Can you still call it a day-hike if you see two sunrises?

We knew it would be big, but we weren't really expecting epic. I should know by now, how things go. But 20 miles in a day, ok. We did the catskill 35 in record time. During winter. Our daily maximum so far is 38 miles; 20 should be reasonable. Even for the whites. It's not like we were expecting Presi-Grade boulders. The hard peaks were over.

We certainly weren't expecting snow in June.

We were almost at Wildcat D when we hit the snow. Way too late to turn back, we were committed. It was early, we trudged forward. Beautiful sunny day sitting on the platform on the glistening white snow enjoying a clif bar. Time to take the sweatshirt off. As we progressed the going got tougher and tougher. If we stayed in the middle of the trail, we were in snowshoe tracks and wouldn't posthole as much, one step to far to the left or the right and we were up to our hips. Hip deep snow in june! We wished we'd thought to bring snowshoes. But on we trudged. Sunset on Middle Carter, we stopped to contemplate our fate. Dinner of Clif Bars! And on we trudged. Glad the weather was lovely, but frustrated with our speed, step, step, fall. Step, Fall.

I don't know how long I was asleep, but I tripped on a rock and woke up. Nothing about my surroundings was remotely familiar, but I caught myself before I hit the ground. The sun was up and I was still following George. Oh my god it's a trail register, we're here! Oh, it's a tree. Left foot, forward, right foot forward, and I'm asleep again, but still moving. I didn't know you could fall asleep and keep walking, but apparently you can. Apparently I can.

We got to the trailhead near 6 AM, but the adventure was far from over. See, we live 9 hours away, we weren't going to drive two cars. We took a nap next to our bikes.

I tried to fight waking up, I snuggled closer to George, but eventually there was nothing I could do. Since we weren't moving anymore, it was impossible to stay warm. Regretfully we woke up, and rode down to Cumberland Farms. Blessed, blessed Cumberland Farms. It was a beautiful day down on the ground, and I had a beautiful cup of coffee. Glorious. I don't know how long we sat in the park before facing our task.

Bikes had seemed like such a great idea two days ago, but now, all I wanted was my bed. Route 16 between Gorham and Pinkham Notch is a heckofalot steeper than it feels in a car. Particularly with a broken gear shift. I felt like a wimp, huffing and puffing, every time someone whizzed by on a racing bike. But I kept reminding myself of the hiking poles poking out of my pack, and the hour and a half of sleep at the trailhead. Eventually our journey was over and we were at my car. I didn't even care that there was no hot water in the AMC showers.