Osceola and Osceola East: 12 and 13

Once more I stagger out of bed at 11:00 and the weather is overcast and gloomy. I am forever staggering from deep slumber at weird morning hours because I never can sleep at night. Nevertheless, I pack the car for a trip to Waterville and head for the Osceolas. Whenever I dig the backpack out of the closet, Ruby instantly begins bounding for joy. By now she's attuned to all the signs that indicate a hike is imminent. Though the skies appear threatening, it actually does not rain a single drop until I am safely back into the car 8 hours later. There is no one on the trail today and I am able to free my mind from mental clutter. In fact, I am making up new lyrics to the Cracker song "What the world needs now...is another Steve Buschemi - so I can laugh at his teeth." This is the kind of space-out zone I love to be in when I'm hiking. And let me say, I can only achieve this through mountain hiking.
There are a few muddy spots, and as many times as I've climbed this mountain , one particular area always stands out. This is where the long ledges on the Osceola Trail become slanted, making for some tricky footwork. There's a group of hikers from Boston gathered at the top eating their turkey subs from the Mischievous Moose Deli. They talk about alternative protein sources. I snapped their picture and there was a subdued level of excitement that goes with the possibility of having your picture printed in the newspaper.
Now its time to decend the trail via 'The Chimney',scooch over to East Osceola, and cap off the day. My first impression of the Chimney came from a friend Gina who described carrying her dog down the chimney. " Oh my God, Marianne, the dog was afraid to go down the chimney. I had to pick her up and bring her down!" Holy shit! What is this chimney you speak about? I imagined a vertical chute- much like a real chimney. Enclosed by brick and perhaps a safety screen. What if I got stuck in the chimney like a fat grinch? Thankfully, there's a pussy way around the chimney and you need not venture down its' steep scary darkness. Even on the pussy trail, Ruby had a hard time managing the extreme drops. Still, we got over to East, with no soul in sight. I snapped some pics and we headed back to the parking lot just as the rains headed in. Heading down 93 south I stopped in Campton to enjoy a beer at the Sunset Grille . Jess the drumming bartender was there and I showed Paul, the restaurant owner , my Hippo-Press review of his establishment. Given my positive feedback in print , my tab was on the house.Thanks Paul!