The Pemi Loop was closed! That's ok, we found something bigger and better.

Introduction:

The Pemi Loop is closed!

In early 2026, I laid out an aggressive summer hiking plan that would culminate in hiking the infamous Pemi Loop trail in NH in 1 day on July 11. You can’t just roll out of bed and hike the Pemi. No, you need to work your way up to the 30+ mile, 10K+ elevation gain trail. My hiking group, which consists of three people, started the summer by tackling the extended Franconia Ridge loop trail. This 15-mile hike tackled 5 four-thousand-foot peaks to include Mount Flume, Liberty, Little Haystack, Lincoln and Lafayette. This would be our warmup. We completed it on May 23rd with relative ease. Next we would tackle the extended Presidential Ridge on June 13th. These 23 miles included 10K+ of elevation gain and summiting 8 four thousand peak mountains. The hike took my brother and I 14 hours and 40 minutes to complete. It nearly killed us. All of this was in preparation of our ultimate goal; the Pemi Loop.

We planned, we prepped and we waited patiently for July to come. On July 6th, five days before the hike, I was checking the route on my All-Trails app when I noticed something strange. The trail was CLOSED! What? How does a mountain trail close? Turns out that a section of the trail known as the Lincoln Woods was under repair. The Lincoln Woods was where the hike started and ended. I was devastated. I let my hiking group know the bad news and quickly began to look for alternatives.

I took out my maps, my protractor and my #2 pencil and began the arduous process of devising a route that would approximate the Pemi Loop in distance and difficulty. When that didn’t work because I don’t have any maps and I’m not quite sure what a protractor is, I simply asked Google. Google didn’t have a great alternative option, but it did give me some ideas. What if we could self-plan a 30-mile hike that included many of the peaks that the Pemi Loop did, but also add some new peaks that we hadn’t climbed yet. It took some tinkering, but in the end I built a hiking itinerary on the All-Trails app that would equal and in many ways surpass the difficulty of the Pemi Loop.

The hike starts by summitting Mount Garfield at sunrise, before heading to Mount Galehead, South Twin, North Twin, Mount Guyot, West Bond, Bond, Bondcliff, Zealand and Hale. 10 Peaks (two of which we backtrack to), 31 miles and close to 11K in elevation gain. It was to be an epic hike worthy of the Pemi Loop. On July 13th 2026, we completed this trek. Here is our story.

The Starting Line:

Three of us met in different cars at the Zealand Trail trailhead at 2:20 AM. Driving down an endless dirt road in the middle of the night was something straight out of a horror movie. The road, if you want to call it that, was so dark, my high beams barely penetrated the blackness. It felt as if I was driving into another world. This was a truly wild place.

As I pulled into the trailhead parking lot my brother was in his car waiting for me. The idling car barely emitted enough light to create a shadow. I recognized the car, but the visual of a dimly lit car in this environment sent chills down my spine. The whole experience was unnerving. It made me second guess this plan. Is it a good idea to enter the haunted forest at this time of night? It certainly didn’t seem like a good idea at this moment. I parked my car, grabbed my stuff and climbed into my brother’s car as if seeking refuge from the suffocating darkness. He greeted me in a somewhat unorthodox manner. “I dropped the headlamp I brought down the toilet. You can get it if you want.” I was immediately brought back to reality and the feeling of being watched by the boogeyman disappeared as I tried to make sense of what my brother just said to me. I was groggy and I don’t remember how I responded, but I knew I wouldn’t be fishing out a headlamp out of toilet that was placed in the middle of the Blair Witch forest.

I tried to get my bearings and take stock of the situation. My brother was here! That was a huge win. Historically speaking, he is not what I would call a punctual person. Here is where I usually rip my brother to pieces by sharing all the weird quirky and annoying things he does, but I have to give him credit here. If nothing else, he was committed to this hiking thing. He was the first one there and he was ready to go. There will be plenty to make fun of later. 10 minutes passed and the third member of our group, Trish, arrived in her car. We all piled into my brother’s car and began the 35 min drive to the Garfield Trailhead. As we pulled down another dark and desolate dirt road, it was clear that none of us had gotten much sleep. How can you when you start a hike at 3AM? This was going to be an interesting day.

