Pictures from Katahdin ME 2017

Byron "Crocs" Van Buren Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike 2017: Postscript

POSTSCRIPT: October 10, 2017

Epilogue

On Monday September 25th, after leaving the terminus Baxter Peak around 4PM, I saw a direction sign at Thoreau Springs: the Hunt trail was 4.5 miles down and the Abol Trail was 3.4 miles down according to the trail sign.
Although my wife Terrie was at the bottom of the Hunt waiting for me, it would take me three hours or more to get to her and the Katahdin Campsite and so I could be coming down the mountain climbing boulders in the dark.  Saving time was the determining factor in my mind when there was no cell service as usual.

So I took the Abol Trail.  It was a rough one at the top, with a mile of huge granite boulders fallen down the hill. In fact, I came across a note on a rock: "Kim. We have turned back. We feel that it is too dangerous to go further. We will meet you back at the campground."
And it was a long slog from the top and I found myself using both arms to swing down between boulders. I was worried that I had made a mistake choosing this trail. Fortunately it was not that way the whole 3.4 miles: around two miles into it the trail it actually turned into a path that you could walk on as opposed to walk through.
Close to seven, the sun's red light filtering through the woods, I arrived at the ranger station at Abol Campsite and was taken the twenty minutes to Katahdin Campsite. Terrie was glad to see me and I her.

That night we had a nice dinner at the restaurant in Millinocket and met RV and Five Year Plan and Trapper John and Mile Back and his parents there.
RV said that when he and five Year Plan got to Baxter Peak around 11AM there were loads of hikers there, all walking about waiting to get their picture taken at the sign.  He was disappointed; it was like Gatlinburg, Tn. or something, he said.
When I got there around 4, I said, there were four people up there. Two left and I was greeted by a naked woman who took my picture standing on the Katahdin sign.
That is a bunch of Crock --Crocs, RV said.
And Five Year Plan said, I believe him.
Why do you believe me, I asked, enjoying this.
Because I know you, he said.
I guess that was a compliment.

Trapper John told Terrie and me that he had a few hundred dollars and would be taking a bus back to Winston-Salem, NC. Terrie told him that she was independently wealthy (she's not BTW) and would pay for his plane ticket if he was willing to catch the plane with us tomorrow. Mile Back looked at Trapper and said, "What are you waiting for? Say yes."
Terrie was grateful to Trapper for assuaging her fears when I was coming back down Katahdin, telling her that I was an hour or two behind him and that I would be back between 6:30 and 7. And he was right about the timing.
I was glad she could help 23 year-old Trapper: he is a smart, kind and sensitive guy and a good trail companion.

It was Trapper's second or third plane ride and he was excited to be on one. We left him in Philadelphia and he texted us later to say that he had made it home ok.
Terrie and I did an easy flight magazine crossword puzzle and soon we were back in Nashville, where I met a new house dog and a house that looked strangely familiar. It was going to be an adjustment.
           
It's been over two weeks at home now and there are many nights I wake up in the woods and realize that I am at home in a house in bed.   And although my knees and feet still ache they are getting better every day and I soon expect to be hitting the pavement again.

The AT Through Hike has been the most challenging thing that I have done in my life and I am very grateful that I had the chance to hike it.

Some Things the Trail has Taught Me

A hike is like living a life. The trail is like living a marriage.
Everybody's hike is different from another's hike. Hike your own hike.
A hike is not a race. There are no winners.
You adapt to the trail. The trail does not adapt to you.
The trail will teach you what you need to survive.
If one keeps one's eyes and ears open than the trail will provide.
You will slip, stumble or fall at some point on a long hike or on a long trail. Keep moving on.
The first half of a hike is usually easier than the last half. But the last half is where your pain and weariness and experience lead you to acceptance and resolution.
Less is more and gratitude comes with enjoying less.

The Summing Up

Last summer, while I was kayaking up the Shenandoah River on a fine lazy day, a blue dragonfly landed on the bow of my boat. I rowed steadily and calmly up the middle of the river and the insect just sat there looking forward.
Then I rowed near the Eastern shore, thinking that that he might like to leave while we passed under the boughs of trees. But he did not apparently. So I went back toward the middle of the river and even then, still he stared ahead not moving.
After a time I thought my friend might like the Western side better and headed toward that, taking a glance back momentarily.
But when I turned my head back to the bow, my beautiful blue friend had disappeared.
And now you too. Well. Thanks so much for dropping in my friend. Have a nice flight.


Disclaimers
Some of the names used in this blog have been changed to protect the persons identity.
As to places and dates, I may have a few things wrong but it wasn't intentional.

Acknowledgements

There are so many people that made my AT experience a better one that I want to acknowledge them.

First, and foremost,  I want to thank my steadfast wife, Terrie,  who has supported me both emotionally and financially when times got rough. She is amazing.
I also want to acknowledge the support of family and friends who followed my blog and my trip for almost six months. Thank you.
I'd like to thank Karen and Byron for sharing their wonderful home with me.
I also want to acknowledge all the churches and spiritual centers whose generosity provided my fellow hikers and me shelter and many times food and a hot shower. God bless you.
Also, to the hundred or so people who happily fed the tired and hungry hikers trail magic, food and drink, as we came into a parking lot or on a dirt road: thank you for your kindness. I'd also like to thank the hostel owners who opened their homes to hikers and provided wonderful service. Some of that service included all the shuttle drivers and those drivers who picked up hitching hikers when we got to roads distant from towns. Thank you.
And importantly, to all AT hikers, are the ridge runners and the trail maintainers and hiking clubs all along the Trail who Voluntarily made hiking so much easier with their dedication to cutting and pruning , hauling rocks, making steps, maintaining privys and shelters and making a challenging hike much more pleasant as a result.
Finally, I want to acknowledge the Public Librarians in all the towns along the AT who kindly provided wonderful service to hikers such as myself who were always running late and pressed for time.  Support your local Public Library.


GEAR AND STUFF I WANTED TO KNOW BEFORE I HIKED THE AT
Disclaimer: I am not a hiking expert. Especially when it comes to gear. I had never worn a backpack or set up a tent before I went on the AT.  So I made a lot of mistakes. We all have our different comfort and stress levels; and age and trail experience do matter. But I learned to hike my own hike, and discovered what worked for me and what did not.

Money
A thru-hike usually runs $5000 to $10000 or more. The more time spent on the trail and not in town, spent eating trail food, not buying gear, the less expensive it is. Many people underestimate the cost of a hike from Georgia to Maine.

Camping Gear
I learned that a hiker is on the trail to hike and walk; a camper is out to camp.
So I kept my camping gear to a minimum. A Big Agnes two person tent which I always liked and an REI Radiant 20 degree sleeping bag that was wonderful. During the summer, I bought a fifty dollar 50 degree bag and was happy with it.
I also had a blowup Sea to Summit pillow that I came to like.
I went through a number of sleep mattresses; none were ever comfortable or wide enough and so it didn't help me sleep as well as I wanted to; finally I settled on a relatively expensive and lightweight blow up mattress, the Big Agnes Q Core that I loved (and was envied) and woke up with less morning aches and better rest.

Hiking Gear

New AT hikers talked a lot about gear. Toward the end it was hardly ever mentioned. We had all found what worked for us or what we were comfortable with.

Cellphone
I used an iPhone 7 and I liked it and am very glad I brought it along. I used it mainly for the camera and Guthook and the weather; then for it's phone use and music app. The light app came in handy too. The bigger phone made it easier to keep track of and to read. Verizon was the carrier of choice on the trail.

Backpacks
I went through a number of backpacks because I got the wrong size for my torso and waist. Some retailers didn't know what they were doing either. Don't do what I did. Get your pack fitted before you go out and have it checked out by an experienced hiker.

Popular packs were Osprey and ULA. Cuban Fiber was the pack of choice for the ultra-light packers. The ultra-light types carried around 7--15 pounds with food and water. I carried around 25-30 lbs usually and after a big resupply, I could get up to 35 lbs. Most hikers that I knew carried between 30--35 lbs and after a resupply, between, 35 and 40 lbs.

Mine was a frameless Granite Gear which I liked because it was simple and easy to work with. It didn't have all the pockets and accessories of the Osprey but I like simplicity.

