Day 87: Moving my Pawn

Summary
Aug 12th

Shuttle from Hikers Welcome to The Notch Hostel

Zero

French toast casserole! Bacon! Seventies music! A good morning, very relaxed. 

I just needed to pack up, settle my bill, and wait for Legion to drive me over to The Notch Hostel. Feeling very much like a preparatory move in chess; moving one’s pawn so as to clear the way for a bishop, or something. 

The difference between the two establishments is astounding. Hikers Welcome is so laid back, while The Notch is kind of like a new age retreat center. It’s comfortable in its own way, and if I had a choice based on descriptions, I probably would have chosen The Notch. But Hikers Welcome is a true trail experience, and I already miss the vibe there. I’m sure I’ll settle in here, it has great consistent wifi, I have an extra long bed and the mattress does not have any metal wires to poke me while I sleep. But kind of feels like being in someone else’s home. 

My original plan was to zero here, then slack tomorrow from 112 to 93. After talking with Legion, my plan is now to clear my pack to the essentials for a single overnight. This experiment might help me to find ways to reduce my pack weight. Then I will see whether I can move more quickly, or if my pace is simply restricted by my level of fitness/age. I might even be able to do the whole 17 miles in one go, but that’s not my intention. So I have moved the second night of my reservation from tomorrow night to Monday. 

I have a confession: I’m terrified of the Whites. There are so many steep ascents. There are so many places where footing is questionable. Even with slack packing yesterday, I wasn’t making anything like the time I thought I should be making. Tomorrow, I go up Mount Wolf, which I’m told is one of the most miserable climbs on the trail; maximum effort for minimal gain. Part of the reason for zeroing today is procrastination. 

I recognize that I have been in this place before: letting my fears dictate my actions. I felt this way approaching Killington in Vermont. Actually, my experience of the trail has been a reliving of this moment, over and over. And I’m already anticipating living it on the eve of my climb to Franconia Ridge on Tuesday. I wish I could take my past experiences as proof that I don’t need to fear, or that any fear would be proportionally appropriate. But it really is an almost paralyzing feeling. 

So I’m checking the map and guide, familiarizing myself with my next move, and taking it a day at a time. Let me get to a camp site tomorrow, and 93 the day after that, then come back here; after that, we’ll see…