Garfield:

At 3:30 AM (30 min later than our planned starting time) we donned our headlamps (minus the toilet one) and started the 5-mile trek to the summit of Mount Garfield. Walking in the dark with a headlamp is a trippy experience. I don’t think I would like to do it solo. Theres a certain silent stillness in the air that doesn’t exist once the birds wake up. The silence has a heaviness to it. As you walk in complete darkness, all you can hear is your footsteps on the path. Thud, scuff, thud, scuff. It feels like you are in a dream. Like you are walking in slow motion. You wait for a sound, any sound, but there is nothing but complete silence. The anticipation creates an uneasiness that’s difficult to describe. When you do hear a sound, your mind immediately races to try to figure out what made that sound. Was it a bear? A bobcat? A moose? A rogue cannibalistic mountain hermit? The crazy clown guy from those Stephen King books? The whole experience is rife with discomfort. I read a lot of thru-hiking books and often, the solo hiker would speak with reverence about walking through wilderness in the middle of the night. I am sure that once you get past the crippling fear and uneasiness, it’s probably a very peaceful and cathartic experience.

We talked to break the silence as well as to let the bears and moose (and killer clowns) know we were there. We played games to pass the time. We took turns trying to name all the countries in Europe. After that, we tackled Africa. The game got old quickly and eventually devolved into petty arguments about nonsense. That’s pretty much the recipe for any game I play with my brother. Honestly, I felt bad for Trish as she had to listen to us. As we trekked on a faint glow started to emerge through the canopy of trees. Dawn was fast approaching. We were about a ½ mile from the summit when the sun eclipsed the horizon signaling the start of the day.

When we got to the top of Garfield, we encountered 3 people in sleeping bags taking in the sunrise. We weren’t the only crazy people out there. We admired the sunrise for a few minutes, but we didn’t linger long. We had a lot of ground to cover, so we began the steep descent down what is referred to as “the Chimney” as we set our sights on our next objective, the Galehead Hut.

Galehead:

We arrived at the Galehead Hut around 7:15AM. The hut doesn’t open till 8AM, but people that had stayed the night there were milling about the outside area. The hut has a waterspout on the exterior of the building. We drank some water, dropped our packs and started our ½ mile ascent to the top of Galehead Mountain.

The Galehead summit was just a pile of rocks, but there was a small rock ledge below the summit with views overlooking the Twin Mountains (our next destination) and the Galehead Hut sitting right smack in the middle of the saddle between Galehead and South Twin Mountain. We headed down and we were back at the hut around 7:50AM. The hut would open at 8AM so we waited around to use the bathroom before tackling one of the hardest ascents of the hike; South Twin Mountain.

South Twin:

The hike up to South Twin is described by Google as “brutal.”This trail doesn’t mess around with switchbacks; it just beelines straight up a giant staircase for 1.2 miles. At about the halfway point of the ascent I remember thinking to myself that I was glad we were hiking this section early in the AM when our legs were still fresh. Brutal was certainly an apt description (Google is smart), but we all handled the ascent with relative ease given the challenge.

The summit of South Twin was beautiful and offered a 360-degree view of the surrounding landscape. It was a nice reward for the difficult climb. From South Twin, we would leave our bags and tackle North Twin before doubling back. There were a good number of people on the summit. We talked with a few of them about their itineraries. It never ceases to amaze me how positive and happy people are in the mountains. Even though they had just endured a challenging ascent, people were just so happy to be there. It’s one of things I love about hiking in the mountains. Seeing other people of all shapes and sizes take part in the ritual of hiking and loving it renewed my faith in humanity. Sort of.