I learned to carry a contractor size garbage bag(s) to keep my sleeping bag and clothes bag dry even though the backpack and my backpack rain cover worked well. Just insurance.
By the end of the trip my pack carried my sleeping bag at the bottom, my tent next, then my mattress and pillow,  my clothes bag and food sack and then a large plastic sack with things in freezer bags and small sacks: toilet paper and hand sanitizer; a paperback, my wallet and a pen; a doc bag with bandages, Neosporin, nail scissors and toothbrush/paste; a snack bag; an electronics bag with headlight, cords, earphones and charger; and my AT guidebook.
My pockets were used to hold my rain backpack cover, my Teva camp shoes, Smartwater bottles and my cellphone (that I checked a few times an hour to make sure it was still there). I don't like things bouncing off my pack or hanging from my pack, so things were inside or in an outside pocket.

Clothes
I usually had three of everything in my sack: socks, shirts, shorts. One pair for sleeping only. Then in the winter I had long pants, a wind jacket that I used as  a rain and winter jacket, and a pair of gloves. Most hikers used a puffy jacket but I found it unnecessary. I tend to have lots of body heat and would just layer up.
Shoes: Most hikers wore trail runners because they were light. I started with sports Crocs! They were great and roomy but the size wasn't right after a while. For my feet, the stability of the Merrells and Brooks Cascadia worked the best. I went from a size 12 to a 13. People with narrow or regular feet liked the Solomon's I noticed.

Food and Drink
I, and most through hikers, ate a lot of crappy food at first: honey buns, snickers, pop tarts, gunny bears, M&M's were favorites. We talked a lot about what food we were going to eat when we got into town or home.
We burned up to 5000 calories a day and we craved sugar to keep our energy going. Cookers ate lots of potatoes and pasta and dehydrated dinners because they cooked easily and fast. I ate from tuna packets (less and less toward the end), deli meat, sardines, peanut butter, honey, tortillas, smashed bagels and dried fruit and nuts (after getting tired of the sugary stuff).
I kept my water in Smartwater bottles in my side backpack pockets. Some hikers had a water tube coming from their pack and I might go that route if I were to do it again.

Favorite Hostels
Sometimes you needed a shower and laundry. Hostels could be nice.
Many young people liked the party places where they could drink and party into the night; few cared what it looked or smelled like. Yet, by the time most thru-hikers got to Maine, there were still drinkers around but very few party animals. We enjoyed our time to rest.

I usually liked the organized clean places with beds, not bunks, laundry and good food available for a good price. But I slept in bunks most of the time to save money.

Some hostels had great hosts or were free or perhaps were located in a nice town, but you slept on a mattress on the floor  or you had to line up for a toilet. Many times I didn't mind. I  was  just glad not to be sleeping in the rain.
Most had no computer access and many no WIFI. Having those things was a bonus. Another bonus was a hostel offering a shuttle to and from the stores for food resupply.

Favorite hostels/inns that I stayed in: Woodchuck Hostel; Cantarroso Farm; Black Bear Resort; the Town's Inn; Green Mountain House; Hikers Hostel at the Yellow Deli; White Mountains Lodge and Hostel; and Shaw's Hostel.

Crocs at Katahdin Mtn, Baxter State Park, ME 2189.8 Miles

September 22   Rainbow Campsite Me  2163 Miles

I woke up in my sleeping bag at daybreak near the lake shore, and reached for power bars and apricots and watched the sun hit the eastern shore and slowly turn the dark trees into soft shades of gold, then red, and then back to green. 
This was a nice site.
And last night, after the sunset, while we were bedding down, I heard the long plaintive sound of a loon, a sound like the howl of a wolf except cleaner and crisper over water. "Where are.....you?" 
Then I heard another long wail in response. "Over here....!"
A loon looks like a black duck/goose, but unlike a duck,  it cannot walk on land so I wandered down by the shore and looked for the creature on the lake but saw nothing. 

This morning Flyer, Cooper's acquaintance, said he was going to do 29 miles into Abol Bridge, the end of the 100 Mile Wilderness, after doing 27 miles yesterday. Wow. More power to him. But I know that he can do it, because he is young, athletic and positive. 
Cooper and I, on the other hand, were shooting for another lakeside retreat, Rainbow Lake Campsite, 14 miles away. 
But before he left Flyer recommended that I listen to upbeat music to get those long miles in and I took that to heart.  I put on some Brazilian Salsa and had a nice time in Rio while going through the woods.

Heading out, I really wasn't anxious to hear more about  Cooper's love problems but I know she wanted to get it out. I have felt lonely out here too. 
She said that her guy texted her a week ago and he said that he wanted to just be friends. Right at the end of her hike. So she asked him to return the key to her house (her house is near where he works so she let him stay there, she says, and then he responds by saying "so that's way it's gonna be, huh?"
Sounds like he is just using you, I say.
And I've been nice to him, she says, helping him to manage his diabetes because he is so overweight and continues to drink so many soft drinks. 
So what's he look like, I ask politely, wondering about his weight. 
Well, he's not good-looking really. And he is so self-centered. I asked for a goodbye card or some flowers before I left and he asked me, Where do I find those? I don't know where to find those. 
He wants to be friends. We were never even lovers, she says.
Well, he's a guy. He probably just wanted to get laid, I say wisely. 
Well, he wasn't that good, she said, and he has a very small appendage.

Ok. I really wanted to end this and move on with the hike.  So, I said, Well, let's see: he is selfish, sick, ugly, fat, and has a small willie, and doesn't know where to get a greeting card. So what am I missing here? 

You know, I say, (where do I get this shit?) relationships are a team sport and he doesn't seem to want to return the ball to you. So find somebody who will. There are millions of guys out there who would like your direct no-nonsense style. I'm not one of them but what the hey. 

Move on, I said, this guy is an ex starting right now. 
Hey when are we supposed to hit the Rainbow Ledges? Can you check Guthook?

We climbed about 500 feet to the top of Rainbow Mountain and arriving at the Rainbow Ledges we met a photographer for the Maine AT magazine. Looking out into the northern mountain range, he said that this was his favorite spot in Maine. He reminded us that northern Maine is wild and unknown territory.
In fact, he said, ninety percent of the Maine population live in the lower half of the state, mostly in the cities, such as Bangor and Portland. In the north half, there are areas with no names and they are just called P3 and P10. 
From the ledges we could see our Oz: Kahtadin, sitting prettily in the distance across the lake.
Smiling, I said joyfully to the mountain, I'm coming for you, you big bastard.
Don't be too boastful, the photographer said softly, it is a very difficult climb. 

We walked a few miles toward a shelter and Cooper hooked up with another female hiker. I was ok with that, wanting some alone time, and I was beginning to struggle with tiredness around 2PM. 
When I got to the shelter, Cooper was just leaving and I sat down for half an hour, wrote my name in the shelter journal along with my signature drawing of a Crocodile, and ate as much food as I dared, my care package of figs and nuts, saving half a jar of peanut butter and a tortilla for dinner. I would have a light pack and no food by the time I rolled into Abol Bridge, where there was a restaurant and beer.

I felt better after eating and a mile later enjoyed talking to a local fisherman at the lake's edge. As in most of the United States, he said, all of the average Joe's work here in Maine has been shipped overseas, the logging and the mills are a relic of the past.
But the fishing is good, he smiled. 

Coming into camp I thought about my journey and all the people I have met and the places I had seen and I started feeling a little sad. It will all be gone and I will be back doing what? Work, movies, restaurants, coffee shops, bars, gyms, daily routines.  It sounded good and it also sounded...what?...inconsequential? 
But it didn't have to be. If the trail has taught me anything, it's that you can go over any mountain, under any conditions, if you do it one step at a time. All I needed to do when I got home is to find my mountain and start walking.
In these thoughts, I put on some Salsa music and continued on. 

When I arrived, the tent sites were thirty or so yards up from the lake shore. 
There he is, Cooper said, putting up her tent, I thought you may have stayed at the shelter for the night. 
Just stopped for some food and rest, I said.

There were a lot of hikers at this camp. Two of them were RV and Five Year Plan. What happened to Grinder I asked RV. Grinder was RV's Don Quixote. RV said that Grinder left Maine around Rangeley and returned to Florida to take care of his wife during Hurricane Irma. Now he is walking with Five Year Plan who I hadn't seen since Killington. Great to see them.

