How did I get here?

And what have I done? I've quit my job for a short-term gig, taken a hefty pay cut, severed a personal relationship and committed to my longest stretches without my best friend (Espresso) in his nine years.

If all goes as planned (which it surely won't, so lets say even if it doesn't) the above list will end up a footnote in the story, buried at the bottom of a blog filled with much better stories than this one.

Here's what I know:

I've accepted a job with the Appalachian Mountain Club. I will be a part of a small construction crew rebuilding the Club's Madison Spring Hut at 4800' in the White Mountains, The hut is going to be almost completely demolished and rebuilt, bigger and (debatably) better. I'm committed to living on the site Tuesday through Friday, with hopes of extending my shift as often as I can. I expect to be living out of a tent or bivy sack. Our crew will include cooks. We'll be working from September until we can't stand the weather any longer, which will be sometime in November. Work will continue in the spring with hopes of having the hut opened for the season in June.

The Madison Hut with the summit of Mt. Madison (Photo by KBW)

The Madison Hut has a storied history. Originally conceived in 1888, it is the oldest hut location in the AMC's system and the oldest hut site in the United States. The hut as it generally appears today was first built in 1929 (known then as No. 3), but was destroyed by fire on Oct. 7, 1940. AMC-Hero Joe Dodge and his crew quickly rebuilt the hut and had it back in service by August of 1941. That structure is what we will be deconstructing, reconstructing and expanding. 

I've never officially been a guest, but I have had plenty run-ins with the spirited hut. On my first trip into the Northern Presidentials, an Easter weekend snow shoe up and over Mt. Madison,  I camped in the area (the hut was closed for the winter) with my dear late friend, Brooke. We were greeted in the morning by a fierce, but typical to the area, late winter storm. Later that year I huddled in the wet basement of the hut with Espresso, waiting out a mid-summer thunderstorm. That fall I ate my dinner in the hut near the beginning of my full-moon traverse. It was on that visit I first learned of this project— a laminated sign taped to the wall of the bathroom stall soliciting donations.

So, back to the subject at hand: How did I end up on this adventure? I read about it on a bathroom wall.

"For a good time, come rebuild this hut."