Days 139-141: Moosilauke

Day 139. August 29th: South Jacobs to stream campsite Mile 1781 – 5 miles

Today, the trail is fairly easy. We haven’t gotten to the notorious White Mountains yet. The plan is to hike sixteen miles to Hiker’s Welcome Hostel and then slackpack sobo up and over Moosilauke tomorrow, our first “real” New Hampshire mountain.

But I can’t hike sixteen miles. I woke up with cramps twisting my gut, and the ibuprofen I swallowed with my Poptarts dulled the pain but couldn’t suppress it entirely. I’m nine days into my second period of the month— I’ve been bleeding for 17 of the last 23 days—and my body feels like it is made of lead. I hike slowly, stopping often to rest. Mount Cube is a small, easy mountain, but the descent is steep. I use my trekking poles like crutches to support my aching right knee. In places where three months ago I could have easily stepped or jumped down from one rock to another, I am forced to cling to rocks or roots and lower myself down, or else sit on my butt and slide down the incline. I grit my teeth and try to ignore my embarrassment and frustration as another young woman, half a foot shorter than me, passes easily. She descends the rocky trail like it was no more than the steps to her front porch, and in moments, she is out of sight. I have hiked nearly 1,800 miles. Before the trail, I imagined that I would be a hiking machine by the time I reached New England. Instead, this feels impossible.

At 3:30 in the afternoon, we reach an unnamed stream with two beautiful dispersed campsites on either side. We have been hiking for nearly seven hours, and we have come five miles. I drop my pack and filter water, feeling utterly defeated. I pull out AWOL’s guidebook to find a more realistic stopping point for the day a few miles ahead.

“These campsites are really nice,” Etienne says casually. “Why don’t we just stay here and get to the hostel tomorrow?”

I’ve been on the Appalachian Trail for four and half months now, and I have received kindness and support from strangers, trail angels, fellow hikers, and my own family and friends. But I have never appreciated a gesture more than this small act of compassion. All day, it’s been obvious that I would not make it to Hikers Welcome by tonight. Even though I know Etienne will be gracious about it, as he has been every time that I’ve been unable to reach our intended stopping point, I’ve been dreading the moment when I have to speak my failure aloud and propose a new, nearer campsite.

Instead, he has suggested stopping as if it were his idea, sparing me from that conversation. We both know we’re not staying here just because the campsite is so nice. We both know it’s because I physically can’t hike any farther. He knows that I feel anxious and guilty about the days slipping away until his work deadline, but instead of waiting for me to admit it and apologize, he has offered his understanding before I even asked for it.

“Yeah,” I reply. “Let’s stay here. I’d like that.” I need that. Thank you.

He nods and starts to stake out his tent.

That afternoon, I rest, soak my knee in the stream, and eat most of my remaining food. That night, the rain returns, and I go to sleep thinking about my start date on the trail. My original plan was to start on my birthday, April 16th, but then I chose the 12th instead because it was the least crowded day of the week according to the ATC’s pre-registration charts. Then, Amanda and I had gotten a late start leaving Atlanta for Amicalola, and I ended up actually starting my hike on the 13th, just a few hours before Etienne. I try to picture where I would be right now if I’d adhered to the original plan, but it’s impossible. I can’t imagine my thru-hike without him.

Day 140. August 30th: Stream to Hikers Welcome Hostel – 11 miles

The next day, it rains throughout the morning, but I don’t mind. I’m in good spirits because after nine extra days, my body has finally decided to stop menstruating. My energy level is still lower than normal, but I feel much better than yesterday. We arrive at Hikers Welcome hostel in early afternoon and use the shuttle into town to resupply. Then we sign up for tomorrow’s slackpacking shuttle, because the rain is forecast to continue and the steep trail on the north side of Moosilauke is notoriously treacherous in bad weather. I prefer a steep uphill to a steep downhill, especially with my bad knee, so it seems safer to tackle this mountain Sobo.

The intimidating profile of Moosilauke

Day 141. August 31st: Moosilauke Slack Pack – 9 miles

The Hiker’s Welcome Hostel shuttles us to Kinsman Notch, where we strap on the hilarious kids’ school backpacks that we are using as day packs and start up the Beaver Brook trail. It quickly becomes clear that this trail deserves its reputation. Wooden wedges are bolted into steep rock faces alongside Beaver Brook Falls. I am thankful for the grippy traction of my week-old boots.

Looking back down a steep portion of the Beaver Brook Trail (see man in black t-shirt and cap for scale)

Once we pass the shelter, the trail levels out, and the composition of the forest changes as we approach the alpine zone. Then we’re above treeline, and stone cairns mark the trail to the summit. At first, we’re socked in the clouds, but during the half hour we spend at the summit, the views begin to materialize. We take dozens of photos and then make our way down. We take the spur trail to the sister summit as well, and by the time we arrive there, the clouds are all but gone, and the vista is breathtaking.

Approaching the summit, valley obscured by clouds

My first of New Hampshire’s 48 4000-footers

When we arrive back at Hiker’s Welcome that afternoon, I am glad we made the decision to slack pack. After fighting against my health issues for the past week, I am finally feeling better, but Moosilauke would have been exhausting with a full pack and extremely difficult, even dangerous descending Nobo on the Beaver Brook trail. This way, Moosilauke was one of the most enjoyable mountains on the trail so far.

Despite deadlines looming as we cross into September with the most difficult portion of the trail still ahead of us, I’m looking forward to the rest of New Hampshire.