For most hikers here, this is the last camp before Abol Bridge and the 8 miles to the base of Katahdin and then the five mile up the mountain to Baxter Peak. It was Friday night and many planned on a Sunday or a Monday ascent. 
Cooper and I had a little dinner together sitting on a log and she thanked me for listening to her on the trail. 
I found a flat spot nearby to lay down my bag and I cowboyed out under a clear star-filled night that peeked in on me through the trees. 

September 23 Abol Bridge, Me   2174 Miles

I woke up thinking about the day: I would arrive at the Abol bridge today, Saturday afternoon, and my wife would be coming in Saturday night. I could meet her that night. Surprise her in fact. 
Then we or I would have Sunday to walk the 8 miles to the base of Katahdin and then hike up Katahdin on Monday, leaving for Nashville on Tuesday the 26th. Perfect.

It was a nice moderate eleven mile walk to Abol Bridge. Many hikers had left camp early: Cooper because I was slow rising and she was cold and needed to move. Armadillo left early too because she had visions of a hamburger in her head. 
RV and Five Year Plan left at sunrise because older guys like we wake up early.
I wanted to enjoy the trail and my hike. I had had enough racing stress.

Along the way I met up with Trapper John and we walked together talking about what he wanted to do when he got back home. He majored in Biology and he liked to work on cars and go hiking. I suggested he get a job as a hiking guide or work in an outdoor store for awhile until he figured out what he wanted to do. Why not go into Forestry?
I thought too about what I would do when I got back to the land of Responsibility and Work. I had gone through most of my savings. I did get a Personal Training certificate online before I left, being a former teacher I thought I could work at the YMCA or another such place perhaps. But I had nothing lined up; so what's new about that? I figured I'd figure it out when I got there, as I thought in my usual Pooh way of thinking about things.  I'll find a way through the thicket.

When I got to Abol Bridge road, I caught up with Trapper John and Mile Back and Mile Back's parents and we walked across the small bridge getting a nice view of Katahdin beyond the lake. Then we went to the grocery/diner and I sat down with them and ate a sandwich and pie and they asked me if I needed a ride into Mellinocket. There was no service at the restaurant so I figured I could meet Terrie at the Inn before she arrived. On the way, I texted her again and she told me she had rented a house instead and I was kindly driven to that address where surprise, surprise, my wife Terrie was there to greet me. 

It was a nice traditional house with a screened in porch and old forties style wallpaper. The top had been converted into a bunk loft. 
But after settling in, and having a quick snack, my heart started racing in overtime. I was having another arrhythmic attack. I couldn't believe it was happening again. I couldn't get my heart to slow down and relax.  I told Terrie that it was because she was there and I was so glad to see her.
It won't be so funny when I have to take you to the ER, she said. Good point, thought I. 

Being a nurse, Terrie tried all her nursing skills and hydration techniques on me but to no avail. It was still beating faster than normal after 45 minutes. So I finally said let's go for dinner and maybe my heart will like that. I do know that my stomach will. I'm hungry.

When we got to a restaurant Terrie googled some info and suggested I splash cold water on my face. I took my ice water glass to the restroom and splashed it over my face and neck and lo and behold my heart went back to normal. 

PSVT, paroxysmal supraventricular tachycardia, is what my wife believes my problem is: the electrical circuit in my heart is short-circuiting and by stimulating my vagus nerve, splashing my face, I shocked it back to its normal beat.   I will have to research this PSVT when I get home. But a brief look at the medical website revealed that the condition is usually not life threatening. But it can't be a good thing, I thought, it stresses the heart. 
It seems to me the only common thread is over-tiredness and over-exercise or over-stimulation at the same time. I need more sleep perhaps. I also noted that WebMD says over the counter medications like Benadryl are not advised. 
Yep. I gotta do some research when I get back.  Luucy you got some 'esplaining to do.

September 24 Millinocket ME   2174 Miles

Well, I woke up this morning to a nice French toast breakfast and Terrie wanted to walk with me the ten miles from Abol Bridge to the foot of Katahdin at the Katahdin Campsite. 
I figured we could easily get a ride back from the Campsite, so we dropped the car off at Abol Bridge and began hiking. This hike took us along the border of Baxter State Park, along Nesowadnehunk Stream. It was a nice clear day and warm, in the eighties, and the path was nice for me, a little rough for her, but all-in-all enjoyable. 
Then, about seven miles in, we stopped at a spot where the Stream tumbled over some rock creating a little pool and a rock slide. 
There were a number of fellow thru-hikers there and I figured it was a good time to take a final swim. So I took off my shirt and dove into the pond. It was nice and cold and highly stimulating. It felt great in other words. 
Then I decided to go down the rock slide and slid down, hitting a bump that jarred my butt awkwardly and I fell into the water below. 
Then the other young hikers decided to do it too and even Terrie got in the act. We all had a good laugh as ass met stone on the way down. What makes that so funny? I don't know. It's like an acorn dropping on somebody's head. It's funny.

After a while, we promised each other to stay in touch after the hike, and Terrie and I walked on, getting to the Katahdin Stream Campground around four. We walked out to the dirt road and I, confident that we would get a ride, having done this for a while, stuck my thumb out and we had a ride in less than ten minutes. The nice folks drove us back to Abol Bridge and our car. 

That night we had dinner at the only place open on a Sunday night and ate a large pizza between us. Tomorrow was the big day and after closing out the restaurant we headed back to the house. 
I had a little trouble sleeping that night. 

September 25  Katahdin Me   2189.8 Miles 

I woke up early and fixed (we say fixed in the South) my wife breakfast in bed. Of course she got up and asked me what I was doing and I had to send her back to bed. It was scrambled eggs, bacon and toast, fruit and coffee and juice. She actually stayed put for it and enjoyed the pampering  I believe. 

But that meant that we got a late start, arriving at the bottom of Katahdin, at Katahdin Stream Campsite, around 9:30. That was not good because the park rangers ask that you do not leave for Baxter Peak, the AT terminus, after 10AM. Otherwise you might come back in the dark. A flashlight was required of all hikers as a safety precaution.

There were a few thru-hikers at a picnic table waiting to go up when Terrie and I arrived.  But I knew they were young and strong and would be up and back early in the afternoon. But Terrie wanted to hike with me and I knew she would slow things down a bit. That  concerned me. 

Katahdin has two main peaks at the top, Baxter Peak and Pamola Peak and the two peaks are intersected by a path called the Knife's Edge, a trail where for almost half a mile it is three feet across and a deadly drop on both sides. Over 20 people since the 1960's have died on this trail. 
But I wasn't going to Pamola Peak. The AT officially terminates at Baxter Peak and that was good enough for me. 

I was told that it usually takes 8 to 10 hours to do a round trip up to Baxter Peak. 
Leaving at 10AM I figured we could be back at 6PM. But if it were to be a slow slog, then we could be back at 8PM. That would be dark. The sun sets at 7PM now. And that would be dangerous climbing down in the dark, especially for my wife. 

But she did say she would turn around if things got rough. And after 2.5 miles, I was booking ahead and waiting for her to catch up. Finally, around 11: 30, as we sat down for a snack, she said that her legs were shaking. At the same time a couple of ladies, day hikers were coming down and reported that the boulders up the trail were almost impossible to climb so they had turned back. 

At this point my wife said that she was going back to the Campsite and asked the ladies if she could join them. I said  I thought it was good idea and gave her a kiss goodbye. Then I took off my shirt, it was getting warm, and began to climb. 

A good thing she turned back too. Almost all the trails on the mountain are classified as very strenuous, the highest clarification that the Park gives. This one, the Hunt Trail/AT was no exception. At 5.2 miles it is the longest trail in terms of time and distance. Terrie turned back just as we passed tree line where the Hunt turned into a pile of giant granite bounders. I had to use metal handlebars secured into the rock to climb up the boulders and to reach the relatively flat Gateway ridge. I was really glad Terrie had turned back as she would have been physically taxed to the limit. 

Oh but the views were beautiful, magnificent. I wish she could have seen them. I stopped for fifteen minutes to catch my breath, enjoy the mountain range and eat a snack before heading on. But there were thru-hikers coming down now and a few mentioned that I was getting a late start. I had left at 9:30AM and they had left between 6 and 8 AM. 

