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Gorham, NH, was the best town day I had on my entire thruhike.
I received
a ride into town from someone who just dropped a southbound thruhiker
at
the trail. I hadn't even reached the place that the AT leaves
US Rte 2.
She dropped me at the Gorham Post Office. All of my Bear Mountain
letters
and food were handed to me within a couple of minutes after my arrival.
Laura, the naturalist at the Lonesome Lake Pond [sic] Hut, was picking
up
her mail on the last of her 3 days off so she drove me to the Pizza
Hut.
The restaurant wasn't open yet, but an employee who just pulled up
let me
know that they had no all-u-can-eat pizza buffet. Laura then
drove me to a
Chinese restaurant. It had a buffet but opened at 11:30 AM, over
an hour
away. She then dropped me off at the Hiker's Paradise Hotel.
"Gadget-Man" greeted me in the driveway of the hostel and told me that
the
caretaker would shuttle us to the grocery store for free at 5:30 PM.
He
helped me carry my stuff up to an empty room where I would sleep that
night.
Later that night, Gadget-Man told me how he and his wife started a thruhike
together. He retired from the Navy Reserve as a Captain and a
NJ sheriff's
office at the same time. Their thruhike was stopped for various
reasons,
and I believe his wife passed away recently. He is back on the
trail,
determined to finish the last 150 miles before his class reunion at
the US
Naval Academy this fall. I was impressed with his perseverance,
especially
after the loss of his wife and trouble with his knees. Oh, his
trail name
stems from his assortment of McGyver/ James Bond toys. He has
something
for any occasion.
After settling in my room, I hit the shower. A dark pool formed
in the tub
as my clothing soaked in my shower water. I drained the tub three
times as
I scrubbed myself with soap and my clothes were repeatedly wrung out
with
each water change. The fourth rinse was fairly transparent.
I then
scrubbed the clothes with soap and rinsed them well.
Upon exit from the bathroom, a cool breeze cleared the steam from the
room.
I scraped the loose callouses from my feet and applied town clothes.
I
felt human again!
I met "Log-Jumper" in the kitchen after my revival. He told me
about a 10%
discount we would receive at the Fortune Cookie Restaurant if we mentioned
we were staying at the Colonial Hotel. (The Colonial runs the
Hiker's
Paradise Hostel.) I walked back to the restaurant and spent two
hours
filling my body with the excellent buffet.
Log Jumper is a recently retired attorney who is thruhiking southbound.
We
talked a while that evening about gear and the trail. He has
been
whittling down the weight in his pack for the first 300 miles and seems
to
enjoy the lighter load. I hope he makes it to Springer.
I also met a young couple who are southbound together. They seemed
upbeat
about their trip, and we discussed the similarities of our first few
weeks'
aches and pains. They just bought poles, despite the arrogant
attitude of
the outfitter. (His reply to' "Do you give discounts to thruhikers?"
was
"Nest you'll want me to finance your whole trip.") I resisted
the
temptation to enter "Moriah Sports" and ask the same question.
Hopefully
the poles will reduce their knee problems.
I saw a bull moose today, standing in Dream Lake. As I approached
the
lake, it walked to the north side and turned to watch me. I asked
it why
all the wildlife seems to appear when I run out of film. It shrugged
and
walked up the hill, smacking into the bushes, trees, and anything else
in
its way. Mooses sure are clumsy beasts.
I stopped at a small stream shortly after the lake. It ran from
a hill
above the height of the lake. There I ate a 1-pound kielbasa
and a large
volume of barbecue sauce. I refilled a gallon of water and treated
it with
chlorine. An hour into my lunch break, "Chewy" stopped by.
He saw another
bull moose a ways from mine. I'm going to regret not having a
camera. I
guess the photo of the moose in Denali Park from 1996 will have to
suffice.
I'll probably see one in the 100-mile wilderness, after my Caratunk
mail
drop.
"Clothespin," another thruhiker (northbound) that I've stayed with a
few
times stopped at the Gentian Pond Shelter where Chewy, me, and five
southbounders are staying tonight. Chewy and I arrived at 6 PM.
The
clouds threatened rain, and the view out the shelter doorway is
magnificent. I decided to stop early and cross the Maine border
tomorrow.
We all talked about our experiences up to this point. A friendly
atmosphere of mutual respect seemed to make the shelter feel like a
family.
The southbounders seemed to silently appreciate the distance covered
by the
northbounders, and the northbounders appreciated the difficult terrain
that
the southbounders covered at the beginning of their long trek.
When the light grew dim, I jogged back to the stream for another gallon
of
water, filling a couple of water bottles for the two southbounders
as well.
I treated mine and left theirs to be filtered as they desired.
The last glimmers of daylight revealed the clouds overhead. They
stayed
ten feet above the shelter until darkness completely engulfed us.
Our
magnificent view became a sponge of steam. A gentle rain fell
for a few
minutes and stopped. Two hikers are snoring quietly, and
I'm becoming
sleepy.
Tomorrow will be my last state border crossing. I will enter Maine.
I
have 286 miles before Katahdin's summit. With 30 days before
I hit my
absolute deadline, I am tempted to slow to 10-mile days and savor the
last
leg of my journey. At the same time, I'm eager to share the experience
with my friends with a 20-minute slide show that I plan to program
and
place online. I'll enjoy Maine and do as I feel when it comes
to me. For
now, I will sleep. Good night.
