Sept 8

Go 'Hoos

It was 1.9 miles down the trail this morning, to US 2.  There was a large group of hikers with us, trying to hitch in to Gorham.  We got back into town, and checked into the same motel.  This time we had a nicer, but more expensive room, up on the 2nd floor balcony, and were lucky to get it.  The Northern Peaks was packed with hikers.  Tink had made it into town, having just finished the Presidentials today.  Apparently, she had an amazing time.  I was glad to hear that her experience through this section had been such a positive one.  We ate at the Chinese buffet again, and watched a lot of TV in the motel room.  The UVa-Penn State football game was on, so I had to sit and watch that, having formerly worked at "The University".  Virginia pulled out an amazing upset 17-16 at home.  In the evening, a few of us went out to the street, in the rain, and hitched a ride to Walmart to buy groceries for the next few days of hiking.  After our resupply, we went back out to the highway and tried our luck hitching back to the motel.  People didn't seem to want to pick up hitchhikers in the rain.  With out our backpacks, it wasn't obvious that we were AT hikers.  Finally a van pulled over.  In the van was Randy Pierce and his dog, and Randy's friend, who was driving.  Randy is totally blind, but along with his guide dog, is an avid hiker.  He is on a personal mission to hike all of New Hampshire's forty-eight peaks above 4000 feet.  He's close to completing this incredible feat, and will be the first blind person to do so.  Awesome and inspiring to meet him.  Back at the hotel, there must have been two dozen hikers, at least.  Everyone was hanging out on the balcony, and the porch in front of their rooms, late into the night.  The gas station store across the street made it possible for everyone to stay, um, hydrated, throughout the evening.

Leaving the Rattle River section, heading into Gorham, NH.

Sept 7

Get to the choppa!

Up early with the sunrise, and out on the trail by 8am.  It was slow going though, over the rest of the Wildcat range.  Peak C and going to Peak A had some really rugged and difficult trail, but offered nice views as a reward for the strenuous work.  Then there was the task of getting off the ridge, down into Carter Notch.  Absurdly steep and dangerous.  It's incredible that these are 'hiking' trails.  It's about 21 miles through this section, in between the two highways into Gorham.  It'd even be tough to do this as a day-long slackpack.  We reached the AMC hut, after circling around two beautiful ponds at the bottom of the notch.  Just as we were walking up to the hut, we heard a helicopter flying in.  It flew in just above the tree tops, and delivered to the hut, a load of supplies on a cable, with pinpoint precision.  Donned in hard hats, the hut crew attached spent propane tanks to the cable, and the chopper whisked the load away.  We stood and watched as the chopper made several more trips to and from the hut, dropping off more supplies, and taking away refuse.  It was funny to see the reactions of the hut crew members.  It was like Christmas for them.  Exclaiming with joy opening a box full of scrub sponges.  We took a break at the hut for a bit, filled up on water, then headed back out on the trail.  Climbing out of the notch, up to Cater Dome, was more ridiculously steep, fir tree lined trail, with amazing views.  Looking back down the the hut, there were boulders scattered in the notch below that dwarfed the hut buildings.  We learned that the ponds down in the notch were formed long ago when rocks fell off the tops of the surrounding mountains, blocking the water from escaping.  It's such an odd juxtaposition seeing the structures of the modern hut and these ancient mountains.  The whole time through the Whites, I've been amazed by how these mountains can look so static, massive, rugged, and timeless, and at the same time see how dynamic the environment can be, constantly changing and shaping the granite with wind, water, and gravity.  We stopped for lunch on the appropriately named Mt. Height, at almost 4700 feet.  We enjoyed the 360 degree views, and clear, sunny skies.  The trail going down from Height to Zeta Pass was another steep, rocky and rooty descent.  Making our way to Middle Cater Mountain, we had views back to the Presidential Range.  Immediately after that we climbed up North Carter Mountain, with views to the North and East.  We weren't exactly sure what the names of the peaks in front of us were.  All we knew is that they were peaks in Maine!  Unbelievable.  I was so thrilled to be this close to the last state on the trail.  It's tough to wrap my thoughts around the fact that I've walked through 13 states, and over 1800 miles so far.  We hiked on, for a couple of miles, and ended up at a trail junction at the Imp Campsite.  It was late in the afternoon, so we checked the book to help us make a decision on weather or not to stay here.  We were all spent from the hike today.  The Carters weren't quite as bad as the Cats, but definitely in the same ballpark.  Probably the toughest two days of hiking so far.  Our excitement had turned to exhaustion, and according to the book, we had only made it 10 miles today.  We had already been hiking for 9 hours.  Insane!  The mood turned to deflation and defeat.  Not satisfied with that number, we pushed onward.  The trail over Mt. Moriah, although not as steep as the hiking was earlier today, offered its own obstacles.  Mud, mud, and more mud.  Great.  After a couple more twists and turns past more trail intersections along the way, we made it to the Rattle River Trail.  I stopped to fill up on water at a stream.  These 3 miles or so to the Rattle River shelter were a welcome change.  Just a gradual loss of elevation, and not too rocky.  However, it was now dark, as we crossed the Rattle River.  The water was up, and we had trouble finding where the blazes were on the opposite bank.  Totally spent, we finally made it to the shelter, after a physically and mentally draining day.