North Twin:

The hike over to North Twin was an uneventful trek that descends down to another saddle, traverses through beautiful wilderness before climbing back up to the alpine. I am not sure why they are called “Twin” mountains as North Twin was technically below the tree line, and the summit was just a pile of rocks with no views. North Twin must be pissed at South Twin for getting the good genetics because the North Twin experience paled in comparison to South.

Write yourHowever, there was a nice lookout ledge just before the North Twin summit and for me, that was worth the climb. I cannot and will not ever get sick of the views in the White Mountains. With four peaks down, we headed back to South Twin to get our bags and head to our next destination peak.

Guyot:

The first part of the hike to Guyot was uneventful. We tackled lots of PUDS (pointless ups and downs). We were still relatively fresh, so this section was a smooth cruise down through another mountain saddle. At this stage of the hike, we were eating miles with relative ease.

Speaking of eating, it was at about this time, that my brother produced a bag of golden kiwis. It is not often you see a hiker whip out a plastic baggy filled with 6 kiwi’s but my brother isn’t the typical hiker. He subscribes to his own nutrition strategy. Damn the years of tried-and-true hiking foods like trail mix and granola bars. Forget about prioritizing light weight food that can’t spoil. No, Mark was re-inventing trail food, and he was proud of his ingenuity. I won’t mention the time on a previous hike where he brought a bag of peeled hardboiled eggs, but I will tell you that I still want to vomit at the thought of it. He offered me a kiwi and out of curiosity I attempted to eat it. As you can imagine, eating a kiwi while climbing down giant rock slabs was a bit of challenge. “You can eat the skin,” he said as he bit into the kiwi like an apple. I looked at the kiwi and tried to determine how to eat it. I wasn’t going to eat it like an apple, that was for sure. I did the best I could to consume it, but it was a bit of a challenge. I won’t deny that it was a tasty treat, but it was the definition of impractical. If I had to rate the kiwi from 1-10 (10 being the best) as a hiking food, I’d give it about a 3. There is a reason hikers tend to pack dried fruits instead. Oddly enough, this food decision would be his best of the day. More on that later.

As you approach Mount Guyot, the trail exits the trees and follows an exposed ridge. For me, this is why I hike in the mountains. These exposed areas are special, and this was no exception. Beautiful low green mountain shrubs lined the trail. You could see the trail weave its way across the horizon for what seemed like miles. You could make out hikers far in the distance in every direction. The open air on this exposed ridge was intoxicating. It was easy to see why some people experienced vertigo on these exposed ridges. In the open air you feel weightless, almost as if you are floating. The vastness of the scenery creates a feeling that you are just a tiny, inconsequential being. You get a feeling that maybe you shouldn’t be there. That maybe this isn’t a place for humans. That’s probably why it’s so stimulating. This was mother nature’s den. This was her house and you weren’t invited.

Our next peak, Guyot, sat perched on the mountain ridge in the distance and while it isn’t technically a 4K footer as it’s technically a “sub peak,” it is still over 4K feet so we counted it as one of our 10 mountains. Google says something about it not having enough topographical prominence to be considered a real mountain. Well, my legs don’t really care about topographical prominence. We counted it and that’s that.

While standing on the Guyot peak I had a moment. I hadn’t been here in over 10 years. I absolutely loved this area of the Whites, so I took in the scene and tried to bask in the experience. As good as the Guyot summit was it was just the beginning. The hike was only going to get better as we headed to the Bonds. Here my brother began his string of James Bond jokes. I think he said “shaken but not stirred” at least 5 times over the next few miles.

West Bond:

The trail descends down to Guyot junction. Here you can head to the Guyott campsite area to access water from a spring should you need it. We didn’t need it at the moment, so I dropped my pack, grabbed a water bottle and we headed up the steep trail to get to the Bonds. When we hit the West Bond turn off we began our ½ mile ascent to the peak. At this point, about 15 miles in, fatigue would start to play a role. Having no pack is a luxury, so we took advantage of this and bagged the peak quickly.

