There was a jammin' reunion concert in Hanover last night because I could here the rock band clearly as I lay inside the shelter. Must have been some party. Perhaps the lone hiker that had shown up late, making his way through the dark by headlamp, had been in attendance.Another beautiful day for hiking as the temperature was ideal. I spent a good portion of the day leapfrogging Stretch and Zippers through the ups and downs under the shady canopy of the forest. Now and then the trees gave way to an opening which allowed an expansive view of the country we were traversing. I took my lunch break at one of these places, Holts Ledge, which offered an exceptionally good view and a comfortable place to sit. Relaxing there, breathing in the fresh air, I surveyed the rolling waves of leafy green, felt the warmth of the sun on the crown of my head, the gentle caress of the early afternoon breeze brushing across my face and rustling my hair, and I let my mind drift. Minutes lost in reverie, recounting the steps I'd taken to get here, seemed much longer than the actual passing of time. Eventually I had to shake myself back to the reality of the present, slip my pack back on and continue down the trail.
I hadn't got too far before Stretch and Zippers overtook me again. On passing, Stretch mentioned that they'd seen some socks near Holts Ledge and wondered if I was missing a pair. Sure enough, I was. Thanking them for telling me, I left my pack near the side of the trail and headed on back. It felt strange to be walking without the weight of my gear, since over the hundreds of miles it had almost become a part of me. Certainly noticeable now that I was unencumbered. Rocketing up the path, I quickly retrieved the lost socks and started running back down. Probably not the smartest thing as the incline in places was quite steep and at one point I caught my toe on a root and was about to do a full out Superman, flying head first downhill. At the last second, I just tucked my head under, did a shoulder roll and was back on my feet running at full stride. It was actually pretty cool, but I was glad nobody was around to see it. :-)
Later on, I overtook Stretch and Zippers, arriving at the Firewarden's Cabin shortly before they did. Dropping my pack, I took a path back to the fire tower, climbed the stairs, opened the heavy, hinged trapdoor and pulled myself up inside. The views beyond the panes of glass were stunning, a 360 degree panorama of New Hampshire's mountains, the Presidential Range looming in the distance.
I'd planned to overnight at the cabin, but couldn't fail to take advantage of the lovely weather. Returning for my pack, I said my goodbyes to Stretch and Zippers. When I turned to go, Stretch said, "You know, at some point you're going to have to slow down." Truer words were never spoken, but it wouldn't be today.
A five-mile walk through the woods I'd looked down upon from the tower's height led me to a short but steep blue-blaze to Hexacuba Shelter. Browsing through the logbook, I discovered that Snorkel had stayed here two nights ago and I believe like me had had the place to herself. Great minds think alike.
Before I end today's journal entry, I have to tell you a dirty story. Earlier today I came across some bog puncheons. Unfortunately, when I went to step on the first log, it was not resting on the ground, but rather floating on the surface of the mucky soup. Stepping on it, it sank and pitched me off balance into the knee-deep watery mud, covering my legs and left arm in black filth. By the time I got to the nearest stream, most of it had dried into a thin, hardened crust, so I had to do a good deal of scrubbing to get it off. After the bath though, I can truly say my skin has never looked younger. Ha Ha Ha. But seriously, watch your first step and be careful around the bogs.
Morning Walk
Holts Ledge
New Hampshire Wilderness
Hidden Cabin
Fire Tower View
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