The Presidential Range viewed from the Cater Range.

Sept 6

Hitting the slopes

We got a hitch back up to the trail this afternoon.  Gorging on fast food burgers and fries was a terrible idea. Good to get the calories, but it's not sitting well once we started the strenuous climbing.  Initially, the trail was pretty flat, as it skirted some watery areas.  After a mile, the climb up to Wildcat Ridge began.  It was 1200 feet gained over the next mile, with some of the trickiest rock climbing we've seen so far.  Then another 800 feet up over the next seven tenths of a mile.  So far, the Cats have made us claw, climb, and crawl, using cracks in the rocks and protruding roots to make our way up the steep trail.  It took a few hours to make it up to the ridge at Peak E.  After a short bump, we arrived at Peak D, at the top of a ski slope.  There was a dilapidated ski lodge, that was boarded up, and looked like it had been out of use for decades.  The ski lift was open, but there were no chairs on the cables or in the machine room.  The small ski patrol hut was locked up, but looked like it could still be in use.  After exploring the grounds for a while, we decided to stay here at the top of the mountain for the night.  We only did 3 miles so far, but this was a really cool spot.  We had Washington and the rest of the northern Presidentials in picture perfect view.  In that direction, the views were clear, and pretty spectacular.  Late in the day, clouds started creeping in behind us, off the opposite side of the mountain.  The temperature dropped and the wind picked up slightly over night.

View of Mt. Washington with Tuckerman and Huntington Ravines.

Sept 5

Staying put

Not much to say about today.  The next section of the trail that lies ahead for us is the Wildcat range.  For a long time, we've been hearing that Wildcat is perhaps the toughest part of the entire trail.  Extremely steep and treacherous.  The weather outside has not improved.  Given the forecast and the upcoming terrain, it's an easy decision to stay in town.  Zero day it is.  We'll tackle the 'Cats' tomorrow.  The rain should stop by then.  Lazy day, with more lounging and taking in thousands of calories.

Sept 4

Mad

Morning wake up was 5:30am.  We had to get up and moving, and packed up, and out of the way for the paying hut guests to start their breakfast at 6.  After helping wash up after the meal, we were able to eat leftovers as part of our work for stay.  Hiking out, we had an immediate climb up the rocky slope of Mt. Madison.  The air was chilly, and damp.  A moderate breeze was soaking us in mist, and making the rocks extremely slippery.  Hard to tell if we were just walking through a cloud, or if there was a weather system passing over.  To say the trail down from Madison was steep, or treacherous, would both be understatements.  It was fun in a way, just due to the physical challenge.  I saw several places where the trail seemed to just drop off straight down a house sized boulder, and it took a bit of investigation to find the correct way around the obstacle.  The fog and mist made the task of getting off this mountain much more difficult.  We finally made our way down into the protection of the tree line.  The mist turned into more of a drizzling rain.  The boulders ended, but the trail became no easier.  Slick rocks, slides, and mud, on a ridiculously steep grade.  Coming down from Madison has been the toughest hiking I've encountered so far.  If you can call that 'hiking'.  When the trail began to flatten out, my knees and ankles were killing me, and my mind was numb.  All I wanted to do was to get to Pinkham Notch, stop walking, get something to eat, and warm up.  We crossed several streams, and rolled up and down for a while on our way to the Notch.  There was a massive lodge and visitors center.  We hung around for a while, just to get warmed up.  I didn't get anything to eat at the restaurant.  I was holding out to get a ride into town for something cheaper and more filling.  We stood out on the side of the foggy highway.  With the low visibility  I put on my bright orange rain jacket, one for warmth, but also to help oncoming traffic see me.  After 8 miles of hiking this morning, and about of hour trying to get a hitch, we finally made it the 10 miles down the highway to Gorham, NH.  We met up with Slims and Rainbow Eyes, and all got checked in to a cheap hotel room, and headed across the street for Chinese buffet.  Surprisingly, this was a really good buffet.  The rest of our day was a typical town day, eating a ton of food and relaxing.

