Into the Sierra, finally.

The time for campsite shenanigans was over. We got back on the trail today and we into the Sierra officially. There should be some daunting terrain in the next 9-day segment including the highest mountain in the Contiguous United States. Mt. Whitney, at 14,505 ft. has been a problem for lot of thru-hikers and many have gone up only to return without summiting. It's not on the actual trail though so you don't have to do it if you don't want to. We'll have to cross the highest mountain pass on the Pacific Crest Trail in about 6 days; Forester Pass at 13,200 ft which means it's surrounded by mountains that are higher than that. I've heard the snow levels are making it really tough to get through and the creeks are more like raging rivers. Since I've never hiked through this kind of terrain, I'm interested to see what it will be like with all of the rumors floating around about how tough the Sierras are going to be with all of this snow.

We had a pretty steady climb all day starting around 6000 feet in Kennedy Meadows. You could feel the altitude becoming a factor. It's always tough entering the woods again after a bunch of days sitting on your butt and playing bored games and eating smores.

Near the end of the day we came up through a stream-cut valley and crested a pass around 8000 feet into an amazing meadow. We'd been waiting to get some water and there was an interesting stream that had cut a deep, mud gully through this immense valley (later to tribute to the Kern). The sun was soon to go down and it was like something out of a movie. There was a group of people in the woods on the edge of the valley across the gully stream and a couple girls getting water. I didn't recognize them but they waved and we waved back and we were going to go over there to get some water when a guy walked from out of the woods and intercepted us. We figured out that he was a guide for a high school group and he was probably trying to keep us from coming over and interacting with his 11th graders. Pretty funny but a prudent move on his part. Me and Sprinkles and Bandit surely don't pose a risk but you never know what kind of people are running around out here; or of course, what kind of kids you have in your group for that matter. Haha! Maybe he was protecting us!

We decided to drop camp in this awesome meadow about a 1/4 mile north of them. There were cow patties everywhere. I wasn't aware that some people actually herd livestock up into these mountain meadows and they feed on the delicious grasses, clean air and sparkling mountain streams. Unfortunately, they poop EVERYWHERE. I did some research and it turns out that high altitude cattle grazing has been going on since the 1850's since these areas were basically otherwise unusable; however, it's widely known that this causes a lot of problems with water quality for people who rely on the water that comes from the Sierras (Basically all of Southern California). In fact, one of the reasons for the establishment of Yosemite National Park was to try to alleviate cattle grazing in that area. Cattle Poop creates increased bacteria blooms in the drinking water supply and has the greatest impact at high altitude because of the fragile ecosystems. I'm against it and Bandit was ranting about it all night.

For more information, check this out: Reducing the impact of summer cattle grazing on water quality in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California: a proposal


Anyway, the HS retreat guide told us they were going to be hiking out south in about an hour so we knew it would be quiet. A few other hikers hiked through and Spice Rack and Caveman dropped in on us. Bandit was passing out Peppermint Patties (Peppermint Schnapps and Hot Coco) and after something like that, it's tough not to drop your tent and hang out for the night. A full moon was on it's way and the stars on the ceiling of this meadow were spectacular. The floor; however, was still littered with hubcap-sized cow droppings.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.davidpatrone.com/PCT
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/davidpatrone

Pacific Crest Jazz Tour

I'm sitting in the Moutain Headquarters by the Stagecoach lift at Heavenly in Stateline NV. (South Lake Tahoe for all you noobs) It snowed here last night about a foot and I was suffering from a gnarly bout of something that made me act like a little girl and hide under the covers for two days. I seem to be mostly over it but we'll see in the AM. I'm working on my Pacific Crest Trail trip and Facebook is driving me nuts. They just changed the policy on inviting people to your events and it now takes literally 5 minuted to add 30 people to an event. It's horrible. I have thousands of people to invite to these events coming up and I can't afford to spend six hours a day clicking on check boxes that take five minutes to appear because of the slow-ass java script. Anyway.

I think I'll be transferring this blog over to another blog just for the Pacific Crest Trail gig. For those of you not hip to the new thing, I'll be hiking the entire Pacific Crest Trail, a 2600 mile wilderness trek through the mountains of California, Oregon and Washington states from Mexico to Canada. This would be a tough enough journey but I've decided to up the ante and make it a music tour as well, performing gigs along the way with local musicians.

you can check it out here: http://www.davidpatrone.com/PCT please be sure to like the facebook page for it and I'll keep you updated that way as well..

On a side note I applied for the gig as Charlie Sheen's social media intern and if they should offer me the gig, it'll be a tough decision to forego the PCT trip this year... It's gonna be tough cause you know I have Tiger's Blood and I'm winning over here, over there and up high too. I actually dig this new Charlie Sheen. Some people are making all kinds of assumptions about him but maybe he's just fed up with all the BS! I know I am!

anyway, I'm heading to the rack for shuteye, I gotta teach some cats how to ski the steeps tomorrow.


David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website http://www.wbafinc.org
Photos: http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos: http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

The Ultimate Mountain Gig

From the Desk of David Patrone:

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Benevolent Order of Patrones [BOoP]

I was cruising the Internet the other day when I came upon an intriguing proposition that seemed like God himself logged in and typed the job description with exactly me in mind...

The Canyons, a very large and popular ski resort in Park City, Utah is is offering a job called "The Ultimate Mountain Gig". They are looking for someone who is a good writer, an adventurer, good with people, likes to blog and video blog, loves the mountains, loves a challenge and loves to ski and snowboard...

"WHAT!!" you say?

You heard me! I couldn't believe it either!

What's more, they are offering pretty nice compensation:

Season Pass to The Canyons

Superior (Suite) Lodging at the Waldorf Astoria
Salary of $40,000 for just four months of "Hard Work"
Use of Camera, Video Camera and Laptop
Head to toe ski or snowboard gear
Canyons Club Access
Airfare to and from Canyons
Spa treatments
Ski School and Avalanche Training clinics
First Tracks and Heli-Skiing access
VIP credentials for all Canyons Events

Many of you know me as a former Marine and Jazz singer, entertainer and musician in San Diego who occasionally tours here and there when the opportunity arises; however, many of you don't know that I am a PSIA certified L2 Alpine Ski Instructor and Advanced Children's Specialist

All I had to do was turn in a writing sample and a 2 minute video... Well, here's the video I turned in:





And here is my under 500 word writing sample...

I see mountains everywhere; literally, figuratively and emotionally. Born in Philadelphia in the early 70's when John Denver cried, "Aspen!" and Pocono retreats were en vogue, earthtones are the palate of my childhood. We moved to the mountains of Pennsylvania first, as a boy, and I've spent my life trading time between the steel canyons of the big city, the sun-speckled hiking trails and the snow-covered, pothole-riddled swerves, leading from the city to the hills. Although the tests said I was a smart boy, I was terrible in school, daydreaming adventures, reading books and studying naturalism from Tom Brown in city schoolrooms while teachers tried in vain to turn my attention back to scholastics. My family had no money for tuition so, I had a decision to make: Hit the Rockies to teach skiing or join the Marine Corps, to quench a thirst for purpose and adventure.

