Franconia Notch to LIttle Haystack Mountain to Speare Memorial Hospital

An early breakfast in Littleton, maybe shoulda gone to Polly's Pancake Parlor instead of the Coffee Pot, ah the wisdom of hindsight. I hadda order to fattiest, most greasy thing on the menu, in a place I think is known for fatty and greasy food-eggs, corned beef hash, bacon, etc. I figured it would be OK since we were gonna do a quite difficult AT section for the next cupla days and I'd burn off all the fat.

Nearly all the way through and a sudden abdominal pain, maybe all that fatty food just doesn't wanna go down, which has historically been a problem for me. I still remember as a child eating a big load of "crackle", the fatty skin from a pork roast that goes crispy while baking and tastes delicious, but made me feel quite ill afterwards.

We drive to the trail head at Franconia Notch and it seems to be getting worse, and hiking up doesn't help much either, it's not an easy trail and having a pain in the belly doesn't help.

It's only 2 and a half miles up to the first water stop at Liberty Springs Campsite, it's not immediately obvious and a couple that looked like they camped there were no help, ended up getting water just off the trail and then saw the real spring just up ahead.

Belly pain is getting worse and I start to get worried for the first time, doesn't look like it's going away anytime soon and the trail is not getting much easier, ups and downs and some thick brush that overgrows, plus the inevitable rocks that have to be navigated.

We get to Little Haystack and sit to rest, the pain is by now almost unbearable and we have to decide what to do, I know abdominal pain is a serious, perhaps even life threatening problem if some internal organ is under such duress, calling 911 might be a possibility but what would they do? There maybe no signal anyway, there's no where for a chopper to land, and getting up to the ridge top with gurney (and back down again) would seem to be next to impossible. I've seen hikers rescued by a gurny but the terrain was much easier than this.

I'm at least still mobile at this point, and the Falling Water trail heads back down the mountain, it looks perilously steep however. We'v done it before, about 2 years ago as part of the Presi traverse, but that was carrying only a very light pack and being fit and healthy. This looks like an entirely different animal indeed.

It seems to best option anyway, so we head down and for a while I do OK, slow but we actually pass a cupla other backpackers, 2 guys and one is rather overweight. I haven't eaten anything for a while now and I start feeling a bit weak, although not hungry. We come to a junction that I remember from 2 years ago and sit for a minute to rest and the 2 guys pass by but don't say anything.

More slow progress down, sit again to rest and I suddenly feel nauseous and throw up, that can't be a good thing, getting weaker all the time but still able to carry the pack. Again the guys pass us and one comments that I need to drink more water, how stupid can you get, can't he see there's something seriously wrong?

There's nothing to do but keep struggling on, getting more and more difficult. It's actually quite a pretty trail, lotsa waterfalls to look at, and the water running down huge sloping rockfaces that you walk across, but I can barely appreciate it.

Another stop to rest, and another chance to barf, we still manage to pass the two guys, and they still manage to pass us by without saying anything about my obviously distressed condition, and now others are coming up the trail and don't say anything either.

I'm getting more and more zombie like, soon I'm gonna bite someone and they'll turn into a zombie too. At some point we stop to rest and Matilda grabs my pack and takes off with both, one of the front and one on the back. By now I really feel like a zombie, barely able to walk and still no one stops to help, despite my zombie like appearance and Matilda carrying 2 packs, what is it about folks here?

It seems to take an eternity to get to the bottom, ultimately about 5 hours to do about two and a half miles, we're obviously close now and the plan was to call the local shuttle folks and have them take us back to the car and go to the nearest emergency room, but I'm too far gone for that, can barely walk, so Matilda calls 911.

We come to the end, there's a nice grassy spot so I just collapse into a ball and finally someone asks if I'm OK, not likely but the ambulance is on the way, thanks anyhow. Maybe I shoulda done this earlier?

First to arrive are the police, they're not much help and the cop opines that it's my appendix, not likely since they're already gone. I'm expecting it take a while for the ambulance to arrive, it's a rather isolated spot, it comes pretty quickly in fact and they ask if I can walk, that would be yes with a little help.

They take blood in the ambulance and the tech remarks that it looks like goo it so thick, yes I'm severely dehydrated because I couldn't keep any water down, also partly explains the zombie walk.

The pain is really bad now, rate it 8 outa 10, I lie on my side in the ambulance because it eases it a little, they don't know what it is so can't give me anything for it at the moment.

At the hospital and I suddenly realize Matilda isn't there, I know it's only gonna be a few minutes since the police took her to pick up the car, but still it's an overwhelming feeling of loss, hope it's quick.