On Mt. Madison, looking back toward  Mt. Adams.

Sept 3

Hello Mr. President

Woke up at a decent hour.  Apache was already packing up.  He said that Slims and Rainbow Eyes had just walked by.  They had set up further down in the woods last night, so although we didn't realize it, we had all camped together.  As usual, I couldn't keep up with Apache's pace.  The climb out of the notch was really tough.  Occasionally, I would pop out of the trees onto a rocky ledge, and see Apache a bit further down the trail on a higher rock.  In the clear air, sound travels so well that even though he was hundreds of feet away, I was able to talk in a normal outdoor voice and carry on a conversation with him.  Climbing steeply up Webster Cliffs, then Mt. Webster, I gained 2000 feet.  Then after another steep climb of an additional 800 feet I arrived at the top of Mt. Jackson.  Views along the entire way, for miles, of Crawford Notch below, and dozens of peaks to the south and west.  This first 5 miles or so of trail today was just steep climbing and bouldering.  I couldn't imagine doing this with any kind of precipitation.  In between Webster and Jackson, there were some flatter sections.  When ever the trail flattened out however, water tended to collect in muddy pools, several feet deep in places.  Many of the bog bridges were rotten, or sinking in the mud, making travel slow if you were trying to keep your feet dry.  Steep, slippery, rocky trail, with lots of mud, and very few blazes.  So it goes for hiking in the Whites.  I bounced around the 4000 foot mark for a couple miles, making it to Mizpah Hut for a second breakfast.  I was able to fuel up on some free left over oatmeal.  Cold and bland, but it was sustenance.  I had a 500 foot climb up Mt. Pierce, traveling through the Presidential Range at long last.  The trail meandered up, down, and around, right around tree line for a bit.  Short firs dotted the sides of the peaks, never really obscuring my views as I walked around the back side of Mt. Eisenhower.  I was disappointed to find out that the AT did not go over the summit here.  The summit of Eisenhower was 0.3 miles up a ridiculously steep side trail.  I went up to the top, and had some great views ahead to Mt. Washington.  I could see that the clear skies that I had enjoyed all morning were starting to give way to massive white and grey clouds.  The winds blew the clouds into the towering peaks, and like waves crashing into a seawall, they would curl back on themselves, slowly climbing up and over the summits.  Amazing to see.  The clouds were making much better time than I was, heading toward Washington.  I needed to pick up my pace.  I headed down Eisenhower, back onto the rocky trail with Mt. Franklin next on my agenda.  Maybe I was in a hurry, but Franklin was an easy bump in the road, that was over before I knew it.  I passed several areas that were marked off for scientific study.  Signs asking hikers to please stay on the trail.  Scientists are constantly studying the fragile ecosystem, with its rare and endangered plants, in this unique alpine tundra zone.  I hiked around the side of Mt. Monroe, where I decided to take another side trail up to the summit of this Presidential mountain.  The view of Mt. Washington from here was outstanding.  Lakes of the Clouds Hut was just below.  Clouds whirling as they climbed Washington, whose summit was now obscured from view. I headed back down Monroe, and took a long break at the hut.  I thought it was absurd that the trail would send you over so many death climbs on pointless mountains, then when you come to these amazing peaks here in the Presidentials, send you around the summits.

View from Monroe, over Lakes of the Clouds, up to Washington.