9:30 AM -- I crossed into Maine from New Hampshire at 2:31, yesterday.
We had a
torrential downpour in the morning. It was great to watch the
clouds roll in and saturate
Mt. Success. I could enjoy the weather because I sat in the shelter
all morning.
When I was reasonably sure the lightening was finished, I left the shelter
and climbed over a
few mountains. The views were great, but the last few miles wore
my knees out. Goose
Eye Mountain didn't seem particularly steep, but the wet, slick surfaces
caused me to slip
several times. My knees hurt after each downward step, by the
time I reached Full Goose
Shelter.
I met "K-Hobbs," an Eagle Scout who twisted his ankle at the beginning
of his southbound
thruhike. Thus, "Katahdin-Hobbler" became his trail name.
It has since been shortened.
"Morpheus" and "Nightengale" were another southbound couple that I met
yesterday. They
have no deadline, but hope to finish on Springer around November.
I warned them not to
underestimate the Smokies, and we all traded stories from our adventures.
"Stewball" and "Panama Red" welcomed me to Maine as they pressed on
for a few more
miles, after clearing Mahoosuc Notch.
I stayed at Full Goose Shelter last night with "Clothes Pin," "Chewy,"
"Slum Dog," "OZ,"
and a dog named "Elvis."
Today's hike will include a scramble through the infamous Mahoosuc Notch.
I plan to have
a short day of 12 miles, today. It'll be nice to take my time
for a few days. I have a
hankering to do a 50-mile day still. I think the 100 mile wilderness
may be my last attempt.
(I later decided this was a pointless task and enjoyed my last days
on the trail as I walked
through the wilderness at a moderate pace.)
I think someone may have packed my fleece hood in their gear.
I had it at the Gentian
Pond Shelter, I think. I don't have it now, and I swept the shelter,
so I'm sure it's not
there. Oh well, of all the gear to loose at this point, that
wasn't the worst. I will get by with
my polypropalane hood and my O.R. Seattle Sombraro. I told some
southbounders of my
loss and made a note in this shelter register, but I don't expect to
see it again. It's too nice
and confortable. This was the same hood I wore when the mouse
attacked me in the
Smokies.
8 PM -- I'm glad I waited until noon to enter the Mahoosuc Notch.
The warm sunshine at
the bottom of the notch was a welcome friend after I slithered out
of a few of the caves. I
followed the old A.T. arrows. They went under more difficult
boulders and through smaller
passageways. I only took my pack off at the first one, but I
soon realized I could have kept
it on the whole time. Securing my poles to the pack was a necessary
task, since they were
more in the way than they could be useful. I heard of a couple
people who bent or broke
poles in the notch this year.
The one-mile segment of A.T. took me about 2 hours to traverse, but
I am curious if the
measured distance was line-of-sight or if they measured around each
boulder, patch of ice,
and tree limb. Either way, I had a lot of fun doing what could
be considered an elementary
cross between bouldering, caving, and ice climbing.
The most difficult two-mile segment of the A.T. followed the Mahoosuc
Notch. Climbing
the Mahoosuc Arm was quite difficult. Maybe leaving my poles
on my pack helped
increase the difficulty, but there were many places that the poles
would not help and might
cause me to lose traction on the wet rocks. Most of the arm's
terrain consisted of smooth,
sloping rock. A nice trrickle of a stream ran down most of the
trail surfaces. This was a
good test of someone's backpacking capabilities. I read "Clothespin"'s
shelter register entry
where he stated, "It's over. I don't ever have to do that segment
again." Personally, I'd like
to take some friends through this part. It was a true adventure,
crammed into a 3-mile
segment.
Even though I only hiked for 6 horus today, my knees hurt real bad.
I decided to stop
before the Baldpate Lean-to and tent near a brook. The water
is cold! Not as cold as last
night's spring or the brook in Mahoosuc Notch (with great big chunks
of ice), but it is still
much colder than the surrounding rocks. A whopping 8.6 miles
of A.T. covered today!
That's OK, all the southbounders and northbounders seem to agree that
this segment was
the most difficult on the trail. Of course, they didn't necessarilly
walk through 6-foot snow
drifts in the Smokies.
8PM -- After another difficult day of hiking only 11.4 miles, I set
up camp next to a deep
pool of cold water. It's filled by a cascading waterfall.
This was a welcome site after the
climb over Baldpate Mountain. I took a nice bath/soak and wrang
out my clothes. (No
soap was used.)
I'm now hiding from the evil-wingEds inside my tent. They're not
very intelligent creatures.
I found they prefer motionless forarms. I offer then my arms
and wait for their long, noisey
landing to conclude. Just after they sharpen their beak and perform
their "sucking of the
blood" dance, I crush their head with my index finger. This is
much less work than my
earlier method of swatting them to the ground and stepping on them.
I was quite relieved to find out the evil-wingEds, a yellow and black
conglomeration of
large bugs that suck blood, were not the infamous "black flies," about
which I heard such
horror stories as those about small children becoming hypovolemic after
being attacked by
a swarm.and loosing too much blood. I had visions of 30, 1-2
inch long flies stabbing me
with their beaks and sucking me dry. As it turns out, black flies
are just those annoying
gnat-like bugs that bite and leave a tiny bump. I can deal with
those; they get tangled in my
arm hair before they bite. I will hold off on purchasing "Yard-Guard"
until I hear of another
mutant blood-sucker.