I figured I would have to stay moving and began to book it up the boulders and around 12:30PM I had made it to the ridge that would take me up to the Tableland/Gateway. The ridge was a tumble of rocks and sand that climbed for a mile to The Gateway. I passed Trapper John and Mile Back and Mile Back's father coming back down the ridge. 
Mile Back's father said that there may not be any hikers left on Baxter Peak by the time I got there. 
That would be a drag, I thought, I'll have nobody to take my finishing picture with the Katahdin/Baxter Peak sign. I gotta hurry. 

It took me longer than expected to go one mile along that ridge.  There was a lot of  rock climbing, but thankfully fairly level climbing. I finally clambered up to the Tableland around 1:30. 
I was surprised at what I saw when I reached the top. I was expecting another  straight climb up to the top. But it was miles of flat land.  

That's why they called it The Tableland. It looks like a flat desert of algaed boulders and rusty foliage for a few miles around and I could see the rounded hills of  Baxter and Pamola in the distance. At this point I began to walk the 1.6 miles across The Tableland to reach Baxter Peak.
I hit Thoreau Spring, a crawling little spring, and the Abol Trail, another trail that leads to Baxter around 1:45. The spring is named after the great naturalist and iconoclast, Henry David Thoreau, who had climbed Katahdin in the 1840's. 
I also remembered that in the nineteenth century, Fredrick Church, the great wilderness painter, painted a stunning picture of Katahdin that had  recently sold for over 3 million dollars. 

But I didn't think about the past for long. At this point, with less than a mile to go,  I was very excited about hitting Baxter Peak and practically ran my way over the rocks toward the hill. At the bottom of the hill I looked up and saw the famous sawhorse shape of the Katahdin sign at the top the hill.

I was grinning and running up the hill to the Katahdin sign and when I finally got to the stand with the sign saying " KATAHDIN Baxter Peak Elevation 5267 feet"  I started laughing and blubbering "Oh my God! I can't believe this. Wow. I hike all the way from Georgia, all the way and...and here I am, and here is this naked woman, and a pretty one too. This is amazing."
"You hiked all the way from Georgia?" the naked woman in her blue tennis shoes asked. 
"Yeah, I sure did. And it's amazing. I can't believe it. Thank you naked girl." 

Naked Girl had a clothed friend with her but I gave my iPhone to Naked Girl and asked her to take a few photos of myself standing behind the large sawhorse, in front of the KATAHDIN sign, arms outspread, the traditional pose that I  had seen in countless AT pictures. I had arrived with my shirt off and wanted that honest picture. 
Then I asked the woman for some pictures with my shirt on which is the way I always thought it would be like because I figured it would be freezing up here when I arrived in late September. 
And did I get a picture of myself with my clothes off?  What do you think? 

It was beautiful at the top with spectacular mountain ridge views stretching out into the distance like the boney backs of a herd of Brontosaurus. And it did feel ancient and primeval standing up there where an island arc had rammed into North America some 400 million years ago. I could see where many millions of years later the glaciers had dug large gaps into the sides of the mountain, leaving the lakes below, and me standing on its granite core. 

I had landed at Baxter Peak around 2:15  and though it was lovely I did have promises to keep. I needed to head back down the mountain. I calculated 5.5 hours to get to the Campsite and at that pace, I'd arrive at 8:30 PM.  
No that is not the way this will end I thought to myself.  I was not going over enormous granite boulders in the dark. And there was no cell service to let anybody know of my whereabouts.

As I  descended down the trail I turned back to take a look at Baxter Peak. In the distance I saw the two girls racing madly along the Knife's Edge trail, naked and free, up towards Pamola Peak.

Crocs at Nahmakanta Stream Campsite ME 2145 Miles

September 4 Fry Notch Lean-to ME  1928 Miles
Well, yesterday I had hiked far ahead of my fellow hikers, 67 year old Magnut and 41 year old Jumanji, and came out in Grafton Notch Me at a parking lot. As usual there was no telephone service and so hitched a ride into the nearest town and checked into the Chapman Inn, sleeping in a bunk.

That night, totally unplanned, Jumanji and Magnut appeared at the Inn. They had passed me when I stopped at the Full Goose shelter for a half an hour to eat a few peanut butter sandwiches, and by serendipity decided to lodge at the same place as I.

I had hoped to blog today at the library across the street. But it was Labor Day. Well I'd have to put it off a few more days. I had some walking to do.
We left the hostel at 11:00 and were shuttled thirty minutes by the maintenance man back to Grafton Notch. Since we had left late and had to climb 2500 feet up Baldpate Mtn, we decided to do just a 6 mile day rather than Magnum and my 13 mile average.  Glad we did.
Along the way I calculated how long it would take me to finish at 12 miles a day. Sometime after the 25th of September. And since I gave up my tent I had to plan to hit all the shelters, called Lean-to's here, until Katahdin Mt.
When would I take my last zero? Rangeley had a library and grocery and a pub. That is over a forty miles walk away. We'd be a few nights out. Jumanji walked the fastest of we three, but he was deliberately following my lead so as to slow down. He did not want to burn out going too fast. Jumanji had a large bushy beard that he had since day One. I decided to let mine go until the end. I'm surprised at how white it is and how old it makes me look. It doesn't matter out here though: age and job is unimportant; we are all hikers.
So we climbed the three miles up to Baldpate West peak and then the one mile to the East peak, stopping at Baldpate Lean-to for water.
It was a beautifully clear day and cool, perfect hiking weather, and the walk over the West peak was easy and looking out onto the East peak we noted that it was all rock. Nice. Within an hour we were climbing up the smooth rock face for hundreds of yards. When we got to the top we sat down and enjoyed the fine view of the East peak.
Going over the East peak was different however. It was steep wet rocks and rocks from a stream on smooth rock. Jumanji slipped and fell down a rock. He was more embarrassed than anything.
We all slip Jumanji, I said.

But I had good momentum and soon left them behind, meeting them at the Lean-to.
You left us behind because of my slip huh, says Jumanji.
It's not always about you man, I said. I just felt like booking it that's all.

Which reminds me: Someone once asked me at a time when I was feeling so embarrassed and ashamed: How much do you think people think about you?
I responded,  I don't know.
He answered: Not much. They are too busy thinking about themselves or thinking about what other people think of them.

September 5 Hall Mountain Lean-to ME   1939 miles

Magnut is an early riser, getting up at 5AM in the dark and fixing a hot breakfast in her Jet Boil and putting things in her bag. I go back to sleep and awake at 6, eat a couple of power bars in the sack, and by 6:45 she and Jumanji and I are heading out for a ten mile day. It was nice moderate terrain with some nice ponds where the newly red and and yellow leaves and grass reflected the silvery birches and maples in the water.
Jumanji asked about the book I was reading: the Heart of Darkness. I told him I hadn't been reading it much since I got in late to the shelters and was too tired to read such wonderfully complex writing. I had read the novella several times before and told him that the movie Apocalypse Now was based on the Joseph Conrad story. It concerned colonialism, murdering African natives, and the mystery of losing oneself when away from civilized restraints and morality.

We talked for a long while as we hiked about war and colonialism and his experience as a Navy medic. He was thinking about going back to school and becoming a PA, a Physician's Assistant.

Jumanji was also concerned about the permits to climb Katahdin. Would there be any when we arrived? I said there would be, even though I didn't know for sure. They are not going to turn away hikers, I said,  who have hiked 2189 miles to get to their State Park.
He worries though. And I probably don't worry enough.

We got to the shelter in the dark, around 7:15. It hadn't rained, thank God. Tomorrow we had three mountains to climb.

September 6 Bemis Mtn lean-to Me    1951.7 miles

We left at 6:45 AM. Rain was forecast at 100 percent. Which means nothing really because 100 percent could be a thimbleful or a deluge. We put on our rain covers over our packs just in case.
The first mountain was Wyman which was fairly moderate with an easy five mile long 1500 feet ascent. The next mountain was tougher--Moody Mtn. It was a one mile 1500 foot ascent, climbing over roots and rocks.
It was cool that day and cold at the summit of the mountains but I walked without a shirt. I overheat easily. And it rained 100 percent of a thimbleful.
After coming down Wyman  we immediately ascended Old Blue Mountain almost two miles and 2500 feet. It was very rough, requiring climbing up and down slick rocks and through numerous mud puddles filled with soupy water. All of us had our shoes mudded and soaked. I don't know if I was just tired by this time, but old Blue kicked my butt and I found it a harder climb than the infamous Mahoosuc Notch. And to top it off, the views were less than overwhelming.
I was ready for the day to end and was glad when we saw the Lean-to sign pointing down the path.