I headed up to Mt. Washington.  The climb didn't seem that bad.  Maybe I was excited to get to the top, or maybe this kind of steep, rocky hiking is becoming my new normal.  Either way, I know when there's views like this every day, the climbs always seem much easier.  I walked around at the summit, finding the sign.  6288 feet.  Only Clingman's Dome, way back in the Smokies had been at a higher elevation.  At the summit, it was a zoo-like scene.  There's a road to the top, and a huge restaurant/gift shop.  The park system also mans a weather station around the clock.  I stuck out among the hundreds of pretty, clean, perfumed tourists, in their jeans and fleece jackets.  For $45 the Cog Railway, will take you on a one-way trip up, or down, the mountain.  There was definitely a theme park feel to the place.  I did spend some time in the gift shop, checking out the reports on the weather monitoring system, and reading the list of deaths that have occurred on the mountain.  Washington has the infamous, and deserved, distinction of having the worst weather on the planet.  Due to its height, orientation, and location at a confluence of several different storm tracks, the weather on Washington is brutal and erratic.  For over 100 days of the year, it sees hurricane force winds.  The temperature has never been above 72.  The average temperature for the year is in the upper 30's.  Snow can fall in every month of the year, with total accumulation averaging over 300 inches.  Some of the buildings are literally chained to the rock, able to withstand up to 300 mph gusts of wind.  That being said, I find it incredible that so many people make it to the summit, by rail or by car.  Then there's the crazy people like me who hike it.  What is also astounding is how great the weather is right now for me.  The clouds have started to clear away, offering majestic views under the soft afternoon sun.  The winds were blowing at a mere 20 mph, and the temperature at 5pm was a balmy 51 degrees.  I am so fortunate!  I caught up to Apache at this point and we hiked down the mountain toward Mt. Jefferson.  The ravine to our right was insanely steep, carved out of the surrounding mountains in a bowl shaped cirque, with walls rising thousands of feet.  The fading afternoon light cast amazing shadows on the terrain.  The rocky path we followed glowed a warm orange hue.  We were walking around the eastern slope of the mountain, and we hurried to take a side trail up to the summit to catch sunset.  We only made it about two-thirds of the way up, before turning back, realizing that the best of the sunset had elapsed, and not wanting to come down from the precarious summit in the dark.  We still managed to see some nice pink tones in the sky to the west as we wrapped around to the north side of the mountain.  The sun set as we made our way to the climb up Mt. Adams.  This is where I started to get worried.  In any less than perfect conditions, we would have been in a bad spot.  Fortunately, the wind was calm, and the temperatures, although chilly, were pleasant and manageable.  The moon hadn't risen yet, so the sky was pitch black.  The stars were amazingly bright.  The trail up Adams was not really a trail at all.  It was a total boulder crawl, hopping and climbing from rock to rock.  There are no white blazes to guide the way.  Like much of the Whites, the trail was marked with pyramid shaped rock cairns, several feet tall.  Apache's headlamp was starting to go dim.  Ingeniously, the cairns had been topped with white quartz stones, so my light would pick up the reflection off the rock with amazing brightness.  A beacon in the night.  I would hike up to a cairn, shine my light ahead and spot the next one, then turn around and guide Apache forward to me with my lamp.  We hiked all the way up the mountain like this, one cairn at a time.  At the boulder strewn summit, we caught our first glimpse of the moon, rising in front of us.  Truly amazing.  It was like being on the surface of another planet.  A totally unique, rugged, and foreign environment.  I thought of Chet, and how vividly he described how he used to enjoy night hiking New Hampshire's ridges.  I get it.  I wished he could see this.  We had a mile long, slow going descent, arriving at Madison Spring Hut around 9:30pm.  I went inside the dark building.  Several thru-hikers were all along the dining room floor space, sleeping, or reading on their smartphones.  The hutmaster was just coming out of the bathroom.  I told him that we had just come down off the mountain, after a big 18 mile day through the Presidentials, and we were looking for any place to stay.  He was really nice to us, and allowed us to sleep on the floor.  We would be able to earn our keep by helping clean up after breakfast in the morning.  Considering the next available tent site was 0.6 miles down a steep side trail, or 3 miles over Mt. Madison down the AT, I was certainly grateful.  I went outside on the porch, fired up my stove, and cooked some ramen for dinner.  Not much of meal, but I wasn't really thinking about food.  Just eating something, since I knew I should.  I was too amped from everything I did today.  I stayed outside for a bit in the cold, clear air, content to have a moment to myself to enjoy the beauty of the night sky.  I was so grateful for the good weather, the amazing views, and the roof that would be over my head tonight.  We hadn't seen our other friends.  Incredibly, they must have pushed on ahead.  I hope they were okay.

A rare, beautiful afternoon at the top of the Whites.

