Morning broke quietly in the halfway house on the slopes of Mt. Washington in New Hampshire. The old abandoned building was boarded up. It kept the wind out but also blocked most of the light! I remember cooking breakfast by the light of my little flashlight (a first for me, since I have never been an early riser). Ted the Head and the Strohs Brothers wolfed down their breakfast too. We loaded up our gear and squeezed out of the window by pushing on the lose piece of plywood. I half expected to see the park rangers waiting to arrest us, but the coast was clear.
In the light of day we were able to look back at the summit of Mt. Washington and see how far we had walked the night before. The mountain towered above us and was very impressive. It was the last gigantic mountain I would see before reaching Mt. Katahdin in Maine. Yes, there were lots of other mountains to climb, but not like that one!
We started walking down the road and made good time. Before lunchtime we reached the base of the mountain and civilization. There was a hostel near the road and we went in to take a break. I need to clarify this statement. "Take a break" for me meant a half hour or maybe an hour. But "Take a break" for Ted the Head and the Strohs Brothers meant that they checked in for the night! Their next thought was where they could find a beer. I was invited to stay, but I politely declined. We were past the most dangerous part of the White Mountains. I appreciated their companionship, but my goal was Katahdin in Maine, not a party.
The climb up the next mountain was not terribly difficult, but it was different. For one thing, I was now hiking through forests (a welcome change after all that hiking above tree line). But the biggest difference I felt was solitude. The constant banter of Ted the Head and the Strohs Brothers was suddenly gone. I stopped and listened to the silence. It was peaceful, but a bit lonely.
After a brisk climb, the trail came to a rock outcropping. It was a great place to take a break and soak in some sun. The temperature wasn't very cold, but still a bit cool because of the elevation. Sitting on that rock I began to think about being alone. It had been months since I left home. I had less than 400 miles to go before reaching the final mountain in Maine. I knew that I would make it. I also knew that I would see other hikers soon, even if I never saw Ted the Head and the Strohs Brothers again.
I sat with my lonely thoughts, soaking up the sun and resting my tired muscles. But then there was something....a tiny noise. The trail has lots of sounds if you pay attention. But this noise was a bit unusual. It sounded a bit like scurrying. I looked around to see the source of this unusual disturbance. Much to my delight I spotted a small chipmunk. I was scurrying across the rock, oblivious to my presence. At that moment I laughed inside, realizing that I was not really alone!
My new friend was busy going to and fro. I pulled out my camera and tried to get some photos. Have you ever tried to take pictures of a chipmunk in a hurry? Well, if you have then you know what I went through. If the light was right for a shot, the chipmunk ran too fast. When he was still, the light was too dim to capture the moment. By the time I got close enough to get a really good shot, he saw me and dashed away.
Isn't that just like God to send me a tiny friend when I needed him most? My dark mood was gone. With a smile on my face, I hoisted my backpack and continued walking on the trail. I had miles to go before I would sleep.
