Appalachian Trail

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Night 36: Welcome To New Hampshire

Wednesday, October 20th, 2010

This bird is no doubt dead.

Saturday 7-10-2010
11.8 Miles Hiked, 1881.2 Miles To Springer

When I woke up this morning the view from the shelter of the mountains in the distance was just as glorious as it had been the night before. This morning though things looked slightly more ominous as heavy gray and black clouds began rolling in over the mountains in the distance. I could see the sheets of rain as they fell from the clouds far away and I knew it wouldn’t be long until they reached the shelter.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have flicked off Maine last night.’ I thought.

By 6:00 A.M. rain drops the size of dimes began falling from the sky and pounding on the tin roof that covered the shelter. I really didn’t want to hike in the rain, hike up and down slippery rock faces, fall down slippery rock faces, and walk in wet shoes, but I did really want to get to a town and nothing was going to stop me with only 12 miles separating me from McDonalds, Pizza Hut, Burger King and a Chinese food buffet.

I got my rain gear on and hung around the shelter while I ate my cold oatmeal and drank my cold instant coffee. Two weekend hikers with a heavy duty weather radio informed me rain was expected all morning.

‘Great,’ I thought. I figured I better get a move on if I planned to make it into town by mid afternoon and I left the shelter.

By 6:32 A.M. I was on the trail heading south. I filled up my water in a stream that the rain had flooded and started my climb. I trudged through puddles, mud bogs, over slippery rocks and roots, but I was determined to get to Gorham and get dry, and comfortable.

By 9:15 A.M. the rain had decreased and become a light mist, not that it mattered. At this point my boots were soaked, my socks filled with water and my shorts wet from rain and my shirt wet from the sweat my rain jacket induces. I wasn’t stopping to look at anything and I blelw right past Moss Pond and Dream Pond.

I stopped for a few food breaks and kept pushing toward the sound of traffic and the idea of civilization. Every time I felt tired and I’d hear the roar of a car driving on a road somewhere I couldn’t see, but could only imagine my spirits would immediately lift. With about three miles to go I was more than ready to be done hiking. I wanted to be in a building, taking a shower, and doing laundry. I wanted to be off the trail. With about a little less than a few miles left til I would reach Gorham, NH I heard the sound of what I believe was the town’s fire station alarm.

The sound let me know I had to be really close. I was elated, not about the fire in town but that I was getting close to the town. I headed down Mt. Hayes and had to walk down a large slab of rock that was both wet and slick. I tried to be really careful placing my feet on the mossy patches I could find and grabbing onto tree branches when there were any to grab hold of and help me maintain my balance.

As I neared the bottom of the rock slab it broke into tiny rock segments with gaps in between them and became more treacherous. I took a step too quickly and lost my balance. I was on my ass and my packs rain cover acted as an accelerator propelling me further down the slab and taking me straight toward the field of boulders with gaps in between them.

My right leg led the way and got caught right between two boulders right below the knee cap. While my right leg stopped the rest of my body kept moving forward with the momentum the initial fall and slide had created.

The way my shin felt I thought I’d broken something. I gently pulled my right leg out of the crack it had become wedged in. My shin was scrapped and bleeding but as I tested my range of motion I was relieved to find that nothing seemed broken.

After I had recovered from the fall and started moving again the trail went steadily downward toward Hogan road. When I got to Hogan road someone had left a box of Koshi granola bars. I grabbed one of each flavor bar and had a little roadside snack.

As I left Hogan road I noticed a sign for a missing parakeet attached to the telephone pole. Looking at the picture of the bird and thinking about the wilderness I’d already been through I had no doubt that bird was dead. I crossed the Androscoggin river and walked by the abandon hydro electric plant to my left that sat right on the river.

Once I passed the plant, U.S. 2 curved right. I took my pack off to get ready to starting thumbing. I took off my water soaked boots and switched into my Teva sandals hoping to give my feet a chance to dry. It took about twenty minutes for someone to stop and pick me up. It was a husband and wife and their teenage daughter in a white pick up truck. I sat in the back with the daughter and made small talk until they dropped me off at The Barn, also known as the Libby House on Main Street in downtown Gorham. I thanked them for the ride and they drove away.

