Hiking in the rain

If you've read the title, you've learned 90% of what you'd want to know about my weekend.

We knew in advance that Saturday might be a bit rainy, but set out only slightly deterred on Saturday morning.  By slightly deterred, I mean that instead of going over Mt Garfield, we went straight up the Gale River trail to Galehead hut.  It was a 5 mile walk instead of 8 miles, and took us around four hours.  The rain was on and off and not too heavy, but the trail was extremely muddy, so it was tough going much of the way.  We were all very pleased to arrive at the hut to dry off (actually, I was the only person to wear my raincoat the whole way, and I stayed almost completely dry) and have a late lunch.  We lazed around reading books, etc. for the remainder of the afternoon, before a delicious dinner of lentil soup, bread, salad, ham, beans and gingerbread.

Side note: did I ever mention the time I dreamed I was at a brunch restaurant, and the food was so good I was disappointed when I woke up and realised I couldn't go there in reality?  I ate custard-filled french toast, and deep friend gingerbread.  The gingerbread was more like a dense case than the hard biscuit (cookie) some may think of as gingerbread, and it was covered in something of a tempura batter.  It was very yummy: yummier than it feels to me at this moment (possibly because I recently ate a bread-heavy dinner of fishburgers).

Anyway, the gingerbread was similar: just a little lighter, and not deep fried.

After dinner, Mike shared something he promised would be even better than the port he brought last year: hot buttered spiced rum!  It was indeed better: better than most things, in fact.

We enjoyed some Scrabble - we weren't keeping score, but I'm pretty sure I won since no-one else scored bingos - before bed.

The next morning was extremely windy and a little rainy.  We put on our raingear (including my new rain pants) and headed up a very steep mountain, South Twin.  Upon reaching the top and turning down, the wind picked up (it had died down enormously once we were away from the hut and in the trees) and blew the rain right at us hard.  Nick got very cold, but we got some food into him, and he was all better.  The rest of the day was a long slog in the wet.  The rain was never particularly heavy, but it was constant, and the path under us was very wet also.  Overall, the conditions were enough to make the trek more an achievement to be attained than a pleasure to be savoured, but no worse than that.

Until we reached the river, 200 yards from Zealand hut.  This river is usually a small stream running down towards Zealand Falls.  On Sunday, however, it was raging.  It wasn't wide (3 metres?), or particularly deep (knee deep on our shorter hikers), but the water was moving fast enough to cause difficulties.  Mike took his shoes off to get a better grip, and was able to wade across.  He planned to stay in to assist the rest of us, but the water was too cold.  As the tallest and probably next strongest, I went next, jumping across.  I was slightly concerned, because if I hadn't reached the rock for which I was aiming, I would have fallen right in, but I made it and Mike grabbed me to make sure I fell forward and not back.  The others followed very carefully, though Nick slipped and went for an unexpected swim.  Thus it was with soggy boots and damp clothes we walked the last few minutes to Zealand hut.  Our hearts fell when we found we had to cross another stream, but it was only a few centimetres deep and felt like nothing at all.

This time, we were only just in time for dinner (better soup, good but not quite as good main, of pasta shells), and enjoyed a little Scrabble, Mike winning this time.

I had a slightly disturbed night's rest, but was refreshed enough, and my feet were in better shape than those of some others in the group (I think their shoes were less waterproof).  We had to decide whether to follow our planned route, or take the very short trip down to the nearest road.  We decided that we would ask if others were taking that route and could give one of us a lift to our cars, and if so we'd go with them.  If not, Mike and I would take the longer route, letting the others go the short way.  It turned out there was someone who could help (who helped multiple groups, in fact), so we took the short cut.

Monday's weather was actually really nice, and the walk would have been very pleasant were it not for the soaking state of shoes (and, in other cases, the soreness of feet).  I think that was a make-or-break factor that led me to decline Mike's offer of the longer walk.  We enjoyed a much easier meander through the lakes (a little too literally, perhaps) and forests of Zealand.

Lunch at Moat Mountain pub followed, and the drive back to Cambridge.  A different experience from last year's, but I think a characteristic example of hiking in the White Mountains.