My backpacking trips over the past year have each had their share of disappointments, and this pattern persisted on my most recent adventure. I strive to maintain a positive perspective when writing about my experiences—and while certain personal details remain private and are not shared publicly—there may still be valuable lessons to take away from this latest journey.
I met one of my dearest friends, Mudsmeller, and her hiking partner, Cutie Handful, on the Appalachian Trail nearly nine years ago, and we have since built a lasting friendship based on the life-changing adventures we shared. Mudsmeller and I have continued to hike together whenever possible, even traveling abroad to hike in Costa Rica and Portugal. Mudsmeller and Cutie had completed the entire Appalachian Trail except for the notoriously challenging section through the White Mountains of New Hampshire. I eagerly volunteered to hike this section with Mudsmeller, and as our plans came together, we were thrilled when Cutie decided to join as well. Hikers who form close bonds on long trails are often called a “tramily,” a blend of the words trail and family, and I like to think of the three of us as exactly that. Beyond our shared interests and experiences, we support and encourage each other and genuinely care for one another. While I have made many wonderful friendships on my hiking journeys, none have been as enduring and meaningful as this one.
I took a leisurely three-day drive to New Hampshire, stopping to visit a longtime friend in New York and where we enjoyed a fantastic concert at Levon Helm Studios in Woodstock, with Mary Gauthier opening for Richard Thompson—WOW!
Mudsmeller drove from Minnesota to Michigan, picked up Cutie, and then continued through Canada. We met at Joe Dodge Lodge in Pinkham Notch, New Hampshire, spending the night in the bunkroom. We celebrated our reunion at Big Day Brewing in Gorham, just a few miles down the road, enjoying excellent beer and delicious food—we would become regulars before it was all over, helping to drink them dry of their tasty Birthday Suit Hazy IPA! The following day, we spotted Mudsmeller’s car at Crawford Notch, mine at the 19-Mile Brook Trailhead, and then moved on to The Libby Hostel in Gorham.
Really enjoyed spending time with the hikers at the charming Libby Hostel, housed in the barn next to the historic home. The owners were warm and welcoming, offering excellent and affordable accommodations for hikers. Mudsmeller attempted to patch the sentimental shorts Cutie had worn throughout their hike nine years ago, which had developed holes in the rear. Unfortunately, the hot iron melted the fabric, creating even larger holes. After applying more patches, we both signed our trail names to the repair.
We were shuttled to the Rattle River Trailhead the following morning to begin our south bound hike through the Whites. I took the lead, Mudsmeller the middle and Cutie was the sweep, although we were soon spread far apart Our goal was the Imp shelter 7.9 miles up the trail. A storm was forecast for the evening, so we had plans to stay in the shelter. I decided to take the short but very steep climb off the AT to tag Mt Moriah which I had skipped in 2018. I enjoyed the incredible 360 view of the Presidentials with a young woman working on the NH challenge of tagging all of the 48 4000 foot mountains. I made it to the shelter and claimed space for my hiking partners. Several other hikers were already in residence including a brave woman backpacking with baby attached to her front, backpack on her back plus two other small children in tow. Mudsmeller soon arrived and we set up our sleeping space and ate dinner. As sunset approached and no sign of Cutie, we decided to walk back to look for him, eventually finding him about 1/2 mile or so back. The storm arrived though didn’t seem as severe as predicted and besides, we were safely ensconced in the shelter. Cutie suffered from bad leg cramps throughout the night.
Next, we tackled 7.3 miles to the Carter Notch Hut, where we had reservations. Somehow, I had forgotten how challenging the climb up North Carter Mountain could be. In my defense, when I did it in 2018, I was younger plus had my trail legs after just completing Maine. The ascent was steep and rocky, with tiny ledges for your feet and that required gripping trees and roots to pull yourself up. I waited at the top for Mudsmeller, and we decided I would continue while she waited for Cutie. Middle Carter and South Carter summits were less demanding, and before long, I reached Zeta Pass. I couldn’t locate the water source, but I had enough to get me to the hut. I decided to take the blue blaze, Black Angel Trail bypassing Mount Hight. The climb was steady but gentle, and I finally reached Carter Dome, then descended to Carter Hut, though the last two-tenths of a mile were brutal.
Mudsmeller missed dinner but the friendly young Croo said they would save food for my hiking partners. I did have 1 bar of service and saw that Cutie had posted on our group chat that he was at N Carter which didn’t make any sense to me. Turns out he had stopped to take a break at Middle Carter and inadvertently started hiking back in the direction he had just come. It is an easy mistake to make, and I have done the same more times than I like to admit. Mudsmeller finally arrived and we got a text that Cutie felt he had had enough and was going to cowboy camp at spot he had found at Middle Carter. We obviously were worried about Cutie, but he assured us he was fine and sent photos of his camp and view.
The next day, Mudsmeller and I made our way to my car at the 19-Mile Brook Trailhead along the AT reroute, while Cutie headed to Carter Hut. Mudsmeller had left a bottle of electrolytes for Cutie at Carter Dome, and other hikers from Carter Hut, aware of his situation, offered him much-needed water. The Croo kindly allowed him to stay that night since he had missed the previous reservation, while Mudsmeller and I returned to Joe Dodge. We reunited the following day, and after switching cars at Crawford Notch, decided to head into Conway, NH, to recover and reassess our next leg.
Despite the hiking being more difficult than expected, we enjoyed our time in Conway checking out the REI store and several other outfitters and enjoying dinner and beers at Sea Dog Brewing. Cutie said he was through hiking (pun intended) though once we saw a window of good weather for traversing Mt Washington and were able to secure reservations at Madison and Lake of the Clouds Huts, he was back on board. We had one more night at Joe Dodge and returned to Big Day Brewing for some excellent music performed by Maine string band, Seagrass.