When I walked inside the barn, which was a barn style garage attached to a big bed and breakfast there was an Eastern European girl in her early twenties who greeted me wearing a bikini and an apron. Her outfit and poor English had me thinking mail order bride.

“It will be 20 for night, that include shower, another 5 if you want wash dry.” She said.

“Okay.” I said as I handed her the cash thinking this place was a little pricey for getting to sleep on a stained mattress with one bed sheet covering it in the attic of a hot barn garage.

I said goodbye to the young lady and headed down the street toward the Gorham commons in search of Pizza Hut, I hoped to hit up their lunch buffet if they had one. I called Sarah on the walk there since it was about a half mile down the street.

“Hey. How are you doing?” I asked.

“Pretty good.” She said.

“Are you still planning on heading to Aunt Mimi’s for Gram’s 93rd birthday party?” I asked.

“Yeah, probably around noon. I don’t know if I’m going to spend the night though. I have to get back to Williamsburg early tomorrow morning, so I can either leave tonight and then I won’t have to get up early or I’ll have to get up really early tomorrow.” She said.

“Yeah just do whatever works better for you. I’m sure my family would love to see you for as long as you can stay but they’ll understand if you have to leave tonight because of the drive. What are you doing about the bridge?” I asked.

“Claudio is going to be at Kelly’s on Kent Island and he said he’d drive across the bridge to meet me and drive my car over for me.” She said

“Well that works out, that’s really nice of him.” I said.

“Yeah.” She said.

“I’m so jealous you get to go to the party. I really wish I could be there with you and the whole family, but instead I get to stay here all alone.” I said.

“You should be jealous, I can’t wait to see your family.” She said.

“I know, I bet it’s going to be so much fun.” I said. “I just got to Pizza Hut so I’m going to go in and get lunch and I’ll talk to you later, okay?” I said.

“No, don’t go yet. We never get to talk.” She said.

“I know, and I know this sounds lame, but I’m starving, I haven’t had lunch yet, and I still have to hitch a ride to the Walmart and back and then I have to get in contact with Ashley Green about her possibly meeting me in Hanover to give me a ride to the train station in Manchester, but I’ll call once I get everything done.” I said.

“Fine.” She said.

“I’ll talk to you later. Tell everyone at Gram’s party I say hi.” I said.

“Okay.” She said.

When I got inside I found out the buffet was only for salad and though I did crave vegetables I wasn’t going to pay for all you can eat salad. I ordered 10 bread sticks and a pepperoni personal pan pizza and devoured all of it along with three Pepsi’s in just over thirty minutes.

“Does the soda have refills?” I asked the waitress. She looked at me as though I was a crazy homeless person and I could tell she feared if she said there were refills that I would hang out in here all day, smelling like a dumpster, covered in dirt, sipping Pepsi after Pepsi until the place closed.

“Well, you can have two or three refills but it’s not unlimited.” The Waitress said.

‘What the hell type of Pizza Hut is the place?’ I thought. I had come to a fast food place for a few reasons. First to gorge myself on greasy, high calorie, and fattening food. Second, to enjoy food in the comfort of air conditioning. Third and lastly to drink as much damn soda as I pleased. I felt cheated that this Pizza Hut only delivered on the first two of my three wishes.

After I left Pizza Hut I headed to the road to try and hitch to Walmart. I ran into the guy who had offered me 151 the night before I sprained my ankle. He informed me that there was a bus service that ran through town every thirty minutes and for two dollars you could ride it unlimited all day. With this information I kept walking with him down toward the bus stop.

I spotted a McDonalds along the way and headed inside for an ice coffee to take with me on the bus. By the time I had reached the bus stop I had already finished the iced coffee and it and the Pizza Hut food had apparently shot right through my system. I had to go and I had to go immediately.

“What’s your name?” I asked the 151 distributor.

“I go by Pneumonia.” He said.

“How come?” I asked.

“I got pneumonia and was in the hospital the last week and a half.” He said.

“Oh no. Well I’m glad to see you’re doing better now. Do you happen to know when the bus comes?” I asked.

“It’ll be here in five minutes.” He said.

