![]() ![]() I felt bad since both Firewalker and I had barely packed and he was raring to go. He’d said the night before he’d try to join us on the White’s first big climb, the ascent of Mount Moosilauke, but I didn’t really think we’d see him again. The next morning Chris showed back up at 7am. Somewhere along the way he casually mentioned we were officially in the Whites, though it looked about the same as Vermont to me. Afterwards he hiked alongside for five miles to the shelter we’d planned on staying at that night before going back to the last road crossing and calling his friend to shuttle him back to his car. He then drove us to Dollar General for a much needed resupply and even played tour bus operator by showing us an historical covered bridge over a local swimming hole. He had planned on doing a day hike from the nearby parking lot but took pity on us and drove practically 20 miles to get Firewalker and I to a fantastic little diner for heaping plates of food. Little did the three of us know we’d be spending most of the next 24 hours together.Ĭhris lives in Massachusetts but was visiting a friend in the area. After being passed by several dozen cars we finally scored when Chris stopped to pick us up. I stood by the highway with my thumb out trying to hitchhike to a restaurant several miles away. The Whites began when my hiking partner Firewalker, who is now the hiker I’ve spent the most miles with on this trip, plopped to the ground as we reached the boundary of the park- a road crossing known as 25c. So this time around my readers get two blogs. Back when people listened to music on 45 style records, one song per side, you’d have a popular tune on the A-side and then a B-side with a song destined to receive a little less attention from the public but which the artist had an affinity for.
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