Like so much of her songwriting, it speaks to me!
It was only a little over five miles to Madison Hut, but I remembered Mount Madison being the hardest part of hiking the Whites when I’d done it previously. The Osgood Trail AT reroute was its familiar rocky, rooty self until tree line, when it opened into the Alpine Zone. From there, it became pure rock‑to‑rock travel, following cairns across the exposed ridge.
Several smaller but brutally steep ups and downs came before the final push to Madison’s summit. The weather was forecast to be windy but nothing like what we encountered. The wind began to roar ferociously — turning every step into a fight for balance. As I reached the summit, I could see Mudsmeller behind me in the distance, and I was racked with indecision: wait for her, or push on toward safety?
Right or wrong, I chose to continue. With winds reaching 80 mph, it took me two hours to descend the half mile to the Hut. I’ve been in some precarious situations in my hiking life, but none as difficult or as terrifying as that descent.
Mudsmeller arrived at the hut just as dinner finished. I met her at the door, and we hugged and cried with relief. The Croo worrying about hypothermia urged her to change into warm clothes and to sip some hot soup. But then the concern shifted to Cutie, who was still out there and darkness closing in.
There was serious discussion about calling Search and Rescue, but we were again able to reach him via text. He assured us that he had found a crevice to hunker down in and had all the gear necessary for the expected cold and windy night, including a newly purchased emergency bivy sack. His former Boy Scout leader and Army training came into play as he layered every piece of clothing and raingear he had and later told us he even managed to sleep a little.
The next morning Mudsmeller stayed behind to wait for Cutie while I continued hiking toward Lake of the Clouds Hut. Apparently, the Croo went up to assist Cutie hike down from Madison, bringing him some hot beverage and carrying his backpack. Both he and Mudsmeller spent another night at the hut before descending via the Valley Way Trail. I pressed on with my own adventure above tree line. As I descended to a col near Mount Jefferson, the trail curved around a massive rock, and a sudden gust of wind from below knocked me off balance, causing me to kiss a rock and split my lip. I later discovered I had also chipped a front tooth. Several hikers stopped, concerned by the blood, but I reassured them I was okay. I sat for about 30 minutes to compose myself and stop the bleeding. Unfortunately, my hiking pole was damaged and broke shortly after I resumed hiking. Despite these setbacks, once the wind subsided, I thoroughly enjoyed the stunning views the rest of the day. I opted not to climb Mount Washington, as I had not enjoyed the touristy chaos on my previous visit. Instead, I took a shortcut via the Westside Trail to Lake of the Clouds Hut, where I had a pleasant stay, enjoyed good food, met many interesting people, but missed my hiking companions.
I had planned to hike to the Nauman Tentsite or Webster Cliffs to camp, but with only one useful pole and my tent requiring two to pitch plus rain in the forecast, I faced a dilemma. I was advised to take the Crawford Path through the Gibbs Brook Scenic Area directly to Highland Center, and I’m so glad I did. It was a beautiful hike, and I particularly enjoyed my stop at Gibbs Falls. I spent the night in the Shapleigh Bunkhouse at Highland Center and met delightful hikers, Lulu and Billy Bob, who were excited to be nearing the completion of their AT hike. A young Croo worker, enjoying some downtime, kindly offered to give me a ride to pick up my car.
My hiking companions arrived at Highland Center the following day, and we decided to stay the extra night since we had already paid for the reservation. I had hoped to hike some more, perhaps hiking the legendary Pemigewasset Loop, but those plans fell through. I was feeling down and defeated by how things had turned out and became resigned to just heading home, but Mudsmeller encouraged us to salvage the trip and try to make the best of it. What wonderful, dependable friends I have, who, despite their own challenges, lifted me out of my blues. We decided to head to the Lake Placid area of New York, specifically Wilmington State Park. The scenic drive through Vermont and the High Peaks of Upstate New York included a fun ferry ride across Lake Champlain. The park was beautiful, and we enjoyed nightly campfires, ate way too many bags of Fritos, sampled more craft beer, and Mudsmeller and I even managed a couple of day hikes over the next several days. We hiked an 8-mile loop up to Haystack Mountain and the following day the Owens/Copperas/Winch Ponds Loop. Despite our trip not panning out as planned, we did enjoy some fun and memorable times!
Sadly, it was time to bid farewell to my good friends as we each began our journey home. I had considered attempting to tag Mount Marcy, New York’s highest peak, but after speaking with a ranger at the Adirondack Loj and hearing his warning about forecast thunderstorms, I decided against it. I had already experienced enough of being above tree line in poor weather conditions and didn’t want to tempt fate. I spent a few more days with my friend in Hurley, NY, before heading home, breaking up the drive with a stay at Loft Mountain Campground in Shenandoah National Park. It brought back fond memories of camping there with Frolicking Dinosaur when I began my AT hike in 2017, as well as a family camping trip in the 1990’s. Appropriately, the trip was capped off with a truly breathtaking sunset from a ledge near my campsite!
After completing my Appalachian Trail hike in 2018, I felt euphoric, strong, and self-reliant, and I’ve carried that momentum into my life and every hike since. This recent trip tested my resolve and, I must admit, shook my confidence, but reflecting on it now reminds me of the joy and freedom I feel when out on the trail. I’m not ready to give that up and look forward to feeling that exhilaration again in the future. Mudsmeller and I are already thinking about an epic fall adventure—stay tuned! Dewey signing off! (IYKYK)
“Not all storms come to disrupt your life, some come to clear your path”—Paulo Coelho