Operation “Moosilauke on Thursday” is in full swing! I’m at a flat spot mentioned in GH, waaaay too close to a road. But it’s not actally visible from the road, and it’s Tuesday in New Hampshire, not Saturday in Virginia, so I feel OK about it. At least there shouldn’t be bears! Yesterday at a stealth site about 3 miles before Hexacuba, I saw a giant black thing that could have been fungus, old wood, or a mighty ball of dried bear crap. I’m so paranoid about bears at the moment that I didn’t stay there, but marched on to the shelter.
From here, it’ll be an easy walk to Glencliff—about 5 miles, with one mountain. I’ll get there at 9ish, after they’ve had breakfast and after the slackpackers have left, and hopefully I’ll get a good bunk near a plug and won’t have a long line for laundry.
No signal here. Just me, the mosquitoes, and the Half-Blood Prince (again).
Today was hot. So was yesterday. The humidity’s off the charts, and climbing mountains hasn’t been easy. I think I found a new way to pack my pack, though, which relieves some of the shoulder pain I’ve been having. (The pack’s really beat. It’s not uncommon for thru-hikers to need to order a second pack at some point. This one’s pretty OK, though, except that the shoulder padding has basically worn away. I’ve got some workarounds.)
Cube Mountain! I don’t know why, but I really like that one. I liked it SOBO, and I liked it NOBO. Later I stopped at one of my favorite privies, the one that’s built like a castle. It’s full of trash and leaves now, but the structure still looks good.
Ohmygod, you guys! Speaking of privies! Remember when I said that thru-hiking turns you into an animal? Well, I was setting up my tent in the area between the road and this little creek maybe 20 feet away. I’m hot and sweaty. I ate a bag of chickpeas for second breakfast and a half-pound of dried cherries for lunch, because they’re heavy and I’m tired. But the effect has been… explosive. 😅 So I’m setting up the tent, and I’m farting. I mean, I’m farting, with great enthusiasm. I’m doing a Betty Boop dance, and farting. I’m lifting one leg and trumpeting. I’m practically farting the alphabet… and I glance down at the creek and see a guy filtering water, maybe 15 feet away, looking directly at me. Oh. My. God.
I stopped farting out loud. Then I went down and apologized for the noise. He laughed and was like, “Hey, you do what you gotta do.” Turns out he’s a SOBO. There are so many SOBOs! I forget to watch for them. The funniest thing, though, was when this guy got back on trail. He hiked north past my tent and said, “You can get back to your stealthing and farting now!” 😝
Anyway, here I am. I lost my train of thought in the amusing gaseous interlude.
Tomorrow: Glencliff hostel, I hope. It would be good if it didn’t rain tonight, but if it does, I’ll deal. Oh, and for what it’s worth, it seems that plenty of people are still doing Moosilauke northbound. So… OK. I think I’m good.
Frogs, +1! Go, frogs!