And then there were five... a 2-day jaunt through the Northern Pemigewasset wilderness

The weather for the weekend of September 1st and 2nd looked great; 70s in the day, low 50s at night - great for hiking and sleeping outside. So, there was a 2-day backpack I had in mind that would allow me to bag a couple of peaks I needed along the rim of the Northern Pemigewasset Wilderness, Galehead and North Twin. John and I had taken this particular route last year, so I was familiar with it, at least most of it.

My route for the weekend would run up to Mt. Garfield, from the Gale River Road, off of Rt. 3. The Garfield trail connects to the AT, and from there I'd take the AT east, stay at the Garfield Ridge campsite, and then the next day continue to Galehead, and then to South Twin. From there, split with the AT and hike to North Twin, and back out. The total mileage for the weekend would be just over 15 miles.

Now, if you look at a map, you'll notice that my end spot is pretty far away from my beginning. If I was there with another person, we could spot a car on either end, but I was alone. But not to worry... I spotted my bike my end point, and then drove back to the start. Simple! But on the was back from spotting my bike, driving 60 MPH down Rt. 3, I realized just how far the bike ride back would be. And, after completing a 10-mile hike that day over some very difficult terrain. And, as it turns out, in not-so-great weather after all.

Thruhikers emerging onto the Garfield summit

I took the Garfield Ridge trail in more so because I wanted to do an overnight at Garfield Ridge, and other than Galehead Hut there wasn't much in the way of sites. And, John and I stayed there last year and it's a very cool little site. The 4.8 Garfield Trail is fairly inconsequential; a steady uphill slog through the woods, with very few views in any direction. I saw a lot of people pass me going the opposite way; I didn't actually see anyone going up like I was. There were lots of cars in the lot and along the road on the trailhead, I'm guessing a lot of these were folks doing a dayhike. I'd gotten a pretty late start - around 2 PM I think - but I only had a five mile hike the first day. After reaching the trail junction (right goes to Georgia, left goes to Maine...) I headed down a very steep trail to the campsite. I figured it was wise to get there early and claim a spot - I was counting on sleeping in the shelter but had my tarp in case. Turns out, they'd rebuilt the shelter recently, and it was a beauty. Click here to read about the new shelter. I inflated my Thermarest and stuck it in the far corner, under the loft. I laid out my sleeping bag, and changed into a dry shirt. A few people were drifting in, but there was plenty of room, as it was still pretty early. I threw a few essentials into my pack (water, extra layer, first aid kit, map, whistle, etc.) and traced my steps back up the trail to go to the summit of Garfield.

I'd gone up Garfield last summer but it was socked in, and I heard the views were great, so even thought I had already "bagged" the peak, I couldn't be this close and not go up on what was a clear, beautiful day with only a few clouds in the sky. It was a quick but steep climb, and I came out onto the vista.

Like so many of these gorgeous summits, about all you can manage to utter is "Oh, wow...", as your breathing catches up and your mind reels at the vast, wild beauty. I sat near the foundation of an old fire tower with a couple of other people, the sun and the summit breeze felt great, and began to dry the sweat I'd accumulated on the quick climb up. Three young NOBO (north-bound) thruhikers and their dog soon joined, and we chatted about their adventures, gear, and other things hikers chat about. They said their daily mileage had plummeted since hitting the White Mountains, a common occurrence. But they couldn't complain, after all; it's some of the toughest going on the whole AT, but also some of the most scenic. Everyone who comes through these mountains seems to understand what a special place it really is.

summit of Garfield

You never really can stay at these places as long as you want; at some point you have to go back down. So I did, wishing happy trails to the epic hikers, and returned to the shelter. I cooked dinner and had some great conversation with the ever-increasing number of visitors, most going the opposite way than me. We shared stories of the trail, and our plans for the rest of the long weekend. The caretaker showed up, and when he saw my form that listed Somerville as my home, we quickly discovered a connection: his sister worked at my neighborhood bar, and I know her pretty well. Small world! He was a very funny and informative guy, who seemed to be an endless font of knowledge concerning all things mountain-related, especially skiing and other winter sports, of which I know almost nothing. A few of us spent the hours of waning light and into the darkness at a little outcropping near the entrance of the site, with a beautiful view of the ridge extending out to Galehead and the Twin Range. A Blue Moon hung in the clear sky, and a shooting star streaked across it, and the caretaker pointed out a tiny glint of light on the side on the ridge in the far distance. "That's Galehead hut. They usually turn the light out right at 9." and explained that oftentimes he'd sit and for some time for it to go off. It's funny, it seems incredibly boring or pointless to sit and stare at a tiny light on a mountain miles away, waiting for the crew to extinguish it after feeding and putting all their guest to bed, but we all knew we'd do the same. Things like that make sense in the mountains.

