Week Nineteen – Finishing Vermont and Entering the Granite Dragon (New Hampshire)

Hello everyone! This week on the AT had a lot of figurative and literal ups and downs, and we are continuing to move north and love the trail. Here’s what’s been happening!

Day 127, Monday July 24: We woke up in the Airbnb, fully prepared for a great Zero day on the town. We went to Shyrl’s diner for breakfast, where the prices were cheap and there were plaques with funny sayings all over the walls. My personal favorite was “If idiots grew on trees, this place would be an orchard!”

After breakfast we headed to an outfitter to pick up some new insoles for Meadow’s shoes. After that we headed to a little place called Ben and Jerry’s ice cream factory, where we took a tour of the shop space and got some free samples. The Vermont factory is the smallest Ben and Jerry’s factory; they can only make one type of ice cream at a time. The 24/7 shop runs three shifts and employs just over 100 employees, and each employee can take home three pints of ice cream after every shift! After the tour we purchased enormous waffle cones; I can confirm that the coconut seven-layer bar ice cream and the Tonight Dough ice cream were both amazing!

After enjoying the rest of our ice cream, we headed to Morse Farms to learn about the maple syrup production process and taste some syrup. The educational video we watched in the Woodshed Theatre featured narration by Burr Morse, the fourth generation sugarworker and proprietor of the farm. His son is now the fifth generation to operate the farm, and there was a lot to learn and do on the grounds. Their sap collection season only lasts about five weeks each spring, since the nights must be below freezing and the days must be above freezing for the sap to run. In the video, Burr Morse said that he has never heard of anyone planting a farm of sugar maple trees since they take a minimum of 40 to 50 years to grow growth before they can be tapped for the first time. Historically, sap collection was completed by dumping the sap buckets into a large collection bin that would be pulled through the forest by a horse or team of horses. Now, most sugar farms have modernized to use plastic tubing “irrigation” to connect the maple trees and drain the sap to a central location. A negative pressure is also drawn on the tubing, to draw up to twice the amount of sugar sap from the trees as would normally be drawn out by the typical ambient pressure. All maple syrup farms also use a reverse osmosis system to concentrate the sap prior to boiling it so less energy is needed to heat the syrup for the boiling process. It still takes 40 to 60 gallons of maple sap to produce a single gallon of maple syrup. We toured the boiling shed where the reverse osmosis system and boiling vats were, and the tasting room and gift shop. Our visit to Morse Farm was a memorable one and I would highly recommend a visit if you’re ever in the eastern Vermont area! They also have a few walking trails through their maple forests, which would be a delight during the Fall.

We went back to the Airbnb and did some of our trail chores, like laundry and sorting through our food resupply. We ordered Mexican food from another local restaurant (another crowd favorite!) and spent the evening eating and chatting, two of our favorite things besides walking. The zero day was busy and fun with minimal time spent on our feet, which made it a perfect zero day!

Day 128, Tuesday July 25: We woke up in the Airbnb and packed up the last of our things before heading back to the trail. Christine dropped us off at the trailhead here we left off, and we said our goodbyes. Thank you so much for a wonderful visit, Christine!! We started hiking just before 9am, to a lovely sunny sky. The air temperature was already warm even in the morning, and we stopped to apply bug spray as soon as we got started. A few short hours into the day’s hike, I felt an unusual slapping sensation on the bottom of my left foot. I looked down to inspect, and was aghast at what I found: the sole of my brand new hiking shoe was falling off! The tread and bottom sole on the heel of my left shoe had separated, flapping uselessly with every step. I gasped loudly, and when Meadow turned around to see what was causing the commotion she too gasped loudly. I sat on the ground and pulled off my shoe carefully, as if the whole thing were a time bomb ready to blow into pieces of jostled in the wrong way. The duct tape I had wound around my trekking pole several months ago for storage had lost all of its stickiness when I pulled it off, so duct taping the shoe wasn’t an option. I was just about to cut a length of Paracord off of our bear hanging rope to see if I could tie it, when a other hiker passed by. I asked him if he had any duct tape, and he gave me some. I taped the sole as best I could, but I knew it wouldn’t hold for very long. Another Thru-Hiker named Semper Dry passed by about five minutes later, and seeing my handiwork he asked me if I wanted any super glue. He had super glue!! It worked beautifully! I knew the sole wasn’t permanently fixed, but it was at least wearable and wouldn’t trip me. I thanked Semper Dry profusely, and vowed to pick up my own tube of super glue at the earliest opportunity. While we waited for the glue to cure, I did some research on where I could have new shoes shipped within the next few days for pickup; the options weren’t great. After about an hour of looking into the expensive and suspicious express shipping options and destinations where I could pick them up as we passed by, I gave up–none of the options would ensure the shoes could arrive before we got there and I didn’t want to have to wait in a town for a pair of shoes. I ordered two new pairs of shoes to my home in case of future emergency, and willed my glued sole to last until the next time I saw Nick when he could bring a fresh pair. The shoe situation temporarily under control, we moved on. We passed Thundering Falls, a beautiful and very tall waterfall with a tempting pool at its base.

