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choco_froshRight, I should post something about the Presidential Traverse.
At some point there will be photos, but there are some that just didn't happen. Neither of us were awake enough to get a photo showing one of us with a frowny face in front of the motel alarm clock reading 4:52. And we didn't get a photo on the top of Mt. Madison. We were too busy trying to breathe, not get blown off the mountain, and not get hypothermia in 70 mph winds. (The last mile to the summit was pretty interesting too. One of two times I've really thought I might die on a mountain.)
(We still did THAT chunk of the climb in like 3/4 of the book time.*)
I don't think Dan got any photos at Madison Springs Hut, tho we stopped there for a while while I got delicious hot beverage and we both recovered somewhat. There's SORT of a photo from the top of Adams...although we're in a sheltered spot a couple yards below the summit. We texted various relatives from the upper part of Edmands Col; there aren't any of us trying to stay upright and find shelter lower down, nor of the bit where we had to stop and bandage my hand after I slashed it open on a rock while trying to do so. Jefferson was pleasant; we skipped Clay; by the time we were going up Washington we were pretty tired. The top of Washington was crowded and kinda annoying, as usual. He *did* get photos of the crew of Dartmouth students carrying a canoe up from Lake of the Clouds: I don't think we ever got the whole story on why and how. After that, it was sort of all downhill, in every sense. Dan's lack of sleep started to tell on us as we were going down Franklin. Well, making sure he stayed safe was most of why I was along on this jaunt.
["Have I mentioned already that I think you're insane?" "Yes."]
I got him over Eisenhower, up Clinton, and down through disappointments about slow rates of progress to the bottom, where we picked up my car. By then, it was too late to drive over Jefferson Notch (=very precipitous back road that's a more direct route back to where we started. And too late to do a proper celebratory dinner: we grabbed cheap Italian food in Gorham.
And unfortunately, while he'd started to revive when we reached the parking lot, that was where *I* ran out of steam: so much so that I was falling asleep at the wheel going along 113. So much so that I got pulled over after we got onto Rte 25. Fortunately, the cop was more concerned about my welfare than about ticketing me, and I was able to assure him that we only had a couple more miles to go before Dan had to drop off his car anyway, and could drive me the rest of the way to Portland.
So we survived. I have ginormous blisters, my thighs hurt, and my hand looks like I had some sort of minor industrial accident, but we're alive.
Now, unfortunately, I have to find a job. Like, urgently. My parents started getting on my case about this as soon as Peter left last Friday,** and they have a point.
Soooo...yeah. I don't think I can really justify going to Boston for the house concert at the Buttery tomorrow: it's too late to contact Boston lawyers or publishers to try to stop by for a chat while I'm there, and so I should be sitting around Temp Agency #2, and doing job applications.***
(I may go anyway. Feel free to talk me into or out of it.)
* Book Time=the AMC Guide's estimate of how long it should take to hike a particular trail.
** which now seems like a different lifetime.
*** Esp. since I was sufficiently tired, lazy, and out of my normal routine yesterday that I blew most of the day on my fourth most shameful pastime, namely reading teen fantasy novels.
At some point there will be photos, but there are some that just didn't happen. Neither of us were awake enough to get a photo showing one of us with a frowny face in front of the motel alarm clock reading 4:52. And we didn't get a photo on the top of Mt. Madison. We were too busy trying to breathe, not get blown off the mountain, and not get hypothermia in 70 mph winds. (The last mile to the summit was pretty interesting too. One of two times I've really thought I might die on a mountain.)
(We still did THAT chunk of the climb in like 3/4 of the book time.*)
I don't think Dan got any photos at Madison Springs Hut, tho we stopped there for a while while I got delicious hot beverage and we both recovered somewhat. There's SORT of a photo from the top of Adams...although we're in a sheltered spot a couple yards below the summit. We texted various relatives from the upper part of Edmands Col; there aren't any of us trying to stay upright and find shelter lower down, nor of the bit where we had to stop and bandage my hand after I slashed it open on a rock while trying to do so. Jefferson was pleasant; we skipped Clay; by the time we were going up Washington we were pretty tired. The top of Washington was crowded and kinda annoying, as usual. He *did* get photos of the crew of Dartmouth students carrying a canoe up from Lake of the Clouds: I don't think we ever got the whole story on why and how. After that, it was sort of all downhill, in every sense. Dan's lack of sleep started to tell on us as we were going down Franklin. Well, making sure he stayed safe was most of why I was along on this jaunt.
["Have I mentioned already that I think you're insane?" "Yes."]
I got him over Eisenhower, up Clinton, and down through disappointments about slow rates of progress to the bottom, where we picked up my car. By then, it was too late to drive over Jefferson Notch (=very precipitous back road that's a more direct route back to where we started. And too late to do a proper celebratory dinner: we grabbed cheap Italian food in Gorham.
And unfortunately, while he'd started to revive when we reached the parking lot, that was where *I* ran out of steam: so much so that I was falling asleep at the wheel going along 113. So much so that I got pulled over after we got onto Rte 25. Fortunately, the cop was more concerned about my welfare than about ticketing me, and I was able to assure him that we only had a couple more miles to go before Dan had to drop off his car anyway, and could drive me the rest of the way to Portland.
So we survived. I have ginormous blisters, my thighs hurt, and my hand looks like I had some sort of minor industrial accident, but we're alive.
Now, unfortunately, I have to find a job. Like, urgently. My parents started getting on my case about this as soon as Peter left last Friday,** and they have a point.
Soooo...yeah. I don't think I can really justify going to Boston for the house concert at the Buttery tomorrow: it's too late to contact Boston lawyers or publishers to try to stop by for a chat while I'm there, and so I should be sitting around Temp Agency #2, and doing job applications.***
(I may go anyway. Feel free to talk me into or out of it.)
* Book Time=the AMC Guide's estimate of how long it should take to hike a particular trail.
** which now seems like a different lifetime.
*** Esp. since I was sufficiently tired, lazy, and out of my normal routine yesterday that I blew most of the day on my fourth most shameful pastime, namely reading teen fantasy novels.