Sept 2

Catching some Zeas

Miserable morning.  I had no idea what time it was.  It was light out, but everything was a dull grey.  As I usually do, I had left my pack outside my tent with the pack cover on.  The pack and my tent's fly were damp.  I hurried to get packed up.  As I finished breaking down my tent, a light drizzle began.  Great.  We donned our rain jackets and headed down the trail.  Heading down the trail toward Galehead Hut, we talked about how we hoped we could score some breakfast leftovers.  Galehead was a smaller hut, but really nice, having recently been remodeled.  I took a few minutes to read about the alternative energy sources that are utilized there.  Unfortunately, there were no free leftovers from breakfast, so we continued on down the dreary trail toward South Twin Mountain.  The extra fuel from some oatmeal or pancakes would have been great considering the climb ahead of us was over 1100 feet, in less than a mile.  The path up Twin was a direct assault on the mountain.  Straight up.  Surprisingly, it wasn't as laborious as I expected it to be, and we were at the top in no time.  Dozens of hikers were up there, having left the hut below earlier in the morning.  We took a short snack break to get some energy, up there stuck in a cloud, cold and breezy.  After descending Twin, the trail leveled out and continued along a ridge, just below the ridge line.  The trees were all about waist high, and the path was rocky.  As we approached the side trail that led to Guyot Shelter, the clouds enveloping us lifted, and we had sunshine once again.  We climbed to the top of the ridge and went down the other side, treated to amazing view along the way.  We could see the U-shaped direction that we would travel for the rest of the day.  The trail would wrap around to Zeacliff Ridge, Zeacliff Pond, Zealand Mountain, and then descend sharply down to Zealand Falls where there was another hut.  Directly across from us, we could see where the trail would leave the hut and continue along a flat (yes, a truely FLAT) section down in the valley below as it continued toward Ethan Pond.  At Zeacliff Ridge, we took the 0.1 mile side trail to the top of Zealand Mountain.  We knew there were no views there, but we just wanted to say that we did it.  The reward was a cool looking carved wooden sign at the top that said, "ZEALAND", but instead the A's had been replaced with cone-shaped evergreen trees.  We made it down to Zealand Falls Hut, and checked out the falls.  I was underwhelmed.  It was pretty, but I had this idea in my head of it being more impressive.  Inside the hut, we ponied up a few bucks for some baked potato soup.  The hutmaster there was pretty cool, and talked to us a lot.  He even cooked a fresh pizza and offered us a slice while we ate our soup.  Re-energized, we left the hut, and the Twinway Trail behind.  Continuing down the Ethan Pond trail, we cruised through a beautiful valley.  Perfectly flat trail for miles.  Huge mountains rising on either side of us.  To our right, we could see the ridge we were on earlier.  To the left, was a steep slope, peaking with a shear cliff.  Amazing, enjoyable hiking.  Beautiful, warm, and sunny.  We stopped to check out a side trail that led to Thoreau Falls.  The path led to the top of the falls.  After a few moments, we kept on moving, since it was the middle of the afternoon now.  We began to see pops of bright red in the forest.  Fall colors were arriving early in the White Mountains!  We stopped at the trail to the campsites at Ethan Pond.  I ran down to the site to scope things out.  The pond there was really pretty, especially in the late afternoon sun.  I came back to the trail head with good news.  There was no caretaker at the site, since we were now technically in the 'off season'.  It was tempting to be able to stay there for free, but we hadn't caught up with Slims and Rainbow Eyes yet, so we pushed on to make some more miles before dark.  After a long descent, we arrived in a gravel parking lot at Grafton Notch.  There was a couple there set up doing trail magic.  We snacked on sandwiches, chips, cakes, veggies, and sodas until dusk.  We had to move on quickly with night approaching, so we walked down the trail, and the bridge across the Saco River.  We took a side trail, and set up camp in our stealth spots about a quarter mile away from the AT, just as the last light of the day faded.

The trail to Ethan Pond was so easy, there was even time for some warrior poses.

