McRat
New member
Last July 4th, I brought eight dozen ice cream sandwiches up the Crawford Path under clear skies and decided that it was worth repeating. Weather matters.
After a delightful evening at the MtnHouse, I managed to squeeze in a few hours sleep before heading to the Mt. Clinton lot to start the day.
While foggy and lacking views, the morning lacked rain - the mascot weather for New England over the last couple of weeks. I was rather Optimistic. I brought sunscreen, I brought bug dope, I brought seven dozen sandwiches on about 15lbs of dry ice.
Ridiculously optimistic.
I headed up the Crawford Path around 7:10, and aside from playing leapfrog with a nice group from Quebec, saw no one else on the trail. They cut off at the Mizpah cutoff, and I headed up. The recent rains made the trail stream-like in places, and everything had the glossy hue of recent soaking rainfall. I hit the junction with Webster Cliff just after 9:00, which is not a small feet for an overweight idiot trying to balance a thirty pound thermal bag on the back of his pack.
I had spoken to a couple of people who suggested they might join me so I waited around on the junction. Visibility was under 200 feet.
After a solo safety meeting and sanity check, I figured it was safe to hang out for a while and see who would show up.
For a flaming extrovert like myself, moments alone are always a dicey proposition. I think I handled this pretty well.
Too often, we reach a summit or objective, take in the scenery and continue on our quest for the next summit, and ultimately, the trailhead. The best thing about some of our Fool Scout silliness, is that it actually forces us to stay in place and observe.
I spent the next hour and a half standing there with the quiet sort of mediation that comes from waiting around with a thoroughly pointless objective. I've concluded that the mountain is far more patient. Surely no great wisdom, but to stand at one place and enjoy ten to fifteen minutes of solitude between passersby was neat.
I could see the trees and smaller plants sway while I fiddled with layers trying to keep warm. The small buds of growth as apparent as the dried and brown buds that failed to thrive from the prior year. Lots of shades of green as moist clouds of fog rolled through.
The first wave of thruhikers arrived soon, full to the brim with oatmeal from the Mizpah hut croos, but generally committed to help me with my foolish quest to deliver 500 ice cream sandwiches on the trail.
Soon from the fog I heard voices headed down as I waited to hand out Ice Cream Sandwich #300. They were good sports and we took photos all around before heading on.
And so it went for the first hour and a half as I handed out the first dozen or so. A brief, friendly moment with the fellow travelers in the area before being left to the natural state of things. I closed my eyes and listened to the wind pass, the sounds were easy to imagine being at the beach with a road not far away. As I stood there at the junction, imagining surf crash along the non existant beach, I head a voice.
"Are you waiting for a bus or something?"
Solo hikers sneak up on you easily.
I explained what I was doing, and he seemed relived that I was merely crazy, not completely insane. He stayed for a chat and a snack before disappearing into the mist.
Around 10:45 I considered heading north a bit, but five minutes later the rain started. When I made it back to the junction I met a couple heading to Lake of the Clouds. We discussed the rain, lack of views - but considered that the thunderstorms weren't coming by until later.
One of the hikers looked off at the trail disappearing into blank white and commented, "My family thinks I'm crazy hiking in this."
"Tell them about me", I said as the rain permeated everything, "and you'll look sane by comparison." Looking back,. this may be the highest value of my service.
After this I headed over Pierce, and headed to Mizpah. The worst of the rain occured here, and I keep forgetting how many bumps and scrambles there are between the two - particularly when it is wet out. With the fresh coat of water, the rocks almost glowed, with some looking as if the contained bits of gold. I was still grooving on the weather, but was honestly relived when the hut finally appeared.
I headed in and was even more delighted to see MtnPa and Leaf, as well as several other hikers and thruhikers. I handed out more ice cream in Mizpah hut than on the trail. Fortunately, several thruhikers would arrive while we waited for a break in the rain.
I offered to leave a dozen for the croo on a plate with dry ice, but have learned they have a freezer there now. So they got three dozen, and put up a sign offering free ice cream. Once I hit 500, I suspect I'll feel a need to deliver another 3 dozen just to keep the challenge honest, but I'm glad to know they would not be wasted and would find homes among soggy hikers and croo. Dropping off another several pounds didn't hurt either. ;-)
I rotated the last dozen and joined MtnPa nad Leaf on a walk over Jackson and out. We met a few thruhikers on the way out and when I offered one of them and Ice Cream Sandwich he looked at me funny, said no, and then began profusely thanking me for what I do.
