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That
evening, after a supper of freeze-dried chicken and rice, I rested for an
hour or so, then joined Jay at the overlook. I had just missed the sunset,
but enjoyed the twinkling lights of Gorham coming on in the deepening
twilight. Jay pointed out Mts Cabot and Waumbek in the Pilot Range.
I
had meant to get up at 6:00 AM for my hike to Middle Carter, but I
overslept and didn't end up leaving until 7:30. The Carter-Moriah Trail
wound in and out of numerous small knobs and across wet areas on unending lengths
of bog bridges, all of which were in excellent shape and made for quick traveling.
In
a shady col just before the long steep climb up to the summit of North
Carter, I once again encountered the group of boys. They had camped in a
clearing there and were getting ready for the day's hike. Oh great, I
thought. They'll be on my heels all the way up, I'll feel rushed, and I
won't get any peace today either. The pressure was on.
The
climb was indeed steep and challenging, requiring cautious handholds, and
continued skyward for over a thousand vertical feet. But this is what
makes climbing mountains fun, and by the time I reached the top, I really
felt like I had accomplished something. And best of all, there was no
sound of the boys anywhere below me.
The
summit area of North Carter was large and flat, and covered with hundreds of tiny quartz
pieces that glittered like a field of gold nuggets in the morning
light. Except for being on a mountain top, it was like something out
of the movie Journey to the Center of the Earth. If it weren't for
the specter of the herd of boys relentlessly stampeding toward me from
somewhere below, I could have lingered in that spot for some time. |
Looking
east from the steep trail ascending North Carter. At that early
hour, fog lay thick in the valleys. |
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