I ran to the gas station next to the bus stop knowing I would not make it another five minutes and a bus ride to Walmart without pooping in my pants if I didn’t take care of business now.

I got inside the gas station. There was a line of two people before me. My mind had already told my body when I walked into the gas station that I was going to get to go in the next minute. Things had started moving.

I waited in line trying to think of anything but going to the bathroom to help slow things down. The two people in front of me seemed to take forever. The last woman ahead of me got out just in time. I ran in, dropped my shorts and started going not a half second after they were down.

I made it back to the bus stop before the bus arrived and got in when the female bus driver pulled up. Pneumonia wasn’t coming with me, so it was just me and the female bus driver.

“Hiker?” She asked.

“Yep.” I said.

“You must be interested in traveling then?” She asked.

“Yeah.” I said.

“I wanted to travel the country when I was your age.” The forty something woman said.” So I got my CDL (Commercial Driver’s License) and became a trucker and got to drive all over the country. I kept driving until the day I delivered each of my first two kids. It was great, my husband and I got to see every inch of America.” She said.

“Sounds pretty cool, I don’t think I could do it though.” I said.

“Sure you could, you’re still young, you don’t have anything tying you down.” She said.

I thought of myself as a free spirit, but I wasn’t that free. I wanted to be stationary most of the time. I wanted to be able to still see Sarah, see my family, see my friends whenever I wanted and I knew a life of non stop moving would make that impossible. The bus driver sounded like she loved her life but I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. I had officially crossed off cross country truck driver from my list of potential professions. I knew I couldn’t do it.

I got to the Walmart and finished my food shopping relatively quickly. I still wanted to find a pair of shorter shorts to replace the long cargo shorts that hung over my knees and caught on my knees every time I had to take a big step up.

There was nothing in the men’s section that didn’t hang over my knees. I headed to the women’s section and asked one of the employees to help me find some very short women’s athletic shorts. The older lady gave me a strange look and then helped me. I ended up trying on and loving the way a pair of black women’s dancing shorts called Danskins felt. I bought them and then walked around Walmart trying to find someone I could ask to drive me back to Gorham since the bus was no longer running at this time of the evening.

I met a woman leaving the pharmacy section who said she and her husband could drive me back. The couple drove me back to the hostel and waved goodbye as they drove off.

After I loaded my food things into my pack I talked to a man in his mid 40′s named T*******ack who was from Utah and as I found out was born in the same hospital I was in Virginia.

“I could never live in Virginia.” He said.

“Why” I asked.

“Living in Utah I know I’m way less likely to get shot up by any black boys. I just feel more comfortable there being around mostly white boys.” He said.

Given this was one of the first things he said to me I could tell any conversation I had with him would involve me bring highly uncomfortable and offended so I decided to tell him I had to leave to get to dinner before the restaurant closed and hoped to not return until he was asleep.

I headed down town to the Dynasty Chinese food buffet and tried calling each of my four siblings, my mom, my dad, and my three siblings in-law and Sarah so that I could wish my grandmother a happy birthday. No one answered their phones. I felt really alone and sad. I figured everyone was having such a good time that they were too busy to answer.

I entered the restaurant at 9:15 P.M. and I was the only person there. They had even shut off the heat lamps on the food and were cleaning the table tops with a wet rag while half the employees were eating dinner in another section of the restaurant.

The feeling of isolation in my stomach grew bigger and the greasy, half warmed Chinese food wasn’t capable of filling it. The rest of dinner I felt terribly lonely. One wall of the restaurant had mirrors and when I looked over and saw myself, not looking like myself and eating all alone a thousand miles from home I realized my new life wasn’t as glamorous as I had hoped it would be.

I could barely eat the rest of the food on my plate. I spent the remainder of time there picking at my egg roll and starring out at the pool of the Motor Inn Motel across the parking lot watching as a family splashed and laughed with each other.

I left the buffet both unsatisfied by the food and sad that I wasn’t with the people I loved and that I wasn’t with anyone. I was alone and I realized I may very well be alone for a long time to come.

I opened my fortune cookie on the walk home. It read ‘bread today is better than cake tomorrow.’ I took it to mean that I should be thankful for what I had today instead of upset about what I didn’t and I walked back to the hostel alone.

