Surviving the Whites: Part 11 (Think Binary)

            OK.  Final wee bit about surviving your thru-hike in the White Mountains with most of your temper intact and, with any luck, some extra grub in your belly (I actually gained back some of the weight I’d lost when I went through the Whites.)  It’s not all that hard, I swear.  It just takes a certain state of mind, a large enough stomach capacity, and a taste for copious amounts of oatmeal-based bread.  And oatmeal in general.  I made a shitload of that stuff during my time in the huts.

            The first common question I’d like to answer would be the result of a hut’s work for stay slots being full and the saddened thru-hiker asking how much it would be to stay as a guest: “why is it that bloody expensive!?”  Admittedly, I added the British-ism there, but there were a few folks on the trail from British-based locales (England, Australia, New Zealand, etc), so it’s at least plausible.

            It’s true, the hut system is really expensive.  Over $100 per night per person.  When I was just a wee teenager beginning to gallivant around the mountains with a backpack the size of a small grizzly bear, I saw the prices and asked the exactly the same question, then never stayed at any of them.  Sure, you get two meals, a bunk to sleep in, and an evening program, but how was that worth a hundred-something bucks?  It cost the same as a hotel room, but you slept in communal bunk rooms!  Grrr!  Rar! Gzip!

            Well, then I worked for the AMC getting the supplies to the Huts and thought “How the hell do these things even remain in the black?” other than perhaps Mick Jagger seeing their doors and painting them the color of my preferred cup of coffee.  Keeping these things running is a MASSIVE endeavor.  Firstly, three times a year a helicopter is used to take up all the propane and food that power the stoves and guests, respectively.  Them things is expensive as all hell.  However, the old method of paying college students to carry ALL the food up the mountain every day turned out to be really bad on their joints and… you know… most of their bodies (we still carry up food, but only things like veggies, meat, milk, and things that we run out of).  See http://chinspinach.tumblr.com/post/30459507788/everett-packing-up-behind-me-yay-packing for a good example of the silliness of the torture-device-esque packs we strap to our backs.

            So there’s the expense of flying food up to the huts.  There’s also the crews that keep them maintained.  The winters up there are slightly more than a bitch. More of a monster-bitch with icy nails of doom and a wind-slap that’s the highest recorded in the world.  AND they have to deal with 55 gallon barrels of poop.  Seriously…  Then you have to pay, albeit not that much, the people that live up there and cook, clean, rake poop in the composting toilet, and hike all the fresh food up.  You’ll notice the poop-centric arguments here.  There’s also the people that handle reservations, the people that drive the food to the trailheads and the gas it takes to do that (one has to do an awful lot of meandering around mountain roads because, well, box trucks don’t climb rock faces very well.  Wusses can’t even handle a 5.5) 

The huts are expensive little bastards.  Unfortunate?  Yeah.  Understandable?  Also yeah.  A lot more goes into running a hut than running a hotel.

I think that’s it for White Mountain stuff.  OH!  Final thing.  I posted a list of stealth sites a few entries back.  That means places that are good for camping if you don’t want to/can’t stay at a hut or shelter.  Knowing where those are will make your life WAY less stressful.

TTFN

(Beowulf)

Vaguely related to hiking…

Howdy, all.  I’ve been lazy on updating, but I thought I’d throw this wee thing up that kind of connects to thru-hiking.  Mostly because I love baked goods and the glory of the trail was that I NEEDED to eat them…

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Dear Cookies,

Actually, Cookies, why don’t you gather all of your baked-goods friends around.  Give Muffins a call, send Scones a messenger pigeon, and you’ll probably want to dispatch a small bus to pick up Cake.  He’s a large, fluffy fellow.

All here?  Awesome.  I just wanted to bring all of you together today to tell you you’re all addictingly delicious.  Addicting like heroin.  Addicting like sex to Tiger Woods.  You roll up on my taste buds like a semi made of solidified Keebler juice and dusted with unicorn sparkles.  Random chocolaty bits interspersed and bedecked in a gown of frosting of many colors make me dance with glee.  Yeah.  Bible reference.  Applied to conglomerations of sugar and butter.  Hell yes. 