The Baldpate Mountain Peaks were fun. They are beautiful hunks
of rock that were
pushed into the air back when the Atlantic was less than a puddle.
The Maine ATC was
kind enough to send us straight up the side of these beautiful, vertical
walls. They even sent
us straight down the other side. Did I mention my knees hurt?
I'm debating if I want to hitch into Andover tomorrow morning.
It would be nice to get
groceries (fresh fruit, veggies, and meat). I still have 105
miles to my Caratunk mail drop,
and there are may mountains between here and there. I'll pig
out tonight and see what I
think in the morning.
In the morning -- I decided to skip Andover and hold out for Rangeley.
I should have just
enough food.
8:30 PM -- I had a wide variety of pleasant events, today. First,
I had a lightening storm at
5 AM. Fifteen minutes before the storm, I managed to collect
my gear (bear bag and
clothesline) and bring it into my tent. I heard the storm coming
just after a thick, humid,
warm-front woke me in a sweat. I quickly packed my dry gear and
dressed in my hiking
clothes, preparing for the worst. When the wind almost tipped
my tent over, I folded my
foam pad into three layers, applied my boots, and checked for tree
roots. The lightening
and thunder closed in on my campsite. A distant roar of wind
ripping through the valleys
grew louder. The rain poured for about 15 minutes, then stopped.
The winds died down,
and the storm moved off as quickly as it came.
The tent leaked and water collected on the groundcloth. The only
reason I don't remove
the groundcloth is to keep it bug-proof. I mopped up the moisture
with a pack towel and
dried both the inside and outside of the tent. At 9AM, the tent
was almost dry, so I
dropped it and started hiking. (A few days later, I learned that
several "microbursts"
touched down near Andover. Microbursts have the strength of tornados,
although they
have much shorter duration.)
The first southbound thruhiker I met today was Eric Weiss. He
remembered me from "The
Place" in Damascus, VA, were we both stayed after a USFS "controlled"
burn chased us
out of Tennessee. Eric is the thruhiker who is counting all of
the American Chestnut trees
along the trail so scientists can extrapolate how many still exist
on the East Coast. He
summitted Katahdin on June 18th, making him one of the first two thruhikers
to start and
finish the entire trail in 1999. He is now yoyoing as he walks
southbound. This time he
plans to skip to the sections that he was unable to count trees.
The smokies were burried
with snow and some other sections had bad weather (or thick blankets
of smoke).
He congratulated me for reaching Maine, and I wished him luck with his
project.I forgot to
ask him how to read about the results of his count, but I'm sure it
will end up online. (If
anyone knows more about this, please email me with information.)
I met another 6 southbounders today. Most of them left their packs
in Andover for today's
ten-mile slackpacking trip. I only felt slightly offended when
I read "Ditka" and "Buttkiss"'s
register entry calling people who carry more than 10 pounds in this
terrain, "stupid." They
seemed to miss the purpose of carrying rocks from Springer to Katahdin.
I explained the
nobel purpose behind carrying rocks from one end to the other:
Without moving rocks to
change the face of the Earth, a thruhiker is meerly human sandpaper,
smoothing over some
bumps. I cleared three large mountains today: Big Blue, Hall
Mountain, and Moody
Mountain. The day's hike was 15.1 miles long, and I feel great!
10:30 PM -- Last night was the start of an 18 hour monsoon. The
sky started falling
around midnight and stopped shortly after my arrival at the Sabbath
Day Pond Lean-to. All
of the trails were under water. Some were composed of smooth
rocks; some had slippery
roots. All of the trails were covered with a slippery clay.
The bogs were actually the
easiest places to traverse, and the 2-foot deep stream was a welcome
shoe-shine.
Some family on the north side of the Bemis Stream looked startled as
I reached the stream,
looked both ways, then plowed straight across to their shore.
It was probably the deepest
spot, and about 20 feet wide, but I was already soaked through.
About 1 mile before the shelter, another lightening storm pelted the
mountains. I kept
kneeding through the trail clay. I skiied down a 5-foot mud flow
and a 10-foot root
covered muddy rock slope in the last mile. By the time a bunch
of outward bound students
saw me approaching, I was ploughing through a bog with mud up to my
knees. They
quickly made way and let me pass. (I believe I didn't appear
to be a happy camper at the
time.)
I put my gear in the shelter, gathered water, washed up, then sat in
the shelter as it
accumulated 12 thruhikers. We talked a long time. Tomorrow,
I will hit town as I'm out of
food.
10 PM -- This morning's hike started early. I ate breakfast at
dawn: peas and mashed
potatos. That was the last of my food and excellent motivation
to get to town. At 7:30
AM, I was walking. By 11AM, I was standing on Maine Rt. 4 with
my thumb up in the
air. Contrary to Wingfoot's book and the ALDHA Companion, the
hitch was not easy.
After a half hour of cars passing me by, someone drove me to town.
I spent $110 on groceries, 2 disposable cameras, and hydrocortisone
ointment. I forgot to
buy DEET after I again decided against Yard Guard. Tthe no-see-ums
have made the idea
of chemical warfare tempting.I gorged on the lawn lawn next to a beautiful
lake that
reflected several mountains. I ate, repackaged food, ate, made
new shoe laces, ate,
watched the clouds, ate, etc. until 6pm.
At 6pm, "Old Crow" and "Spaceman, Inc." showed up. They took 10
minutes to shop and
eat. They then spent 45 minutes trying to hitch back to the trail.