A charismatic recruiter won and I enlisted the week I turned 17. Sacrficing skiing for desert campaigns and exciting lands, I climbed many kinds of mountains as a Marine. I served as an explosives tech in Norway, Japan, Bosnia, Persian Gulf and the USS Thoedore Roosevelt. I ended up in Camp Pendleton, and left the Marine Corps after 10 successful years, to pursue another dream: a career as a professional musician and entertainer. Once embarked upon that journey I knew I'd never stop exploring the wilderness that is Entertainment.

Success blossomed; but, the sordid lifestyle took its toll. In desperation I remembered my youth and sought solutions in the mountains. I rediscovered skiing and became an instructor Big Bear Lake, California. Still lost, I came to a crossroads and chose sobriety; yet, remained in Show Business. The next winter I made a promise to get my national credentials as a Ski Instructor. Three years later I found myself a PSIA Level 2 instructor, Children's and Senior Specialist that taught in Spanish! In 2008 more mountains: The Appalachian Trail with my two brothers. We blogged, photographed, posted and filmed everything: http://brotherproof.blogspot.com

Another year, another mountain: PSIA Full Certification and in 2011 The Pacific Crest Trail.

I approach mountains in my life similarly, with almost enough planning and a thirst for spontaneous adventure. Facing tremendous obstacles, I've failed and succeeded with equal dynamic but learned the value/danger of both:

Kilimanjaro 2000: Altitude sickness a few hours from the summit forced me to turn back; yet, I bonded with the Wachagga tribe, learning songs, language and tribal customs.

Appalachian Trail 2008: slipped off a rainy cliff and got injured, ran out of money and had to return to salvage a bankrupt company.

Swung from busiest musician in Southern California to destitute; then, sobriety and the San Diego Music Awards for "Best Jazz."

I'm self taught: published writer, musician, skier, computer geek and an entrepreneur with knowledge of marketing and technology, social media, blogging, SEO, twitter, foursquare, YouTube etc.. In short, I am PERFECT for the Ultimate Mountain Gig.

David AKA “Mister Gentle Spirit”
Website http://www.davidpatrone.com
Photos: http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos: http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Around the Lake in 80 days

The stories at the breakfast table were full of impossibilities and childish wordplay with two witty and intelligent adversaries, Noah and Mason. I posted a little video on the site of us talking about “Cat Bacon.” We were very happy to have had a home to crash at with hospitable animals and humans alike. We got on the road a little late and since they had stopped ferry service only the day before, we were going to have to drive all the way around Lake Michigan to the other side to get to the Stacy Adams headquarters above Milwaukee. Mike started out driving while I uploaded pictures and charged batteries and ignored all of his requests to help navigate. With the time change to Central Standard we ended up getting to Milwaukee very early and we met Ben at Stacy Adams. Ben gave us the lowdown in the showroom and the warehouse operations. We got to take a look at next year’s models and some prototypes. They really know how to excite me with extravagant, two-tone magnificence.



We got a hold of my old Marine Buddy, Steve and I met his beautiful little daughter, Camille. Man, she is a firecracker and she’s probably going to be a UFC fighter by the time she turns seven! Steve’s Mom is exactly how I remembered her and she cooked up a Filipino feast for us. It was awesome and it was the first time Mike ever had Lumpia and rice noodles.



After dinner we decided to go into Chicago and catch the Swing Band at Green Mill. They were doing radio broadcast which is cool although I thought it was a The place looked like it was a regular hotspot and then it really got slammed since Bob Dylan was playing across the street. After it let out the place was unbearably packed so we split and decided to embark upon our journey on the Mother Road, Route 66.

The rain was cata doxis and we could barely see the lines in the road but we kept pluggin’ down Lake Shore Drive until it met Jackson and the tour began through south Chicago and past industry and slum and quarries until we finally got down to the outskirts and navigated the downpour into Joliet where we were turned away at Harrah’s and then found a Motel 6 and crashed for the night. There were floods everywhere and when we finally got into our room and into beds, I coughed steadily until about 5 am when I thing I determined that I am allergic to the pillow and I wrapped my face in a wet t-shirt and passed out on the other end of the bed. When will this sickness relent?


David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Grand Rapids Diversion

Breakfast at The Eat'n Park

Sleep on the couch was better than expected. Mike was on the floor below me and I asked him to put his feet down where my head was so I wouldn’t be breathing on him al night. Danielle and James were already gone when we got up but we got ready cause I was going to take them to breakfast when they came back from their errands. We ate at an interesting place called Eat’n Park. It was like a local version of I-HOP or something. I had an egg sandwich with a fruit cup. I was in a CVS bathroom about 30 minutes later. I think I’m just starting to get over this flu; just in time for Route 66.

Lisa Parker is a Teacher and edits my serious writing when I come up with something I’d really like to have published. She edited “Mexican Teeth” and I credit her for its publishing. I met her online years ago and I’ve never seen her in person; but it looked like it was only about a few hours out of our way to swing by and see her so I sent her a message and she offered her guest room for the night. I was really excited to meet her husband and kids. Her daughter Katherine sent me a nice bear who is standing watch over my office while I’m away.


Gettin loaded at Dr. Bob's

While we were driving I saw signs for Akron and I remembered that AA was born there in a small house owned by Dr. Bob Smith and I heard that you can go and visit it; so another DAVE DIVERSION occurred. So far, no MIKE DIVERSIONS have occurred but I’m waiting for one. We found Dr. Bob’s house and although it was closed, the back door was ajar and I snuck in. I wanted to get few pictures of me sitting at the table where the first AAs got sober, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes in the 1930s. There was a guy in the gift shop downstairs and he was gracious enough to let me buy a mug that said “I drank at Dr. Bob’s” I loved it. We then found out that the Mayflower Hotel was now the Mayflower Manor low income housing; but, if you said the password they’d let you in. We went down there and stood in the lobby where Bill W. made the fateful decision to make a phone call rather than join the revelry at the noisy, adjacent bar. We also got to see the actual typriter which churned out the original text of “Alcoholics Anonymous” in 1935. I touched the “D” key. It felt nice.

A few rumble strips later, we hit route 80/90 through Ohio to Michigan. We stopped at a nice rest stop before Toledo and I marveled at the amount of pure government waste in such a beautiful rest stop. Somebody made a lot of money from the government contracts to procure these modern marvels of empty buildings and spacious lawns. I hate wasteful government spending!