I remember when I was young I would wait with barely restrained anticipation for the evening where, amidst the small bit of homework my 8-year-old self had to careen through, I would hear the crack of eggs and the sound of spoon against plastic bowl emanating from the kitchen.  Amongst scents of steamed green beans and rice pilaf, foods which to my pre-pubescent palate were as tantalizing as a goat in lingerie, the scent of fat and sweetness began to emerge and I knew that after dinner that night I would gorge myself on the fiesta of orgasm-inducing chocolate chip cookies.  Christ… I’m getting hungry just writing about this.

I remember back into the hazy fog of childhood a day where my slavering maw cried out for the cardiac arrest of Whoopie Pies, and was destroyed to discover a lack of chocolate and sugary cream in my future.  Standing there in the kitchen, dejected, a flash of genius washed over me.  This was the kind of genius that can only be brought on by the determination of a quest for spiritual fulfillment, which is what my sweet tooth morphs the consumption of baked goods into.  I transcended my mortal understanding of the origins of ALL baked goods that day.  I realized that I could get out that bowl, a whisk, and beat the fuck out of some flour, sugar, and butter.  I whipped the batter into submission with religious verve and threw them all in the oven.  When they came out I basked in the wizardry of my own innovation, complete with wizard hat, and devoured the fruits of my labor.  I love you, baked goods.  However, there was one problem.

You guys are fucking horrible for me.  I want to keep my legs.  We’re going to just have to be friends.

Platonically,

(Beowulf)

Surviving the White Mountains: Round 2

When thru-hikers get turned away from the Huts, have a bad tentsite experience, or get irked by the large number of people tramping about the Gulfside trail (which is what the AT is between Mt. Washington and Mt. Madison… I think…) I hear some variation of the phrase “WHY CAN’T THEY JUST DO IT LIKE THE REST OF THE TRAIL!  SHELTERS AND FLAT SPOTS TO CHUCK MY TENT ON!  MAN I COULD GO FOR A HUGE SACK OF GLAZED CHOCOLATE DOUGHNUTS!”  Also, while I’m already in yell mode and talking about trail naming conventions, I’d like to take a quick, but important, non sequitur:

BUY YOURSELF A MAP OF THE WHITE MOUNTAINS!  The trail isn’t just “The AT”, it’s Beaver Brook trail to Kinsman Ridge Trail to Fishin’ Jimmy Trail to Cascade Brook Trail to Liberty Spring Trail to Franconia Ridge Trail to Garfield Ridge Trail to The Twinway to… ok, that’s where I cease to be able to pull the trail names off the top of my head.  Bottom line: don’t lose the AT because the trail names get wonky.  It’s notoriously poorly blazed around there.

            OK, back to the main point of this whole entry: the logic behind the structure of the White Mountains. 

            The White Mountains along the AT corridor has all sorts of delicious nature with rocks and trees and more rocks and some shrubbery thrown in for flavor.  However, there are these other spices that are nice in small doses, but can really fuck up your hiking soup if the cap comes unscrewed and the whole lot assaults your pot of yum in a potent powdery catastrophe: People. They’re like black pepper or bay leaves or cayenne or shards of glass.  The Whites have a LOT of people. 

            If you’ve been off by your onesies in the woods for a while then the astounded faces, words of awe, and clothespinned noses of day hikers can be pleasant and/or comical. However, it can get irksome after a while.  The biggest problem with the hordes of dumb dumbs stumbling about through the woods is that people have a bad habit of trampling everything to bits.  And shitting everywhere.  And getting themselves caught up on ridges in 100mph winds and rain after they dislocate their hip, then need to be carried out resulting in a lot of drenched people and at least one really bad case of flannel-induced nutsack chafe.  Above average use means you have to try to protect the nature that’s there from the wonton destruction caused by these backpack-clad Godzillas.