Rose – Pizza Hut and getting dry

Bud – A full day off.

Thorn – Feeling so alone.

Tags: adroscoggin river, adventure of a lifetime, androscoggin river power plant, appalachian mountains, appalachian trail, burger king, fast food, gentian pond lean to, gorham, hiker's paradise, mcdonalds, mission, moose, new hampshire, nobo, pizza hut, power plant, rain, slippery, sobo, sore ankle, the barn, the white birches, thru hike, thru hiker, tired, weather radio, wet, wet boots | Posted in Appalachian Trail | No Comments »

Night 35: Mahoosuc Notch, Not So Bad

Monday, October 11th, 2010

In between the crevices is ice that stays through summer and a couple moose skeletons which I never did find.

Friday 7-9-2010
14.7Miles Hiked, 1893.0 Miles To Springer

I had planned on an early start, but got caught talking with Farm-A-Sea while I finished my breakfast and loaded up my backpack. He was unloading his backpack and I found out he was carrying speakers with him and had a ton of extra food, his pack had to be at least twenty pounds heavier than mine. He pulled out an extra pop tart and offered it to me. I took the pop tart which made me feel obligated to stay longer and talk with him while I ate it.

“So you’ve really never smoked?” He asked as he loaded and puffed on his metal pipe.

“Never.” I said.

“That’s awesome dude. I can’t remember a day where I didn’t wake up thinking I needed drugs to make it through the day.” He said.

“Yeah, it just never appealed to me.” I said. “Do you have any idea what you want to do once you finish the trail? Think you’ll head back home?” I asked.

“Hell yeah, but I don’t know what I’ll do once I get home, I was a janitor at the high school I went to for two years and they pay $13 an hour but I can’t go back to doing that.” He said.

“You seem pretty sharp to me, you ever think about going back to school?” I asked.

“Sometimes, but high school was so fucking stupid. I could never do pointless shit like that again. Maybe a trade school or community college.” He said.

“Yeah, any type of school is a good idea in my opinion.” I said.

He put some more of the resin he had scrapped out of his broken pipe a few days earlier into his metal pipe.

“I know there’s fucking tiny pieces of broken glass in here, but fuck it man.” He said.

“How long have you been smoking?” I asked.

“Since like sophomore year of high school.” He said “I paid some doctor $200 to say it’s legal for me to smoke to get my mom off my back. That means I can grow up to six plants with three budding at any time. I’m thinking of telling him I’m giving up smoking cause if you’re eating the weed then you can grow up to 20 plants.” He said.

“Sounds like a pretty genius plan.” I said.

He reached into his bag to pull some more food out and two razor blades fell on the wood shelter floor.

“What are those for?” I asked.

“Snorting coke.” He answered as if I had asked him the time of day.

I decided it might be time to hit the trail and leave Farm-A-Sea behind. I liked Farm-A-Sea and didn’t really want to be alone, but I also thought he might be more of a liability than I was willing to take on.

“Thanks for the PopTart, I’m heading out.” I said.

Mahoosuc Arm was a steep rock face and I slipped and fell on my tailbone about two dozen times heading down. The rocks were wet from a light mist the previous night and they were extra slick. Water also appeared to be flowing down the rock face, from where, I have no idea. I listened to my tape recorder music on the way down and fell down every few steps. Falling was the way I hiked this entire section.

I entered the much talked about Mahoosuc Notch around 9:15 A.M. Every SOBO I had met up to this point had warned me of it’s difficulty as though there were dead hikers all along the trail in this section. It was like walking through a giant air conditioned jungle gym. Between several of the rock crevices were pockets of ice that remained solid even in the summer heat. I passed an older man who had no traction on the bottoms of his shoes and was struggling on the rocks, getting up a little ways and then slipping back down.

“I’m getting my new shoes as soon as I get to Gorham.” He said.

“Looks like you better.” I said as I passed him.

I did my best to stay on top of the boulders and had almost no trouble. I made it through the Notch in just over an hour and was unsure what all the fuss was about. I was disappointed in both how easy it was and that I didn’t see any of the moose skeletons I heard were lodge between some of the boulders.