I talked to Stacy Adams and they agreed to let me come by tomorrow and tour the facility with Mike. We’re going to meet up with an old Marine buddy of mine; Steve Hilgar aka “Porky.” He’s not fat but he can put away some serious amounts of food and he’s a hell of a dart player. So am I but he doesn’t know that yet hehehe…

We got to Lisa and Scott Parker’s residence around 21:45 and the kids were still up. We goofed and played some guitar and Katherine pulled out the flute and there were cats and fiddles and hey diddle diddles and a Jack Russell named Sofie that had more energy than an Iranian Centrifuge. Finally everyone was worn out and we crashed in the guest room with the cats all trying to get in to hang out with the curious new residents. I had to rebuild my cell phone OS last night and I couldn’t get the bastard to sync with my computer so all these messages were coming in from just numbers and I didn’t know who anyone was. I finally removed the windows firewall from my laptop and that seemed to do the trick. Mike was already asleep as I settled down to let my computer load my phone with all the pertinents. I dreamed that I was in San Diego and we had somehow not taken the trip. I knew I was sleeping but I couldn’t convince myself that it was true. I was even pinching myself in the dream; but, I woke up in the morning right where I left off, with a cat crawling over my legs and crusty eyelids.


David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Storm Chasing

Route 66 one day away:

The storms are rolling in and what else is new. The cold front across the US seems to frame our route precisely. We'll be riding on the edge of the storms like a sailboat in reach position. Whenever the brothers get on the road, the skies get turbulent and the heavens weep, cleansing the path for our journey. I'm hoping we'll get a taste of the cold Chicago wind as we commence on the Mother Road.

We're traveling to Grand Rapids Michigan today and then we may take the ferry across Lake Michigan and join an old Marine Corps buddy and visit our sponsor, Stacy Adams to check out the shoe factory :) This morning we're taking Danielle, James and James' Mom to breakfast and then we're heading up north. With any luck we'll be in Milwaukee tonight and commencing to Route 66 on Thursday.. More details later...

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Commencing Journey...

Sleep was rough, last night’s show at Lafayette Hill was great. The band was a lot better than I thought it was going to be. They were great in fact and now I have guys I can call when I get to Philly. Mike and I drove to LBI to meet up with Dad and I crashed. Sleep was rough but at least my lungs aren’t wheezing anymore. WE got up and it was pouring rain. Dad drove us down to the beach and we jumped into the Atlantic Ocean to cleanse ourselves for the journey and officially begin out trip. Dad cooked up breakfast and we are jumping on the road to meet with Stetson’s CEO today and take some more video. We’ll put up some low res stuff on youtube soon. See you guys on the Mother Road…

Later:

We made it to New York in one piece although we go lost as soon as we got to Manhattan because the GPS lost signal and didn’t acquire it for a bit after we came out from under the tunnel and we had no idea where we were gong but we couldn’t just stop in the middle of the road and wait for the thing to re-acquire. We found the Stetson office and it was under construction but there was a bunch of really cool stuff in there. My great-grandmother Anna Sikocz worked at the Stetson factory back in the 30’s and they have records of the workers in the factory. I tried on a few shirts and checked out all the old hats and other vintage Stetson stuff. It was really strange to be in the corporate headquarters of Stetson, meeting with the CEO (who was extremely cool by the way) and talking about the history of my favorite hat company!

Pam insisted that we get the heck out of there before the traffic clogged the Lincoln tunnel and we almost made it out of there unscathed but sure enough we got stuck but it wasn’t too bad. We got on the road toward Pittsburgh to rendezvous with my little sister in South Park.

The rain was making it a tedious ride but we did get a chance to stop at a Roy Rogers in the Alexander Hamilton rest stop just outside NYC. I really miss those burgers. There’s just something about the simplicity of a Roy Rogers burger that makes me so happy. I love the rolls too. We arrived at Danielle’s place about 10:30 Mike and I each pulled a three hour shift at the wheel. Danielle and her husband James were there with James’ Mom and we sat down for a great dinner. After finding receptacles for all of the command center recharge, we sat around and BS’d while I checked email and uploaded and tried not to cough on everything. This swine flu just won’t go away!


David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

New Adventure!

Jolted awake. My head kept sliding along the plastic window cover on the plane until I got to the place where the crick in my neck became intolerable. Normally a window seat was perfect for sleep but the sweat beading on my head from the fever was making it slippery and I couldn’t rest. I was trying not to exhibit signs of fever, coughing and general flu-like symptoms cause I know how that freaks people out on the plane. I could care less whether or not they caught swine flu; however, I was going home.

The five hour flight was a punishing ordeal of about a hundred false sleeps and overheard boring conversation. I bought a fruit tray for the equivalent of 2 gallons of gas. The yogurt exploded on my powder-blue pyjamas. Whatever…

The last 2 weeks has been a blur of Ski/snowboard training, double feature gigs and hoarse performances while simultaneously moving into an office from my house, getting the flu, no sleep and dealing with over-protective booking agents, inexperienced event coordinators and a club manager who can’t see the forest for the trees. All in a day’s work. Except of course for the flu. I can handle anything when I feel OK but I hate not feeling right inside.

The plane touches down in mid-thought and I’m glad I didn’t have ear-pressure problems. I have some heavy bags and my youngest brother Mike is picking me up at PHL. I haven’t been home since I came off the trail in August of ’08.

I’m feeling like dirt and I probably look like a mental patient wandering the halls of PHL with too many bags and a pale demeanor. We meet and greet, I pull out the HD and start filming cutaways as we drive past downtown Philly and the Ben Franklin Bridge. My stepmom is home and it’s great to see her. I take a nap and Doug comes over while I’m setting up the command center: adapters, chargers and computers so I can remotely administer my affairs.

We decide on bowling and of course I run out of tape before we actually get there. We had a blast and I somehow managed to roll a 194 with a plastic lane ball. Some guys from Uzbekistan were clapping and watching. IT was pretty cool.

We got back and I took over the couch and it was a rough night of flu lungs and crusty eyelids when I finally woke up to the East Coast sun which was up three hours too early.

We are now heading to Sam Ash to pick up some equipment before I play a surprise show at my Grandmother’s retirement home. She doesn’t even know I’m coming…

Tomorrow, Michael and I will be embarking on a journey across the United States. First to New York City to meet with the CEO of the Stetson Hat Company, our newest sponsor and then on to Pittsburg to meet with my best friends little sister. Eventually we will be in Chicago where we will travel along the old Route 66 and see what we can come up with. Adventure never comes planned so we’re not planning for much.

I’ll be posting here as we go along with video, blogs, pictures and other stuff so if yo’re along the way, join us!



David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

The Longest Summer:

An account of the Appalachian Trail.