            That’s why the camping policies are so restrictive.  With the immense number of people that roll through the area every year, the woods would be not-very-woodsy and camping areas would look like the result of literal shit hitting the fan: a poo-splosion.  Privies and composting toilets are actually really important.  If they weren’t there, then the thousands upon thousands of visitors each year would be pooping EVERYWHERE.  People can be incredibly irresponsible about the messes they’re leaving, and if there aren’t any sort of rules in place people tend to just not think that common decency applies either.  I can’t tell you how many times I picked up garbage, significant garbage like empty 30 racks or discarded clothing, while I was hiking along. 

There has been the argument that the huts and shelters draw additional people and thus they’re like a lot of pharmaceutical companies: solving a problem that they created in the first place.  Or a problem they invented for profit.  Or spending millions on slightly changing existing drug formulas so they can retain patents instead of investing in curing new diseases.  Or developing synthetic versions of compounds (e.g. cannabinoids) that occur naturally but are banned in their natural form.

Sorry… got on my soap box for a minute…

            Right.  The sentence that was coming next before I got distracted was “They may draw additional people, but only a small percentage of people stay at Huts, etc.”  There would STILL be two metric tons of people in the area if there was nothing but campsites and woodsy trails.  If you haven’t been before, it’s the most dramatic and breathtaking part of the AT (in my not-so-humble opinion.)

This ties into the tent platform issue as well.  Many thru-hikers are smart and save weight on a shelter by using trekking pole tents or other non-freestanding shelters.  Aside from gale-force wind, these things hold up pretty well and you don’t have to lug around long metallic sticks that are really just asking to be struck by lightning.  The downside is that you have to set it up on ground that has a layer of soil thicker than your space-foam mattress topper (or whatever the hell it’s called).  Consequently, tent platforms are a mite irksome to these folk.        Tent platforms are there for the same reason huts are there: because if they weren’t the trees, plants, etc would pancake-ified.  That’s the reason you see “revegetation areas” in most campsites.  People camped there because it was flat and now there aren’t any plants growing.  So yeah, it sucks, but it makes sense.  For those that just can’t handle that,  at a lot of the sites there’s overflow tenting areas.  If you’ve got a freestanding roll-a-home, ask the caretaker about the overflow spots because you’ll probably be much, much happier.

            Keep these things in mind when you’re looking for work for stay at a hut or campsite.  If you’re acting entitled or condescending, the caretaker/hut kid will notice and will be less likely to let you stay.  If you come asking nicely, they’re more likely to let you stay.  You aren’t entitled to anything here, and aren’t above work for say (I met people saying that it’s condescending to do).  Get over yourself.  While hiking the AT is hard as hell, but the current count stands at 13,589 people that have completed a thru hike. As my friend said, “Yeah, it’s really cool, but you’re not a unique snowflake.”   Yeah, there are rough aspects about getting through the Whites, but if you keep a positive attitude, a sense of humility, and don’t expect quite as much thru-hiker awe as you got before, it’s a great section of the trail.

There are a few more tidbits I want to add, so yay!

How to Survive the White Mountains: Rocks, The AMC, Wind, Storms, Snow, Lightning, Badgers, Zombies, and Flying Knives

As with most of my posts, there are only a few things in the title that are even remotely close to being actually relevant to the topic at hand.  In this case, you guessed it, it’s the first six and flying knives.  Dangerous buggers with the wings of eagles, the temperament of boulder going through its liquid stage who’s a mite peeved at that fact, and they’re made of knife.  They’re reclusive, but if you spot one, it’ll probably be in your eye before the images fully makes its way into your brain stem. 

And, as with most posts, now I’ll actually get into something at least slightly practical.

Class of 2013, if you’ve started already I hope your trek has begun in a spectacular fashion and you had the desire to guzzle the homemade blueberry syrup at the Blueberry Patch in Hiawassee.  The trail is lovely and a great way to exist.  One place that is both infamous and famous that you have ahead of you is the White Mountains in New Hampshire.  Beautiful, surreal, and absurdly rigorous, it’s a lot to look forward to.  I had a bias because it was my home turf in terms of hiking, but it was a happy moment when we got to the top of Moosilauke and I got to show off a gorgeous mountain range to my hiking companions.  There was a lot of “See?  All my insane ranting was JUSTIFIED!  I’m not just loco!”