I joined them 15 minutes
before some Kayakers from Indiana took us back to the trail.
Just before my lift, some old man stopped his pickup in the middle of
main street, blocked
traffic, and motioned for me to approach. I walked toward the
truck. He rolled down his
window and said, "You people caused too many problems here."
I waved (with all five
fingers) and told him to have a nice day. I couldn't make out
the faded lettering on his blue
commercial pickup truck. The people in Rangely clearly did not
want to talk or look at
hikers. I think I would skip this town if at all possible, if
I ever come through here again.
It's almost as bad as Franklin, NC.
My pack weighed about 90 pounds with 4 bags of food tied to the shoulder
straps and
food piled high atop the pack. The two miles out of town were
surprisingly fast and easy,
even with the extra weight. I've been eating all night and will
continue tomorrow morning.
The 5 pounds of ham and 8 pounds of cheese are next on my menu.
It started raining again after my arrival. I just heard thunder
and another downpour has
begun. This weather is bizzarre! I was told in town that
the terrible thunderstorm that
ripped through Andover had a tornado (microburst) touch down in several
places. That
would explain the few dozen fresh blow-downs that we had to climb over,
around, and
under. This is just like Tennessee but without the snow, barbed
wire, or fishhook
booby-traps!
10PM -- I spent a zero-day in this shelter. The rain came
down hard several times until
about 3pm. There were some secton hikers from Florida that made
horrible noises while
sleeping and were ready to fight anyone in the shelter the last two
nights. It was my
80-pound pack that dropped the final anchor. I think it's down
to 70 pounds tonight. I
plan to sleep soon.
Tomorrow morning I will eat more of the meat, cheese, and bread.
It should all fit in the
pack by then. As long as it only weighs 60 pounds, i can walk
over the Saddleback
Mountains.
I found out what the crochity old man in Rangeley, ME meant when he
told me "You
people cause too many problems here." The owners of Saddleback
Mountain wish to
bulldoze the top of the mountain to install more ski-slopes.
The MATC, ATC, and US
Government are apparently against the idea, since it will effectively
clear-cut the 50+ year
old Congressionally "protected" trail in an otherwise fairly undisturbed
wilderness area.
Apparently the ski company has employees, owners, and friends who live
in Rangely.
Thruhikers should plan to avoid this town. Nine miles is a long
way to walk back to the
trail if nobody from Indiana stops to pick you up! Since the
town is so full of controversy, I
have changed my mind about ever moving to or skiing near this otherwise
beautiful village.
8:30 PM -- I've been noticing a much earlier sunset now that I'm so
far East and the
summer solstace has passed. We had a beautiful, cool, clear day
on top of the saddleback
Mountains. My 70 pound pack wasn't too heavy to lug over the
range. I took a few nice
photos on the peaks.
While taking a break for lunch, I met "Shady Tree." I'd heard
of him from other hikers, but
he was always just behind me. He told me he's read my entries
since the beginning of the
trek and always wondered what I looked like. I unloaded some
liquorice on him.
"Hay Duke" passed us going southbound a short while later. He
read all of my entries
before starting his trip around June 18th. He met Eric Weiss
and "Empty Head" as they
summited Katahdin. Apparently, those two decided to summit at
the same time so nobody
could finish "first" this year. They did this to spite Tumbleweed
who mentioned his intent to
be first to a few too many southbound section hikers, even though he
stopped writing in the
shelter registers. It seemed like every southbounder I met for
a while felt obligated to let us
know where we were in the big "race." What a shame. I like
the idea that nobody "won"
this year.
It's been raining all morning. It's now noon. I guess I'll
walk soon. I'm in no hurry. The
meat is finished as I shared my 3-pound pack of 30 hot dogs with Scott
and ___ . Two
Canadian cousins also stayed here: "Lover Girl" and "Gene Kelley."
They spent much of
the time speaking in French, but did converse enough with us for me
to learn that one is
from Montreal and the other from Ontario. I'm not sure which
is from each province.
9:30 PM -- After my late departure, I managed to get to the Spaulding
Mountain Lean-to
before dark. The rain turned all of the trails into slop, reminding
me of the days spent
spinning wheels in the Smokies. Tomorrow will be at least an
18 mile day to the next
shelter. I plan to skip Stratton.
The guy sleeping next to me has been snoring up a storm with occassional
bouts of
sleep-apnea. He apparently went to sleep at 7pm and told the
others in the shelter to be
quite so he could sleep. have spent the last hour reading and
writing in the register and my
journal, by candlelight. He just sat up and ordered me to extinguish
my candle. I asked
him if it was keeping him awake (which I doubted since his snoring
was almost constant).
He said no, but told me to "use some commone sence, man." I did--I
ignored him. After 2
minutes of "harumph...harumph", I quietly explained that people burn
candles in the shelters
everywhere from Georgia to Maine, that many trail maintainers leave
extra candles in
shelters, that its more environmentally friendly than batteries, and,
since it wasn't disturbing
his sleep, I had no intention of extinguishing my candle before
I finished preparing for bed.
If he had a better tone of voice and asked me politely, I would probably
be sleeping right
now. Instead, I'm concentrating on my breathing as I watch the
wax ooze down the sides
of the candle.
I expect to reach Caratunk in three days, provided the monsoon season
lets up. I have to
stay at the Pierce Pond Lean-to if I want to take a free canoe ride
across the Kennebec
River. There is 45 miles between me and it. I believe the
thought of hitting town will help
me reach Caratunk in 3 days.