September 7 Sabbath Day Pond Lean-to  1960 Miles

After yesterday's arduous day,  we decided to sleep late and left at 8am, for a nine mile day. It was drizzling and cold heading out.  Today we were going down Bernis Mountain to Bernis Stream which we were told was difficult to ford. Jumanji and I talked movies and actors and music. We wondered who who replace the great actors like Dustin Hoffman and Al Pacino. I said I couldn't keep track of all the new ones, there was so much TV and movies out there with so many actors.

And music. He couldn't understand what made the Beatles so great. He preferred the Monkees. As an old Beatles fan, I could only say that you like what you like. On my phone I have the Spotify app and I listen to my comfort music from my pack (I think earplugs would close me off too much from the forest): Earl Scruggs and bluegrass, the Beatles, Crooners like Nat King Cole, contemporary folk music, Brazilian Salsa (great upbeat hiking music), Donovan Leitch (which no young person had ever heard of), and lots of sixties songs. Most of my generation is 70's but I like 60's pop and rock music. It was a crazy time, the Sixties, but I learned to question authority, to open my chakras to the new and unknown, and to seek transcendence and follow the Spirit in the Sky. And what could be more far out than that man?

We got down to Bernis Stream and Jumanji looked at all the submerged rocks and after walking across a few rocks he just said to hell with it and walked through the water in his shoes.
Magnus and I decided to find a way across and went downstream to a log that met some outcropping rocks near the middle of the stream. Magnut just jumped on the log as if she did this everyday and a few seconds later slipped off the log and "turtled" into the stream on her backpack. Then she got up and walked out of the stream without looking back. I have to admit it was kind of funny but I kept my laughter in check.

Yours Truly found another log and crawled over to a beaver dam and just ended up with a few twig scratches on my ankles. Magnut was a good sport though and after checking to see if her sleeping bag was dry (it was) she and Jumanji sloshed up the hill.

At the top of the hill was ME 17 and we had a beautiful view of Mooselookmeguntic Lake and the Bernis Mtn from it. While sitting down for a snack I met Wandering Star, an Englishwoman in her 70's who was hiking south-bound, SOBO, on the Appalachian Trail alone for the third time. Three times. That is amazing. How far are you going to walk on this trip I ask.
I'll walk until I feel like stopping, she said matter of factly. She gave me some advice. Take your time and enjoy the hike. Too many NOBO's are racing toward Katahdin. Hikers today are competitive, not like it was in the 80's and the 90's. There was more teamwork then. We had no phones, no maps. We had to work together. Enjoy Monson, it's a charming town.
I told her I would.
Then I peered to the East and raised my arm. I was an American Indian chief: Thank you Wandering STAR. FLY-- OH FLY BEYOND THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN OH WANDERING STAR AND SEEK THE WORLD BEYOND FATHER SUN AND MOTHER MOON OH WANDERING STAR.
(I do have my silly moments--it's a family disease--much to my wife's chagrin.)

She smiled: Thanks...Gandalf.

When we got to the shelter there were about eight young people there. I climbed into my sack in the shelter and a long haired guy brought out a pipe and also played some guitar around a nicely built fire. He had written the Thru-Hiker Song which was a song with an old Irish cadence and told of the many struggles of a Thru-hiker. It went on for about ten minutes and was wonderful.
He got a large round of applause at the end. Then he played a porno song and then one of the girls asked me if I was offended.
Me? Offended? I said you are talking to a member of the sex, love and rock and roll generation.
(But I do have to say that the song was kinda sexist, about what guys want to do to women, but the girls around the fire didn't seem to mind.) Their generation has been able to see porn almost anytime on the Net I figure. No big deal to them.

It was different for me. During my coming of age, to see what was under people's clothes, I had to hide in the closet of my bedroom, gripping with sweaty palms my dad's Playboy or Nudist Magazines, hoping I wouldn't get caught.
Holy Moly. What is wrong with kids today? Kids need to get off the computer and into the closet.


September 8  Town and Lake Motel, Rangeley, Me   1969.4 miles

I left the lean-to at 7AM  and walked 9 miles over moderate and muddy terrain into Rangley ME with Magnut and Jumanji. This would be Magnut's last day on the trail; she started in Connecticut and would end in Rangeley because she had to do a parachuting performance for an audience this coming weekend. Her friend from Vermont would pick her up and take her to her house in Vermont.

We stopped to enjoy the burgeoning Fall leaves from a hill and enjoyed a nice relaxing walk to Hwy 4. Coming out in the parking lot, we ran into a hostel shuttler who took us to her owner's hostel. They had no vacancies, so we waited for Magnut's friend and when he arrived Jumanji and I booked a room at the Town and Lake Motel and went to the local pub for a burger.
I was sad to see Magnut go; she is a sensitive and loyal friend and a tenacious and dextrous hiker.

I figured two days out from Rangeley and I would resupply in Stratton. Then, 3 nights out and I would resupply in Caratunk, ME. After that, 3 or 4 days to Monson and then 7 or 8 (?) days through the 100 mile wilderness to Abol Bridge and Katahdin. With a zero in Monson, I could climb Katahdin on the 25th or the 26th. I had to let my wife know because she wanted to meet me at the end--even hike with me up Katahdin. ( I had doubts about that idea. Katahdin is rated as Difficult.)

Magnut's friend dropped us off at the Supermarket and I resupplied for two days--I like carrying as little as I can unlike most of my hiker buddies who are more cautious. We walked out of the grocery store and I saw a cop car and asked the cop if he would take us the two miles to the Motel. Surprisingly, he said yes and I learned from him that he has had to kill a few moose occasionally so that they would not hit cars coming in or out of town. And that is mostly what he uses his gun for.

The motel itself was no great shakes but it had a nice view of a lake with boats and banners and that night we had a pretty red sunset while I drank a quart of chocolate milk and ate a bag of Fritos.
Later, on TV, CNN was broadcasting news about Hurricane Irma arriving tomorrow and I also learned that Houston had been flooded pretty badly.
Wow. Nobody had told me that. Crazy stuff happening with the weather. I hoped my friends in Florida were ok; CNN showed a number of commentators talking and getting drenched in the rain. They wouldn't get so wet, I thought, if they were standing under a shelter of some sort.

September 9 Town and Lake Motel  1969 Miles

Today I did laundry at a nice laundrymat where the lady gave me some loaner clothes to wear while my three pairs of clothes were being washed. I also had a great pancake and egg breakfast next door to the Mat and did some blogging at the local library which was opened from 1 to 5 today.
It is very difficult to find libraries that are open just as you arrive in these small towns. Most are open just a few days of the week. But I cannot blog on my phone; too small. And I can't think after a long day of hiking.
But libraries are nice and cozy and quiet and most have computers. They are wonderful resources and they are free to the public. I am a big fan of our library system and all the helpful librarians that I have encountered.

After the library, I took a nap at the motel and watched some South Park and read a New Yorker from 2015 and tried to read some pulp fiction, Dean Koontz, to no avail. Around 8PM I was getting annoyed with the TV. Yakkity-Yak, yak, yak. It just wears me out with its endless flickering of visuals and obnoxious noise.
Jumanji, however, laughed through hours of TV practical jokers  while I tried to sleep through it. I couldn't really and was glad when he began falling asleep around 10.
I had arranged for a shuttle out of town at 6:20 AM.

September 10 Poplar Ridge Lean-to ME    1980 Miles
Today Jumanji and I had a big day ahead of us. We had a 2500 foot climb to the top of Saddleback Mtn. at over 4000 feet, then another climb to the Horn peak, then a sharp 1000 foot climb to Saddleback Junior, before descending to our shelter: a demanding 11 mile day.