That being said, you’ve got some… issues to overcome.  We as thru-hikers get comfortable with the notion that unless we’re stuffing pizza into our face or have a mattress under our grubby ass, we’re not going to be paying for things.  Shelters can be full of things that could alternatively give you the plague or be good eating, but they ARE, in fact, free.  And while the AT in general is a pretty active thoroughfare as far as a hiking trail goes, the Whites are the like the area of Route 1 runs smack through the sphincter of New York.  There are a LOT of people, and there are things there to keep their semi-pampered asses un-chafed and happy.  I, of course, speak of the frequently thru-hiker loathed AMC (Appalachian Mountain Club) facilities with their charge-for-stay and remarkably restrictive camping policies.  Seeing as I have worked for the aforementioned club in a number of ways throughout my years of being a dirty hippie, I’ve learned that they are, in fact, NOT strictly out to grab up all of your elusive money (they are a non-profit, after all).  SO!  I thought I’d chat about a few common complaints I’d heard about the White Mountain portion of the trail, and with any luck I’ll help you make that section a bit more enjoyable and a bit less “I’m in a nasty thunderstorm in the rain and I’m being attacked by an army of bears.”  Not sure why that would happen, but if it DOESN’T, I’d like to take credit for it.

One: “Why can’t we stay for free?”

Thru-hikers ARE actually allowed to stay for free, or at least without shelling out any money (it’s an elusive trail creature, I know.  It tends to run off in town and disappear without a trace.)  As your trail guide might helpfully point out, two thru-hikers a night can do a “work-for-stay” involving two hours of work in exchange for crashing on the dining room floor/benches/tables, etc and leftovers from dinner and breakfast.  That’s what the book says, and as you know, you have to take what the book says with a grain of salt.  Or, if you’re reading the Companion, with a couple of handfuls tossed over your shoulder to ward off the Warren Doyle mysticism lurking in the pages (See my post about the various guides to know what the hell I’m talking about).  What I said up there is essentially true because that’s what’s written in the… I guess “operating manual” of the Hut system.  However, as I described to my friends who were worried about where we were going to stay once we hit the Whites: “They elect to work in a place in the middle of the woods without much electricity, no Internet access, only outdoor showers, and they hike tons of food and garbage up and down the mountain twice a week.  All for very little pay.  They’re kind of like us.”  More than one are frequently former thru-hikers (at least in the Fall).

That being said, the rules tend to be kind of relaxed.  Two is an imaginary number.  I’ll leave it at that.  I don’t think I did more than an hour of work, and that was only at Lakes of the Clouds where we scrubbed pots.  Other chores included: organizing some storage, washing dishes, arts and crafts, and recounting stories for the guests.  Horrible, right?  Thru-hikers HATE telling stories about the trail.  Oh… wait… switch that.  We tend to be more like that irritable co-worker that just had a baby and won’t shut the fuck up about it.  The best part: not only do you get to eat leftovers, but they tend to take into account that there will be thru-hikers there who all have the appetite of a 400 pound man that just got off a 6 hour bus ride, and he forgot to bring snacks.  I stopped at 6 hours because much more than that and cannibalism becomes a problem.  Also, any non-compostable waste has to be carried down the mountain on their backs.  Consequently, they REALLY want you to finish off the food.  When I stayed at Mizpah, they tasked us with finishing the heaping plate of leftover chicken… we did it (well, I didn’t… I’m a veggiesaurus), but just barely.  And that’s commonplace.  I can’t tell you how many pancakes I’ve force-fed to thru-hikers.

That discussion leads into the next one of “Why can only two thru-hikers stay?”  That’s a slightly complicated question because it delves into business sort of things and, as much as I love a good suit, is something I’m not overly fond of.  I’ll explain it in the form of a story *fluttery flashback music*.