From the West Bond Summit you get an amazing view of Bondcliff. Bondcliff is one of my favorite places on Earth. As far as NH mountains go, Bondcliff is truly unique. As the name would suggest, it is essentially a giant cliff ledge. What makes this cliff ledge so special is that it is just over 1 mile long. I explained to my brother that when I die, I want my ashes to be spread across my top 10 favorite places on Earth. Bondcliff was one of them. I then explained that he would likely have to be the person that did it as all the places were not easy to get to. Bondcliff was no different. Part of the allure is that it’s tough to get to. What are the other 9 spots you ask? Well, that is a story for another day. Let’s just say that Bondcliff would likely be the easiest of the 10 to complete.

We took in the view of West Bond for a few more minutes before heading back down to the trail turnoff, collected the stuff we left there, and headed up to Mount Bond.

Bond:

The climb up to Mount Bond was steep but when we reached the peak, all feelings of tiredness and exhaustion disappeared as we took in the view.Spectacular is the only word I can come up with that even approaches a description of the view.

There was Bondcliff due South in the distance. The visibility was perfect. You could make out the trail weaving down to the col and up to the cliff. I couldn’t wait. I was so eager to get to Bondcliff that I didn’t toil around on the Bond summit. I took the steep trail down what would be a long and grueling descent before making my way up to the cliffs. When we arrived at Bondcliff, it was picture time. The cliffs edge had huge drop offs and if you took pictures from the right angle, you ended up with some magical photos.

Write your text There was one place in particular that required you to stand on a rock platform that was probably 6 FT by 6 FT. On three sides of the platform slab, there was a huge drop off. How far? Too far to even venture a guess. Once on the platform, the wind picked up drastically. It was weird to go 5 feet and have such a difference in windspeed. Was this the ghost of Bondcliff? Was it science? For me it was terrifying and I stood directly in the middle of the platform as my legs shook in fear. Once the pictures were taken, we had some food and took in the views. You could see the West Bond peak an impossibly far distance across the canyon. We had just been there an hour before? Maybe it was 2 hours? Time seemed to play tricks on me on this section of the hike. Either way, it is amazing what people can do with their feet.

What goes down must go up. Ya, I know that’s not the saying, but it’s applicable here. The climb back down from Bondcliff and then up to Bond was incredibly challenging. The sun had made its presence known and in some sections there was no airflow. The sweat poured off me as I made my way up the trail. This is where fatigue started to play a role, particularly for my brother. He notoriously hates the ups, so I knew he would struggle here.

When I got to the top, I found a nice flat rock slab to lie down on while I waited for Mark and Trish. Trish was up a couple minutes later. Two women hikers recognized her and told her so. Small world. Turns out these hikers were the real deal. One of them recounted a time when she hiked the Bonds in the winter in waste deep snow. On the ridge between Bond and Bondcliff the wind was so strong it nearly tossed her off the mountain. She had to crawl part of the way to counter the wind. That’s a whole new level of insanity.

When my brother got to the peak, I could tell he was cooked. He drank all his water and we talked about the idea of going ½ off trail to get water from a spring. I took this opportunity to remind my brother that I advised him to fill up his water bottle at the last hut. He refused to stating it was too much weight. Now he was out of water. Hmmmm. Maybe he should have listened to his experienced brother. After some discussion, we determined that Trish and I had enough water to share that would allow us to get to the Zealand hut which was about 4 miles away. We said goodbye and headed back down to the Guyotte junction.