We also crossed the wide and shallow Ottaquechee River via a low boardwalk. As we passed over the river, an older couple passed us and the gentleman said “You guys got an early start!” I’m not sure what he meant by that as it was early afternoon by the time we saw him, but we smiled and waved cheerily nonetheless.

As we hiked into the afternoon, we were again grateful for the cover of trees to temper the sun’s fury. We passed through deciduous forests and pine forests, up over hills and into valleys. At one point, the AT path hucked itself right over the edge of a twenty-foot sheer rock wall…luckily, a thoughtful trail maintainer had placed an extension ladder there for hikers to use. All told, we hiked over sixteen miles, which was the longest day we had hiked since the previous Wednesday! We ended our day at the Winturri Shelter, where a hiker named Freebird was cooking dinner when we arrived. We chatted with Freebird about his hike and our reason for hiking the AT. He had wanted to Thru-Hike ever since he was a boy scout, and after finally retiring as a lifelong IT specialist he was fulfilling his childhood dream. He had broken his foot while on trail a few months ago, and after resting and healing up he was able to return to the trial to continue his steady progress forward. After a long day, we went to sleep in the shelter around 9pm.

Day 129, Wednesday July 26: We woke up in the shelter fairly early, and decided to cook our oatmeal breakfast before moving on. We started hiking around 8am, and the humidity was ramping up along with the temperature. We laced ourselves with bug spray and continued plugging onward through the Long Green Tunnel. We had several breaks in the Tunnel as we passed through open pastures, and I enjoyed inspecting the wildflowers and soaking in the sunshine.

We stopped for lunch around 11:30am, and noticed that there were some plastic tubes around one of the trees nearby…could it be? Yes, a sugar maple! There were some sugar sap collection tubes around several of the sugar maples adjacent to the trail, their outgoing ends disappearing down into the valley. The sap of course wasn’t flowing since it wasn’t the right time of year, but it was interesting to see the tubing in person after learning about them at Morse Farm.

The afternoon hike was warm but pleasant with the sun still shining in the sky. It was at least ten degrees cooler in the shade of the forest than in the exposed fields we sprinted through. We hiked through several pine forest with tall, thin trees framing right up to the very edges of the trail. As we took our final break for the afternoon, we discussed shortening our anticipated distance for the day from over eighteen, down to sixteen. We were both quite tired, and the addition of our winter gear back into our backpacks had made our burdens even heavier. As we discussed the logistics of the last few miles a local hiker came up the trail. The young woman had her own large backpack, hers filled with a toddler instead of winter gear and snacks like ours were, and she also had a happy and friendly yellow dog with her. As she passed us, she said “My cat is following along behind me too. The gang’s all here!” We looked behind her and saw nothing, and as if to prove herself right she called “Here, kitty!” A black cat came stalking up the trail, its tiny mouth open to pant from the heat and its own tiny exhaustion. Kitty meowed its way up the trail, as if to say “I’m not enjoying this but I don’t want to be left behind either!” Once reunited with her cat, the woman bid us good luck on the rest of our trek and bounded up the trail with her dog, child, and Kitty all following.

We hiked another few miles to finish out our day stopping at a large field with two benches. I heard a large animal braying at the base of the hill out of sight, and wondered what an irate moose sounded like and what it would feel like to be stomped to death by a giant, antlered quadruped. After the disgruntled calls began to sound much more like the mooing of a domesticated cow, I became much more at ease. We set up our camp behind the benches in a stand of tall, thin birch trees. I was able to hang both bear ropes with little excitement while Meadow set up the tent, and we chatted and admired the view from the field before heading to bed.

