Dates ........ Tuesday, August 20, 2002
Miles ........ 8 miles
From ........ Imp Shelter and Campsite
To ............. Hikers paradise Hostel, Gorham, NH
Weather ... Rain overnight, misty-wet morning, clearing P.M. , warm, sunny, hazy

Tuesday, August 20, 2002

Mt. Moriah 4049', shoulder of Middle Mt. Moriah, Rattle River, Mt. Moriah forest fire, US2 at Gorham, NH.

Overnight thunderstorms and rain made me glad I decided to stay in a shelter. It was a very wet, warm and humid morning with the thermometer reading a balmy 72 degF at 8:10 A.M. when I got started. It was too warm to hike in raingear, or even long pants, so I just put on my T-shirt and shorts and got wet. I had to be extra careful. Rocks and tree roots are real slippery when wet - and the rocks are just as hard and damaging.

I love it when the trail takes me to a mountain and I can mingle with the clouds. That's just what this morning was. Mount Moriah, a beautiful mountain made of big sloping rock sides and patches of pine trees and shrubs here and there, was in and out of the clouds and mist. When I could get a view of the valley below, it was awesome. The valleys and mountains would disappear and then reappear as a cloud silently drifted past. The balsam-scented air was fresh, clean and invigorating. Yesterday afternoon's rest helped a lot. I was feeling better today, as if I could actually finish this hike - even if it remained as tough as the first three days. On top of Mt. Moriah I found lots of wild blueberries. They were delicious and just the treat I needed.

I enjoyed climbing Mt. Moriah and the little side trail (0.1 mile) to its summit in the rain. The rain and cool mist of clouds added to its beauty and actually made the hiking more comfortable than the heat. On my way down, when I entered the headwaters of the Rattle River, I heard chainsaws and men yelling in the distance. Getting near town, I thought it was some loggers at work. I heard, then saw a helicopter fly over the next ridge. Then it flew back down toward the valley below. Soon, it returned, a big ball dangling from its underside, disappeared behind some trees, then flew down into the valley again. This continued as I hiked down the river tributary. When I reached the Rattle River's main branch the river became significantly larger. More like a river than the trickle of a stream I had been following off the mountain.

The trail paralleled the river, staying in its valley and following it down the mountainside. The helicopter approached again, this time directly overhead and quite low. As it passed over me I was showered with water even though the clouds had long gone and it was clear and sunny out. Chainsaws, men yelling, helicopter with a water bucket, all added up to fighting a fire nearby. But I could not see or smell smoke, even though it had to be close by. Unconcerned, I continued down the trail towards Route 2. I took a short break at the rattle River shelter. It was a lovely spot deep in the forest with the sound of cascading water rushing by. I almost dozed off in the warmth of the sunshine. The returning helicopter brought me quickly back to reality.

Rattle River cascades down the slope of Mount Moriah, NH

I met a group of college kids heading up the trail on an outing. I felt so sorry for them: evidently no one had told them the advantages of packing light. They struggled under voluminous heavyweight packs that must have contained everything they thought essential and dozens of things they "might" need. My pack must have looked like a daypack to them; it was so small in comparison. When you see big axes, full-sized flashlights and oversized sleeping bags adorning a pack, you know these folks have not trekked far into the wilderness too often. I felt sorry for them, especially the girls - they were really struggling and they were less than two miles from their starting point. The boys were less interested in being gallant than showing their bravado and strength. What a crew! They asked if the fire was near the trail. I told them I thought it was a mile or more away and hadn't seen it, just the evidence of the firefighters.

The rattle river cuts a beautiful gorge down to the Androscoggin River. It has cascades, falls, and deep pools of crystal clear water over a boulder-strewn rock-lined bed. I could see every pebble clearly, even in six feet of water. This trail segment ended at a trailhead parking area on US Route 2. When I arrived, a couple of vacationers were just getting into their car. They asked directions to Mount Washington. I knew that Route 2 led into Gorham where they turned onto Route 16 (the way I had driven up four days ago) and that led directly to the Mount Washington auto road. I offered to show them the way if they'd give me a ride into town, which they did - dropping me off at the town line. I didn't know hiker's Paradise was on the other side of town. As I passed a hot dog stand I looked back and could see the fire burning.

I stopped at the first pay phone I came into. It was 2:50. I was greeted with "where the H..l have you been - I was just about to call out the rangers to look for you." The message I had sent to the hostel had not connected with John at home. He had called them and they had no idea where I was or even if I had arrived yet. The hostel owner thought he had a "mystery hiker" coming in late and a missing hiker not showing up. He had not put 2 plus 2 together. John had called search and rescue and they advised him to call again if he had not heard from me by 3 this afternoon. Thus, my 2:50 call relieved a lot of anxiety and saved me lots of embarrassment. When I got to the hostel there were two messages with misspelled and evidently misunderstood names, one for a late mystery hiker and one for L Roberts to call John Plum. Must have been a very bad connection.

That straightened out, I took a bunk in the hostel, did laundry, took a shower and rode one of the hostel bikes to Burger King where I downed two double Big Kings, a super-sized order of fries and a strawberry shake. That was after I ate 2 hot dogs and 2 Eskimo ice cream bars at the hot dog stand on the other side of town. Later, when I took my return package of trail guides, maps and film to the post office to mail back home, I got two more Big King double burgers "to go" for tomorrow's lunch and supper. I bought a 6-pack of beer, which I shared with others back at the hostel and a loaf of bread for sandwiches. I made 10 P&J sandwiches and re-packed. It was hot in the hostel, a 2nd-floor apartment converted to a hiker's bunkhouse, but the window fan drowned out the street noise while keeping the air moving.

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