If you talk in the East about mountains, you talk about the Appalachian Mountains. To experience the whole range you have to walk the Appalachian Trail, 3505 km in 5-7 months from Georgia to Main. Jeh right, not for me. With mM in my foot steps, a friend from the Bay Area with no backcountry experience, 5 days in the rugged White Mountains, notorious for its weather, is more than enough.
When I roll out of the Oto in the morning, mM confronts me with his very unpleasant night in the tent. It was pretty cold indeed and I need first some coffee to deal with this problem. Our route will follow the rim of the Franconia Branch Tributary and will be mostly above 1000 meter with mount Lafayette of 1600 meter as the high point, meaning the temperature will drop about 7-10C compare to last night. On the other hand the weather forecast looks amazing which is very uncommon for this time in the year and it would be stupid not to take advantage of this window. If it really gets to cold, we can always bail down to the road or lower elevations, no reason to panic now.
We start on a flat wide trail and mM is happy that the hike will be easy. Not having any clue what is ahead I warn him: "Enjoy as long as it last!" Quickly the trail starts to climb and for the next couple hours we hike up to Mount Flume, the first peak of the Franconia Ridge. We follow the ridge to Mount Liberty and drop down to the campground for the necessary water straight out of a spring. Not a bad first day but mM is more than toasted, happy however with the clouds to make for a warmer night.
When we wake up wind and fog are in the air and with only 11 km ahead of us we take our time to break up camp. When we finally hit the trail the going goes very slow, too slow and I take over the tent to make some better timing. Back on the ridge the fog encloses us, but we are protected by the trees from the wind which is howling over our heads. The trail follows the ridge and hits all the peaks along, Little Haystack mountain, Mount Lincoln and Mount Lafayette.
The peaks themselves are very exposed and would have an amazing view, was it not for the fog...The wind is Patagonia insane and we barely can walk. Fog is pushed over the ridge with incredible speed and wind catches my overloaded backpack. I stop to regain my balance and make 3 steps. Whooww, I can just hold myself upright on the side of the trail. I wait until the wind dies out and make 3 more steps...whowwww. Its pretty cool and scary at the same time and our speed drops. After struggling for ever with the wind, we finally find the cover of the trees again. I am not so sure anymore about "just 11 km" today.Only Mount Garfield is ahead of us before we will find the cover of the Garfield Lean-to. The trail goes up and down, rain starts pouring down, the trail converts into a river, the temperature drops and we leave the daylight behind us. With only 1 working headlamp and no spare our speed drops even more and we struggle through the night. My spirit drops to a low point and mM knows what is expected from him now. Keep a positive attitude and focus on the Lean-to ahead of us. We struggle on. My brain keeps raising around, what if this headlamp breaks, what if we won't find the Lean-to or a flat spot for the tent, what if we fall, what if...Water is soaking now trough my shoes, through my jacket, through my gloves and I have to keep moving to stay warm. This is totally pushing it for me, lets not even talk about how mM thinks of hiking now.
Finally after 2 hours of misery we detect the Lean-to in the woods. And what even more, 4 guys who welcome us with some home brewed liquor. When I unpack my backpack I find my underwear and socks floating at the bottom in 2 cm of water and my down jacket is soaking wet. I strip down to my wet long underwear and crawl in my sleeping bag, the only thing I packed in a plastic bag. So much for a California girl who is not used to rain anymore. What happened to the Dutch girl living with rain almost everyday. With all the bears sleeping (we hope) I cook from within my bag and start warming up a little. Thats feels at least Dutch again. Cook in the tent and eat dinner in your sleeping bag.
My eye falls on a -40C big big sleeping bag. mM you are on your own, because who ever the guy is, he is going to be my cuddle body for the night. With another stranger on the other side, I have a warm long night of sleep.
With everything soaked we take a day off, to dry things by wearing them. I spend most of the day in my sleeping bag cooking, tea, coffee, soup and popcorn. mM is full over energy and dries the toilet paper, gets water and keeps flipping our clothes. Thanks.After another good warm night of sleep we continue the trail and up and down it goes again. The weather has cleared up and the temperatures are dropping again.
The fog has condensed on the trees around us and its quite and beautiful. It feels that the landscape is waiting for the snow to come. We don't see or hear a single animal, not even a bird the whole day. Snow can be falling on these mountains year around. With no snow in the forecast our worry is more that the rocky trail will be iced over. But the trail stays dry and clean of ice and its becomes an easy day.
The trail climbs up again and drops down through the forest. Even with good weather hiking in the East is not really my thing. All the views are kept hiding behind thick forest and trees are just not really my thing, they can be so boring.
After another night in a Lean-to we finally get on our last day our rewards. The view from the top of Mount Bond, now we are talking. We can see the whole Franconia ridge in front of us and all the peaks we have concurred. With winds of over 100 km/hr on Mount Washington, the high peak nearby, there is no time to sit around and look on this peak either. We make pictures stabilize ourselves and hang in the wind for the last ridge to the downhill back to the Oto. 
With a drive through the Catskills and a climbing day in the Gunks, city boy mM finally gives in. Screw that camping, we stay in hotels from now on. I can't blame him, because the White mountains, jeh that was a little bit more epic then I had in mind. Dag,
Iris (Lincoln, 24307 miles)
