Today was 14.8 miles of total insanity. Twelve hours on the trail, 3343 feet of climbing and 6293 feet downhill. The infamous Mt. Washington, with the worst weather in the world at 6,288 feet. Gusting winds, thunderstorms, pouring rain, over eight miles above treeline, incredible views, cloudy summits, slick rock. Today had it all. The most memorable day on the trail so far.
It all began at 6:30 sharp just like our other mornings at a hut. The wake up call arrived and instead of waiting around for breakfast leftovers we packed quickly and were ready to head out right after we heard the weather report relayed to us by the hut crew at 7:00. They were forecasting rain, but most likely later in the day; it was cloudy though, and predicting weather on Mt. Washington is like predicting the roll of the dice. Ari the hut master told us the radar looked clear and we should be in the clear, we headed out the door, and started up the trail. It’s 11:30 at night now and all of this feels like a week ago. Of course the trail was entirely above treeline, it had been raining all night, the rocks were wet, there was water overflowing from the nearby little lakes that give the hut its name. It was sprinkling on and off as we rose higher, but then as we were just a few tenths from the summit the wind became suddenly fierce and the skies opened, unloading a drenching downpour. We booked it for the summit as quickly as possible, eager to find the shelter of the visitor center at the top.
We made it indoors but not without getting a little wet. It was about 8:40 and the main attraction at the summit wasn’t even open yet. The snack bar opened at 9. We sat around watching the weather report and looking out at the downpour. Once food was available I dined on a cheap sandwich, a yogurt parfait, a brownie, and a rootbeer. We knew we wanted to be in town today if at all possible so while most of the other hikers were discussing taking the cog railway or finding a shuttle off the mountain, we were gearing up to head on. One of the other “thru-hikers” asked me what our plans were, I replied, “keep walking.” As we headed out we heard one of the people we had met at one of the huts whisper to her husband, “whoa, they’re going for it!” The thing was it wasn’t even bad out, just some gusty wind but it wasn’t raining anymore and it was probably over 50 degrees. Still I was geared up with full rain hear (wind resistant), gloves and hat. We paused briefly at the summit sign for a picture and took off down the mountain.
Being above treeline in a thunderstorm is bad news of course. We had about five miles of slow rocky terrain all above treeline to cover before the first shelter of any kind – Madison Hut. Fortunately there were no early thunderstorms, there wasn’t even any precipitation at all. There were clouds and fog and wind though. Visibility was low, rocks were wet and there were several trail junctions to navigate along the ridge. We skirted the summit of Mount Jefferson somewhere on that section between the Washington summit and Madison Hut. The hut was our next only real break of the day besides the delay at Washington, and it was short. It probably would have been longer if I hadn’t urged Landon and Miranda to keep it short if we wanted to get to Pinkham before dark. While we were at the hut a very brief downpour came and then passed, a prelude of things to come.
We left the hut and immediately began the last climb of the day, the ascent up to Mount Maddison summit. It was only 1/2 a mile but the hut guidebooks list it as an hour hike. We did in about 30 minutes but it was still an extremely steep ascent made up exclusively of jagged boulders. The first couple miles of downhill on the other side featured similar rocks although less steeply arranged. It was still slow going, but the views here were spectacular. It had temporarily cleared up rather nicely allowing views into the valleys and to the ominous gray clouds gathering in the distance. We finally made it back to the treeline only to find the trail turn downward for an even steeper descent. At least now some steps were on soft mud rather than bare rock. Not long after our return to the trees we heard the sounds of thunder, and the rain followed in short order. The trail leveled out, but we still had over four miles to the notch and it was getting late. The trail was becoming not only a stream but a river. Rain came down unrelentingly, washes were flowing into the trail at full capacity, water was everywhere, everything was soaked. I didn’t even bother with a rain jacket, it was too warm and I was going too fast. It was four miles of total adrenaline fueled hiking, knowing we were heading for town, dry clothes, a shower, and the finish of an epic day. Nothing hurt, I could go full speed and not be out of breath, every step felt perfectly placed without having to think about it even when it got dark and we were hiking the last mile by the light of headlamps. In a way it was fun, in a way it was miserable. We had agreed that we wouldn’t be night hiking again, and here we were doing it in the rain. We made it though, into Pinkham Notch where there was the Joe Dodge Lodge waiting to greet us with all the amenities of modern life. It was after 7, we changed into dry clothes and arranged for our spot at the hostel and a ride into town. We decided to relax tonight and take a zero tomorrow, doing chores, resupplying, and resting. Well deserved.