Zealand

On the way down my brother told us he had lost his hip belt. How anyone can lose a hip belt on a hike is really a mystery to me, but knowing my brother, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. When we got to the West Bond split, I told Mark and Trish I would catch up to them. I took the West Bond trail a short way to where I had recalled my brother dropping off his backpack before the West Bond ascent. Sure enough, sitting on the ground amongst a bunch of sticks and leaves was my brother’s hip belt. How he had picked up his backpack and not the belt was yet another mystery to me. The hip belt was filled with stuff. A lot of stuff. He hiked over 5 miles without even realizing he was missing this belt with at least 3 pounds of food and other stuff inside. I attached the belt to my waist and rushed to catch up with the group. When I got to the junction, I collected my bag (which I had left here while climbing the bonds). I had planned on wearing the hip belt until my brother noticed, but I quickly abandoned the plan because I knew I would be carrying the extra weight for the remainder of the hike as it was unlikely he would even notice. I gave him his belt back. I explained to him where he left it on the trail. I expected him to react to this news. Perhaps get frustrated with himself or apologize or something. He simply put the belt on and off we went.

From the junction we hiked back up to Guyotte. After Guyotte we took the Zeacliff trail up to the Northeast where we would settle onto a long traverse filled with endless PUDS. With water running low we saw the .1-mile cut off to the Zealand peak. The Zealand summit was probably my least favorite summit of the 10 we climbed. Again, just a pile of rocks. The good news is that it was only .1 miles back to the main trail. From there the trail starts a long never-ending descent down to Zealand hut. This section took forever as the trail was incredibly steep. At this part of the day with 20 miles under our belts, we needed to take it slowly. We took an occasional break to eat some snacks and drink some water. On one of these breaks my brother pulled out another plastic bag, this time filled with cherries. Like the eggs and kiwi’s, I would describe cherries as a bit unconventional. I couldn’t help but think about what happens to cherries over 20 miles of hot, sweaty hiking. The cherries bathed in a red juice that looked about as unappealing as you can imagine. He offered me the bag and against better judgement I had 3 or 4 cherries. My brother ate 2 dozen easy and when he was done he drank the sweaty warm cherry juice. Mmmmmmm. We continued to make our way towards the Zealand hut. When we finally got there it was approaching 5:20 PM. First order of business was water. We drank some and filled our bottles and water bladders. It was decision time.

Hale

To Hale or not to Hale. That is the question. The Hale summit was a 5-mile round trip from the Zealand Hut. Sunset was sometime around 8:30 PM. Even if it we maintained a 40 min/ mile pace (which would be difficult at this stage in the day) that would put us back at the hut around 7:10 PM. We then had to take the 2.7 mile trail from the Zealand Hut back to the car at the Zealand Road Trailhead. We were cutting it close. We had about 22 miles under our belts and we were fatigued. We decided that we came this far, so we might as well grab the Hale Peak as well. We left our packs at the hut, grabbed our water bottles and headed up the trail.

My brother set an uncomfortably fast pace for the first 1.5 miles. The trail was a steady incline that passed through forest and bogs. I followed, wondering what he was doing and why he was going so fast. I didn’t mind because the faster we hiked, the faster we would finish and the faster I could rest my legs. As I plotted along I was blindsided by a wave of nausea. This was new. I tried to ignore it and keep up my pace. After a few minutes, I spotted my brother and Trish sitting on a rock on the trail. While we rested, I told them I felt nauseous and I didn’t know why. My brother didn’t look good either. I assumed he was just tired from the ridiculous pace he set, but no, that wasn’t it. He was feeling nauseous too. Really nauseous. I thought back on the last few hours and quickly came to the conclusion that the hut water we drank must have been bad. Trish, who seemed to have had only a sip or two seemed to be fine. Both Mark and I chugged a lot of water at the hut. We tried to ignore it and trek on. After a few minutes, the situation would deteriorate as my brother began to vomit all over the trail. Oh no.

His vomiting would continue as we slowly continued our trek up to Hale, this time at a very slow pace. Every five minutes I would hear my brother retch and vomit. After a while there was nothing left in his system to purge so he would just dry heave. This scared me. Aside from the vomiting itself, this would surely lead to dehydration. We dumped our “tainted” water. We still had a mile left to go? Maybe more? I still felt nauseous, but it was starting to subside. We discussed the option of turning around and heading back to the hut. That was quickly dismissed by my brother who insisted we continue on. So, on we went.