I was visiting another hut on one of my days off and was helping out around meal time.  As expected, around 4pm we started getting thru-hikers coming in asking for work for stay.  We took the first two, then two more because we felt bad.  The last group that came in was 4 people.  We really wanted to let them stay, but it was mid-week and at that point we didn’t have that many guest staying there.  If we’d let them stay, they would have come close to representing a quarter of the population of the huts.  A paying, less maloderous population and croo being the rest of the inhabitants.  While not every guest in the huts would have a problem with this, we do have equal parts people saying “You should let them ALL stay for free, the poor things!” and “Why do they get to stay here for free?  The smell horrible and are messing up my stay.”  Most people don’t say anything, doing the polite, spineless thing and repressing the urge to say anything, not noticing in their state of dijon chicken-induced bliss, or merely genuinely not giving one iota of fuck.  But it’s something as croo we have to consider, unfortunately.  So we had them essentially flip a coin to determine whether they could stay so it was off our conscience.  Unfortunately for them, that batch lost…  We did point them toward some great stealth sites, though.

Next up: why the huts and tent platforms are there, and why the rules are in place.  Also: how to up your WFS chances!

Trail Days, Yo!

Just confirm that I’ll be taking the 17th of May off to spend that whole weekend in Damascus, VA!  Trail Days, here I come!

White Mountain Stealth Sites

I thought I’d post the list of stealth sites that I picked up at the Hiker’s Welcome Hostel in Glencliff. Speaking as someone who’s worked for the AMC a number of times (I’ll post more suggestions as to how to get through the Whites in a pleasant manner), I’d like to emphasize that you should try to camp in spots that already have well established flat spots rather than trampling plants to create a new one. The rules are in place for a reason, I promise you, so do us all a favor and obey them.

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AMC Backcountry Camping Rules
* No camping or fires within .25(1/4) mile …
…from any hut, shelter, tent platform, cabin, picnic area or campground except at designated sites
…any trailhead
…above tree line (except on 2’ of snow)
…within 200’ of trail

The original list has been circulating on the Internet since created in 1998. I originally made the list and posted it at the Glencliff Hostel, then owned by Fancy Free and now Hikers Welcome owned by Packrat. This is now a compilation of a few hikers’ approach to Stealthing/Bootlegging the Whites.

After Mt. Moosilauke, before descending Beaver Brook - I’ve camped nearby the junction of the AT with the trail to Mt. Jim. It’s a flat area, sheltered with trees to the L at the junction. I think the trail to Jim is called the Ridge Trail leading to Mts. Jim and Waternomee. It’s a dry camp.

Bottom of Beaver Brook - lot’s of stealth sites before getting to Kinsman Notch/NH Rt. 112, with lots of water nearby. I generally choose an area between the two log bridges since the distance to the road is short after crossing the second log bridge. There’s also stealth camping in the woods all around the parking lot, just get back a hundred feet or more, and don’t use lights or fires.

Gordon Pond – 3.5 miles north of Kinsman Notch (.3m off trail) there is a fork in the trail. Either fork leads to sites, water from pond/stream. Before Mt. Wolf - a side trail leads a short distance (1/2 mile) to Gordon Pond, one of my favorite places. Look for a freshwater spring on the NW side of the pond, a couple hundred feet from some established campsites. This is great moose habitat. In 1936 the AT used this section of trail and then led past the pond to rejoin the present-day AT just before Eliza Brook shelter. The side trail is called Gordon Pond Trail.

Eliza Brook Shelter – This is the last free site in the Whites. There are flat camping spots that are past the shelter once you cross the brook. You’re within shouting distance of the shelter so this is more like shelter overflow campsites.

Fishin’ Jimmy Trail - This is on the AT about a mile before the Lonesome Lake Hut. The trail rises to about 3000 feet along the side of The Cannonballs. There are flat areas in the woods (out of sight) to the right. Dry camping. From there is a steady descent to the Hut.