First thing is an MRI to see what's going on, I gotta drink this stuff that actually doesn't taste bad, they figure I'll throw it back up at some point but ask if I can hold it in, I manage to do so until the procedure is over and out it comes, at least it relieves the pain a bit.

The doc comes in and asks if I'm still in pain, that'd be a yes for sure, so they give me some morphine derivative, it takes a few minutes but finally comes, an extremely pleasant sensation of painlessness and relaxation, oh heaven.

The doc has diagnosis, they can see that the stuff I drank has just gone so far into my small intestine and then stopped, it's completely blocked and scar tissue from a previous operation is the culprit, it's somehow wrapped around the intestine and blocked it off, ultimately a life threatening situation since the intestine can die from the blood supply being choked off, then it bursts and you're really in big trouble.

The treatment is to jam a tube down the nasal passage and try to drain everything out with some kinda pump and see if the intestine will unblock itself, it never seems as if much comes out and the pain doesn't subside much without pain killers, so by Sunday they decide that the only course is to operate to remove the blockage.

Kinsman Pond Shelter to Franconia Notch

We woke up at 9:30, a 12 hour sleep, a new record for me I think, how tired must we have been after a long yesterday. There was a heavy fog all around, so thick you couldn't see the lake well at all, so no pictures.

The trail starts off easily, then goes straight down, took us 30 mins to go a quarter of a mile, inching down the steep rocks. It does get easier but is basically a stream bed, wet wet and more wet, with occasional steep rocks to descend.

It's only supposed to be 2.7 miles to Lonesome Lake Hut, seems to take forever. Finally there and it's only staffed by the caretaker at the moment, its cutover time to being fully staffed for the summer and the crew is arriving, we sit around drinking tea and eating some cake before heading down the last few miles to Franconia Notch.

The summer crew is like a mule train, they carry huge supplies on their backs with some awkward looking arrangements, the first mule is worried about his performance, whether he'll be able to do it, the caretaker is re-assuring.

We head off down an easy trail, there are warning signs about the bridge over Cascade Brook being out, should we Yellow Blaze and go down the alternative, or chance being able to get across the stream?

The brook is definitely raging, more and more as we go down, and no at all of the bridge when we get to the crossing point, looks like it was completely swept away.

The recommended crossing point is just upstream, we pick up a likely spot with rocks to hold onto and plunge in, boots and all, they're soaked already so no point in keeping them dry.

There's a big rock right in the middle that's good for support, inching across with poles, trying not to trip on the rocks in the stream that we can't see, the water is cold and very wet, and up to our thighs, and getting packs all wet would not be great.

Our feet dry out a bit, then another stream pops up to re-wet them, no getting dry feet in NH, mission impossible.

Down to the bottom and under the freeway (I-93) and we come to a junction with a sealed footpath that shows the AT but no parking area. We go up and down a trail called the Whitehouse Trail, no parking area, up and down the AT, no parking area, more cursing of AMC for not putting up a sign, google maps is no help at all.

We decide to walk down the interstate for a bit toward the Flume Gorge exit, seen it before and it might help to orientate us, Matilda tries to flag down some exiting cars but of course they don't stop. As we walk down we see Route 3 and look at the map and it all clicks into place, dry clothes and shoes on and we head off for Littleton and the pub (Bailiwicks at Thayers) for burgers and beers, argghh.

We need some supplies but all the outfitters are closed, how does an outfitter close at 5pm? Oh well off to the town of Franconia and can't find the motel in such a little town, seems to be the day for getting lost. The guys is very helpful, he'll shuttle us on Saturday even though we aren't staying there that day, and does our laundry for us, all nice and dry and clean, but of course it won't last long. The place has a nice hot tub so we luxuriate for a while to free up tight legs.

N.H. 112, Kinsman Notch to Kinsman Pond Shelter

The day was only supposed to be 11.5 miles, usually not too bad, but not in the NH! The section starts with a hard slog up Mount Wolf.

We started to notice the "spores" of some trail clearers with axes, there were chippings by the side of trees that had been cleared from the trail, it looked like instead of using saws these folks were cutting trees by hand with axes, truly a hard way to go.

The spores seem to get fresher and fresher, and we start to hear the sound of chopping ahead, soon enough we see 2 guys swinging those axes in very skillful way, an old fashioned skill being practiced by 2 young guys. They have stones to sharpen them with (haven't seen those used since the days on the farm in Australia) and holders to carry them on their backs, when they're finished with a blowdown they run down the trail to the next one, very impressive.