From Caratunk, I have 151.2 miles to Katahdin. (I cross the 200
mile mark tomorrow
after about 1/2 hour of walking.) I am going to think about the
50-mile day idea a few
more days, but so far, I like the idea. The day will start at
Logan Brook Lean-to and end
at Hurd Brook Lean-to. This is actually a double marathon distance
of 52.8 miles. Lighting
the trail will be my greatest concern, since I will have a new moon
at night. I'll look into this
in Caratunk and Monson.
A quick re-evaluation of expected times of arrival puts me in Monson
on the 14th, at Logan
Brook Lean-to on the 19th, and at Katahdin's Baxter Peak on the 22nd.
I will expect to
hike out to Abol Bridge to meet John G., Cheryl S., and any other guests.
If they want to
pick me up at Daicey Pond Campground, they will have to pay an $8 fee
and wait in line at
6 AM to enter the park. Hopefully, the Abol Bridge meeting place
will work smoothly.
10:30 AM -- I made it 18.6 miles to the Horns Pond Lean-tos despite
about 25
blow-downs and leftover bog-flows. It never reached 60 degrees
yestereday. It stayed
near 40 degrees F unless the sun was out. The sun and rain alternated
throughout the day.
Health Report--I find myself consuming about 6000 kcalories per day,
drinking 2 gallons of
water per day, urinating 20 times per day, and continue to have nasal
congestion and a sore
throat. I keep telling myself that my body is recouperating from
a lack of fuel, but I think I
may have a cold, as well.
I woke up this morning to find that the bottom cross-member of my Camp
Trails frame had
two broken welds. The bar was easilly removed, and I don't believe
the stability has
seriously been altered. I then sewed the hipbelt's grommets back
to the hipbelt. The pack
should work to Katahdin. Otherwise, I'll be climbing the end
of the trail with a lashed
together packboard, with a diamond-hitch holding a tarp-roll.
I'm about ready to fling the
last of my techno-gear.
I found that cardboard only partially substitutes for a metal thimbol
while sewing. It allowed
me to apply enough force to push the needle through my hip belt several
times.
Unfortunately, the cardboard was just weak enough to break under the
pressure, permitting
the blunt end of the sewing needle, with thread, to shoot through my
right index finger until it
struck the nail on the other side. The double popping sensation
leads me to believe it may
have glanced off the tip of bone. Before I fully comprehended
what happened, I pulled the
needle out of my finger.
What worries me most, is the lack of bleeding that resulted. I
could only squeeze three
drops of blood from the puncture wound. I'm sure the needle was
less than sterile, not to
mention the thread.
I'm not sure if anything further can be done to treat such an injury,
so I'm documenting this,
before I forget about it. I'll ask a doctor about it later.
183 miles until Katahdin. I heard Earthquakes are not uncommon
in Maine. Lets hope I
can avoid one in the next 2 weeks!
I met two MATC volunteers yesterday. They were chain-sawing the
trees from the July
5th storm. They had also heard reports of funnel clouds touching
down on that morning. I
counted about 50 large, healthy trees that were uprooted or snapped
in half by the storm.
Sap still dripped from the trunks and the leaves/needles were green
and fresh.
The MATC has the best blazed trail on all of the AT from Maine to Georgia.
Even the
remote, boggy sections are well marked. The trails are also in
pretty good shape,
considering the terrain and vast area. One nice part about the
bogs--it keeps away tourists.
11:40PM -- I'm having trouble falling asleep--too many chocolate chips
in the GORP for
dinner. I had a wonderful day, thoday. After stabbing myself
with the sewing needle, I
finished reconstructing my frame and hip-belt on my 15-year old pack.
It feels better
without the bottom bar pushing on my butt! Besides, once I hit
the dumpster in Caratunk, I
may have shaved 6 ounces off my pack...that's half a stick of cheese!
The Bigelow Mountians are beautiful. The rock walking was difficult,
but nothing like the
flowing bog walks of the past few days. Just before the climb
over Little Bigelow
Mountain, I stopped to wipe my face, catch my breath, and view the
scenery. After a day
of climbing over slippery tree roots, mud, etc., I stood on solid,
flat, dirt, and planted my
face in the ground. Apparently, the clay is slippery under the
dry dirt. A quick explaination
of my feelings to the dirt made me less aggitated, but still filthy.
I took two photos of a hare on top of Little Bigelow. It was cute
and I don't remember
taking photos of these creatures. Hares have tiny front legs!
This lean-to is far enough from main roads to reduce the tourist count,
but it is a wonderful
place to relax. I took a bath in "the tubs" of the stream that
flows before the shelter. All the
face-plant aggrivation dissipated with the mud. I'm glad the
clay was relatively
moose-poop free.
Tonight's conversation with two south-bounders and a seciton hiker revolved
around
ice-climbing. I want to climb Denali (aka Mt. McKinley) some
day, so the topic fascinates
me.
I'm hungry again. I think I'll eat the bag of Grape Nuts with
a couple quarts of milk.
10 AM -- I'm sitting here listening to two Southbounders justify their
decision to quit their
thruhikes to the other three that were hiking with them. The
talk of "meeting up" etc. sounds
so pathetic at this point. "Shady Tree" is here as well.
We're both quiet, just listening. I'm
glad I didn't start with the large group of Northbounders. Watching
2000+ people quit
would have been exhausting.