The climb up Fulling Mill Mt. after the notch was almost void of white blazes. I stopped half way up for lunch and the older man I had passed earlier now passed me. About a half hour later I ran into the older man walking back down the mountain.

“I haven’t seen a white blaze anywhere in the last thirty minutes, I’m heading back down.” He said as he walked back down the mountain past me.

“This seems too much like the AT to me to not be the AT, I’m going to keep heading up.” I said.

“Good luck.” He said as he went on his way.

The remainder of the climb was in fact almost void of white blazes with the exception of one I saw painted on a rock on the top of the mountain and one more I saw at the bottom of the mountain just before Full Goose shelter.

I sat at the shelter eating my usual snickers and peanut butter and the old man showed up.

“Guess that was the AT, I walked all the way to the bottom and realized it was the only possibly option.” He said.

“That sucks.” I said.

Before I left the shelter the old man I had passed who I found out was named, Coal Cracker, told me that his weather radio had said there was a storm coming in and a chance for flash floods. I left Coal Cracker behind and headed up Goose Eye North. The views from up top were gorgeous and Goose Eye East was also beautiful, but less impressive then the former.

Mt. Carlo was nothing to write home about and Carlo Col shelter, the only water source for miles was a 0.3 excursion off the trail and straight down hill, but I needed the water to make it the last 5.5 miles to the shelter which stood a half mile past the Maine and New Hampshire border.

When I did reach the Maine/New Hampshire border I started shouting at the top of my lungs. “YES! YES! YES! ONE STATE DOWN THIRTEEN TO GO!” I shouted. I was alone in the middle of the Maine/ New Hampshire wilderness shouting until I was hoarse.

I was thrilled to be out of Maine, to cross a state off of my list, to feel like I’d finally accomplished something on this thru hike. I kissed the border sign, took a step into New Hampshire looked directly at Maine and flicked that bad ass state off. I put my middle finger away and I walked into New Hampshire vowing never to step foot in Maine again.

My first challenge in New Hampshire was called Mt. Success, fitting considering how accomplished I felt for finishing Maine. My phone had service when I got to the top so I left Sarah a voice mail and texted my family to let them know I had finally finished a state, and was feeling much better, physically, but mostly mentally, I was back in the game and I felt reinvigorated for my thru hike.

The climb down toward Gentian Pond Shelter wasn’t easy, at least for me at the moment. When I arrived at the shelter it had the most stunning view of mountains and fluffy clouds colored pink and orange as the sunset. Walking toward the shelter I saw two moose swimming in the pond next to the shelter.

I talked with two NOBO hikers, one from Leesburg, VA and one from England. They told me neither of them were purists when it came to hiking, meaning they didn’t care if they were hiking on the AT the whole way, and both of them were encouraging me to take a blue blazed trail that led to a road I could walk on straight into Gorham that would cut ten miles off of tomorrows hike. I hadn’t decided yet if I was a purist but I had decided I wasn’t ready to start taking short cuts at this point in the trip.

“Did you guys get water from the pond?” I asked.

“Hell no, there are moose swimming in there, which means there are moose shitting and pissing in there, I’m not trying to get giardia.” The man from Leesburg said.

“Probably good thinking, is there anywhere else to get water?” I asked.

“Yeah, there’s a stream a little past where you came in.” He said.

The shelter was a little off trail and I was tired and not looking to do more walking so I decided the water could wait for tomorrow morning and began getting ready to be settled in for the night.

The two NOBO’s had occupied the floor of the shelter so I was left with the loft area up top. I climbed up top and got settled in my sleeping bag. It was too hot to stay in the bag so I just slept in my silk liner.

I kept waking up feeling hot, unable to breath, and my legs were itching like crazy. I decided it was the loft that was making me feel so hot so I climbed down and squeezed into the open space on the shelter floor between the two NOBO hikers. My legs kept itching like crazy though. I scratched and scratched until I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided to get my headlamp and see if I had a rash or bug bites.