My cell buzzed on the table, next to an obnoxiously large carabiner-turned-keyholder that said, in words too small to read, “For Mountaineering Use Only” as if the stocky red and gray 'biner with an extra clip on the back didn’t get the message across. I let the buzzing go on long enough to manifest a raised eyebrow on a neatly-suited businessman at the next table before I lazily reached up and clicked on my Bluetooth. I was in a crowded cafe in the “Little Italy” section of San Diego, watching the tourists go by while I enjoyed a double espresso. I hate it when people call it “eX-spresso.” It’s one thing when a person does something incorrectly because it’s complicated, like finding a cure for impotence for instance. It’s another thing altogether when they mess up something as simple as a word that they see printed everywhere. People have become so lazy, they don’t even see the letter “s” in the beginning of the word. They just slide right past it like that thing from Carnegie-Mellon University where all the words are misspelled but you can read it anyway as long as the first and last letters are correct.

“EX-spresso” people are just one of the many things that bother me on a daily basis. Another is when people use the word “irregardless,” when they mean to say, simply, “regardless.” A testimony to the limp-wristed “sheeple” we Americans have become, some weasel at Websters Dictionary included “irregardless” in the dictionary as an alternate for “regardless,” capitulating to the illiterate and imprecise. I discovered this once while trying to express my displeasure to someone when there was a dictionary nearby. God knows, we wouldn’t want someone to learn from their mistakes.

I’m disgusted at Webster as I answer the phone,

Sup Mickey?

My youngest brother Michael is probably the only 21 year old male in this word that I enjoy speaking with on a regular basis and he sounds excited.

I thought of an adventure!

Earlier this year, Michael came out from Philly and spent his last “underage” summer with me in San Diego. We started a habit of “adventures” by going to Tijuana while he was here because he was too young to get into the clubs in the US where I earn my living as a Jazz singer. The real adventure for me that summer was trying to find a way to entertain him that didn’t involve places he couldn’t go. I probably could have slipped him in to most places. I’ve worked with most of the bouncers and club owners in town; but, I felt like that would have been a violation of the trust that I enjoy from their acquaintance; besides, I enjoyed the challenge. He certainly piqued my interest with his opening line.

Whaddaya got?

The Appalachian Trail…

I thought for a moment of the miles and miles I’d hiked with our Scoutmaster Father and Grandfather and the rest of Huntingdon Valley Troop 208. Rainy days and nights, painfully slogging along the rock piles of Eastern Pennsylvania with a vintage BSA backpack and bulky boots, were somehow forgotten in the romantic notion of the legendary footpath that stretches from Maine to Georgia. I figured he wanted to do a few of the sections that our other brother Doug and I had hiked since he was too young to come along when we did it as teenagers.

Sure Bro, we can do that. We can do Sunfish Pond or Wind Gap when I come home this summer. Maybe we can get Doug to come along.

I wasn’t quite aware of the enormity of his plan:

No man, the WHOLE THING!

The whole trail? disbelief

Yeah man, I read about it in school last week.

My thinker kicked into gear: It hadn’t even occurred to me to do the whole trail. Sure, I had thought about it as a kid, just grabbin’ a pack and starting in Georgia; walking all the way to Maine; through the woods and the mountains like some kind of Thoreau Brothers. The WHOLE TRAIL? What was that, like a thousand miles or something? Two thousand miles? I thought about it for a minute. Maybe I could swing it. I wondered how long it would take… Was he serious?

Let me do some research Mikey, I might be able to take off for a couple of months.

I think we need like six months.

SIX MONTHS? I thought. It can’t take that long. How the hell do people do it? Take off for six months? Nah, we could get it done quicker than that. I was a Marine wasn’t I? I had to get online as soon as possible. My laptop was in the car. He lit a fire in my imagination and suddenly I reclaimed a forgotten dream with the force of ten sledgehammers.

Our adventures were like that; spontaneously catapulting from impossible to mandatory in the space of a few blinding moments of irrational speculation and inaccurate calculation.

As far as I was concerned, we were going; and Doug was coming with us.


(for the rest of this story, please start at the bottom of this blog:)

Acceptance: Time to go home

Acceptance: Time to go home

Hiker’s Paradise, Gorham NH to Dad’s House in Philly

I woke up thinking I might try to get a ride back up to the top of Mt Washington but it looked like it was going to be too much of a pain in the rear. I called my Dad while eating the “hiker special” to discuss options. He surprised me, saying he could be there in 10 hours, so I gave in and said, “OK, come and Get me. I’m ready to come home.”

This trip has by far been the hardest achievement I’ve ever attempted in my life. I knew when I began that it would be rough; but, I really had no idea what I was in for. It goes without saying that I experienced a truly unique adventure. I have met diverse and deliberate people who treat the trail with respect and awe. I walked a thousand miles, up mountains and through valleys of mud-slick rocks and roots and streets through both rural communities, remote wilderness and heavily populated National Parks in the last three months. I faced the surety of defeat almost from the beginning of my trip, knowing I would not be able to realize my dream and complete the entire trail; striving regardless, even when my brothers left me for reasons that angered and saddened me at the time. I spent an unhealthy amount of time in constant dialogue with myself and became even more acquainted with character flaws and attributes I was already familiar with. I’m not sure if this even served a purpose. Self Knowledge seems so trivial in the bigger scheme of life. It seems to only obscure God’s Will which I admit is still unfathomable to me; although, I hope my travails will serve us both in the future. I am beginning to know nothing. I gained a level of fitness that I am both proud of and fearful to lose. I know it will be hard to motivate myself to maintain a regimen that will keep my physical being in this kind of shape and I will surely lament its decline. Acceptance. My body is damaged and broken in places and probably will be for months before I can use my legs and feet normally again. I’ll need surgery to fix my hernia and my financial situation is dire. I’m not really worried though. I have spent the last few years in a program that emphasizes Acceptance and I have grown in unbelievable ways. Despite the peace I feel from accepting that my trail is at its end for this year, I cannot ignore the visceral feelings of guilt, loss and unease at not having gone further or longer. I catch myself glancing upward at the surrounding mountains as if I might grab my pack and do another twenty miles; continue on and tell my family I’m going further. I know the next year’s thoughts will be full of deliberation concerning completion and or closure on this Appalachian Trail. For the fifteenth time this morning, I resign myself to go down to the Laundromat and scrub my clothing and gear so that it won’t contaminate Mike’s car when they come to pick me up. I wish they were here already. I continue to glance at the mountains I have left to climb, alternating between humility and resentment. I have learned that you cannot feel both at the same time; however, they can relentlessly switch back and forth; some kind of emotional strobe light, flickering jitters in my soul. Ahhhhhh Acceptance… When will you come?