I set up my tent at 11pm last night, after getting mauled by mosquitos
for a couple hours.
"Shady Tree" set his up after chatting for an hour last night.
I figured out why he left the
shelter after dark, but I didn't want to move...until the swarm got
thick. We've had hot,
sunny days for 3 days, now. The mosquitos and flies have made
their comeback, but the
flies in Maine are stupid. We just crush their little exoskeletons
all day long. I think one
could live on flies, seasoned with a few rasberries from the surrounding
bushes. I'll keep
this in mind as I reach the end of the Wilderness and my food runs
low.
Yesterday, I took the boat across the Caratunk. Several MATC volunteers
were building
ladders on a steep embankment leading to the river. They bribed
me to take the ferry by
feeding me peperoni and snickers. Most of the register entries
indicate that people forded
the Kennebac. "Shady Tree" said the river was three feet deeper
when he got there, and he
would never consider fording it now that he saw the potential depth
and current.
Well, according to the last few Southbounders, the wilderness was harder
than anything
they ever imagined. "Shady Tree" and I are convinced the Southbounder's
judgement is no
longer trustworthy this far north. We were laughing after they
left. I tried to convince the
two dropouts to at least climb over the Bigalows. I'm mean.
I'm past the 2000-mile point!
9:30 PM -- I am a magnet of good luck! Unfortunately, I seem to
have a polarity
problem. All day we had bright, hot sunshine with barely a cloud
in the sky. I went to ford
the Piscataquis River's West Branch at 8:30pm, but a hord of large
horse flies, the 1/2 to 1
inch variety, attacked my legs, arms, neck, and anything else not covered
by leather. (My
feet were left alone.) I quickly set up my tent in a flat clearing
of gravel, probably at
flood-level of the river bed when it rains.
I collected water and decided to spend the night, since it was almost
dark. I'm almost
finished dinner, and I hear thunder and see the flicker of a distant
storm. I say distant,
because the lightening and thunder are far apart. I can see all
the stars, and very few clouds
are in the sky.
I know I have to move before the river floods, but I don't want to play
with the
evil-wingEds just yet. They will sleep/die soon.
Well, I now see some clouds approaching from the north. I wonder
if the water will rise
before the lightening storm reaches me. What's with me and my
luck with lightening
storms?! Bye for now!
I've decided not to attempt a 50-mile day in the Wilderness. The
last thing I want to do is
fall in a bog or ford a river at night. I will Summit Katahdin
on July 23. The databook and
the maps I've seen indicate this should be a practical finish date.
It sounds like the storm has moved away. If I stayed in the river,
I'd be a floating
french-fry. Since I moved, everything stopped. At least
I won't be carrying a wet tent
tomorrow.
1AM -- The no-see-ums are way out of control. Last night, I was
attacked by the army of
stealth insects after they snuck through the netting of my tent.
I have two choices: Sleep in
my winter gear and limit the attack to just my face (They climb through
my head netting as
well.), or drown them in DEET. I'm going with both the DEET and
long town clothes
tonight. They have invaded Shaw's Hostel, as well.
It will cost me $27.50 for dinner, breakfast, shower, and bunkroom for
tonight's stay. They
really do fill hiker's bellies to capacity at Shaws. I'm looking
forward to hurting my belly
tomorrow morning with sausage, bacon & eggs, hash browns, and french
toast. I wish they
had a place in another 50 miles. It would make life easier.
"Mardi-Gras" caught up to me and "Shady Tree" yesterday afternoon
at the Bald Mountain
Brook Lean-to. They stayed the night, but I moved on. The
15-foot waterfall in between a
split boulder made a wonderful afternoon shower. I felt refreshed
and hiked another ten
miles for an 18.9 mile day.
I called John Grossi tonight. He was in NJ at an APO event.
He will meet me at the Abol
Bridge over the West Branch of Penobscot River on July 23 (Friday)
at 6 PM. This way
we needn't worry about waiting in line, paying $8 for parking, or any
other annoying hurdles
they give the Northbound thruhikers. Did I mention there are
no telephones for the next
117.8 miles? That always helps, in case I want to arrange a cab
ride, or change meeting
times, etc.
Hopefully, this heat wave will reduce the mud in my 100-mile wilderness
bog-walk. I'm
ready to finish. I've got DEET, food, clothes, iodine, poles,
pack, tent, anger, spit, and of
course, my rocks...the fundamental purpose of my trip.
1AM -- After eating an "8x8" at Shaw's (8 bacon, 8 sausage, 8 french
toast, 8 eggs, and
several scoops of homemade hashbrowns), I packed my gear. I grabbed
some food from
the hiker box. Most likely this was left by Southbounders who
carried too much at the
beginning.
Keith Shaw dropped me at the trail head after I mailed home 2 cameras
and made a quick
stop at the general store. I bought a $2 flashlight, batteries,
and a $20 no-see-um netting
shirt with hood. It seems to be working tonight.
At the Leeman Brook Lean-to, a woman appeared with a 1" laceration above
her left eye
and an abrasion on the bridge of her nose. Her friend told me
she fell on her face on the
rocks. Neither seemed very concerned. I looked at the gash
and told her a doctor should
probably sew it closed, since it was quite deep. She acknowleged
that it bled heavilly and
that she had broken her glasses on impact with the rocks. She
denied loss of
consciousness, dizziness, nausia, or other unusual feelings.
