[at-l] Decayed

[Arthur Gaudet]

Well, on Sept. 4, 1998 I left N. Woodstock and travelled southbound to Eliza
Brook Shelter. I guess I was on the other side of the Whites from Felix, and I
was wondering where in the heck were Jukebox and Tennessee Tom! Road Hazard was
already at the shelter and soon a dozen Dartmouth freshmen pulled in.

On Sept. 5, 1998 at 4:15 AM a raid was made on the Dartmouth group, lots of
shouting & bedlam. To compensate us "normal" hikers the raiders left a plate of
homemade brownies - ummm! Walked to Kinsman Notch and went back to N. Woodstock
for some hot food and a walkaround. I wrote "too many people in the woods,
holding back from Moosilauke because of weather..."

Little did I realize who I would meet in 2 days... --RockDancer 

-----Original Message-----
From: at-l-bounces at backcountry.net [mailto:at-l-bounces at backcountry.net] On
Behalf Of Felix J
Sent: Friday, September 05, 2008 9:27 AM
To: at-l
Subject: [at-l] Decayed

Well, a decade ago yesterday, Posse de Felix hiked from Imp Campsite (which is
what it is called) to a bandit campsite just north of Pinkham Notch.  On the way
we 'did' three of the steepest, most under-discussed climbs of the entire AT.
The down-and-up to Carter Notch and the down at Wildcat (which I did after
dusk....no easy feat).  While at Carter Notch Hut, we met...though, did not
realize that we met...Mitch. Mitch is Steve Landis' dotter.  A friend of
hers...Hawkeye...absentmindedly ate a LOT of Soyboy's couscous. It was funny to
all of us but Soyboy.  We had a great campsite that night along whatever 'river'
that is that runs through Pinkham Notch.

Next morning...a decade ago today...we had a great breakfast at Pinkham Notch.
This was the Saturday morning of Labor Day Weekend, though. I
strongly...STRONGLY...recommend against hiking on the AT in the White Mts. on
Labor Day Weekend.  Anyway...a really good AYCE breakfast was had at whatever
that facility is that serves breakfast in Pinkham Notch.  We then headed up the
trail to Osgood Tentsite for a snack and rest before heading up Madison. 

The day went from being beautiful and sunny and full of people (me, Patch,
Soyboy, Stoat, Pokey and someone else) to being me and Patch standing on a
totally-socked-in, 90-mile-an-hour wind-driven sleetathoned Mt. Madison. It was
truly one of the most incredible things I've ever experienced.  (Next to a
day-beyond-ripe Indiana tomato)

It was funny how drastically things changed as we climbed. First of all, I'd
sent Pokey out in front of us. Why? Because having Pokey in front of you wasn't
a bad thing. Unless, of course, she was in front of you on a trail that you
weren't on.  So, I climbed on...trying to hike fast so as to catch the
in-front-of-me-but-on-a-different-trail Pokey (not knowing, of course, that she
was on a different trail. SHE didn't even know she was on a different trail)  I
caught up with Patch as he was climbing, nearing treeline.  We met a woman in
her late 50s or early 60s. She looked as if she'd seen a ghost...or, some other
thing that might cause a woman of her age to look frightened. I asked her if
she'd seen a tall, skinny girl...and, she had not. This caused much concern to
me. She told us that we'd better turn back as the winds were very strong once
you got into the opening above treeline. We did not heed her warning. We hiked
on. Somewhere in the boulder field we caught a rest-taking Soyboy just as he was
ready to continue on.  Patch and I took a rest ourselves and tried to figure out
what we were going to do about the missing Pokey.  
After a few minutes of high-winded resting, we pushed on to the
lost-in-the-clouds summit.  An incredible climb, it was. Each step taking us
more out of sight and into stronger winds. This is how I would picture traveling
from one 'life' to another 'life'...between life and what happens after it.  It
was that surreal.  It was very much as if I was watching Patch and me hike over
something we couldn't see.  By the time we reached the summit, the winds were so
strong (a weatherman at Mt. Washington told me the next day that the winds had
been in the 90 mile an hour range) that Patch and I couldn't talk to one
another. We couldn't breath if looking into the wind. If our eyes were open to
the wind, tears would be blown out of our eyes....AND, PATCH ONLY HAS ONE!

After a few minutes of 'enjoying' this, I pushed on. I had to get to a ranger
for to find Pokey. Patch was putting his rain gear on between two rocks (every
thing had to be done between two rocks because the wind would blow us down) and
I left him there. I found out later...when reading about the experience in a
book he wrote...that Patch was pretty much terrified. If I'd had any idea, I
would have never left him there, of course.

I got down to Madison Hut and talked to a ranger girl there. She was radioing to
someone else about the missing Pokey. Someone (I believe it was Jukebox) came in
and asked if I was Felix and told us Pokey was on her way in. So, the ranger
stopped the missing person reporting.  Pokey had (apparently) taken a
bad-weather trail, or some such. And, Tennessee Tom, Stoat and Jukebox (and,
maybe someone else. I can't remember) met up with her. We had a fun evening that
night...even though I, and most of us, absolutely despised the hut and the
'croo' that manned it. It didn't help that it was the Saturday of Labor Day
Weekend, either. 

God, what a hike I had....

--
Felix J. McGillicuddy
ME-->GA '98
"Your Move"
ALT '03 KT '03
http://Felixhikes.tripod.com/



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