Basin-Cascades Trail Junction - If you descend a short distance on the side trail there are flat spots. This is a pretty & dramatic area near the waterfalls. About 1.5 miles past the Lonesome Lake Hut.

Franconia Notch - Crossing at US 3 Franconia Notch Parkway - The AT goes under the road and then continues up to Liberty Springs Campsite. Liberty Springs Trail Head Parking is .5m to the right. In 1936 there was an established campsite for hikers about 100 yards from the crossing of Whitehouse Brook. You can still use the flat area, but today you have to move a bit further into the woods. Follow a small stream, south side of stream only 50-100’ off trail flowing from the North that joins the Pemi at this location.

Alternative to Liberty Springs – Pick up water at Liberty Springs, head up to jct. with Franconia Ridge Trail and Liberty Springs Trail. Go towards Mt. Liberty (head south) you will be outside the FPA. Go towards the west side of the trail and there are some hardened spots.

Garfield Pond - Camp to the R of the AT. (Various sites.) In 1936 this was the shelter location for AT hikers. The current shelter is over Garfield at Garfield Ridge Campsite, another 2 miles N on the AT.

Mt. Garfield Summit - Climbing up the old fire tower platform, look down to the right. There is a small 1 person site squeezed between rock/cliff and trees. Carry water from Garfield Pond. - The remnants of the summit building have been used for years by hikers. The ridge runners have been told to ask you to move if they find you there.

As an Alternative to Galehead Hut – Pick up water at Galehead Hut. Head up the Frost Trail to Mt. Galehead. At the summit you will see herd paths that lead to some hardened sites.

Between South Twin and Mount Guyot – Get water at Galehead Hut – various sites. Closer to Guyot than S. Twin.

Zealand Summit - After Guyot, and before the descent to Zealand Hut, there is a short side trail for peak baggers to reach the summit of Zealand. Look for a sign on the L. There’s room for a couple of tents, dry camping.

Zeacliff Pond - a short descent (steep!) to the Pond from the AT. This was the hiker shelter location in 1936. The pond is not within the Pemi Wilderness so camping is OK. This is about a mile before the trail junction for Zeacliff Trail, about 2-3 miles before Zealand Hut.

Past Zealand Falls Hut – after .25m warning sign, walk 150-200 yards, gravel drainage area on right. Walk down 100-200 yards – various trails leading to dozens of stealth sites and 2 streams – invisible to others.

Before Rt. 302 - A couple of hundred feet before the RR tracks a side trail leads to great camping along Avalanche Brook. The side trail is called Ripley or Ripley Falls or something like that.

US Rt. 302 - .25m in, cross bridge and notice gravel tent area (obvious) on your right – follow stream .25 mile downstream, across from boulder field.

Mt. Webster/Top of Webster Cliff – obvious sites available (2-5?) but carry water from streams as you climb up – probably first .5m of ascent. Great views from the top of the cliffs looking into Crawford Notch. Dry camping and lots of wind.

As an Alternative to Mizpah Hut or Nauman Tent site – Head down Mt. Clinton Trail… outside the FPA you should be able to find some possibilities.

Information – It is a very tough stretch between Mt. Clinton and Mt. Madison. The only suggestion I can give you there is that it would be easier to travel with a hammock there. It would provide you with more camping options and you would lose less elevation gain when trying to find a spot, because you cannot camp above tree line. You will have to dip down to camp. The terrain makes it hard to find a spot that is legal. If you are traveling with a tent you will be able to find some spots, but will lose some serious elevation gain in order to get a decent spot.
The biggest “problem area” for finding a site that will not incur you lots of elevation loss is between Mt. Pierce/Clinton and Mt. Madison. It is primarily above tree line and UNLESS you stay at Lakes of the Clouds hut, (sort of halfway), you have a kind of big push with lots of hiking above tree line, (which is NICE in GOOD weather) and some fairly decent elevation gain. The problem with above tree line hiking is that you CAN run into weather that is horrible and you are fully exposed to the wind and weather, and MUST descend to find a LEGAL and SAFE place to camp. There are options if you choose not to stay at the huts, but you will lose elevation gain.