Saddleback began easily enough but after a few miles we hit a rock scramble and climbed over rocks to over 4000 feet. It was cold today with temperatures around 35 and a bristling 30-40 mile wind. It was totally fogged in when we reached the top, we could barely see each other or the white blazes.
We descended down and the up The Horn which was another slow rock climb.
Then onto Saddleback Jr. which was a steep 700 foot ascend and descend. But, the fog had become a haze and it had the best views of the town of Rangeley and Saddleback Mtn.
Jumanji's knees had been bothering him for weeks since hiking with his fast hiking partner, Rabbit. Today they hurt mightily but he plowed on. And with the slick rock and mud, I slipped a couple of times.  Frustrated, I told him that he could lead.
We rock scrambled down to moderate terrain and to the shelter. It was in the 30's I figured.
Jumanji mentioned that he wanted to do a 21 mile day into Stratton, ME tomorrow. I thought about it for a few minutes and went over to his tent and told him that if he wanted to do 21 miles tomorrow that he could but I wasn't going to do eight or nine to the next shelter. He said okay.

September 11  Caribou Rd Tenting ME  1 993 Miles

At 7:30 AM  Jumanji was gone. Since I had a short day, I took my time and was the last to leave the shelter. I took my time on the trail and leisurely enjoyed the sounds of the birds, the Maine plants, and the rushing creek along the trail. It made me think of Cricket and how he lives and breathes the mountains. When I talk to him about doing miles, and being as fast as he is, he smiles broadly. What is the hurry, you can hear him think.
It was a nice clear day. I felt good. I walked three miles up Lone Mountain until I got telephone service. I t is so hard to get service at all in Maine.
I texted Cricket. Does he have a working phone now? He did. He is in Andover, about 50 miles back. You are booking it he says.
I texted Huckleberry, my old hiking buddy from North Carolina. He says he can't make Katahdin in September and will do a flip-flop from Katahdin. We will cross paths as he heads South.
Then, I texted 5 Year Plan, my Vermont hiking buddy, who said he was 2 days ahead.
By the time I got to Spaulding Mtn. Lean-to, eight miles, it was 1 PM and I still had some mojo left in me. The trail had been fairly easy to moderate, but I had no tent and there was no shelter within reach. But it was a nice day and no rain in the forecast. So why not Cowboy it and sleep under the stars?  So I trucked on to the South Crocker Mountain campsite.

And the trail was moderate going up Spaulding and Sugarloaf Mountains from the South. Then I passed a hiker who told me it was rougher on the north face. And it was.
It was a four mile rock scramble down a steep descent with some hanging from rock involved and then slowly going from rock to rock. Without poles I take to grabbing nearby trees and bushes for support. My knees, sore ever since doing the Whites, took a beating here.

It was almost dark by the time I reached the bottom of Sugarloaf and had forded the South Branch Carrabassett River. I was ready to call it quits before reaching the Crocker campsite.
Happily, I came across a fire and a few hiker acquaintances sitting around a fire. Frenchie from
Quebec was there with his father who had joined his hike for a while.
I blew up my mattress and lay my bag down a little ways from the fire and had a nice sleep between all the tents. Waking up on one occasion to see the three stars of the Dipper through a break in the trees.

September 12  Stratton Motel ME. 2001 Miles

Daylight woke me up and I was packed and out of camp at 6:15. I was not looking forward to climbing Crocker because Guthook showed it to be a steep ascent and a long descent. I hoped that it was not as bad as Sugarloaf was yesterday.
But it was a nice early morning climb up Crocker. I met a nice young couple who I let pace me up and over Crocker and the long 7 mile descent. I don't see how they walk so fast over these rocks and roots but they do: no fear, perfect confidence is required. Also quick judgement: step here and not here.
After a few hours I heard some hollering up ahead and picked up the pace. When I arrived, there were a group of hikers taking pictures at the 2000 mile sign: sticks formed on the ground spelling out 2000 2000.
A couple played dead behind the sign. Exactly the way I felt: not elated and proud as I was when I did my first 100. Just tired. I sat behind the 2000 and got my picture taken. Then I stood up, thinking I had better put on some kind of act, I stood up and put on a fake smile and a thumbs up.

I walked another two miles to ME 27 to hitch to Stratton, ME. The hikers were all there dancing and playing on the road with their thumbs out. I was too tired to join in. Before long a van picked us up and dropped the hikers off at a restaurant and dropped me off near my motel, the Stratton Motel. It was a hiker's Hostel really and hiker's were sitting around watching TV and reading chips and such. I was showed my bunk room and it had clothes stacked high all over the floor. Not for 35 a night says I. I'm not twenty either where I will accept it. I bitched and they came up and cleaned up the cigarette packs off the floor and the dirty clothes and vacuumed.
One of the cleaners looked familiar. I had seen the girl before but she was thinner. She looked at me and I looked at her. Crocs? she said. Wolfie? Wolfgang? And we had a big hug. I had hiked with her for almost a month in Georgia until I decided that she was too slow for me and she decided that I annoyed her with my get up and go enthusiasm.

It was good to see her. We went to the store and bought some food and cooked up a nice meal with some high quality Bud Light. She said that she had been at the Motel doing work-for-stay for 6 days and was leaving tomorrow. She was doing a flip-flop. Still slow she said. It was good to see her.
I said goodbye that night, having done laundry and resupply, knowing that I would not see he in the morning when I left at 7:30. She was a sleeper.
I didn't sleep well in that top bunk. These crummy hostels. I kept thinking that I had 189 miles to go and how tired I was and what it would be like to just relax, without planning where I would be the next few days, and how much food I would need to take. So close, yet so far away.

September 13   Nazarene Hostel Kingfield ME 2017 miles
I wanted to slack pack the Bigelow Mountain range. But the hostel manager said it would cost me $80. Get four people he said and it will be 20 apiece. But I knew nobody who was going out today. The place was disorganized, there should be a slack packing sheet for people to follow.
Along the trail I saw a sign that said the Church of the Nazarene would put hiker's up for free. I took the number and now I called John. He said to leave the pack at the Motel and hike to Flagstaff Road and he would bring my pack to me. I would stay at the church's rental house in Kingfield.

I took a shuttle from the motel to the trailhead, carrying a light daypack with some food and water. The trail was suburban park smooth for three miles and then there was the 5 mile climb up to South Horn. Along the way I met King Rat, a serious fellow who traveled with his girl "friend." We passed each other a few times up to South Horn and then to Bigalow Mountain West Peak and the Avery Memorial Campsite and Avery Peak, named after the great architect of the AT, Myron Avery, an unrelenting lawyer and worker who was responsible for about 19,000 miles of National Scenic Trails on the Appalachian Trail. At the the top of the mountain there was a plaque dedicated to him.

I hung out at the top of Mt. Avery for about half an hour noting all the lakes surrounding the peak. Maine is covered with water and ponds and lakes.
Then there was a steep and very long 9 mile descent down to Flagstaff Road where I was to meet my church host, John. I seemed as if it took forever to there because of the many switchbacks going down, winding back and forth. It was a long day.
I tried to tell John that I would be late, around 6 and not 5, but I couldn't get a signal for the longest time. But for a few seconds I did and got a text off.
At the parking lot I met Dylan, Abacus and Forever at John's van. John came back from fishing and told us all about the great bear and deer hunting in Maine. He mentioned that city folk, where most Maine folks live, complain about bears getting in their trash and then complain when hunters cull the population up north so they don't go in the cities. I'm not a hunter but I see his point.
After a 45 minute ride to the town of Kingfield, John set us up in an old house where the new preachers generally live. It had about 15 bunks and cots and we were all able to grab a room for ourselves to put our sleeping bags on and there was a kitchen and a shower. and fridge. Nice.
Then  John took me to resupply at the local supermarket. I wanted four days worth to get me into Monson, Me.; the last stop before the famous 100 Mile Wilderness and Kahtahdin.


September 14 Pierce Pond Lean-to   2034 Miles
John would not take money, a donation. The church bears the cost he said. I can't say enough about help and courtesy from all the Churches I have stayed in and been supported by while on the trail. Many do a lot of good in this world.
John took me to the trailhead and at 8:15 I began walking from Flagstaff Rd. It was an easy climb over a few hills and then a few miles of roots and rocks. Then I met Gargle sitting on the side of the trail. He had tripped over a root and hurt his knee. It was swollen I could tell. But a few hours later, he passed me on the trail. The resiliency of youth.
Water was scarce, no clean streams or springs along the way so a few of us stopped at the trail leading to the West Carry Pond Lean-to and walked .5 miles to a spring with some delicious cold water. I sure will miss great mountain water when I get home.
We sat around at the trail head and drank our water and ate our lunches. This Lean-to had a wonderful new cedar privy someone said. It was nice to have clean privies we all agreed and Maine had some nice ones. And then someone mentioned the Privy with the two toilets in it and how odd that was.
Well, it would be a good place to shit with your friend and talk with somebody you know, a hiker remarked.
Yeah, that would be a real good friend-shit, I said.

