Mt. Moosilauke was the last "White" mountain,  and I wanted to savor it.  I made sure to time my day so that I had plenty of time in the afternoon to make my way to Beaver Brook shelter, which is approximately one third of the way up the mountain.  I was definitely glad I'd left plenty of time, as the trail runs parallel to a series of cascades for over a mile!  The views were gorgeous!

I was also able to admire the work of the trail crews years ago, who were able to blast sections of rock out to make stairs, embed wooden steps into the side of rock faces, and provide rebar "handrails" to go along with them.  Trail maintenance these days is definitely less destructive, but also less helpful in many cases.

I made it to the shelter around six thirty, plenty of time to cook dinner and relax a bit.  "Multi" rolled in about a half hour after me, and we chatted about the day.  Favorite quote from that conversation:
Multi: "Yeah, I saw two bear in the hundred mile wilderness."
Me: "Oh yeah?!  How far away were they?"
Multi: "About a hundred fifty miles apart."
Ummmm.... Not what I meant. :)

We met an older couple that were out for just a single night, and chatted with them until dark.  AT hikers go to sleep with the sun generally.  8:00pm is jovially considered "hiker midnight." Normally in the shelter as everyone settles in for the evening, there is a certain amount of fidgeting.  People stuff their clothes sacks for pillows, roll over multiple times in their sleeping bags, blow up air mattresses, etc.  However, this typically dies down after a bit and everyone goes to sleep.  Not this night.  The older gentleman, introduced to us as, "Horace," was attempting to use his external frame pack as a pseudo-lay-z-boy recliner.  It didn't seem to be going well.  Clank.  Clank.  With each adjustment, the shelter rattled.  I could feel the vibrations through the floor.  Clank.  Clank.  Horace became more and more frustrated.  Clankety clank Clank.  I could hear him mumbling as he wrestled with the pack. 

I fell briefly asleep but was quickly awakened by snoring.  Our friend Horace apparently has sleep apnea.  As he would fall deeper asleep, the snoring would become more and more irregular, almost stop entirely, then Horace would gasp startlingly.......zzzzz....zzzzzz.....zzz...... . z.......ZZZZ CLANK CLANK CLANK!

This went on for hours.  Next to me, Multi tossed and turned in his sleep, whispering four letter words with each round of snore-clanking.  I giggled at the insanity of it all and checked my watch.  1 AM.  I gave up and pulled out my e reader, planning to read at least until dawn.  I finally fell asleep, e reader in hand, and slept until about 4:00.  ZZZ CLANK!  Multi woke up and said things I'm still not old enough to hear.  Knowing that everyone was already awake, I called it.  I got dressed, packed my pack and headed up there mountain in the dark.  4:30. 

End result: gorgeous sunrise on Moosilauke.  Beautiful views and frozen fingers, followed by an  exhilarating run down the much less steep south side of the mountain.  Pretty sure Horace was sent to make sure I got the sunrise pictures I missed in the rest of the Whites.  My guardian angels always come in the oddest packages!

Starting up Moosilauke that early set me up well!  22.6 miles, my biggest day yet!

I'm one month in!  My birthday marked a full month on the AT.  I've come 334 miles and finished one state (Maine), and am currently near the south end of "The Whites."  I've lost five trekking pole tips and sent home almost eight pounds of extra gear, including extra clothes, the solar charger, soap and my video camera.  Now that I've gotten some miles covered and officially feel like a real "thru hiker," it seemed a good time to reflect.  So, without further ado, the top seven things I didn't expect thru hiking the AT:

1. Numb toes.  I can't feel either of my big toes.  Informal survey suggests that neither can about 75% of other hikers.  I also have no feeling in my left arm from my shoulder to my elbow. 

2. Going down is harder than going up.  A steep downhill is physically more difficult, more painful and more mentally taxing than a steep uphill and the probability of injury is much higher. 

3. Going "fast" on the AT has way less to do with hiking speed than it does with number of hours hiked.  I'm keeping up with much faster people just by getting up early, hiking later in the day, and not taking many days off.

4. We thru hikers can smell your laundry detergent.  And your deodorant.  And if you have on perfume, we can smell you coming from a mile away.  I don't know why, but somehow the fact that we haven't showered in a week makes us super sensitive to people that don't smell like us.

5. Singing out loud off key while walking in the woods by yourself is amazingly therapeutic.  Until you're busted by a day hiker.  Then it's amazingly embarrassing.  But not so embarrassing that you don't start singing again about a hundred yards past said day hiker.

6. Walking in the rain isn't that bad.  As long as you take your shoes off every few hours and let your feet dry out, you don't get blisters.  I'd almost rather walk in rain than scorched by sun!

7. Being above treeline never stops being amazing.  Whether you're socked in with clouds or can see for miles, it's magic.  Pure. Magic.

Oh my.  I must tell this story, but it is not for the faint of heart.  If you have a weak stomach, skip this entry and check out my dissertation on the wonders of hammock camping.

Heading up Little Bigelow mountain (which I argue would have been better named Littleow, but I digress), I encountered an odd sight.  A rather overweight individual (a rare breed this far back in the woods) was stationed smack in the middle of a narrow rock climb, effectively blocking passage.  She was decked out in a pink shorts bra, black running tights and hiking shoes.  Perhaps in her late forties, early fifties.  Her pack was open, an odd assortment of gear scattered on the trail, Mountain House wrappers, a car charger for a cell phone, clothes.

"Do you know what time it is?" she asked.