Day 130, Thursday July 27: We woke up in the tent around 6am, eager to get moving to beat the rain. We packed up camp before the rain started, the mosquitoes and humidity already oppressive under a gray sky. We hiked for several miles through damp forest, eventually emerging to walk on the road for a short distance to cross the bridge in West Hartford. As we crossed the bridge, a man on the he porch of the adjacent green house called to us. “Hey there! You want a soda?” It had just started to rain, so we hurried over to his porch and entered through the gate so we could be greeted by his one-year-old black lab Max. We also said hello to his white and yellow friendly cat Millie, before helping ourselves to cups of coffee from a percolator. Randy was sitting on the porch chain-smoking a pack of cigarettes and drinking a few cans of Bud Light at 8am. He told us, laughing, that he normally wouldn’t get home from work until after 9am, but he had a rough shift at the trucking company and figured he should go home before he did something to get himself fired. Sometimes you just need to know when to call it! Randy was so friendly, and asked us questions about the trail. Eventually his wife Linda pulled up in a huge red pickup truck, and she sat on the porch to talk to us too. This couple had lived in this house since the 1970’s, moving there after they got married after growing up nearby in Vermont. Their nephew had hiked the AT in 2001, and when he passed by their house they had a huge festival for him and other hikers. They had live music and food for the 80 hikers they had camped in their yard! Ever since then they have waved over every single hiker who has passed by, offering them a soda or coffee, a refill on water, some light snacks, and–what joy–hardboiled eggs from their chickens! We chatted with Linda and Randy about their beautiful home, which was completely rebuilt after they lost the original building to Hurricane Irene in 2011. Randy said that he always promised Linda he would build her the house of her dreams, he just waited thirty years until insurance would cover it! I asked about the flooding from earlier in July, and Randy said that they were lucky that the river never broke the banks. We stayed on Randy and Linda’s porch for about an hour, watching the rain and chatting with the wonderful Trail Angels. Eventually, we tore ourselves away to continue hiking north. We passed another house in the area with an older gentleman sitting on the porch. He called to us and asked us if we were sisters; we said no but we get that question a lot. He asked us where we were from, and when we said Western Pennsylvania he raised a long, feeble arm and just said “Pittsburgh Pirates!” We waved goodbye and kept on going as a soaking rain started.

We had several more miles to hike in Vermont before hitting her town of Norwich where we would be doing our resupply. Those several miles were foggy and rainy, but not necessarily difficult from a terrain standpoint…but it was a mosquito gauntlet. We doused ourselves in DEET and hiked as quickly as possible, slapping away whatever bugs we could reach without breaking stride. Not even the rain was enough to stall the onslaught, and by the time we reached the road that would take us into Norwich we were half crazed. We shared a fist bump at the road to celebrate not dying from blood loss, and headed into town. We took a brief detour off-trail to Dan and Whit’s General Store for resupply, where we picked up a few more days of food and some super glue. As we sat outside under the awning, the rain picked up again. Though the awning leaked in a few places, it was still drier than walking in the downpour; we decided to hit up Dan and Whit’s deli for lunch and stay a while. As I walked up to the deli counter, the woman working there asked me if I was a Thru-Hiker. “You also have a mosquito on your forehead.” I smacked it away and asked her, laughing, if it was completely obvious that I was through hiking. She gave each of us a free steak and egg sandwich left over from their breakfast hours, and I ordered a pesto chicken salad sandwich and a Dan and Whit’s brand root beer. We also split a huge maple whoopie pie, which was delicious! We sat outside the store for over two hours eating and charging our phones, waiting for the rain to stop. Another hiker who was section hiking walked past us into the store, and when he came back out he handed us a pack of cookies and wished us luck on the rest of our journey. As we packed up our belongings, our old friend OG Baggins rolled up to the store. We chatted with him for a few minutes before heading out into the light drizzle.

After a brief road walk we crossed a bridge at the Vermont-New Hampshire state line. Another state down, and we had made it out of Vermont! Only two states to go!!