My mom sent me a card recently with a quote from Thoreau on it. "The moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow." I felt like that much of the next day, after sleeping quite soundly and waking to a light, cold drizzle. I got my stuff together, got my food out of the steel bear box, and munched on a bagel and cream cheese I got on the way up. Everyone was milling about, waiting for the rain to stop, but it didn't seem to be letting up. It also wasn't very heavy, so I decided to get going. I stopped at the spring nearby, filled up my water bladder (I treated with tablets), and hit the AT, hiking east. It was only a couple of miles to Galehead hut, where I could get more water, so I didn't take any more than I needed. Water is heavy, after all. The hike down from the site was arduous and steep, and slick from the rain. I moved slowly, taking great care. It eventually evened out, and my thoughts were definitely flowing.

I think a lot about nature on the trail, naturally, and why it is people seem so keen on being out here in these mountains. I'm not a religious person at all, but at the top of a mountain, I have overwhelming emotional responses that some might consider spiritual; I'd agree in the sense that it's the way, as a child, I always thought I should feel in church, about god; but those feelings never came. But it's not worship for me - for it to be worship would entail believing in a diety or force that can be, and know it's being, worshipped. This is clearly not what nature is, at least I have no reason to believe that's so. With nature it's more about communing, a word I like very much in this context. We are all made of the same stuff that nature is, we are literally, atomically, the same, constructed from billions-year-old stardust. To worship nature would be to worship ourselves, which seems pretty ridiculous; to commune with nature is to commune with ourselves, our own minds and consciousnesses, which seems like a very good thing to do. With every mile, every sore foot, every sunburn, we grow to know ourselves more and more. Nature doesn't care if we're there or not, but that doesn't make the experiences we have within ourselves to be any less powerful. I think just the genders we use to think about these concepts - Mother nature, Father god - is telling about their roles in our lives. In some broad cultural sense, mothers nurture and teach compassion and communication; fathers control and impose discipline and punishment.

thruhikers on South Twin

I arrived at the Galehead hut chilly and wet, my rain jacket seemingly making me even more so due to it's ability to trap sweat in and yet somehow fail to repel water - Marmot, I love my Sawtooth sleeping bag but I'm not impressed with your Precip jacket. Time to go to REI and I fear shell out some big bucks for rain gear that actually delivers. I ditched my pack on the porch and headed inside to try to dry off and warm up. I read a book for a while about the history of the AMC huts, had some hot cocoa and a chocolate chip bar baked by the hut "croo", avoiding going back out in the cold drizzle. But, you gotta keep moving; so after a while I make the quick trip up to Galehead Mountain - finally, bagging a peak on this trip I needed - which was a bit disappointing; no views but a big pile of rocks on the summit. It's like Owl's Head all over again! I came back down to the hut, and ran into the thruhikers again. They hadn't stayed at the site, but opted to camp in the woods a few miles down the trail, probably to avoid the $8 a night site fee. Thruhikers are cheap, but you have to be, if you're taking months off to walk 2200 miles with no income. They were carrying on, loudly joking with each other in faux Jamaican accents. The thruhikers I meet in the Whites always seem a little crazy - I think you have to be to undertake such a journey anyway, but by the time they get here, they've been on the trail a loooong time.

scattered clouds on S. Twin

After filling up my water - all of it, my 2L bladder and 1L bottle since there wouldn't be another chance till I was up and over both South and North Twin - I headed up the .8 miles to the summit of South Twin. I'd done this trail before, and remembered that it was quite steep. I was trying to limit my sweating, since most all my clothes were now wet, and it was rainy and in the 50's. Hypothermia is a concern in those conditions, and mind you, it's still technically summer. This is why you don't take hiking in these mountains lightly, and always have your essentials. In my effort to control my perspiration, I found myself hiking in a way that actually made the mountain quite a bit easier to tackle. I tried to control my movements, hike steady and slow and strong, one foot in front of another. All day I'd felt like my stride was little more that a controlled stagger, I'd been lurchy and stumbly, and it was taking it's toll on my mood. Now, having made small adjustments to my pace and rhythm, I was feeling much better about things, and this steadiness followed me through to the end of the day. I will keep this in mind from now on.

