Day 33, July 25: Higher in the White Mountains.

I wanted to avoid hiking the steep ascent before rain started falling after 9 or 10 in the morning. At 6:00 am the air was still calm as I walked past the shelter, but the smell of cigarette smoke wafting from that area reaffirmed my preference for sleeping in my tent.  I bolted from Imp Campsite back to the trail where I faced a series of five 4,000 foot-plus summits and rain in the forecast.

By 7:30am very light rain began to fall as I ascended the summits of North and Middle Carter Mountains which were below treeline.  A small ledge near the top provided me with a view toward of my route going forward. I had hope the rain would be lighter than expected, and I pushed on through the boggy and dreadfully muddy trail.

Rain soaked my jacket and backpack well into mid-morning as I reach Zeta Pass, a low, flat area that could provide shelter from the strong, damp wind.  I needed to rest and eat. While snacking I took action to keep me dry during my break.  The tarp without the net tent was easy to erect and kept me dry while the wind blew and the rain fell on the tarp instead of me and my gear. A hot drink and food warmed my body and spirit enough to look forward to the remainder of hike to the 4,832-foot summit of Carter Dome and the steep but not scary descent to Carter Notch Hut.

As this was my first White Mountains hut experience I was in awe once I entered the rustic main hut where the host and smell of food from the kitchen welcomed me. I was assigned a woody bunk room with knotted pine walls.  My bunk featured a mattress, shelf for small items, a battery powered lamp, and a gear loft overhead. The room was filled with numerous hooks for hanging wet clothes and backpacks.  Dinner served family style among the 30 guests was more of an event than just a meal. 

At the hut I met fellow AT Hiker, Babbitt, hiking northbound.  We talked trail at length. While recounting the challenges of hiking in wet, cold weather Babbitt mentioned he lost his buff on the trail.  Earlier in the day I had picked up a soaking wet Merrill buff somebody else had dropped.  It was the best trail magic I could imagine! One hiker’s loss, gifted to Babbitt with me as facilitator is the way of the trail.  “The trail provides!”