot with both relief for being out of the woods and shame for opting to walk along a road rather staying in the beauty of nature.
I drove to Bartlett and found an inexpensive, clean hotel room for the night. After washing up, I went to the pub next door and had a great conversation with a woman whose grandparents had taken care of the train depot in Crawford Notch in the late 1800’s. That night I had peace and a good night’s sleep.
Sunday, I drove to the Crawford Depot and headed up the Avalon trail. The views from the summit of Tom were breathtaking and I didn’t want to leave. The Willey Range trail toward Field was more sparsely wooded and the sun came through. On top of Field two grey jays and I had lunch. Suddenly my body was tired, I was feeling alone and my visions of bears, cats, yeti (damn it Artex and Pennsy!), and the clown from Stephen King’s IT clouded my head. I really didn’t want to venture over to Willey just to have my throat ripped out by some hungry animal.
It would be over quickly and the pain would be brief I assured myself. I bolted over to Willey in the snow and slush, following bloody moose tracks, completely missing the summit and heading down the other side. I quickly caught the oversight, checked the map and turned around. Then it was like heading for the barn!I am happy and satisfied with the 24-mile, 6 peak weekend, but dismayed that I let my fear dampen the joy of being in the best place I know, outdoors.
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