As we walked I thought about the situation. Should we turn around? What was the smart decision here? I looked at my brother and I looked at Trish. Trish could probably go another 20 miles, so no worry there. I looked at my brother and tried to weigh the pros and cons of the situation. I knew he would never agree to turning around, but he was last person to listen to in a situation like this. His mentality was that he would climb the peak even if it killed him. I didn’t have that same mentality, and I preferred that he didn’t perish climbing little ole Mount Hale. I could see the headline of the news story in my head; Derry man dies climbing Mount Hale after drinking some foul water. Ya, that was definitely a lame way to go.

The 1 mile that remained to get to the summit felt like 50 and my thoughts started to get negative. This was a bad sign, because this only happens to me when I have pushed past my limits. I just wanted it to be done. I could tell that Mark and Trish felt the same way, but we pushed on.

When we got to the summit of Hale, we took 2-minute rest, took a photo to commemorate the achievement and began our ascent back down the way we came. My brothers’ dry heaves seemed to have subsided, so I was feeling pretty good about making it back to the hut unscathed. We just needed to get there, get some clean water and we would be ok. That being said, 1.5 miles seemed undoable at the moment. It didn’t help that this was a “there and back” peak so as we descended, I was re-acquainted with all the spots my brother decided to regurgitate his cherries. Nice of him to leave his mark directly on the trail. Ya, this was going to be a grind.

As we made our way down, I thought more about nausea. The more I thought about it, the more I didn’t think it was the water. The hut water is treated. I have consumed hut water from the White Mountain huts for years. It didn’t make sense for it to bother us now. Also, there were a lot of people at the hut drinking the water too. How come they weren’t sick? We would have been told if there was an issue? I pondered these thoughts as we painstakingly made our way down the trail. Out of nowhere (or maybe it was the regular intervals of cherry vomit on the trail), it came to me. The cherries!! My brother ate a lot of cherries and drank a lot of cherry juice. I had only a couple of cherries. Trish didn’t have any. Maybe that was why my nausea wasn’t as bad as his. Maybe that was why Trish didn’t experience any nausea. It made sense in my head, so I shared it with the group. My brother didn’t buy it. He was certain it was the water. How could cherries be the culprit? They were just an innocent fruit. I couldn’t argue the logic, but I still had my doubts. I thought of a new headline; “Derry man perishes on Mount Hale summit after ingesting too many cherries.” Was it worse to die by cherries or foul water? I’m not sure, but both options weren’t great.

Eventually we made it back to the hut. By the time I was able to filter the water, so my brother wouldn’t die of dehydration, it was 7:30 PM. We were way behind schedule.

Zealand Hut to Parking Lot @ Zealand Road:

We got out our headlamps and headed down the Zealand Trail. Thankfully, the Zealand trail was the easiest section of the entire hike. It was mostly just a wide, flat, dirt trail. It was easy on the feet and for that we were very thankful. The sun set and soon we were walking in darkness. The trail meandered through dense forest and past serene lakes. The day started in darkness, and it would end in darkness. This was a different darkness than the morning. I’m not sure why, but that’s how it felt. It didn’t feel as isolated or creepy as it did at 4 AM. Maybe it was the birds chirping and singing that comforted me or perhaps it was the overwhelming fatigue that settled into my bones that masked the fear. Either way, it was just a nice walk down a quiet dark path.