David AKA "Mister F. Gentle Spirit"
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Friends in High places

Friends in High places
Crawford Notch to Mitzpah Hut: 7 miles

It didn’t rain last night and I was so happy I got up early. The pad worked well and I had a great rest. It turned out that Shawn and Sage were in the campsite across from me and they invited me to coffee. We talked for a good while until I felt the tug of the trail and I had to get out of there and pack up all my stuff. The two of them were very cool. It was refreshing to see Dad and daughter having that kind of report and getting along so well.
I got up to the store and one of the guys gave me a ride out to the trailhead. The climb was tough up Webster Cliffs to Mt. Webster. It was ping-ponging back and forth from sun to rain and I kept changing my wardrobe to match, finally I resigned to just keep all my raingear on and to hell with it. I am glad I did. Last night when I was taking a shower I was checking out my hernia and it looks like it’s getting worse. The climb up this mountain was not helping things. There were many times I had to just climb up over rock faces or throw my poles down and scramble over wet boulders. Knowing I have the hernia was making me climb cautiously and that was dropping my progress to about one mile an hour. I ran into some cool people and took the opportunity to rest and talk.
Eventually I got to the Mitzpah Hut. I was intending to go another 5 miles to the Lakes of the Clouds Hut just before Mt. Washngton but I was beat up and dripping when I got there. They let me do a Work-For-Stay even though I was an hour early. I took it. At the rate I was traveling, it would take me 5 hours to get the 5 miles to Lakes of the Clouds and than it would be almost dark and I would have to stay in a dank basement there (or so I heard). Mitzpah was the Mitzvah for me! The “Croo” there was very cool.
I washed dishes again and the Lasagne was really good. They do everything vegetarian here because you can’t put meat in the compost. They really take their conservation seriously up here. Everything is considered and all green technologies are used. It’s very interesting to see how easy it is once you get it going to be “low impact.” The weather is rumored to improve; but, I’ll believe that when I see it. I did get glimpse of the half-moon as I fell asleep on one of the dining room tables. The clouds were moving very fast; however, and soon it was gone; appearing occasionally in the night through the mist and rain.

David AKA "Mister F. Gentle Spirit"
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
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Videos:
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Frozen Underwear

Galehead Hut to Crawford Notch General Store and Campground

It was still raining when I woke up. The mist pervaded everything and I hadn’t slept very soundly due to the sound of the wind-generated electrical harnesser thing on the roof that moaned and whined all night with the gusts that came up the valley. The “Croo” got breakfast together and the regular folks ate breakfast while we thru-hikers sat over in the corner like hungry dogs waiting for a scrap from their master. This is the way it goes at the huts so I guess it’s cool, at least, we knew it would be thins way so there’s not much to complain about. At least we’re not paying $89 to stay there for the night. We do work-for-stay (WFS) at the huts but technically there are only two slots at each hut for Thru-Hikers and so invariable there are many more than two Thru-Hikers coming through, looking for WFS and sometimes we get turned away and have to hike on to the next hut or camp out in the woods; which they discourage due to the fragility of the alpine environment. It’s a hypocritical situation and it all has to deal with money. The Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC) runs the section of the Appalachian Trail that goes through the White Mountains. Basically you have no choice but to stay at one of their facilities be it a campground or a “Hut” which is actually more like a chalet and costs about a hundred bucks a night to stay there. They charge to stay in the campsites too although for Thru-Hikers it’s only $8-12. If you get to a “hut” at the right time, you c an get WFS and do dishes, sweep, scrub the oven or clean out the freezer for your stay and for dinner and breakfast. Of course, the normal guests are served first and they want you to go sit outside or disappear while they eat, like peasants or something. The thing is, the “Day Hikers” all want to talk to you and hear about what it’s like to be a Thru-Hiker so sometimes your WFS can involve giving a presentation to the group after dinner. Most of the people who come here are very well-to-do and I guess the AMC figures they don’t want to be bothered by a bunch of rough-and-tumble, smelly Thru-Hikers. We’ve known it would be like this but the fact that the AMC offers no alternatives for Thru-Hikers gets us a little pissed off and there we were, over in the corner; at least they didn’t make us sit outside in the freezing rain. That would have been pretty rough at 7AM and I have heard of it happening to a lot of Thru-Hikers. After the gentry were served, we got to eat all of the leftovers; basically, Pancakes. I’m just glad I got to sleep in a building last night rather than some dilapidated shelter. The temperature has been going down to the low 40s with a wind chill factor in the low 30s. Add to that the rain and hail and you’ve got yourself a hell of a night in the wilderness. After breakfast I did some journaling and everyone was marveling over the computer. That always seems to happen. Most of the Thru-Hikers I know are used to it by now. I was hoping the skies would clear up but it didn’t look probable. Eventually I got my wet clothes back on and got ready to head out. There’s something very harrowing about putting on cold, wet underwear that really bothers me. Obviously it the same underwear as the day before; but, that part doesn’t phase me anymore. I’ve been doing that for three months now. You generate a lot of heat out there once you start hiking and if you are like me, you hate to stop and take off your pack once you are going so you try o wear the clothes that you would want to be wearing once you are all hot and exerting yourself. The problem with that is that you put on clothing that doesn’t keep you warm until you’re climbing a hill and as soon as you stop, you start getting cold again. The constant rain we’ve been subjected to makes it so that nothing ever gets dry so not only it is it skimpy, but it’s wet and REALLY COLD when you put it on. Bitter cold, wet underwear is one hell of a shock in the morning; more effective than the strongest cup of coffee. I got out on the trail later than most but managed to pass almost all of the day hikers before the next hut where I was treated a hot cup of $3 “bottomless” soup. I threw in a packet of tuna to up my protein. The sun had come out and I ran into some of the younger day hikers and sat at the table with them while we discussed life and they gave me pieces of their bread. It was cool and I hated to split but I had to get down to Crawford Notch and hitch in to a place to stay. I had no idea where I would go and thankfully the trail down was easy. When I got to the road, there was a hostel 3 miles to the left and a hostel three miles to the right. I stuck my thumb out to both directions of traffic and let the fates decide which one I would go to. A day hiker who was passing by picked me up and took me to the right: The Crawford Notch General Store and Campground. The place was full of Thru-Hikers so I had to rent a campsite and pitch my tent. I hope it doesn’t rain. The folks there were very accommodating and I got a shower and did my laundry; although I was up ‘til about midnight getting it done. While I was in the General Store picking up some Ben and Jerry’s and some Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups I met Shawn and Sage. Sage was a cute little girl accompanied by her Dad Shawn who had taken her fishing that say and she caught a rather large “Native” trout. She was extremely excited about that and I was struck by how cool that was. They brought their catch in to show us. I guess I have never seen a Native Trout before; but, they have a bright orange underbelly and to hear Sage tell it, they put up a darn good fight. I set up my hammock in the dark and got to try out the Big Agnes inflatable pad that I modified for the hammock.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
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Into the Great Whites, North

Lafayette, I think

Franconia Notch to Galehead Hut: 13 Miles

I convinced everyone to go to Mr. W’s Pancake House again and we had a full table. All the usual suspects were there: Creek Diver, Whisper, Blazing Socks, Superman, Crosby, and two other guys I can’t remember right now. Breakfast was just as good as it was the day before. I had the Mr. W’s Big Breakfast: two of everything; including chocolate chip pancakes. It looked like we were going to get on the trail late and we did. Dutch dropped us off at the bike path and we had to walk a mile to get to the trailhead and we didn’t get there until about 11AM.