I was a bit confused until he asked, "Do you pack them on dry ice?" I nodded and he said that he did too. Apparently he's quite involved with the Georgia ATC and had been handing them out down there the last few years. I figured when I eventually thruhike, I wouold gobble up any rare ice cream sandwich that came my way. As someone who has done the trail magic and is thruhiking currently, his determination to make sure someone else got one was touching. I reminded him that there were three dozen at Mizpah, and I really hope he enjoyed one later.
Leaf led a steady charge along the occasionally submerged bog bridges. Despite several rumblings of thunder, Leaf assured us she was working on the clouds and that we would get some clearing on Jackson. Aside from a few hiker encounters, we moved along at a good clip and arrived on Jackson to greet the closest thing to a clearing I'd seen in weeks. Her Sun-Fu is strong.
Soon we began our descent, and Leaf quickly pulled ahead of me careful pace down wet rocks. Most of them looked much more slippery than they actually were, but having taken a spill on this trail I went for cautious. The saturating rains had also left me enjoying some chaffing, and teh John Wayne walk didn't speed things up.
We still had two left in the cooler, and quickly ran into a young couple who weren't sure if they should continue. We let them know what was in store and offered them a snack as a consolation prize. It seemed to make their muddy slog happier.
We headed down to the Webster-Jackson loop junction. We took the brief detour to ponder the mysteries of the powerfully flowing Silver Cascade before a muddy, but uneventful walk back out the the road where a well-rested Leaf was waiting in the car.
"Friends don't let friends do roadwalks," she said.
Seems like good advice.
I like to think that by the time this posts, Ice Cream Sandwich #376 has found a home.
Back earlier at the junction, one hiker asked me what I was going to do when I finally hand out the 500th ice cream.
I honestly didn't have a good answer but went with, "Perhpas I'll seek out psychiatric counseling..."
Until that day, I'll probably be wandering around the woods with a hideously gaudy green striped bag full of ice cream, trying to get Led Zeppelin's "Fool in the Rain" out of my head.
I'll run in the rain till Im breathless
When I'm breathless Ill run till I drop, hey
The thoughts of a fools kind of careless
Im just a fool waiting on the wrong block.
After a delightful evening at the MtnHouse, I managed to squeeze in a few hours sleep before heading to the Mt. Clinton lot to start the day.
While foggy and lacking views, the morning lacked rain - the mascot weather for New England over the last couple of weeks. I was rather Optimistic. I brought sunscreen, I brought bug dope, I brought seven dozen sandwiches on about 15lbs of dry ice.
Ridiculously optimistic.
I headed up the Crawford Path around 7:10, and aside from playing leapfrog with a nice group from Quebec, saw no one else on the trail. They cut off at the Mizpah cutoff, and I headed up. The recent rains made the trail stream-like in places, and everything had the glossy hue of recent soaking rainfall. I hit the junction with Webster Cliff just after 9:00, which is not a small feet for an overweight idiot trying to balance a thirty pound thermal bag on the back of his pack.
I had spoken to a couple of people who suggested they might join me so I waited around on the junction. Visibility was under 200 feet.
After a solo safety meeting and sanity check, I figured it was safe to hang out for a while and see who would show up.
For a flaming extrovert like myself, moments alone are always a dicey proposition. I think I handled this pretty well.
Too often, we reach a summit or objective, take in the scenery and continue on our quest for the next summit, and ultimately, the trailhead. The best thing about some of our Fool Scout silliness, is that it actually forces us to stay in place and observe.
I spent the next hour and a half standing there with the quiet sort of mediation that comes from waiting around with a thoroughly pointless objective. I've concluded that the mountain is far more patient. Surely no great wisdom, but to stand at one place and enjoy ten to fifteen minutes of solitude between passersby was neat.
I could see the trees and smaller plants sway while I fiddled with layers trying to keep warm. The small buds of growth as apparent as the dried and brown buds that failed to thrive from the prior year. Lots of shades of green as moist clouds of fog rolled through.
The first wave of thruhikers arrived soon, full to the brim with oatmeal from the Mizpah hut croos, but generally committed to help me with my foolish quest to deliver 500 ice cream sandwiches on the trail.
Soon from the fog I heard voices headed down as I waited to hand out Ice Cream Sandwich #300. They were good sports and we took photos all around before heading on.