"About one thirty," I replied, looking at my watch.

"Thanks!  Are you headed south?" she asked.  An odd question, considering the obvious answer, but, "Yes," I replied.

"Oh neat! Are you by yourself? That's cool, there aren't many solo women out here.  I don't talk to strangers, my name's 'Almost There'.  What's yours?"

"Friday," I replied, which is the trail name I've been granted.  It was originally Friday the 13th but that's a mouthful.

"Friday, do you know where we are?"

"Close to the summit of Little Bigelow if my timing is close," I replied.

Almost There reached into her pink sports bra and retrieved a yellow piece of notepaper with a sketch of the tail profile.  Though hard to read and disintegrating due to being soaked through with sweat, we were able to distinguish where on her hand sketched map we were actually located.  Concerned that after the long climb, Almost There wasn't going to make her goal campsite.  I pointed out a campsite closer than the one she had noted, and said I was headed there.

As I realized that Almost There wasn't moving anytime soon, I finally gave up and started climbing the difficult rock scree to her left.  "Okay I'll see you tonight!" she said as I struggled past.

About ten yards up the trail, I heard her yell, "What time was it?"

"One forty!" I yelled back, thankful to be past the roadblock and heading up the mountain again. 

As the day went on, I started feeling really exhausted.  More so than normal, but it was a hot day and a steep climb, so I attributed it to that.  Boy was I thankful as I stumbled into Safford Notch campground and started setting up my hammock.  Then it hit me, I was going to be sick.  Really, really, sick.  I made it about twenty yards from the tent sites and revisited my lunch.  Noodles, pepperoni and all.  Hugging a rock, I hoped it was just the end result of a really long day, hot weather and a big lunch, but as I continued setting up my camp, having to repeatedly stop for breaks, I knew I was in trouble.  Being sick sucks.  Being sick two hundred fifty yards from a privy is downright awful.  Originally thankful that no one was there to see me hurl, I began to have visions of laying dehydrated in my hammock for days before someone came to this back country tent site to save me.  Thus, when Almost There showed up around dark, I was really happy to not be by myself, even if it was the trail "roadblock."

"Hey, Friday, is that you? Do you know what time it is?"

"Right at eight o'clock.  Hey, I have kind of a problem.  I'm pretty sick, do you think you could check on me before you leave in the morning?"

"Sure thing," she said.  "Tomorrow morning I won't be 'Almost There' I'll be 'There'!"

Confident in the knowledge that I wasn't going to die alone in the woods, I lay back in my hammock and prayed to the stomach gods for mercy.  An hour later, it started.

Almost There came down the hill and sat down, mere feet from the evidence of my illness, and plopped down her food sack. "So hey, I know you're not feeling well, but I'm low on, like, sustenance food.  Do you think we could do some trading?"

"Um, yeah.  Hang on.". I put on my headlamp and crawled out of my hammock, found my food sack and sat down, starting to dig into it.  I couldn't.  The smell of food was overpowering.  "Here," I said, handing her the bag. "Look through there.  There're a couple of silver freeze dried packs, you can have one or two of those." She started digging through, and the results of my effort caught up with me.  As I began hurling the remainder of my lunch up, on hands and knees next to Almost There, she says, "Oh look, spaghetti! Do you like spaghetti? Do you think I could have this?"

I'm not the best negotiator to begin with.  Navigating a food transaction while barfing was impossible.  A few minutes later I realized I'd traded three freeze dried meals for a Hershey bar and two instant coffee packs.  Point for Almost There.

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Nine fifteen," I moaned. 

"Okay, see you in the morning!" she called after a few more minutes of chatting, and then headed off into the woods.  Downhill.  Away from her tent.

"Almost There, you're going the wrong way," I said.  She began stomping through the woods in the opposite direction, but still downhill.  "No, come back up!" I pled.  I finally ended up getting out of my hammock and walking back up to the tent site with her.  Second point, Almost There.

As dawn approached, I began to feel alive again, taking small sips of water and munching on small pieces of my extremely expensive Hershey bar.  I managed to get up the strength to start packing up camp, and emerged to the site of Almost There up the hill, in the dawn light, packing away her tent in nothing but a pink sports bra.  Nothing. But. The. Bra.

I kept my focus downhill and worked on getting my pack under control.  Thirty minutes later I began stumbling up the hill.  Thankfully, Almost There saw me coming and finally put some pants on.  Thank heaven for small mercies.

"Hey Friday, do you know what time it is?"

"About eight thirty," I grumbled, just wanting to get moving up the mountain.

"Hey, do you think I could use your phone?" she asked.  This is not a small request in the backpacking world to begin with, and far in the back country, with a low battery and not feeling so good, I was loathe to grant the request, but she had come and talked to me while I was sick, even if it was to swindle me out of dinner.  "Okay, but could you make it quick? I'm low on battery."

Fifteen minutes later, I received my phone back, covered in sweat and blinking low battery.  Third point, Almost There.

I headed up the trail, and heard it.  "Hey, do you know what time it is?"

"Almost nine!" I hollered back, and headed up and out.

Later that day, I summited Bigelow Mountain, feeling better and better as the day went on.  I'm still thankful that I wasn't alone that night, but God must have been running a little low on guardian angels.  That's okay, second string is better than nothing!

I've also met several other people who've encountered Almost There, and they seemed genuinely concerned for her safety, and insinuated she should get off the trail.  I'm not worried about her, she's tough, wily and resourceful and I think she'll be just fine!