The day was sunny and clear. I was so happy. The forecast said thunderstorms but it looked like the sun might hold out until we got to where we were going. I hadn’t anticipated the difficulty of the terrain however and it seemed like I couldn’t get any faster than about 1.5 MPH. I got up to Franconia ridge and I was still in the trees. Every once in a while you could see out across the White Mountains and it was hinting spectacular. I couldn’t wait to get above tree line so I could view the whole scene. Clouds continued to threaten and I was really worried I might get hemmed in before I could see it but eventually I summitted an unnamed peak and although it was getting cold, I was rewarded with my first unrestricted view of The Whites. The clouds were just above the peaks and it created an amazing effect like you were in a small room; just you and the tallest mountains in New England. Once you get above tree line, there are a series of peaks: Little Haystack, Mt. Lincoln and Mt. Lafayette, each hidden behind the one you are climbing and each higher than the next. Just as you summit one, you are rewarded with a beautiful view of the ominous climb you are about to endure. The climbs are tough but the view is encouraging. The descents are painful, joint-pounding scrambles. It looked like me might get through the day unscathed and dry; although, there were thundering rainstorms off to the south and to the east. You could see everything from Mt. Lafayette and as we went over, a huge cloud enveloped us and dropped a little rain; but, it passed and kept moving westward. We descended back into the thick trees and shortly thereafter the rain and hail started pounding down without any warning. I was pissed because I hadn’t seen any other clouds anywhere. It’s like the rain just materialized out of nowhere. It would make the going slow and I was trying to get to the Galehead Hut before 6. The climb over Mt. Garfield was brutal, with scrambles and face climbs that didn’t seem fair somehow. It seemed like it took forever to get to the hut. I had seen it from Mt. Garfield and it seemed encouragingly close. I got in around 7:30 and it looked like they might turn me away because there were already a bunch of thru-hikers there, including two guys I hadn’t yet met named Hammer and Smokin’ Joe.

Due to the weather conditions they took mercy on me and allowed me to stay. The place was packed with day hikers and people up for the weekend. We had to disappear while the guests ate dinner. I guess nobody wants to look at a hungry thru-hiker while they are trying to savor their dinner. After they ate dinner and went in to their bunkhouse, we set up in the dining area and went to sleep. I slept great on a table using Doug’s Big Agnes air mattress thing that he sent to me. I hope the weather is better tomorrow. The forecast said it might be nice but it’s still raining and blowing hard as I go to bed.





David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
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Punishing, Grueling Climbs punctuated by beautiful views completely obscured by fog and rain.

Chet

Chet’s Garage Hostel

Zero Day. Blazing socks and I went down toe Mr. W’s Pancake house and had a great breakfast. On the TV, the Olympics were being broadcast and it was some kind of game I had never seen before. I went back and looked it up and it turned out to be Team Handball or Field handball. It was cool. France was beating up on Angola but it was more the fact that I was trying to figure out the rules of the game by watching it that was so intriguing. We hit a couple of outfitters. I busted a shoelace and needed to get a new pair. They have like six Lahout’s stores her and each one has a different slant on it. One is a ski shop, one is a Columbia clothing outlet, one is a true outfitter and I don’t know about the other ones; but, I think they carry a lot of the same gear. We made it back to the hostel around 11 and I figured I would just take a zero day. The weather is intermittent and I’d like to be able to see something interesting if I’m going to punish myself with the climb.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
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Steeper than it Looks

This is much more steep than it looks

Kinsman Notch to Franconia Notch: 17 Miles

A couple of people were going out to Kinsman Notch so I got ready and got a ride with them. “Dutch” is a girl from PA who is taking a break from the trail and does some shuttling for hikers here at an incredibly reasonable cost. She swung by the post office so I could pick up a package and then took us out to Kinsman’s Notch. I went north and the other two; Songbird and ? continued SoBo and I headed North for another rough climb. The climb out of Kinsman’s notch would have been horrible with a full pack and I was damn glad to be slack packing. The second climb was really tough and I have to say it made Albert Mountain look like something you would give your kids to play with from McDonalds. The weather was nearly identical to when I did Albert Mountain and it was another day of grueling, painful climbs punctuated by a magnificent view, completely obscured by fog and mist and rain. I actually like the way it looks up at these treeless peaks with nothing but fog drifting over the scrub; however, for taking pictures or sharing it with anyone, it doesn’t do any good at all. There’s a unique solitude up there when you are hemmed in by cold, blowing mist and I really enjoy it; however, I always feel like I’m missing an opportunity to film a great vista for people back home. The day was very hard due to the terrain and mud. At one point I put my foot in mud up over my knee and missed smashing my kneecap on a big log by a millimeter. Needless to say I wasn’t too happy about that. There were several high-altitude ponds and the sun came out a few times so that you could see the surrounding mountains; but, nothing that presented a good picture. During the roughest climb, part of it followed alongside another series of waterfalls and I was glad to be going up it this time so I could enjoy the rushing stream and waterfalls without risking my life on a precarious descent; still, the climb was technical and difficult. I’ve heard that this particular stretch I’m in is the toughest on the trail and I hope they are right.

I got to see my first AMC hut today and although it was impressive, I hardly think it’s worth the 80 bucks it would cost to stay there if I wasn’t a thru-hiker. Maybe the other ones will be better. I got a bowl of soup there for a dollar and that was cool. Just before the hut I ran into Mike, Snake Charmer, Shelter Monkey, Dust In The Wind, and a few other hikers I had been running into for the last week or so. We all hung out at the hut for a minute and then I took off. I wanted to get to the road and get in so I could go to McDonalds. They have one in Lincoln and I was really dying for a Double Quarter-Pounder and Fries. I’m getting too skinny!