Sept 1

Awe

Starting out this morning we started climbing uphill.  After a mile or so, the grade pitched up considerably.  We made the climb up to Liberty Springs Campsite, where we learned that the rest of our group had stayed the night before.  I stopped to fill up on water at the spring.  When I neared the top of this climb, I came to a junction where a side trail led up to the actual summit of Mt. Liberty.  I considered for a moment, heading up to the top of this 4000 footer, but the scenery around me was drawing me down the AT toward Franconia Ridge.  The trees were tightly packed along the trail, but I could see bits of clear blue sky all around.  I knew what I was approaching was going to be incredible.  A few miles after starting out this morning, I had already gained several thousand feet of elevation, as I started up another climb to the top of Little Haystack Mountain.  As I got above treeline, the whole of the ridge laid before my feet. I was standing at 4800 feet, ahead of me Mt. Lincoln stood a bit higher, then a bit further down the trail, Mt. Lafayette rose up even further.  The size of these granite mountains was impressive.  The fir forest climbed the rocky slopes, hanging precariously, before being over taken by miles of rocky ridge line and multiple peaks.  I stopped for a few minutes at the summit of Little Haystack, but I my feet were no longer being controlled by my mind, as I floated down the trail toward the summit of Lincoln.  There were some small portions of boulder climbing along the way, but I couldn't recognize the level of difficulty.  I felt as light as a feather.  At the top of Mt. Lincoln, I stopped to survey my surroundings.  Views in every direction, mountains as far as I could see.  The dark green foliage on the slopes gave the mountains a false impression of softness.  The angles of the peaks, and exposed, chiseled granite told a story of harshness.  Under a sapphire sky, I stood looking at these gems, totally awestruck by their beauty.  There were so many mountains to explore, each with unique features, rough and rugged, in a battle with rain, wind, and ice, that has elapsed over millennia.  My gaze returned to what was ahead of me on the trail.  Mt. Layfayette.  My legs were spread slighty, my knees bent, and I leaned forward.  Most of my weight was supported by my trekking poles, as I clasped my hands around the tops of the grips.  My head sank, chin to my chest.  Crushed by the gravity of the moment, I muttered, "thank you".  I knew my feet were planted on the earth, and the pack on my back was heavy laden, but it I couldn't tell.  My stomach was in my throat, and I felt my spirit soaring above these mountains.  "That's a great shot!  Do you mind if we take your picture?", I snapped back to reality as I acknowledged the day-hikers behind me.  Clearing my throat, and wiping the moisture from my eyes, I replied, "sure".  Hundreds of people were along the trail this morning, relishing the good weather and incredible views.  One couple in particular stopped to ask me about my hike, and offered me brownies and fresh veggies.  During the conversation with 'Short n Sweet' and 'Greybeard', I learned that they had a house back in the trail town of Norwich, VT.  When I had passed through on the evening of August 22, I had stopped in front of their house to get a bagel out of the trail magic cooler they had left out.  How crazy is that?!  Apache had taken the side trail to the top of Liberty a few miles back, and now we hiked on up Layfayette together to take a break for lunch.  The wind was stiff, and the air was cool at the summit, over 5200 feet up.  We could see another one of the AMC huts, Greenleaf, down a rocky side trail that led a mile down a shoulder of the mountain.  In the other direction, in the distance we could just make out the ridges of the Presidential range.  The sight of Mt. Washington was elating, but the summit was obscured by white clouds.  We descended from Lafayette, over 1000 feet, back into the trees.  Then we headed up Mt. Garfield.  At the 4500 foot summit, there was the stone foundation of some building; a fire tower, or perhaps a weather station, from decades ago.  We took a quick break to soak in the views, in the afternoon light, of Franconia Ridge behind us, and South Twin Mountain ahead of us.  The clouds on Washington finally washed over, giving us our first view of the summit, far off in the distance.  By 5pm, we had made it to the Garfield Ridge Shelter.  We wanted to avoid paying a fee there if at all possible.  Several other thru-hikers were already there when we arrived.  We couldn't all be accommodated, and the work for stay that was offered involved a hour of privy composting duty, so we moved on.  We were to far away from the next shelter, so we were resigned to stealth camping.  This is where it gets tricky in the AMC managed sections of the AT.  We had been told to find a spot, 200 feet off the trail, below treeline, and no closer than a quarter mile from any hut.  We passed several, albeit tiny, flat spots right along the trail, where other hoikers had 'illegally' camped in the past.  We tried to the best of our ability to abide by the regulations, but finding a good spot that was within the rules was like finding a needle in a haystack.  Occasionally, we would venture off the trail into the thick, mossy forest, in search of a good place to stealth camp.  The steep, rocky terrain didn't produce any leads.  I couldn't imagine that having hikers traipsing around through these fragile areas was good for the environment, but that was the option we were left with.  Just before dark, we got lucky and found a suitable site, totally out of view of the trail.  We got set up, and cooked our meals.  Sitting in a patch of moss, eating our dinner, a white owl flew onto a branch just above Apache.  The owl bobbed its head up and down, and hollowly glared at us through beady, black eyes.  It flew down to an even lower branch, now only a few feet above Apache's head.  He was able to snap a few photos, before the bird took off.  The moon was intensely bright as I fell asleep.

Franconia Ridge, White Mountains National Forest.