I walked another ten miles of easy thru-hiker terrain, making this a 16 mile day and landed at Pierce Pond Lean-to, where it was filled up with tenters and a few shelter types. It was a good night to Cowboy but the shelter had a great view of the Pond so I holed up in there and watched people cooking around the fire between the shelter and the lake and soon fell asleep around 7:30, after seeing good ol Trapper John and Mile Back come into view. Trapper pulled in next to me. Nice 23 year old kid he is.


September 15 Bald Mtn. Brook Lean-to ME    2053 miles
Headed out of the camp area with Frenchie (Mongoose) around 7:30. Hoping to see a moose near the pond because the hang near water at sunset and sunrise but I saw none.
Today we crossed the famous Kennebec River  near Caratunk ME where we had to Ferry and were not permitted to ford because of the undertow. Water rises because of rains and the hydro-electric dam up stream. In 1985 a hiker drowned trying to cross the river so the ATC put in a no-fording policy.
I sat an hour in line on the bank and crossed the river with King Rat and our backpacks and our canoe guide. It took us about 15 minutes to cross to the other bank. Most of climbed out of the boat and walked the fifteen minutes to an old tired B&B with some hiker foods and a great strawberry milkshake. I also had a couple of Gatorades. I knew to keep hydrated. About twenty hikers decided to go to a bar down the road and drink away the afternoon.
I wanted to get to Monson though. But I wasn't sure that I could do it in ten days, by the 25th, and catch the plane back to Nashville on the 26th. I had told my wife a few days ago that I could but I was having doubts.

The B & B owner said that I could but that I would have to walk four days to Monson and then NERO, resupply, and get back on the trail and do 6 days through the 100 Mile Wilderness and into Katahdin.
I got back on the trail and met Anon a few miles in, sitting by the trail. He said he got a picture of this animal that looked like a cat with a weasel's body. He said he had to wait the animal out to get a good shot. I was impressed with the shot and Anon. Few hikers have the presence and the curiosity to stop and take a picture as he did. Especially twenty-somethings. But I didn't know what animal it was.  A weasel? It had a cat-like face and a long slender body and was brown. I thought I had seen a sign a while back to watch out for this newly introduced species in Maine 's parks. Perhaps this was it.  We had no service so could not Google. I still don't know.
A few more miles later and Anon got a nice picture of a black grouse that was walking the ground and flew up on a limb. It was his day for animal spotting.

Then we took a 1500 climb over Moxie Bald Mountain discussing Democrats and Russia and the US Military state. Like most people I am biased, prejudiced and slanted. I am probably wrong most of the time. I'll agree to that.
Anon and I are in general agreement on things-- but he believes the issues of the day are real. I believe some are but I think most of the issues of the day are drummed up by our government and our politicians and their Press, to get the citizens riled up against this or that Political Party, or this-or-that "evil" country (like Russia, or China, or North Korea),  or to rile up people to win political points or to build up justification for a new war or trade battle. This is a land where Marketing and Manipulation rules big.

In everything. I get tired of being manipulated. I tell Anon. In my life, I have been through Vietnam propaganda (what good did that war do?) and Saddam propaganda (WMD lies) which has led to an invasion and the spreading of ISIS. And Syria. Why are we involved in their war? Why? It's their war. To keep it going? To create refugees? Great. Nice job.

Then Clinton and Obama and the Pentagon (lets not forget the Producers) overthrow  Libya which has also led to the spread of Islamic "terrorism" and poor refugees flooding into Europe.
Words. Words manipulate. What is "terrorism" when my country goes around murdering people or arranging murders in Iraq or Libya or Syria for no good reason. Who are the "terrorists?" What is a terrorist? A person? A country? A terrorist is always the enemy, the Other, the Foreigner. It's never us.
Perhaps I ask for too much, I'm a naive idealist: why not have a kinder, more just, more peaceful country and world. But, like a child of an abusive father, I am angry and blinded as well by my love for the land that has given me so much and angry at tmy country for the blood it spills in the name of money and power and control.

Anon didn't quite understand what I meant until he understood that if you think of the US leaders  as a Mafia Family that makes business deals, trade deals, and hits and offers that "you can't refuse," than you will have a closer idea of what our leaders do. Then they tell "the kids" through the Press that they are fighting for their freedom and protection and not to worry and to go shopping and to get a new TV set. Then when a major hit is necessary, an invasion perhaps, they tell our young people to don the uniform to fight this or that  "evil" nation and to get ready to die for the protection of the Family.
Sorry. That just doesn't do it for me, Dad.

I get it, says Anon. I don't agree with you on everything but what you say makes sense.

After such pleasant conversation up and over  mountainsides, I was glad to reach Pleasant Pond. Mile Back's parents were at the road waiting for their 24 year old son and offered us some water. We were thirsty. Trapper John was already there.
Anon and I wanted to get to Bald Mountain Brook Lean-to. At least I thought that was where we were going. Then about two miles before hitting the shelter Anon says he is having dinner by this brook.
Okay, I say walking up the hill, I am going to the shelter. It's only half an hour or forty-five minute away. I had to hurry because it was growing dark and I had left my headlight at the Chapman Inn in Bethel, ME.
I came in in the dark to a fire being tended to by Cowboy and Bartender. I didn't know where the shelter was. It was dark and late, 7:30 PM, so I Cowboyed it and ate some grub around the fire. I passed around the last dregs of some cinnamon whiskey and they in turn gave some god-awful blackberry brandy. Tit-for-tat.
Then who should appear but Anon with a headlight on his head. You made it I said. You can set up over there. I'm not staying he said, I'm gonna keep walking.
Are you serious, I said.
Yes, he said and walked off. Had to smile. Have to admire his independence; reminds me of myself.
Then Trapper John and Mile Back walked in and soon, around 8, I was asleep while they drank and smoked around the fire.


September 16 Shaw's Monson Me     2075 Miles
I awoke at 4:30 and went back to sleep and woke up again at 6Am. I had a few pieces of dried fruit and some nuts and left at 6:30.
Yesterday I walked 19 miles and the day before I walked 16 miles. If I were to walk this fairly thru-hiker level trail, abet rocky and rooty of course, then I could get into Monson today. It would be a 22 mile walk. Very long. But I could take a Zero in Monson and not a Nero as I would if I took four days to get to Monson. The B& B owner suggested four days. I would do it in 2.
Yeah, it is flatter after the Bigalow Range but hikers still have mountains to climb. Moxie Bald is a 1500 foot climb and descent.
But I didn't go over the summit and instead took the bypass trail to the west. I guessed that my friend Anon was at the top of Moxie in his tent watching the sunrise. He is a sucker for a nice view. I am too but my aching feet and knees have precedence at this point in my hike. I also need water and a sign pointed to a spring on the bypass.
I found the spring and it was a dribble down a rock. I put a leaf town to funnel it some and after ten minutes had a liter in my Smartwater Bottle. Most thru-hikers use Smartwater bottles out here because water filters fit them well and their slim shape fits backpack pockets well.

After coming down the mountain, I walked along the Piscataquis River for a number of miles and met Van Man coming South. He drops his son off on the trail for the son to walk North. Then he drives the van North to where the Trail crosses a road and walks South and passes the car keys to his son who picks up the van and then his father. A nice system. You never have to carry food if you don't want to and if you do stay in a shelter or on the trail, you only need one night's worth of food.

After 13 miles I was whooped. Drained. I struggled even opening a sack of cookies. Here it was the 18th of September and I had seven days to climb Kahtadin and then fly home. What was I thinking? I can't do this. I can barely keep my eyes open now.

I texted my wife. I can't make it by the 25th. Maybe the 30th is more reasonable. I will see once I get into Monson.
I wanted to stay at the famous Shaw's Hostel, which had been seeing hiker's off into the 100 Mile Wilderness of Baxter State Park for over thirty years. I called them and I stupidly walked past my pickup place for a mile and had to walk an extra three miles to a highway to be picked up.
They didn't have any bunks available so I slept on a futon on the landing outside the rooms. I really didn't give a damn where I slept.
They offered everybody a free soda or PBR on arrival. There were about fifteen hikers in tents out in the yard. There was a nice hiker's store onsite and they offered for breakfast, eggs and bacon and coffee and all the blueberry pancakes you could eat for nine dollars.
I also met 62 year-old Persistence there. I hadn't seen him since we landed at Anton's on the Lake in Greenwood, New York. He was still with Foggy and they had zeroed and were leaving the next day.
He looked very tired. He looked tired in New York and said, "When I get home I'm gonna sit on a couch for a week and not move." I reminded him of that.
 "I still feel that way," he said and smiled wanly.