We passed through Hanover, New Hampshire and walked through crowds of clean tourists as they milled about the Dartmouth campus town. We hiked past their pristine football field and into the forest beyond. Professor Sprout, a Thru-Hiker named for his botany background, met up with us as we climbed into the first hills of New Hampshire beyond. A group of college students ran down the trail in front of us, and we stepped aside so they could pass–Professor Sprout said that what heu were doing did not look like fun. “I’m sure they were thinking the exact same thing about us!” I said. We hiked a total of eight miles after hitting New Hampshire, and they were tough. The rain continued and the mosquitoes were relentless. The three of us stopped to put on bug spray, joking that we had forsaken the “pesticide free” lifestyle a long time ago and would spray DEET right into our mouths of we thought it would help. Late in the afternoon, the rain tapered off but the humidity and blood-sucking insects remained. We ended the day with a hike through an open meadow with tall, thin birch trees scattered throughout. After a short side trail we found some low grass to set up camp, and we did our chores with gusto to get out of the mosquitoes’ reach as quicky as possible. There were no rocks in sight to use as a bear rope weight, so I found a length of birch branch and broke off a short slug to use instead. After hanging the rope, I dove into the tent to eat a dinner of bars around 8:30pm. We hung the bags and went to sleep around 9pm. For the first time on the trail, after putting up with rain and relentless bugs for what seemed like an eternity, we were just ready for the day to be over!

Day 131, Friday July 28: I woke up fairly early, before 6am, and exited the tent to dig the morning cathole and retrieve the bear bags. The mosquitoes didn’t miss a beat, and I dove right back into the tent as quickly as possible. We took our time packing up our stuff and eating a cold oatmeal for breakfast in the tent. Morale was low as we watched the swarm of mosquitoes around the tent, and we agreed that the conditions were beginning to wear on us. Our motivation and positive attitudes flickered ever so lightly, but our resolve and commitment remained stronger than ever. Despite the challenge we knew that the only way to make progress was to keep going, and that’s what we did. We left the campsite around 8am with the sun shining overhead, planning to hike at least twelve miles today and give ourselves plenty of time to do it. We started the day’s hike with a climb of 1,200 feet up Moose Mountain, and took a break at the sunny peak. The mosquitoes abated once we got to the top, so we figured we should take advantage of the situation and rest a bit.

On the descent down the other side, the mosquitoes returned but the trail was at least gently-sloped and not overly rocky. We made better time than we expected, and climbed the next 1,100-foot tall unnamed mountain with moderate exertion. In the early afternoon we stopped on the trail for a longer aot break, about an hour, to rest our aching feet. The new shoes and our heavier packs had really ramped up the wear and tear on our feet and legs. As we sat, a large group of kids about age seven or eight came through with a few adult chaperones. They looked tired but happy, and I asked them if they were having fun. One boy looked me dead in the eye and said, “I wouldn’t say it’s fun, but it’s something!” Sounds like he was having the same kind of day as us! They passed us hooting hoting and hollering, and eventually their joyful sounds faded into the wind in the trees. We hiked for another mile or two and came to a sign on the trail that said The Ice Cream Man. We stopped over to the house where the sign pointed, and found a freezer on the porch filled with ice cream. The sign on top said to take two, so Meadow and I each had a purple-flavored popsicle (some kind of mystery berry?) and a fudge bar. We chatted with Professor Sprout as a man came out of the house. Tall and thin, he told us that his father, the real Ice Cream Man, had passed away in 2016 but they were keeping up the tradition of keeping ice cream on the porch. He joked that his father had used ice cream as a simple lure to bring Thru-Hikers into his yard so he could destroy them at his favorite game: lawn croquet. The Oce Cream Man seemed like such a warm and giving soul, and his legacy certainly lived on through his son. We thanked him profusely for the ice cream especially on such a hot day, and returned to the trial with raised spirits.

We still had a long way to go! We hiked for several more miles until around 4pm, when we reached our first potential stopping point for the day after twelve mile s. We both decided that since we still had a little gas in the tank that we should press on to climb Smarts Mountain that afternoon. We pushed and climbed hard for another few hours, sweating unbelievably in the sunny heat. We drank a ton of water and sweat ran down my face and dropped into my glasses. But after a while I realized we were getting close to the top and we kept on climbing…and then it was over! We had done it! We had hiked over seventeen miles after originally planning to hike twelve, and our total elevation gain for the day was 5,800 feet. This was our biggest gain in months, and we felt great about it! Better yet, when we arrived at the small shelter, our old friend Smoke was already there. We caught up with him about his hike, and visited briefly before heading over to catch the sunset from the Smarts Mountain fire tower. All in all, we had a difficult but wonderful day, and with renewed spirits we went to sleep in the enclosed shelter without the need for a bear hang.