Not at the Eliza Brook shelter until 4pm, 7.5 miles in 6 1/2 hours, what progress. Pushing on to Kinsman Pond and it's a murderous assent up the mountain, just climbing up this long chute full of huge rocks, roots, water, and straight up, no rest at all. The kinda reward at the top is a spectacular view of the upcoming Franconia Ridge.

Very late arrival by a beautiful pond, 11.5 miles in 10 hours, what a slog. I felt really cold standing around the shelter until we ate, lack of fuel and the tiredness from all the day caught up. The water source is the pond itself, a little iffy since you don't know what drains into it, but worked out OK.

It was already kinda dark when we got there so didn't take any pix, figured we could wait till the morrow, alas a heavy fog set in overnight so no original pix at all of such a great spot.

Mt Moosilauke, N.H. 25 to N.H. 112, Kinsman Notch

Finally a bright sunny and rainless morning, after all the nasty weather of the last few days. This was our day to do Mousilauke, the southern most peak of the Whites, and the first peak above tree line since Tennessee- a bit exciting. It's also known for a very steep and tricky north side, so we decided to go up that way rather than down.

Another hook up with Phat Chap, the plan was to drive around to the hostel in the morning, then we'd take him back to the north side and he'd drive our car back to the finishing point, all for which he refuses to accept payment.

The AT in New Hampshire can be frustrating to follow, it's often not marked as the AT and doesn't have the usual white blazes. We'd already experienced this a cupla years before doing the presidential traverse, it was difficult to follow the AT at times and some folks got lost.

We hadn't gone but 50 yards when we hit this problem again, the trail was not marked as the AT and we have to backtrack to the map on a Forest Service kiosk to see which way to go.

The trail almost immediately starts going up, following a stream as it cascades down the mountain, and some times the trail and the stream are the same. It's rocky and steep, with the occasional root system to make things even more tricky, plus wet and slippery. The stream is raging down the side of the mountain, swelled from the snow melt.

It's a bright sunny day so we didn't bring any rain gear, not a problem at the lower elevations, as we get higher there's more and more snow on the evergreens and as it melts in the lovely spring sunshine, it falls down on us in big gloops, like huge raindrops, and we're soon getting wet.

In addition, the snow on the ground has melted to some extent, turning into slush, we're wearing day hiking sneakers so feet are now wet and a little cold as well.

Moosilauke is above the treeline but you don't pop outa the woods until almost at the summit, along the way we get some spots with great views of snowfields glistening in the sun, temps are pretty good as long as the wind doesn't kick up, so we feel pretty good.

Just near the summit and we emerge from the forest through a little hole, kinda like outa the rabbit hole and into the strong wind,

it's so windy that I can't control the camera and am afraid of dropping it, plus the wind makes gloves a necessity, making operating the camera a real challenge.

The wind has blown ice and snow onto the rock cairns that guide the way, now they almost look like little figurines wearing white capes, hunched over with their backs to the wind. It's only a few meters to the summit and we follow the figurines as they lead us up to the top.

It's layer up immediately with the biting wind, we're hot and sweaty from the climb but you feel the wind blow right through and take the sweat right off your skin, it's a cold feeling.

Quite a few have ventured up, it's not really cold and some hardy youth are decked out in shorts, but their legs look blue, it's all in the wind, and some bought dogs too, there are two that look like snow they're so white, they could get lost.

We don't spend too much time on top, it's too windy and cold. Off the summit and back into the trees it's much warmer, and the further down we go, the warmer it gets and the less snow on the ground, until finally it disappears altogether and the trail is just plain muddy.

The landscape flattens out, meaning low country is close by, and we come out of the woods finally and into a

field, here it really feels like spring time, it's warm and sunny, the grass is bright spring green, and the insects are buzzing around. Everything looks full of spring juice.

Phat Chap has warned us not to try and cross the creek that's now raging by, the snow melt has made it to lower elevations and is running past us, and apparently the bridge on the AT that crosses it is washed out. He says following the road instead "is a legitimate blue blaze", meaning that taking a diversion off the AT is OK and still counts as trail miles because of the conditions.

We're soon back to his hostel to grab our keys and head on back to town for a cold beer and some food. The normal condition after a backpack is to be fairly tired and hungry, since this was only a day hike, we have energy left to cook, there's a free-for-guests BBQ at the motel and a rather enticing looking store across the street that has fresh food, including

steak and veggies, so we decide to cook out rather than dine in.

The motel guy is Quebecois, he's very friendly but has a commanding view of the whole place, and I get the impression that he notices everything that happens. I have a little trouble getting the BBQ to light and he quickly comes down from his perch to assist, it all works out and we're soon enjoying grilled steak and veggies, with some cold beer to wash it down.