There are days when you have to force yourself to hike; literally make yourself go on, put one foot in front of the other - sluggish. And there are days you are so happy and feeling so good that your spirits soar and you feel like screaming with joy. So good, you just can't describe it. Today was one of the feel good days. Long distance backpacking is fun as long as you have more feel good days than sluggish days. The morning started out with a hearty breakfast of cream of wheat, eggs, home fries, pastry, juice and coffee.

I had a very steep 2100-foot climb and even steeper 2200-foot descent ahead of me, and about a mile above treeline. I planned on hiking 15 miles, to the Beaver Brook shelter on Moosilauke but talking to some northbound hikers that had just come from there I was advised that was not sensible. They all agreed the lower trail section I would have to climb was not something to be attempted at days end when tired. Also, I had the formidable Kinsman Mountain and Ridge ahead of me. From this point on it didn't matter that much - I was not locked in to any reservations and my mail drops were all mid-week pickups.

The climb up the Kinsman Mountains and ridge was rugged and challenging - typical of the White Mountains of NH. And, as the photos show, it was incredibly beautiful, unspoiled, peaceful and serene. I did sweat and huff and puff, but oh how it was worth it. About halfway up North Kinsman I met and elderly couple, both in their 70's, coming down. He was having a great time but she was scared of falling and didn't like the steep rocks. Though they had come all the way from Georgia and were doing fine, they were concerned about what was ahead of them. They were such sweet folks - and gutsy. I gave them all the encouragement I could - and they inspired me greatly.

Mountain stream trickles through forest, moss and rocks on Kinsman Mountain.

There were lots of places where steps were built into the rocks on the trail. A section of railroad tie was cut to about 18 inches long, then cut diagonally to make a step. The rock was drilled and ¾ inch steel rods were imbedded in the rock and step. In a few places there were ladders going up or down the rock face. Without these steps and ladders, ropes and rock climbing gear would be required. In other places where the rock was not quite as steep, hand and toeholds had been drilled and blasted into the rock face. This was challenging, rugged going. It was at least equal to the climb on South Twin Mountain, but far prettier.

Wood steps on a rock face

Kinsman Ridge was in and out of the clouds, windy, at times clear, at times foggy and always quite cool.

Did you ever look at those puffy white clouds in a blue sky and wonder what it was like to be up there in them, to be a part of them? Climb to a mountaintop that is in the clouds. You will see the clouds coming - and going - and you will be part of them. And you will be blessed with the freshest, cleanest balsam scented air. Truly as near Heaven as one can get on this mortal earth.

In the clouds on Kinsman Ridge. Lonesome Lake appears in left center of picture, nestled in a wooded mountain plateau.

It was so beautiful, so refreshing - and so rewarding. I screamed with happiness and joy. Looking back at Lonesome Lake from Kinsman Mountain was rewarding. Even though you KNOW you've just done it, it seems so impossible that you've just hiked through and up these mountains, that only three hours ago you were down there having breakfast.

More challenges were only footsteps away. It was a fairly mild descent off Kinsman Summit for a half-mile or so, then the trail seemed to stop at the edge of a cliff. Surely, it can't go down there - that's a cliff. But it does. Boulder hopping, lowering myself frontward and backwards, sliding, grabbing anything I can, I work my way down the cliff face of the mountain. No steps or handholds here. Sometimes it was 6 feet down to the next ledge or rock. It was a vertical descent, switchbacking and traversing 800 feet down from the top of Kinsman Mountain. Harrington Pond was at the bottom of this descent, still well up the mountain at 3400 feet elevation. Then a steep descent through the woods took me to the crystal clear waters of Eliza Brook. The trail turned and followed the watershed as its stream tumbled and carved a beautiful gorge in the mountainside.

I reached Eliza Brook Shelter about 2:30. The elevations had cut my hiking rate down to just under one mile per hour and made me reduce the expectations I had for my daily hiking mileage. I decided to stay there, do trail laundry and relax, rather than push on to the next shelter, as I probably wouldn't be able to make it before dark. As the afternoon wore on, more and more hikers came in. Sharkbait came in and left, Flavien came in all sweaty - and only wearing his briefs (underwear), Animal arrived - shirtless. It was only 55 degrees out - but it was humid and they were dripping sweat. The shelter filled with smelly through hikers and four tents were pitched in the immediate area. A NH State Arson investigator held everyone's attention with his interesting tales of how arsonists got caught - and a few of those that got away with it because of a lack of evidence or technicality. Funny, no one lit up any pot around the shelter. Animal tried his damndest to get a fire going and couldn't. I got some birch bark and dry twigs and showed him how boy scouts did it.

Tomorrow it was on to Mt. Moosilauke - the last big mountain above treeline southbound on the AT in NH's White Mountains. I didn't think I could do the 16 miles from Eliza Brook Shelter, over Moosilauke to the Jeffers Brook Shelter on the other side. There was too much climbing and "elevations" to make that kind of mileage.