I turned my headlamp on and didn’t see any rash. What I did see was far worse. There were 50 or so tiny little black and brown bugs no bigger than the head of a needle crawling all over my legs and up and down the hairs that covered my legs. I started brushing them off in a panic. I felt disgusting. I felt filthy and now I couldn’t go back to sleep. I kept thinking of everywhere on my body they might be. I figured if they were on my legs they had probably crawled up toward my crotch region, and most likely I had some in the hair on my head too.

Even though it appeared that I had gotten them all off I figured they were still in my sleeping bag sense that is where my legs first started itching. I got out of my sleeping bag and out of my liner and laid on top of both. I was now cold but I felt a little cleaner and I think I managed to get a couple hours of sleep.

Rose – Mahoosuc Notch, Finishing Maine!

Bud – Getting to Gorham, New Hampshire, First Fast Food!

Thorn – Flea or Lice infestation inside my sleeping bag.

Tags: adventure, appalachian mountains, appalachian trail, carlo col lean to., first state, fleas, flicking off maine, full goose shelter, gentian pond, goose eye mountains, hiker, lice, mahoosuc arm, mahoosuc notch, moose, mt. success, nobos, shelter, shouting, sleeping, sobos, thru hiker, thru hiking | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 1 Comment »

Night 34: Speck Pond & Will

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

Speck Pond, highest body of water in Maine.

Speck Pond, the highest body of water in all of Maine at 3,500 feet.

Thursday 7-8-2010
6.9Miles Hiked, 1907.7 Miles To Springer

I left Bladpate lean-to and The Beer Poet behind at 6:35 A.M. I was looking to get a big day in when I set out this morning. Old Speck Mountain had different plans in store for my sore ankle than the dreams I woke to. I made it easily the first 2.3 miles to Maine 26 and I was in good spirits even though I still wished I had someone to hike with.

When I reached Maine 26 Old Speck Mountain came into view. The entire top of portion of the mountain was covered in fog. I couldn’t see how high it rose but I knew one thing for sure and that was that I’d be hiking straight up, because I was still in Maine, the land of no switch backs. Before I started the hike I stopped in the parking lot at the base of the mountain to eat some breakfast bars and peanut and then I started up.

As I started up the mountain my quads, knees, and ankles were not willing and were becoming unable to keep hiking. I had to stop to rest every fifteen minutes just to catch my breath and regain some of my energy. As I went further and further up I ran into a father and son from Alabama who were section hiking the entire AT.

“The peak of Old Speck is about 0.3 miles off trail but there is a fire tower you can climb up and the views are definitely worth the extra hiking.” The father said.

I decided I’d take the excursion and do lunch atop the tower. I didn’t want to take my pack the whole 0.3 miles so I left it 0.1 miles in and took out my food sacs and water. When I reached the tower it was tall and the only way up was a completely vertical ladder. I threw my food sack around my shoulder and moved up all 36 rungs one step and one hand grip at a time. I was worried the whole way up that my sweating hands would lose grip or my ankle would give out right as I placed it. Neither of those things happened and I enjoyed my lunch with a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains partially covered by the clouds.

The climb down was even scarier, but I just took my time and didn’t look down and I was fine.

Old Speck Trail had sufficiently kicked my ass and I believed I may have re-injured my ankle as I started to get a limp in my step as I hiked. I arrived at Speck Pond Shelter around 12:30 P.M. and decided with the limp in my step and the burn in my quads that I was done today and that there was no way I was going to make it down Mahoosic Arm or through Mahoosic Notch in the condition I was in.

The campsites’ caretaker wasn’t in and I was the only one around so I walked to the pond and soaked my feet in the cool water. I decided since I was the only one around and since it was such a hot day that I was going to go for a naked swim. The water felt soothing and it was freeing to be swimming through the highest body of water in the entire state of Maine. I began to miss my old life as a swimmer and began to wish I could go back, I began to wish I was the swimming obsessed person I had gone on this trip to get away from.

After lounging on a rock while dangling my bad ankle in the water I went back to the shelter and pulled out my sleeping bag. I decided I had earned a nap. I slept until around 3:30 P.M. when three NOBO’s stopped in the shelter for a snack break. We talked briefly. From our conversation I had gathered that all but one of them had stopped enjoying the hike.