I warned her and her friend that
the wilderness was a dangerous place to nurse a concussion or open
wound. They had
bandaging materials and assured me they would properly bandage the
laceration. They
thanked me and I left for the next shelter.
Today was unusually hot and humid for Maine. 95 degrees with high
humidity is
suffocating. I walked 13.7 miles and stopped for water at the
end of the day. I consumed
1.5 gallons of water, yesterday.
I dropped some excess weight, today. While taking a photo of Little
Wilson Falls, my new
flashlight fell out of my camera pouch and landed 50 feet down a cliff,
into the water. So
much for that investment. I'll just leave the rest of the AA
batteries in a ziplock in this
shelter, since I have no more use for them.
I talked with another Southbound couple, last night. They're interested
in moving to
Alaska. One is a kindergarden teacher and the other plans to
pursue a graduate degree in
counseling. They thought Alaska sounded like a fun place to live.
I gave them information
on the UAF-Teacher Placement Job Service (http://www.uaf.edu/).
Maybe I'll see them
again.
It's much cooler this morning. The rain has been dripping for
an hour, now. The cool
temperature will help me go further. Yesterday's hot, humid weather
was suffocating.
10 PM -- I climbed over Barren Mountain, Fourth Mountain, Third Mountain,
and
Columbus Mountain, today. The overcast skies erupted into a lightening
storm from
1pm-2pm. Sporadic bolts continued until 7pm. Very little
rain fell, and the temperature
remained around 85 deg F all day, with high humidity.
I waited below Barren Mountain until the intense electrical activity
stopped. It seemed to
pick up as soon as I came down the other side.
I took a nap on top of Third Mountain from 5pm-6:30pm. Fortunately,
some thunder
woke me before sunset. I have been struggling to stay hydrated
during these hot days.
When I woke up atop Third Mountain, I had a dry mouth and was obviously
in need of
water. The stream between Third and Columbus was sufficient.
I lugged a gallon of water
to the top of Columbus, where I ate dinner and rehydrated my cells.
I'm alone in the Chairback Gap Lean-to, tonight. It's peaceful,
and a slight breeze is
cooling me inside my bug netting and fleece blanket. Time to
sleep.
8:30 PM -- I had a great day, today. The temperature stayed in
the 60s. The humidity
was low. Only a light drizzle in the morning, but it didn't soak
the trails. I went over the last
four mountains before Katahdin and the Chairback range. There
was plenty of water to
drink. I forded a river barefoot, keeping my boots dry and didn't
hurt myself.
Just after fording the West Branch of the Pleasant River, I talked to
Mike, a ridgerunner for
the MATC. We hiked a mile together after my water was ready to
drink.
I ate well, today. I will have no trouble reaching Katahdin on
the 23rd. I may have extra
time, but that's better than making John Grossi wait at Abol Bridge.
This campsite is beautiful. After I burnt all the garbage, I found
a pair of new smart-wool
socks. They had some sticks and leaves on them, but will work
nicely after I wash them at
home.
The air is cold; the sky is clear. It's going to be a chilly night!
I love this weather--NO
BUGS!
7 AM -- I'm eating breakfast and a couple mice keep running across the
dirt in the
porcupine trap. Several attempts to spear them with my hiking
poles have failed. "Shady
Tree" reportedly took out a mouse with a single attempt in the Bald
Mountain Brook
Lean-to. I'm told it was a fascinating display. He spent
four years enlisted in the U.S.
Marine Corps as a sharpshooter, so I guess it makes sence. He
told me he plans to
become a paramedic in Florida when finished his hike. I hope
he will be as accurate with
his needles as with his carbide tips.
It's 50 deg F this morning. I think it dipped to 45 deg F earlier
in the dawn hours. Not
many more bumps to climb. Today should be a good day...even though
the rodents
survived.
6 PM -- Beautiful day today! Late afternoon it might have reached
80 deg F, but a cool
breeze, clear skies, and dry, flat terrain made this a vacation.
Today I covered 23.1 miles
of flat, nice scenery with no noteworthy views. I took no pictures,
but appreciated my
surroundings.
I'm at the Potaywadjo Spring Lean-to with "Gandolf" and "Mardi-Gras,"
tonight. I think it's
the first time I've stayed at a lean-to with either of them.
They are morning peple. I keep
crossing paths during the day, then continuing in the evening, while
they rest. I'm off to eat
dinner, then sleep for a big day tomorrow.
6PM -- I stopped at Rainbow Stream Lean-to. It seems eerily familiar.
I must have
dreamed about photos I've seen or something. "Gandolf" and "Mardi-Gras"
are here, as
well. 22.5 miles to Daicey Pond Campground with a lunch stop
at Abol Bridge,
tomorrow. The next day, Katahdin and back to Abol Bridge.
Hopefully, I can hitch on the
return trip. It's almost over. This will be very strange,
not sleeping in shelters anymore.
I bumped into two mooses this morning. They sounded as scared
as I became. These
8-foot tall beasts can tear some plantlife if they want to move!
I have to assume a puney
human like me wouldn't make much of a barrier for a charging moose.
After retreating to a
stream bed, they paused and turned to be photographed. I took
two shots of them, then
thanked them and went on my way. They looked at each other sort
of dumbfounded.
Then again, I think mooses always look dumbfounded.
I ran into "Grey Beard" and his wife, "Ivory Keys" at lunch, today.