Day 132, Saturday July 29: I woke up in the dark shelter just before 6am to the sounds of Smoke gathering up his belongings. I waited until he left and another few minutes after before finally stirring and beginning to pack my own things. The sun was already shining through the high-altitude fog when we left the shelter, a few patches of blue sky just peeking through. We marveled at how dense the forest was immediately on both sides of the trail. The trees weren’t very large here, but they grew so closely together that the forest felt quite claustrophobic.

The descent from Smarts Mountain lasted several miles, and was far less rocky and steep than the ascent from the previous afternoon. Meadow and I agreed that we would rather have a rocky and steep ascent than descent any day, so that was a win for us! We hiked down the 1.800-foot decent down Smarts Mountain, stopping partway down to filter some water. Once we hit the bottom, we immediately began hiking up the next mountain, Mount Cube. The clouds grew darker as the morning wore on, taking on a more threatening appearance. Mount Cube was slightly shorter than Smarts Mountain, but we took our time getting to the top. There were several large outcroppings of granite and quartzite, which offered vista views of the surrounding mountains. We stopped at the top for another snack break before heading down the other side.

Shortly after leaving the summit of Cube Mountain around 2pm, the rain hit. It began with a light and intermittent drizzle, so that even after the first hour I still wasn’t soaked or even completely wet. Then, around 3pm, the sky darkened and the wind picked up significantly. It became difficult to see because it was so dark, and the wind began whipping he trees into a frenzy. I mentioned to Meadow that this was the most wind we had experienced in quite some time. After this new wave of storm settled in, the heavier rains began and continued into the afternoon. The rain was cold and drenching, and the addition of the wind made for a very cold hike indeed. We put our heads down and soldiered on for miles, not stopping to eat or rest because we were soaked and freezing. I repeatedly tasted the DEET bug spray that was being washed from my face by the rains. We climbed up the shorter Mount Mist in the rain, passed over its small, wooded summit, and descended the other side. Around 6pm we reached the side trail that would take us to Wachipauka Pond where we had planned on staying that night…it was still pouring, and freezing cold. Our feet were in agony and we were soaked, and the thought of camping next to a pond was oddly not that appealing. I did comment that since my sleeping pad was an inflatable mattress, at least when the pond flooded overnight I would probably just float away on the floodwaters instead of drown. With the cold temperature and driving rain, setting up camp sounded less fun than usual. We decided to push another 2.3 miles to the next road crossing, where there was a hiker hostel we could stay at instead. The miles passed much like the previous twelve had: soaked, frigid, and nearly crippling pains in the feet. Once again, morale hung by a thread–but still we pressed on! After a whopping 20.1-mile day, we came to the Hikers Welcome hostel, just in time for the rain to taper off and show us a rainbow. The sunset lit the last of the rainy haze on fire, and we could see Mount Moosilauke waiting for us in the distance. The hostel had food in the freezer we could purchase, and dry beds which was more than enough for me. There had been a water main break in town which meant no running toilets, no hot shower, and no laundry, but we were at least happy to be dry. We ate a few hot pockets and ice cream sandwiches, changed into our dry base layers (hello wool in July!), and chatted with a few other hikers we knew. Lightning, Copperhead, Shaggy, and Professor Sprout were all at the hostel as well! After a long and difficult day, we hit the sleeping bags around 10pm.

Day 133, Sunday July 30: I woke up in the hostel as other hikers began to pack their things up at 5am so they could be shuttled back to the trail as early as 6am. Meadow and I had decided to hike a short day of only 8 miles, so we could take our time in the morning. We slept in until just before 7:30am, and then headed down to the common area. We had coffee and a few frozen breakfast sandwiches, purchased our resupply, and visited with a few other hikers. There still was no water at the hostel, so we made do with just throwing our soaked clothes in the dryer without washing them…this only seemed to amplify the atrocious scents coming off of them. But at least they were then dry! We visited with Raccoon, Semper Dry, Professor Sprout, and Turtle and Pup on the morning before paying our tab and leaving the hostel around 12:30pm. The air temperature was still surprisingly chilly, maybe around 60 degrees, although the sun was shining between white puffy clouds. Less than a mile into the day’s hike, we hit the 1,800-mile marker. With fewer and fewer miles to go, these milestones seem more and more significant. Huzzah!