Alternative to Lakes of the Clouds Hut – You could head down the Dry River Trail (south of Mt. Washington) and find a spot. You will lose some elevation gain, but it might be your only option if you hit some bad weather.

Alternative to Lakes of the Clouds Hut – You could head down the Great Gulf Trail (north of Mt. Washington) and find a spot. Again, you will lose some elevation gain, but it gives you a bad weather option.

Alternative to Lakes of the Clouds Hut – Another option is to push to get to either the Perch (tent platforms, great water, and a shelter)… located down off Gulfside, NW of Mt. Jefferson. Other options in this area are Gray Knob and Crag Camp (both Randolph Mountain Club enclosed facilities run on a caretaker basis). Again, you will lose some serious elevation gain there. At the time of this writing (Tent platforms at the Perch are $5, and the Gray Knob and Crag Camp are both $10.} All three of these sites are shown on the NH-VT AT Maps.

Edmands Col - between Jefferson and Adams. This historically was an emergency shelter area, lots of flat spots, windy, dry camping above tree line. Not recommended but I’ve camped here.

Madison Hut area - Just to the East is a small lake on side trail descending into Madison Gulf. Flat areas are just past the lake, protected from winds but still above tree line and not recommended. The hut crew will instruct you to descend to the Valley Way tent site about 1 mile down to the North of the hut.

[At time of writing, Valley Way tent site is free @ Madison Hut, as is Osgood tent site at Bottom of Madison Mountain. Lakes of the Clouds is kind in bad weather, but the Presidential Range is catch as catch can for stealth sites.]

Pinkham Notch – Follow creek downstream, when trail merges away look hard not heavily used. Water from creek.

As an Alternative to Carter Notch Hut – Head down the Wildcat River Trail. Just past the FPA are some possibilities. Water is available nearby.

Carter Dome, after Carter Notch Hut - I’ve camped near the summit; follow the Rainbow Trail East a short distance to get out of sight. Dry camp. .25m past Carter Hut – on right – a “cave” of boulders creates 2-4 sites – open top, not really a cave. Water from Carter Hut.

Zeta Pass - .25m -.5m past Zeta Pass junction, cross stream, on right.

Near Imp Campsite – .5m before camp, when water pools appear, look left.

Moriah Summit - historically there was a log shelter at the summit. Flat rock ledges can accommodate some tents. Just to the W along the Carter-Moriah Trail.

Chillin’ at the Hilton

First off, you probably haven’t noticed because… well… this is the Internet and it’s like a perpetual information version of the molasses tsunami from the Boston Great Molasses Disaster: endless, huge, sticky, and when mixed with the correct mixture of brain bread, it becomes a delicious thing to spread butter on.   Seriously, I think Anadama is directly descended from that manna from heaven stuff… What was I saying?  Oh… right… you probably haven’t noticed that I’ve lowered my PPW (Posts Per Week), but I have.  Because I’m lazy and I’ve got too many things that my brain is required to do (I’m reading up on the effects of certain audio effects/frequencies on neurophysiology, among other things).  Not sure why I thought I’d point that out, but there it is.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

There is a shelter, a shelter just on the cusp of the imposing and lovely Great Smokey Mountains National Park.  Nestled upon Fontana Lake, a massive body of water formed from the nearby Fontana Dam, it is often the last stay of a thru-hiker before setting out into the National Park; a place with higher and more imposing mountains than they have encountered thus far.  It’s also a place where they’ll encounter larger and more imposing tourists than they have, potentially, ever seen.   It’s kind of sad, actually.