When they left, I was glad to see them go, everything they had to say about the Whites in New Hampshire and the remainder of southern Maine had me feeling down and nervous about what was to come.

Not too long after they left the campsites’ caretaker arrived. I walked up to his tent to find out if I’d be able to do some work for stay since this campsite was run by the Appalachian Mountain Club and had an eight dollar fee to stay the night.

As I approached the tent I saw that he was young, about my age, perhaps younger, my height, and he had red hair and blue eyes.

“Hey, how’s it going? I asked as I stood outside his tent.

“Hey, good, I’m Will, this is my first day working this site. I took a side path up here so it wasn’t as bad with my 80 pound pack and axe.” He said.

“Why is your pack 80 pounds?” I asked.

“I bring my food up for the week I’m up here, and I bring food I like, not just the lightest stuff.” He said.

I noticed his shorts were black and said Army on the right thigh.

“Were you in the Army? I asked.

“Yeah, I signed up when I was seventeen right after high school.” He said.

“Did you like the Army?” I asked.

“Yeah, but after the first two years it became like any job and I began to think of it as a prison term and was pretty much counting down the days til I was out.” He said. “I don’t think I’d ever go back into the military.”

Will’s shirt was off and I noticed he had several tattoos.

“What are the tattoos for?” I asked.

He pointed to the one on his left arm, it was a big Pabst Blue Ribbon logo above which were the words ‘Powered By.’

“I got that one when I was 17, couldn’t even legally drink or get a tattoo then,” He laughed. “Love PBR.” He said,

“What’s the one in your armpit?” I asked.

“Well I was getting out of the Army in a couple months and I had a friend that did tattoos. I gave him $100 and said, ‘Do whatever you want.” He googled ‘pink eye and gross vagina,’ and used a combination of images to come up with what I’ve got in my armpit.” He said as he lifted his arm to reveal what looked like a warn out wizards sleeve of a vagina with an infected red, puffy, and pussing eye staring out and his armpit hair growing out of all of it really added to the overall grossness.

“Tattoo in your armpit hurts like hell, my lymph nodes swelled to the size of peaches for about a week.” He said.

“That sounds like it hurt a lot.” I said.

“Yeah I couldn’t even lift my arm above my head.” He said.

“Ouch,what’s that other one for?” I asked as I pointed to the large black silhouette of the state of Massachusetts on his forearm.

“Well, I’m from Massachusetts and the ’508′ inside the state is my area code and the heart inside the ’0′ stands for home is where the heart is.” He said.

“That’s really cool. I was meaning to ask, is there anything I can do for work for stay?” I asked.

“I think I’ve got something.” He said.

I spent the next hour sawing the limbs off a fallen pine tree and dragging them to areas the AMC was looking to reforest and wanted to block off to hikers.

As it got later and the day became night Farm-A-Sea rolled into camp. We didn’t talk too much as it was pretty late when I finished my work and I headed to pond right after I finished and listened to some music on my tape recorder while I journaled. As the sun completely vanished I stared out onto the pond as the mist rolled by.

With no one to talk to by the pond I just thought and I realized I was really going to be alone and I wasn’t sure I wanted to do this thing alone, or maybe I just wasn’t sure I could.

Rose – Lunch on the tower.

Bud – Mahoosic Notch.

Thorn – Ankle acting up again.

Tags: adventure, alone, appalachian mountains, appalachian thru hiker, appalachian trail, caretaker, farm-a-sea, hiker, hiking, Mahousic Notch, Old Speck Mountain, pabst blue ribbon, shelter, Skinny dipping, solo, southbound, Speck Pond, tattoo, thru hiker, work for stay | Posted in Appalachian Trail | No Comments »

Night 33: The Baldpates and The Beer Poet

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

Celebrating the view from above Baldpate West Peak

Celebrating atop Baldpate West Peak and looking at the path ahead flowing along the ridge line. It's lonely on top, no really it's lonely, where's Mud?

Wednesday 7-7-2010
8 Miles Hiked, 1914.6 Miles To Springer

By the time I had all my belongings packed up and cleared out of the RV it was almost 11:00 A.M. It was hard to say goodbye to Nightcrawler. She had nursed me back to health and been the best trail mother anyone could ask for. She treated me like a son, or at the least, a little brother. I’d always remember her kindness and generosity and I hoped she’d remember me too.