I started to think about how great it was that the three of us accomplished this arduous hike. We survived the pitch-black dirt roads of the NH outback. We survived the sunrise hike to Garfield and the “the chimney” descent down to the Galehead Hut. We survived the “brutal” uphill climb to South Twin. We survived the Bonds and the huge descent down to the Zealand Hut. We survived cherry-palooza and dehydration. Perhaps most impressive, we survived Marks unorthodox antics. His failure to understand trails or direction. His inability to pack appropriately. His failure to learn how to drink out of his water bladder. His reluctance to listen to his rationally minded and experienced brother. His propensity to lose his sunglasses and hip belt. His complete lack of understanding the limits of his own body. As if on cue as I’m thinking about all of his quirks, I hear a scream about 200 yards back on the trail. “What’s wrong?” I yelled to which I got no response. “I think he fell,” I mentioned to Trish who was 20 yards ahead of me. I heard a few groans and then I saw his headlamp slowly approaching us. Ya, he definitely fell. It was a fitting end to a monumentally difficult hike. One thing you can’t question when it comes to Mark is his determination and resiliency. No matter the challenge, he won’t tap out.

I recently read a book called “Grit” where it attempts to define grit as well as to provide insights into why some people have it and some don’t. It’s a decent book, but nothing I would recommend too strongly. I bring it up because grit is an easy way to describe what is needed for these types of endurance activities. Dealing with discomfort is pre-requisite. If you can’t deal with discomfort, then don’t register for the program. If dealing with discomfort is a pre-requisite, then mental toughness is endurance hiking 101. If you aced these classes, then perhaps endurance hiking is just what the doctor ordered for you.

We made it back to the car at 9:15 PM. Somehow the parking lot and road didn’t seem as diabolical as they did at 2AM. Or perhaps, I didn’t care if the Blair Witch herself, came out of the woods and devoured my soul. I was just too tired. We started at 3:15 AM. 18 hours and 8 minutes later, we completed the trek. We hiked a total of 30.83 miles. We summited 10 peaks (12 if you include the two peaks we had to backtrack too) and climbed 10,862 vertical feet of elevation gain. We truly hiked from dawn to dusk. We didn’t take many breaks along the way. We stopped a few times to refill water and have a snack, but we didn’t remain idle for more than 5-10 minutes at a time. Often times we ate as we hiked.

It’s an odd feeling to reach the end of such a long and grueling hike. You spend the whole day (or longer) trying to complete the trek. When you actually finish, it’s as if your favorite movie just ended. You were excited to watch it and eager to see its conclusion. You enjoyed most of it, but once it’s over, it’s over. You’re satisfied to some extent, but there’s also a feeling of emptiness. It took 18 hours of continuous hiking to achieve your goal and when you finally get to the finish line, it’s kind of like, “now what?” It’s not a negative feeling per say. It’s more of a realization that the experience is over. It’s a strange combination of happiness and sadness that I don’t often feel. All that being said, this was a 10/10 experience and one that I will remember for some time.

Epilogue

As we drove down the rock-strewn dirt road in the darkness, we turned the page on another epic adventure. An adventure that in retrospect went by in a flash. How does 18 hours feel like 5? It made no sense. It was bittersweet. I felt content, but I knew the contentment wouldn’t last long. I asked my brother if he wanted to stop at the toilet to get his headlamp. It was a rhetorical question but felt appropriate. He declined the suggestion. In fact, I didn’t even get a laugh. It was a sleepy 40 min drive back to the Garfield Trailhead where I dropped Mark off at his car. I said my goodbyes and set the fastest course possible to get to my bed. As I drove I started thinking about what was next. I was already ready for the next big adventure. I knew Mark and Trish were too. They were hooked now. Just like I was. It was a blessing and a curse. Sorry, not sorry. But what was next? How do you top a 10 peak 30 mile, 18-hour hike in the White Mountains? I didn’t know the answer, but I felt confident that we would figure it out. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when. It was as inevitable as the sun rising in the AM and setting in the evening. It was as inevitable of my brother losing his sunglasses or packing terrible trail food. It would happen because as John Muir says, “The mountains are calling and I must go.”

-MikeHikesTheAlps 2026

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-MikeHikesTheAlps