The weather outside is terrible. I snuggle into my bunk in my winter sleeping bag and read the novel I have scrounged from the library shelf - Danielle Steele and her character Lily: 'which one of you bitches is my mother'. I am really glad that we have become 'paying customers'. All the thru-hikers who stayed last night and slept on the floor of the dining room in return for doing a chore, are told they have to move on. Outside the wind is howling, the visibility is dismal, and the temperature is chilling. The hikers are faced with a three mile hike to the summit of Mt Washington along an exposed ridge, in terrible conditions. The hundred dollar per person per night charge seems a small price to pay at this minute. I am not sure of the ethics of forcing hikers outside into hypothermic conditions, but all the beds are sold and they are probably expecting a new batch of arrivals and a new batch of bedraggled thru hikers. So the thru-hikers are moved on. If they make it to Mt Washington, it is possible to evacuate the mountain - there is a visitor centre and a bus which departs twice a day down to the valleys where it is possible to wait out the storm. But the bus costs money - and many thru hikers can't spare the cash.
Around 10.00am, a new set of room-mates arrive, dripping wet and hypothermic. This is a family of 4 from Boston, who have booked this night months ago - pity about the conditions. Lunch and morning and afternoon tea are available so we stuff ourselves. For one minute the clouds clear and the sun shines through. Digby rushes out into the freezing wind to take a photo. Early in the afternoon I hear someone calling 'Tripper! Where are you?' It is Scatters who has caught up to us doing another long day. This is great news - tomorrow we will be able to meet Donna, her mum on the top of Mt Wellington.
No comments:
Post a Comment