September 17 Shaw's Monson ME 2075 Miles

The next morning I booked a private room when one of the hiker's checked out. I had breakfast with a nice group of hikers and had a nice talk with an Australian hiker who did not make it through the 100 Mile Wilderness because she ran out of food. Be sure you have enough she said for seven days.

She was in Tourism back home and she told of us all the different nationalities she encountered and their characteristics. Indians were aggressive, she said, they practically threw their bodies across the counter questioning why they could not get what they want. She had to practically push them away from her.
South Africans were superior and they expected you to be deferential and servile as a servant. So, she said she always played the part of a parlor maid with South Africans. They couldn't help it. That's their culture. The same with the Israelis. Israeli's tend to be tight with a dollar and would bargain and complain over any price or cost.
And my countryman, I asked. How are they? Loud and entitled she said. You can tell an American from a distance because their hands are waving and they are complaining about this or that place is not good enough, that they expect better and are entitled to better. Americans have been trained to be choosey and demanding consumers of products I suggested.
Yeah she said. But you know your regular American that I have met on the trail is not that way. They are really nice and friendly.
That afternoon I ate gas station pizza and napped. I picked up my wife's care packages and took out some nice things for myself like dried fruit and nuts and gave away santi-wipes and packaged meats to other hikers in the parlor who cried out"Christmas!" and hung around my boots like little elves.
Then I started packing for six days worth of food, including three days of deli meat and two jars of peanut butter and a fresh "bear"of honey. I skipped the comfort items to save weight.
I ran into Anon while ordering dinner at the only restaurant in town. The food was very good. Anon was camping outside town and we talked about our hikes along the trail with another couple of hikers.
Then Anon said you can make it up Kahtahdin on the 25th. You don't realize how fast and far you can walk. You underestimate yourself.
But it's the 19th, how can I can I do it in five days?
It's not the 19th Crocs. It is the 17th.
Are you shitting me? Oh no. My wife is gonna kill me. I bet she cancelled our flights.
Call her, he said.
I excused myself and called her. She had canceled the flights for both of us. I told her about being exhausted and about the date mixup and she called the airlines and reinstated our dates.
Now I had to get there on time.

September 18 Wilson Lean-to

The owner of Shaw's is a middle aged ex-hiker who runs a fine place. He usually does the breakfast and does the shuttling to and back from the trail. This morning, after I herded up the hikers going out (like herding cats, he says), we made it to the trailhead where we got a nice pat of hiker poetry from him and a warning to watch the slick slate that was up and down the trail.

The slate rocks were smooth flat wet and dangerous as he said. I avoided them if I could. After a few miles of "nice" trail it started to get Maine rooty and about 10 miles in I came to Big Wilson Stream which had a line running across it. I took off my shoes and forded it meeting Trapper John on the other side. He was waiting for Mile Back to catch up which he did a few minutes later.

We all went to Wilson Lean-to where a SOBO had made a nice fire and we sat around the fire, ate and then hit the sack. around 8.

September 19 Chairback lean-to  2101 Miles
Today was a long and hard 17 mile climb over four  mountains. They kicked my butt royally.
And people said the Wilderness is flat. Ha! Like Virginia. Another thru-hiker joke.
But before the mountains beat me up, Trapper and Mile Back and I ran into a large sign on a tree indicating Trail Magic in a cabin down a dirt road. Reluctantly (because I wanted to press on and had enough food)  I went at Trader's insistence.

I'm glad I did though. A man about my age had the misfortune of losing his 47 year old son a couple of years back. And though he thought hiker's were smelly trash, his son who had hiked the Trail gave out trail magic frequently.
So this father, Scout he called himself,  gave out Magic in honor of his son. He cooked hamburgers and hot dogs and even had veggie burgers for the vegans and vegetarians in the crowd. And provided beer and soft drinks. All for free. Another act of kindness on the trail. He even learned to like hikers and their simple needs.

I'm also glad I ate before setting off. Climbing 1500 foot Barren Mountain was not easy, and hitting the ledges was a long tough slog. Then walking through a bog for a mile on some shakey 2 x 4's added to the slog. Then up and down Fourth Mountain and Third and up Columbus Mountain and down to Chairback Gap Lean-to was exhausting. My knees were killing me. I thought of the girl who said she did the 100 in 4 days. She must have had some good drugs.
I came into the Lean-to around 8 PM with my phone light on. A couple in the shelter were sleeping and said"Welcome." I crawled into the shelter, set up mattress and bag, ate a couple of god-awful power bars by phone light and fell asleep, my stuff strewn alongside the shelter.

September 20 Logan Brook Lean-to  2118 Miles
I woke up tired. For the last week I seem to have lost my mojo. I needed to get over it; I had some miles to cover and a plane to catch. Could I make it by the 25th? I had to walk 67 miles in five days. And did I mention I was tired?

Today I had to walk a long 2500 feet up to White Cap Mountain. A 17 mile day. But it was easier than yesterday, thank God and I got to the top of the mountain around five and had some pretty views. But being cold and tired I didn't stay long, and descended down to Logan Brook Lean-to as quick as I could and got in at 6:30PM, before dark.
Camp that night was lively. Lots of hikers there. I slept next to King Rat who was reading the Hobbit and talked a bit with Van Man who was there with his son. Being an old fart I skipped the social event and got to sleep early, earplugs in and no Benadryl. I was wondering if it was catching up to me or not. Who knows?

September 21 Nahmakanta Campsite   2145 Miles
This morning I realized that I had seventy miles to walk in four days. About 17 miles a day and I would have to push it and get a lot more mojo.
Talking with Van Man, he told me that he was dropping his son off in three miles and then taking a hiker, her name was Cooper, up to Jo-Mary road and hiking South as he usually does. I made an executive decision and decided that 12 miles could be the difference between making it to Katahdin on time and with enough Mojo to climb it. So after a 3 mile walk down to a dirt road, CG and I took the van to Jo Mary Rd.
I was told that after Logan Lean-to it was easy trail but I knew that it was about my energy level rather than how easy the terrain was.

Along the way over some easy hills and moderate trails, I listened to forty-one year old Cooper talk about her boyfriend at home who won't commit, who says that she is always bossing him around, that now wants to be friends.
I just want someone to go home to. That's all. I have been out here six months and it would be nice to have someone to go home to.

There are a lot of forlorn lovers out here. One guy moved from New Jersey to be with his girl in  Texas and when he got there she was living with another guy. Another hiker lost his girlfriend to another hiker while on the trail. Another guy was hiking the trail because he couldn't bear telling his wife that he wanted a divorce. He figured he'd think about it for a few months.
We didn't even get to the lover's part, Cooper said. I couldn't get him to talk. He said I was being pushy. And his crazy ex-girlfriend was living with him. That didn't help things either.

We had planned on going a few miles more to a campsite praised on Guthook, but when we came across a nice shore on a lake and it was getting dark, we decided to camp by the lake. A couple of elderly campers, Dennis and wife, offered to share their picnic table and we brought our food bag up to the table.
They said they had met a number of hikers in the past few days. I told them a lot of people were racing to Katahdin, many trying to go up on the 24th or 25th. Dennis said that an ex-Navy guy had come in last night severely dehydrated, peeing red. They gave him water and a number of bowls of hot soup which he devoured. What was his name I asked.
Jumanji he said.
Jumanji was racing ahead as he said he would if he didn't have someone like me to pace him. I'm glad he didn't end up in the hospital. The couple said he got up early the next morning and took off. He wanted to summit on Saturday the 23rd.

Flyer came hiking in. He had done a 27 mile day, coming from near where Cooper and I had stayed there night before. Hikers were doing these long days to get to the mountain near the weekend. I was glad of my executive decision just for my safety and for my happiness.
It was a gorgeous blood orange sunset over the lake and I slept without a tent nicely content.