The trailhead at Franconia Notch was confusing. I ended up walking about a mile in the wrong direction down the Highway and then I came all the way back to find I hadn’t been walking in the wrong direction technically; however I wasn’t on the AT, so I redid that part and got a ride in with Mike. We were all soaked and Mike is a section hiker who had his car there. Thank God! We would have been walking a long time if he hadn’t been there.
Back at the hostel I got a shower and went to McDonalds, grocery and pharmacy. Tomorrow I need to get a new shoelace and mail a bunch of stuff back to Doug If I can get all of that done early enough I’m going to get back in to the Whites for the remainder, probably another week. The climb back in is going to be rough. The next hundred and fifty miles is supposed to be both harrowing and beautiful. Let’s hope the weather allows me to enjoy the views and my hernia doesn’t interfere with my endurance.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
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Moosilauke in the Rain

Hikers Welcome Hostel to Kinsman Notch then Chet’s House: 10 miles

I spent the morning finishing up an email update and sent that out so I didn’t get out on the trail until about 11 or later. I can’t remember. I had to ford Jeffers Brook and that meant taking off my shoes. The water was about knee-deep and I wore my Crocs to get across. While putting my shoes back on I was marauded by a gand of street wise Mosquitoes. They knew where to bite me without me being able to get them or see them until it was too late. I got the boots on and picked up the pace. They stayed vigilant until I got some elevation. The climb was rough but I had psyched myself up for it so it wasn;t too bad. That only works once in a while. After it works once or twice you start to expect that it will work and then of course it doesn’t. This is why I’m not a pro athelete. I can’t figure out how to trick myself every time yet.

I passed a ton of day hikers on the way up; lots of kids from local camps. The weather cleared up nicely but by the time I got to the top is got all fogged in and cold again. I met some cool people and was talking to them and so by the time I got up there the sun had gone and I was alone at the summit. It was very surreal as the mist drifted across and all you could see was shadowy cairns through the mist. I caught some of it on tape and then I kept on. I had a short day in miles but I knew that the final section was a scary downhill even when it’s not raining, and as I got closer, the thunder got closer and the rain began to fall.

I dropped by the Beaver Brook shelter and ran into two people who told me the climb down was going to be really tough. I only had a mile and a half to get to the road but they said it was taking people two hours to go that far. I found out they were not exaggerating. It took me over an hour just to do a mile of the section. It was crazy. There were weird wooden blocks drilled with Rebar into the side of igneous rock flows that looked almost like they were there at the time of the original lava flow. Sometimes I see the stone work people have done to make these trails passable and I can’t believe the tings that people have accomplished. Other times I wonder if anyone has done anything at all. The climb down was treacherous and frustrating. The rain made everything tougher and believe me this descent would have been tough enough on dry rocks. For a long time the trail joined a long series of cascades and it was absolutely awesome to climb down the rocks with this huge series of waterfalls alongside you. It was distracting though and the last thing you need in a place like that is distractions. I had to keep telling myself to concentrate. I fell down about four times but I’ve learned to take the little falls without trying to save myself. When you try to save yourself, that’s when you get in trouble. Wild recoveries only put you in more perilous positions and so I’ve figured out to just take the unbalanced fall and drop onto my pack instead of flailing and trying some wild recovery.

I eventually made it to the road and there were hardly any cars going toward Lincoln. It was something like a ten mile walk too. I had walked about two miles and only four cars and one motorcycle had passed in almost forty minutes. Things were not looking goods and then this Forerunner that was going the other direction put on his signal and pulled over and asked me if I was a thru-hiker. It turns out this guy and his buddy were going to be doing trial magic up at Kinsman Notch this weekend and he had some time to kill so he decided to pick me up and take me in to town. His trail name was “Gold Thumb” and he was returning the magic he had been given in the past. We got in to town and found out where the hostel was and dropped off stuff and went back out. I eventually got dinner and he dropped me back off at the hostel. Chet’s Place is great. A bunch of people where there. I found out that the night before he had a record 31 people all staying there. Tonight there weren’t so many and I got a spot so I wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor. I decided I would slackpack the next section north from Kinsman Notch to Franconia Notch and settled in to get some sleep.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
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Feeling Wellcome

The Mosquitoes in New Hampshire are HUGE!

Zero in Glencliffe
Hikers welcome Hostel: 0 miles

I stayed up most of the night and finally got to bed around 3 or 4 am so it was interesting to me that I still woke up at 7AM to the sounds of people getting ready to get out to the trail. This cat Phat Chap is doing a bunch of shuttling but it’s kind of expensive unless you get a bunch of people to go with you. I’m teetering on the verge of leaving the trail and I’ll be talking to Doug today about the logistics of getting off. I’m hoping I get re-motivated; but, at the same time I would just love to go home and chill and get my hernia fixed. I’m willing to bet that I won’t be able to do it though. I know how I am. I’ll sit here for a day and get all fretful thinking about how horrible I’ll feel about myself if I do get off the trail and I’ll be dwelling on how I should have kept going. I know how I am. I’ll go crazy unless I go as far as I can; however, today that’s not how I feel yet so I’m going to blog and work on the pictures and talk to Doug about how soon he could get up here. Doug called and he didn’t offer any motivation; he just said I can be there on Saturday to pick you up. I felt funny about that as soon as he said it. I figured he would give me a boost or something but instead he just said, “I’ll come get you.” It made me want to keep going actually. I can’t explain it; but it did. We’re watching a marathon of movies here while it pours rain outside. There are seven or eight hummingbird all hanging around the feeder at the same time. I’ve never seen hummingbirds do that before. Usually there’s only one at the feeder at a time and then another comes and chases that one away. These ones are swarming at the feeder and they are reminding me of the Mosquitoes in Connecticut and Massachusetts. We watched about six movies today and I finally decided to keep going. I’m going to hike out tomorrow morning instead of slackpacking because this place is costing money. There’s another Hostel at the end of the next section that is free and Fat Chap charges too much to shuttle you around. This place is very cool though and I’m going to hike over Moosilauke tomorrow. It’s a rough one; 3800 feet up and 3500 feet down. I’ve heard the downward section on the north side is horrific, especially when wet. I figure it will probably rain all day tomorrow but I’m going out anyway. I had better get some sleep.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

Hikers Welcome Hostel

Hexacube Shelter to Hiker’s Welcome Hostel, Glenclliff NH: 15 Miles

I got up very early. I was actually the first one up. I find that this happens a lot when I’m about to go into a town. I’m a sucker for town. Actually, I won’t even go into town but I’ll get a shower and laundry and be able to sleep on a bed; that is, if I’m not up all night doing my internet stuff and blogging. Since it’s currently 2:26 AM and I’m still typing I guess we both already know the answer to that one. The trail was as muddy as ever and although it didn’t rain, I heard it was going to rain later tonight so I wanted to get in to town early and secure a space for myself at the hostel. I also thought I might be able to get there in time to pick up the stuff Doug sent to me. I met a lot of Southbounders today and I made good time. I got to the road and it looked like it was going to be a close call to get to the post office before closing but the hostel was loaded up with people. I found an available couch and dropped some gear there to lay claim to it. I was standing there in my underwear and apparently I offended Phat Chap, the guy who runs the hostel here and drives people all over the place. I bonded with im later but I was a little put off thathe suggested I put on a pair of pants. I’ve been grumpy lately and I’m not the only one. In fact, I’m more sick of people’s attitudes out here than I am of the rain. I keep running into all these sensitive people and they are pissing me off. It’s annoying when you’re at these hostels with people that can’t lighten up. Phat Chap took us in to the grocery store and I picked up a resupply and got some steak to cook for dinner. Some people had cooked up a hug feast and eventually we had a big campfire. I was up all night trying to get stuff together from the gear that Doug sent me and update all of my blogs. The weather is not looking good. It looks like sever weather out here every day until next Friday. That’s 10 more days of rain. Some of the rivers are too very high and have to be waded through. It’s actually kind of dangerous and it started raining again a few hours ago. I’m really sick of the rain and I’m having serious thoughts of getting off the trail.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

New Hampshire is Melting!