We hiked for a few short miles over a few streams and across roads, before we hit the thing that we have been looking forward to and dreading since the beginning…our first official mountain in the White Mountains National Forest: Mount Moosilauke. We had been hearing people say how difficult the Whites were, and we just wanted to end the suspense and see for ourselves! The first climb was 4,600 feet over less than four miles, and we decided to take it slow. After just making it past the foothills, we passed two women coming down the trail ahead of us that had left the same hostel early that morning to slackpack Southbound back to the hostel for another night’s stay there. Both women were in their forties or fifties. Ground hornet wore dark blue square-framed glasses and had short, dark curly hair with hints of gray that she hid under a beanie hat. Shields had long monde hair in a ponytail, also just flecked with hints of gray. As we got closer, they told us the summit was extremely foggy but it should be clear by the time we get there. They asked how close they were to the bottom, and we told them we had only come a few easy miles so far since we had gotten a late start. Shields said we had every right to a late start given how late we got to the hostel last night. “I’m going to be telling people about you two for a long time,” she said, smiling. “You rolled into the shelter late at night after a twenty mile day, soaking wet and freezing cold, and you’re still out here.” They were shocked to find out that we had started together and shared a tent. “We have a love-hate relationship with each other,” Ground Hornet said, also laighing. “We met on the AT back in 2018 and have been section hiking together every since.” Shields said that Ground Hornet was a glutton for punishment who just kept coming back for more, and Ground Hornet said “She should just tell me no!” They said it was admirable that we started together and are still going strong, and encourage sis to think about writing a book. After talking AT things for a few minutes, we parted ways and wished each other well on our respective journeys. We continued to climb with caution and intention, and before long we were halfway up. The climb wasn’t quite as steep as we had been expecting (or fearing), and our slow pace wasn’t enough to exhaust us. The chilly air was perfect for climbing an ascent, and we laughed and laughed about how horrible the previous day’s conditions were compared to this sunny delight. After hiking for about three hours, we caught our first glimpse of the summit. It seemed so close!

After hiking for another hour, we reached the summit of Mount Moosilauke. Our first ascent in the Whites was complete, and we had enjoyed it more than we thought we would. The view and the wind were both breathtaking, as the air temperature had dropped to the low fifties as we increased in elevation. At the summit we both put on our raincoats to stave off the wind, and my hands still went numb. We enjoyed the view and the achievement of arriving for as long as we could before continuing across the summit and beginning the descent down the other side. I will never forget the feeling of making it to the Whites and taking that first look around the summit of Mount Moosilauke after hiking 1,800 miles to be there. We had made it through some of the toughest conditions we have experienced so far the previous few days, and this view and this feeling made it all worth it. And the best is yet to come! Onward!

After we left the summit, we only had a few more miles to hike before we hit the shelter on the other side. We decided not to make the entire descent down the other side of the mountain, but to save that for the next day when our legs were fresher. When we got to the shelter, Sparks and Selah were already there and we chatted with them about their flip-flop hike while we cooked and ate dinner. Selah is an artist, and they try to take an hour every day for her to draw or paint with watercolors on the trail to keep up her creativity. When it came time to hang the bear bags on the two ropes I hung before dinner, disaster struck twice. Meadow’s rope got stuck and I had to do some serious rope-flinging acrobatics to get it down so we didn’t lose the rope entirely. So that was one near rope down. Even worse, I had hung the second rope over a relatively thin and short pine branch about twenty five feet high. When I went to raise my food bag on my own rope the whole branch broke off and came hurtling down at me. With no time to dodge, I quickly bent over and covered my head in a perfect duck-and-cover maneuver…and good thing, too. The branch hit me in the back, breaking the skin and giving me a huge welt. Although it didn’t feel awesome it could have been so much worse. For the first time, I took two losses in hanging the bear ropes and decided the universe could have this one. Sparks had already hung his food bags right in the shelter anyway, so if we were going to be murdered by a bear wandering into the shelter we might as well let our food bags be part of the problem! We hung our food in the shelter and went to sleep around 9pm.

While this week was one finte more difficult weeks we have had (okay, the most difficult!), we have never questioned that we would keep forging ahead. Our plans for this next week include forging ahead through the White Mountains, and we couldn’t be more excited to meet the challenge head on. We have a few more friends coming to hike with us later in the week which will be awesome, too!

Thanks for stopping by!