This shelter is what the trail community calls “The Fontana Hilton”.  Make no mistake, it’s just a big, mostly enclosed wooden structure that can sleep a fuck ton of people, but it’s like you’re camping at a nice picnic area AND there’s a shower.  A SHOWER!  A really gross shower, so be sure to bring your camp shoes.  The real fun in this shelter, however, is that it’s your first available party shelter.  Here’s my suggestion:

You cross a road before you hit another 1.1 miles of trail to the actual shelter.  Hitch from there to the resort area and avail yourself of the facilities.  AKA restaurant, post office, general store, and gas station that sells 24 packs of Yeungling.  For the uninitiated, that’s a lager from the country’s oldest brewery.  It’s slightly better than decent, it’s cheap, and it comes in 24 packs.  Oh, and the cans make great stoves (the one I made at the Hilton lasted me the rest of the trail).  Eat at the restaurant, grab some snacks and a 24 pack, hump them the rest of the distance to the shelter (I did it with the entire 24 pack.  You can split it up if you want to, you wusses), and have an alcoholic evening.  It’s a great place to relax, looking over the lake into the park while you sit around the fire pit on the picnic tables.  Or at least that’s how I imagine it.  It was raining while I was there…

Remember two things: 1) you’re not actually allowed to have any booze on the premises, so keep it under control.  Seriously, clean up after yourselves and don’t be a dick.  Did you leave a beer can lying about?  You’re a dick.  Did you yak outside and not wash it away?  You’re a dick.  Are you being loud and obnoxious?  You’re a dick.  Remember those rules too.   2) Beer has calories, and that’s important.  Oh, and 3) hydrate.  You have to climb the Shuckstack in the morning, and it’s a good quality climb.  It would suck to do it hung over. 

Oh, and bring earplugs for this one.  With that many people, you’re BOUND to get a snorer, and as of yet it’s still illegal to slit throats.  

Love and arm rippings,

(Beowulf)

BLUEBERRIES!!!!ZOMG!

I love blueberries.  Finally.  I grue (misspell that I turned into obscure geek reference.  YAY!) up in Maine and didn’t start liking blueberries until 2008.  That’s a lot of missed berry gnoshing.

That’s not the point of this post, though.  I know, I like to throw you off the scent, then come around and smear some new scent in your face like you created the scent and it was bad…  wow… I’m tired today.

Have you heard of the Blueberry Patch?  No, it’s not a part of the Hundred Acre Wood.  You know, the one where Christopher Robin plays?  In reality, it’s a small hostel just outside of Hiawassee, Georgia 70-odd miles from Springer Mountain.  You might think “Gosh!  I just started the trail.  Why would I need to spend a night indoors?”  And you’d have a good point.  However, most folk out there, I was included in “most folk”, are probably out on their longest backpacking trip ever.  It had been five days by the time I hit that hostel, and that was my second longest time spent out in the woods.  I stank, I was sore, I was out of food, and god had seen it fit to piss on me for the previous two days (I got used to being a urinal cake pretty shortly thereafter, but at that point, it was still particularly miserable.)  I’m talking about rain folks.  I didn’t want to spend another entire day in the rain.

So, the bottom line is: go there.  When I arrived I felt as though I was being treated like a king.  Having been in Boston for the previous 5 years or so, I wasn’t used to the notion of complete strangers going out of their way to help me.  More often I had encountered complete strangers going out of their way to attempt to piss off my un-piss-offable self.  Gary and his wife did our laundry, gave us bunks, gave us soap and towels for the shower, told us we could take anything from the fridge and just pay for the sodas he’d stocked, fed us a home-cooked breakfast in the morning that included home-made and home-harvested blueberry syrup, and gave us his jeep to drive into town to do our resupply.  WHAT?  GAVE US HIS CAR!  DIRTY HIKER TRASH! Now THAT is a good man.  Like, he made me feel like less of a human being because I couldn’t be that damn nice.

Oh… and it’s all donation based.  Give the man a 20 at least, guys.  He’s awesome.  That’s a general rule with things along the trail in general: if it’s a donation place, don’t stay there if you aren’t going to donate unless you REALLY need to.  It’s like tipping at restaurants: If you can’t tip, don’t eat out. SRSLY.

Oh… and I only saw Gary smile when a picture was being taken of him.  It was a bit weird, but don’t let that fool you into thinking he’s anything less than Jesus himself.  Though don’t tell him that (it’s a Christian missionary thing.)