Someone is hiking in Bare Feet?

Moose Mountain Shelter to Hexacube Shelter

I slept on the hard floor of the shelter again. Doug is sending me his sleeping pad and I can’t wait. With all of this rain I have been using the shelters instead of getting my hammock all wet and having to break it down and carry a wet tent for days. Last night while I was hanging my bear bag I got the line stuck way up in a tree and I had to climb up there on this wet, mossy tree that I wasn’t sure could actually hold my weight. I was a little worried about the hernia but I couldn’t lose my bear line and I tried everything to get it down. The rock I tied to the line got miraculously stuck in a fork of branches. I couldn’t believe it except that it was just another thing to make the day a little worse. I managed to get up there and get it down but it was treacherous going. I think I popped a stitch or two but I’ll be alright. I tossed and turned a little on the cold, hard floor but I’m getting used to it. Rain was splattering on the shelter roof all night and it sounded like someone dropping pebbles on a tin roof. That surely didn’t help anyone sleep. I got up and ate all of my Pop-Tarts and got on the trail by 10 or so. The climb was treacherous as usual. The skies kept threatening; but, it never really rained. It got sunny for a second or two and then it kept getting colder and colder. I thought Vermont was bad, it has nothing on New Hampshire in terms of mud and muck. Sometimes I can’t believe it; the trail is horrible. You find yourself foolishly trying to balance on these slippery, wobbling logs that are in the middle of deep mud fields or foolishly trying to skirt them by walking on the crumbling sides of the trail that have you inevitably sliding right back in to the deep bogs. This has been the case for a month but now the bogs last for hundreds and hundreds of yards and you just can’t escape getting mud all over everything. The climb up to Smarts Mountain was rough. There was a cool looking fire tower up there though and I wanted to get some good views on film since it wasn’t all foggy for a change. IT was windy and cold up top but the fire tower’s windows were intact and it was cool to be up there with the wind howling and views of all the surrounding mountains. I was thinking of calling it a day at the Fire Warden’s Cabin but it was only like 10 miles when I got there and saw a whole bunch of girl scouts or explorers or something. They were taking up the whole cabin and I was standing there in my soaking wet underwear when it occurred to me that it probably would be prudent for Mister F. Gentle Spirit to sleep elsewhere tonight. I had planned on making the next shelter anyway but I was damn hungry and out of water but I singed the register and kept moving. It was going to be a good haul to the shelter and I was starting to chafe pretty badly. It was another five miles and I was seriously thinking of going Au Naturale but I was worried about running in to more girl scouts. We weren’t in Vermont anymore. By the time I got to the Hexacube Shelter, I was seriously chafed in my nether regions; another side effect of being wet for 48 hours straight. Site, Bandai, Newt, Butters, Hard Rock and some SoBos were there but it was a huge shelter. I spent a while getting washed up and applying a ton of Neosporin to the affected locations and cooked dinner in the dark. I felt sick for a little while and I thought I might pass out for a minute. I lay down for a minute before I resumed eating my Ramen and Salmon. I am almost totally out of food and I have a good hike ahead tomorrow. It’s going to be a rough one. I’m going to have to eat a lot of blueberries or something. I’m even out of GORP which NEVER happens. At least I’ll be really light tomorrow and I’ll be able to move quickly up the hills. The next section after tomorrow is going to be very rough. Mount Moosilauke is a 3800 foot climb which then goes back down to 1900 feet in only 9 miles. This will be the first test to see if I can handle a tough climb with the hernia.

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
Website
http://www.wbafinc.org/
Photos:
http://www.photobucket.com/brotherproof
Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/WBAF1

New Hampshire: River of Mud

This was the trail

Newton’s House to Moose Mountain Shelter: 11 Miles

It looked like the rain might hold off. Newton made some espresso and I started packing while we discussed lots of musical things with Beau in the kitchen. Beau is a drummer and he’s young but cooler than anyone I’ve met at his age. I was getting the itch and had to get out of there today. I some little toast and peanut butter at Newton’s; basically, I skipped breakfast and got on the trail sometime around 10 or 11; which was easy because the trail was just outside of Newton’s door. The Trail goes right through the center of Hanover and I would have to say that Hanover is the nicest town that the trail actually goes through. The trail was a river that trickled some places and flowed two inches deep in others. The muck and mud was constant except where there was a running stream so it often made sense to just walk in the stream rather than the soft mud on the sides. Someone had tied a climbing rope in one section but they had it wrapped around a tree at the top so it was no use for going up. Maybe it was for SoBos who had to go down that crazy, slippery boulder. I ran into a bunch of guys, Grizzly, Site, Bandai and Newt. Before I even got a mile in the woods it started pouring again so I rushed to the Velvet Rocks Shelter to wait it out. Grizzly was there with his Martin Guitar and he played a little. Some other folks showed up and we had a conversation on sexism and political correctness. I hate talking about that stuff but it’s so hard not to chime in. The rain eventually let up and I rushed out to try to get to the next shelter before it rained again. I ran into my old friend ATV again and we talked for a while but I eventually took off so I could get to the shelter before the rain. There were a lot of people there and I decided to stay in the shelter because it was raining again. I’m so damn sick of rain. I heard on the news that this has been the heaviest rain in July on record for Vermont and that probably means New Hampshire too; it figures. I hung my bear bag and got to bed fairly early. I’m going to get up early and blog in the morning before I get on the trail. I need to catch up about four days. I hope it’s not to crappy tomorrow but I know it will be. The rain is depressing as well as a hazard. It’s really tough to stay motivated when you can’t get warm, your feet are always wet and even when your spirits would have been uplifted by some of these spectacular views, you are hemmed in with fog so you get a great view of the mist and rain for at least five feet. Slipping through ankle-deep mud for miles on end is a frustrating way to decrease your mileage potential; which never helps. The forecast looks like rain for the next week as well. My knee hurts and I can’t maintain enough mileage in this terrain. I spent a good mile or two cursing God today. Then I got wise and thanked him for making me tougher. I hope that works…

David AKA “Mister F. Gentle Spirit”
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