First Day Pics
Day One
We caught the shuttle at 6:00 a.m., and hit the trail by 9:00. The first day has been teaching us a lot about water conservation, the scarcity of other hikers, acclimating to a dry climate, and the unforgiving fireball in the sky. As is our custom, we pushed a little bit hard from water source to water source and from day to night since we missed good shade for the warmest part of the day. Shade here is made of pure gold! We didn’t have enough water for a siesta once we found shade near lunch time, but I think we have a good grasp of timing food, water, shade, naps, and the hottest part of the day.
We made it all the way past the big hatchet range and almost to little hatchet by 9:30 in the evening, hiking by moonlight and starlight for a chunk of the evening. I almost forgot how well one can see in the desert just by night light! However, the trail became difficult to find by the moon as it started crossing a sandy playa, so we backtracked, threw our beds on the ground, ate a much needed dinner, and cowboy camped in the dusty wind and starlight (a.k.a. on the open ground). It was absolutely beautiful and we slept wonderfully all through the night. Since we didn’t make it to the water cache before camp, we started the day with too little water for breakfast. So, we finished the last 1.8 mi to the cache and met several of the other hikers in our tiny group, drank coffee, ate breakfast, socialized, and moved on.
On The Road
We said our goodbyes and we are officially gone. After a brief stay with Kylie’s parents we’re hopping over to Tucson for a few days to spend some time with my family before meandering to the southern terminus of the CDT.
The intense reality of this adventure is looming just over the horizon, but all is still too surreal and almost ordinary. Ozzy (the kitty) is riding with us in the same old car, we have snacks and air conditioning, and we haven’t even crossed the Alabama state line into Georgia. The sun hasn’t set and the landscape hasn’t changed. But I know the feelings are coming–the uncertainty, fear, exhilaration, awe, longing, freedom, and fatigue–so I’m trying to savor this sense of normalcy. Of course I am truly excited it has begun, but moments don’t last. Today will soon be yesterday and I will no longer smell the dusky forests of the Cumberland Plateau drifting through the passenger window on such a clear, cool spring evening.
The desert is coming.
-Chris
Into Williamstown, MA
We’re about to grab a room in Williamstown to wait out this rainy day and rest a little. Meanwhile, our stinky butts are drinking coffee and staying dry.
Lunch, then Evening Tarping on a Platform
This wasn’t bad for my first tarp pitch on a tent platform. I’m pretty pleased this morning as everything was dry and nothing blew away. Tarping requires a little more improvisation but is often frustratingly fun.
Just Over 1/4 of the Way
Foot Updates and Other News
We are back on trail and after 22 miles my ankle is doing pretty well. We passed by Linda and Randy’s porch and we’re invited for coffee during the morning showers. The rain stayed with us for all of our 15 miles, so at 6:30 we arrived at Dan’s barn on RT. 12 and decided to stop for the night. It sounds like we know these people well, but you get to know the trail angel around the corner or the coffee-for-donations hangouts miles in advance. News of the upcoming trail is written in guides or quickly carried by passing hikers. Some folks are legendary in the trail community.
After we spoke with Dan and got the rules of the house, I headed back to the trailhead with trowel and tp to dig a cathole. Girls get to use the house, guys get to use the woods. I barely made it through the meadow into some trees and passed some animal’s scat along the way. I wondered about it, but there was no time to investigate–I was on a mission. So, I dig, I squat, I get settled, and I hear something large behind me lumbering in my direction…
…It’s a heard of cows, all poking their heads into my little patch of trees. One in particular, now named Momma Cow, got right in my face to sniff me. So, I hung out for 20 more minutes, made friends with most of the herd, and went to retrieve Kylie and introduce her to my new friends. We get to hike by them tomorrow morning on the way out. I hope Momma Cow remembers me.
It Could Be Worse and in a Worse Place
Before proceeding I must preface this post with …
Everything is OK. I’m doing fine. This isn’t a show stopper.
The morning after Smarts Mountain and the firetower, while trucking along a quartzite ridge, I rolled my ankle and went down. It hurt like hell. But, it wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t make it another 25 miles and two more days to the next town. And here I still am, in Hanover, NH and at the Dartmouth dining hall. I’ll take one more zero and reevaluate. It feels alright, really. But I’m glad I am where I am. What is an adventure without the unexpected?
This town is incredibly hospitable to hikers. David, a trail angel and Dartmouth professor, gave us a ride to Lebanon for errands, students at Dartmouth perform trail magic and supply hikers with their extra dining passes (all you can eat, too!), several angels offer rooms to hikers for free, and the trail itself passes through Main Street. It couldn’t be a better situation to take a couple of days to heal.
A HUGE thank you to David for the rides and town history, Jennie Anderson of St. Barnabas Episcopal Church for the bunks, and all the students at Dartmouth who have made us feel so welcomed. And thanks for Jennie’s dog for knowing how to hang out with coffee-drinking hikers.
Camping in a Fire Tower.
We got to the top of smarts mountain early enough to beat the other hikers to the best view we will have for a while. There is exactly enough length and width for two of us to sleep comfortably. And the moon is full tonight!!
Last Big Mountain
We’ve officially crossed Moosilauke and climbed all of the peaks on the left side this picture. If you look closely, Mt. Washington is the peak in the clouds way, way back there…
I haven’t listened to music in over a month. Earlier in the day, I put in my ear buds for the long climb up Moosilauke and I teared up! When you aren’t overly stimulated by constant media, music regains it’s intensity and beauty. I haven’t felt this overwhelmed since Katahdin. And Led Zeppelin never sounded so good. It’s all down hill from here… For a while at least, as this is the last “real” mountain for a long while, and the last alpine zone until the southeast. We cross 400 miles tomorrow.