And so it went for the first hour and a half as I handed out the first dozen or so. A brief, friendly moment with the fellow travelers in the area before being left to the natural state of things. I closed my eyes and listened to the wind pass, the sounds were easy to imagine being at the beach with a road not far away. As I stood there at the junction, imagining surf crash along the non existant beach, I head a voice.
"Are you waiting for a bus or something?"
Solo hikers sneak up on you easily.
I explained what I was doing, and he seemed relived that I was merely crazy, not completely insane. He stayed for a chat and a snack before disappearing into the mist.
Around 10:45 I considered heading north a bit, but five minutes later the rain started. When I made it back to the junction I met a couple heading to Lake of the Clouds. We discussed the rain, lack of views - but considered that the thunderstorms weren't coming by until later.
One of the hikers looked off at the trail disappearing into blank white and commented, "My family thinks I'm crazy hiking in this."
"Tell them about me", I said as the rain permeated everything, "and you'll look sane by comparison." Looking back,. this may be the highest value of my service.
After this I headed over Pierce, and headed to Mizpah. The worst of the rain occured here, and I keep forgetting how many bumps and scrambles there are between the two - particularly when it is wet out. With the fresh coat of water, the rocks almost glowed, with some looking as if the contained bits of gold. I was still grooving on the weather, but was honestly relived when the hut finally appeared.
I headed in and was even more delighted to see MtnPa and Leaf, as well as several other hikers and thruhikers. I handed out more ice cream in Mizpah hut than on the trail. Fortunately, several thruhikers would arrive while we waited for a break in the rain.
I offered to leave a dozen for the croo on a plate with dry ice, but have learned they have a freezer there now. So they got three dozen, and put up a sign offering free ice cream. Once I hit 500, I suspect I'll feel a need to deliver another 3 dozen just to keep the challenge honest, but I'm glad to know they would not be wasted and would find homes among soggy hikers and croo. Dropping off another several pounds didn't hurt either. ;-)
I rotated the last dozen and joined MtnPa nad Leaf on a walk over Jackson and out. We met a few thruhikers on the way out and when I offered one of them and Ice Cream Sandwich he looked at me funny, said no, and then began profusely thanking me for what I do.
I was a bit confused until he asked, "Do you pack them on dry ice?" I nodded and he said that he did too. Apparently he's quite involved with the Georgia ATC and had been handing them out down there the last few years. I figured when I eventually thruhike, I wouold gobble up any rare ice cream sandwich that came my way. As someone who has done the trail magic and is thruhiking currently, his determination to make sure someone else got one was touching. I reminded him that there were three dozen at Mizpah, and I really hope he enjoyed one later.
Leaf led a steady charge along the occasionally submerged bog bridges. Despite several rumblings of thunder, Leaf assured us she was working on the clouds and that we would get some clearing on Jackson. Aside from a few hiker encounters, we moved along at a good clip and arrived on Jackson to greet the closest thing to a clearing I'd seen in weeks. Her Sun-Fu is strong.
Soon we began our descent, and Leaf quickly pulled ahead of me careful pace down wet rocks. Most of them looked much more slippery than they actually were, but having taken a spill on this trail I went for cautious. The saturating rains had also left me enjoying some chaffing, and teh John Wayne walk didn't speed things up.
We still had two left in the cooler, and quickly ran into a young couple who weren't sure if they should continue. We let them know what was in store and offered them a snack as a consolation prize. It seemed to make their muddy slog happier.
We headed down to the Webster-Jackson loop junction. We took the brief detour to ponder the mysteries of the powerfully flowing Silver Cascade before a muddy, but uneventful walk back out the the road where a well-rested Leaf was waiting in the car.
"Friends don't let friends do roadwalks," she said.
Seems like good advice.
I like to think that by the time this posts, Ice Cream Sandwich #376 has found a home.
Back earlier at the junction, one hiker asked me what I was going to do when I finally hand out the 500th ice cream.
I honestly didn't have a good answer but went with, "Perhpas I'll seek out psychiatric counseling..."
Until that day, I'll probably be wandering around the woods with a hideously gaudy green striped bag full of ice cream, trying to get Led Zeppelin's "Fool in the Rain" out of my head.
I'll run in the rain till Im breathless
When I'm breathless Ill run till I drop, hey
The thoughts of a fools kind of careless
Im just a fool waiting on the wrong block.