I hand't seen "Grey
Beard" since Maryland, even though I stayed a few days behind him the
rest of our trek. I
almost saw him in PA until I got off the trail at Wind Gap. The
two of them are hiking
Katahdin and the wilderness together, traveling South. They even
gave me homemade beef
jerky and a bagel with squeeze cheese! mmm... Thank you!
11 PM -- I made it. Tomorrow morning, I will summit Katahdin.
I stopped with "Gandolf"
at the Hurd Brook Lean-to around noon. We talked about changes
in our "real lives" since
we left. He had a friend die near the beginning of his trip.
That must be tough to deal with,
especially alone on the trail. We both wonder what changes have
happened in our lives that
other people will overlook until it slaps us in the face.
I imagine my return from trail life will be similar to my return from
Barrow, Alaska. Most of
the changes that took me off guard were things people disreguarded
months earlier.
With all my moving around, I've grown accustomed to transition.
It's not all fun, but it is
usually exciting. I love th thrill of landing in a new place
for the first time or climbing a new
mountain, hiking a new trail, etc. I also enjoy the return to
nostalgic places, old friends, and
familiar settings.
The only negative of travelling is the strain it puts on good friendships.
Letters go
unanswered, and memories fade from important and sacred into distant
and quaint.
My Appalachian Trail thruhike lasted 4 months and 28 days. In
that time, I have
befriended hundreds of people, thruhikers, section hikers, old ladies
in grocery stores, etc.
Some of these friendships felt stronger than others. Several
friends that I will remember
well and haven't seen in a while are "Ice Falcon," "2nd Degree," and
"Third Degree." I
don't think I could have enjoyed my Smokey Mountain blizzards as much
with any of them
absent. I felt a special bond--the bond that only forms when
you are trapped 30 miles from
any road with limited food and wet, cold gear, clothes, and weather.
I will miss them. I
hope they finish their goals.
I also think back to my scariest experience, worse than cringing in
my damp, cold sleeping
bag with my hands over my face, waiting for a mouse to eat my lip.
The closest I ever
came to death, and realized it, was the afternoon I spent on the Franconian
Ridge, curled in
a ball, trying to insulate myself from bolts of lightening pelting
the ground around me.
Having someone else to worry about helped me forget my own fear of
death. I hope
Christine S. had better luck the rest of the summer.
My happiest memory will probably be the view from the top of Katahdin.
Aside from that,
I believe it was the morning Jim and Kristin walked up to my tarp-shelter
to take me home
for three days of food, rest, and friendly chit-chat. I enjoyed
all of my stays at friend's
homes, but the sight of a pampering crew after hurting for over a week
really cheered me
up. I think I now know howa dog feels when it is picked up from
surgery at the vet. I
didn't pee on the floor, though. (I used the bushes.)
My worst memory will be "the lowest point on the Appalachian Trail."
The Bear Mountain
Park on Memorial Day was worse than everything except for the Trailside
Zoo. The
mottled creatures imprisoned in such tiny cages with hords of rude
humans gawking,
screaming, and shooting flash-bulbs at them made my stomach churn.
I truely believe a
death sentence would be less cruel. This zoo should be shut down,
permanently.
I've also had many wonderful experiences. They far outweigh the
bad ones. The trail is
what you make of it. I now look back at the cold and wet days
of Tennessee snow or
Maine's bog-flows with a smile. I endured that crap. It
wasn't what I expected, but the joy
of surviving a miserable set of conditions, while still finding fun
in the situation, is something
few people choose to experience. Maybe it is a sick, masochistic
fool who willingly
submits himself to hostile environments, but only such a fool can truely
appreciate the
pleasures found in a bland, mass-produced world. When I get home,
I plan to eat a gallon
of chocolate ice cream while sitting in a hot tub of soapy water with
a few CD's playing in
the background. I hope I never learn to discount the little pleasures
of life.
We had nice weather today. The morning was cool, nice hiking weather.
The afternoon
was warm and humid. My last half hour of walking was through
a pouring lightening storm.
A little of everything--perfect for my last full day of the thru-hike.
10 AM -- I'm on top of the most beautiful extinct volcano I've ever
seen. "Mardi-Gras,"
Dan, and Krista, the three thruhikers who also stayed at Daicey Pond
last night, met me at
the top. Dan and Krista cooked up the package of cus-cus that
they carried as an
emergency ration all the way from Springer, Georgia. We took
lots of photos. I gave them
one of my 2-Liter bottles full of water and drank the other one.
They offered me a bottle of
beer, which was accepted and greatly appreciated. I deposited
one of my Springer rocks
in the pile of rocks next to Baxter Peak and found a nice, pink Katahdin
rock to keep my
other Springer rock company. Hopefully I didn't alter the future
geological history of
Katahdin with my contribution to the mountain. (Third Degree
worried about that.)
The AT is a mental endurance test. There is nothing particularly
difficult about the trail.
Some parts were hard, but the mental challenges are much more of an
obstacle than any
boulder, evil-wingEd, bog-flow, SLOP, or animal. The only advice
I will give someone
before they thruhike the trail is something I found in almost NONE
of the workbooks,
prep-guides, manuals, handbooks, companions, etc.: Go camping
at least one time before
you thruhike. The more you camp, the more you will know if this
is something you wish to
do. I decided to do this at age 12. Fifteen years later,
I still wanted to thruhike the AT.
Now, I am finished, content, and don't ever want to do it again.
That may sound
contradictory, but I understand it. I had fun.