I was glad to read the summit of South Twin, though it was pretty foggy. Quite beautiful, though, anyway; the clouds were blowing by and trying to burn off; the sun would peer out and patches of blue sky presented themselves here and there. It was actually really cool to see views open up, like looking outside through a drifting window, and I was hoping the sun would soon come out at last.

Happy trails leading to N. Twin

I bid a final farewell to the gang of thruhikers, as they would continue on the Appalachian Trail and I was hiking out to the north, out the North Twin trail, back to Rt. 3. I never caught their trail names, but I bet they'll make it to Mt. Katahdin no problem. Finally, travelling down in the col between the Twins, the sun finally came out! It felt really great to finally have dry, sunny weather after being chilly and damp all day. I started to dry out a bit. This might have been my favorite part of the actual hike - other than the summits. It was easy going, the forest was diverse and interesting, song birds were singing, and I was warm. After a short climb back up, I saw the sign pointing me down the North Twin trail, and one pointing to the overlook. I dropped my pack and headed out to the vista.

Garfield was great; North Twin is spectacular. Words can't do it justice, pictures are laughably inadequate. For the first time since sunrise on Mt. Bond, I was actually brought to tears by the sight. The Pemigewasset Wilderness was laid out in all its massive splendor, peak after peak, rolling mountains carpeted with countless trees of late-summer, sun-baked green. The clouds were rolling away. What I think was the warbling of a spruce grouse drifted in from the brush. I was alone, on top of the world. It was marvelous.

overlook on N. Twin

The North Twin trail was long and a steep climb down; I was very glad I wasn't walking up it. About 2 1/2 hours later, I finally made it to the trailhead where I'd spotted my bike. A few exhausted hikers laid around in the sun, and I considered joining them but I wanted to keep the momentum going: I still had to ride my bike a few miles down the road, with a full pack.I drank the remainder of my water and started riding. It was tough, especially going down the gravel roads that connect to Rt. 3. By the end, when I was nearing my car, I had to get off and walk it - I had nothing left.

As I ambled over the last couple of miles through the forest, I had thoughts that I only have when my feet beat a path across this well-worn ground. Revelations and insights come and go like a remote AM signal, insights that many have likely had on this very same trail. Sometimes the signal fades, as if in a tunnel, and sometimes you lose it altogether. But when it does come in loud and clear - and music fills your ears - you remember.

What I should have brought that I didn't have: another layer, preferably a long sleeve Smartwool job. When I wasn't sweating I was getting rained on, and a dry layer would have been welcome. • A rain jacket that actually works...

Luxury item: Thermarest Pillow. A birthday gift, and wow, it's comfy. Usually cram clothes into a stuff sack for a pillow but it doesn't work well. I strapped this to the outside of my pack and credit it (along with my Thermarest Prolite and Sawtooth bag) for getting a better-than-average night's sleep. Might not carry it for a long trip, due to its weight, but for an overnight backpack or car camping, I'll deal with it for a night's sleep almost as comfortable as at home.

Glad I had: Extra socks, as usual. • Light Warm hat; small synthetic bike hat with fleece liner. • Down Jacket; wore at camp when it got dark and cooler, in the morning under my rain jacket before I started hiking. • MSR Pocket Rocket stove: While others were futzing around with iso stoves that have to be assembled like a puzzle or boiling water slightly faster with a Jet Boil the size of a rocket engine, my trusty, lightweight Pocket Rocket boiled water for dinner almost as quick, even on my cookpot without a lid (note: get a cookpot with a lid). • Patagonia Capilene long top & bottom. Haven't used them til now, since it's cooling off; they're warm, dry quickly, light and comfy.

Forgot: Coffee. D'oh!