“You’ll always be a part of my AT family and I’ll never forget you, what you’ve done for me, and my time here.” I wrote in a card I made for her and Caretaker.

“You all ready to go?” Caretaker asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” I said and I loaded my pack into the back of his truck.

It was bizarre to be pulling out of the driveway knowing I’d never be back. It was weird to think how important these people had been for the last week and a half and to think I’d never see them again, they would just be a fond memory I would look back on and gradually see less vividly as the years went by. I hugged Nightcrawler before I got in the truck and I was sad that I’d never see her again but glad that I’d had the chance to meet her.

Caretaker drove and Blue Eyes sat in the back just coming along for the ride. There were no life threatening driving incidents today and I was slow getting out of the car. I wanted to stay put and head back to the High 5, but more than that I wanted to go home and I knew what I needed to do was to start heading South because every step I took was a step closer to home and closer to something comfortable, something I knew.

In the meantime though I knew I’d be alone and I knew this was where my journey really began and if I was going to find out some great truth about myself it would start now.

I got my pack up on my shoulders and buckled the hip and chest belts.

“Just don’t push it too hard when you get to The Notch(Mahousic Notch), and you’ll be fine.” Caretaker said.

“Yeah, you’ll be fine and there are some great views from the Baldpates.” Blue Eyes said.

“I’ll be sure to take my time. Thanks for everything.” I said as I shook Caretakers hand. Good luck in Colorado and Cali and on your bike ride back to Georgia.” I said to Blue Eyes as I shook his and said goodbye.

I walked across the street and looked back one last time to see Blue Eyes and Caretaker standing by the truck and waving me off. I turned around and headed back into the woods hoping never to come back to Andover. My first day officially back on the trail started at 11:23 A.M. and the heat was out full force. I had to stop every fifteen minutes just to cool down and catch my breath. I had completely lost the hiking legs I’d built up in the first three weeks and I felt like a contestant on week one of The Biggest Loser.

I stopped at the first shelter I came across, Frye Notch shelter, to have a short lunch and I met a German NOBO hiker named, Olaf. He was carry a very large pack for someone who had made it this far and everything he said he said as though it was fact.

“The next mountain is deadly. You look too skinny. If you’re ankle is hurt you shouldn’t hike. I am the fastest hiker. That hiker you met back there is a huge asshole.” He rattled off fact after fact.

He had to be in his forties but he told me when I got to Gorham I needed to say hi to the 19 year old girl who worked at one of the hostels, I told him I would, but knew I wouldn’t.

After Olaf left I ran into a group from Outward Bound. Almost every teenage kid I met in the group was not on this month long hiking trip by choice. Every one of the kids I saw looked miserable.

“Are you guys out here by choice?” I asked.

“No, my parents said this was the only way I could get my car back.” One boy said.

“Rough.” I said.

“Yeah it sucks ass.” The boy said.

I left behind the group of about two dozen teenagers being led on a forced march through the Maine wilderness and I headed back to hiking and back to hiking straight up.

The climb from Frye Notch to Baldpate Mt. East Peak was steep, rocky, and a real bitch, but I made it and I was damn proud of myself. I had conquered my first real climb since I sprained my ankle and I felt on top of the world as I looked at the views from the peak.

I sat down by the peak marker sign when I got to the top and rested for about thirty minutes. I turned my phone on to text my family and Sarah that I was doing well and my sister Megan texted back with what she believed to be the most important news of the day.

“Lindsay Lohan is in jail.” Her text read.

I laughed when I got it and it was nice to get a small dose of celebrity gossip. It was nice to be reminded of what matters to a lot of people who live in the real world as that’s what I’ve come to thing of everywhere that is not the trail.

As I stood atop the mountain I noticed dark storm clouds in the distance beginning to gather. I got my pack back on, turned off my phone and got back to moving. The climb to Bladpate West Peak wasn’t bad because you could see exactly where you were headed from the top of Baldpate East Peak.

As I descended the peak I ran into an older couple who was from Maine. They warned me that the shelter I was headed to was poorly marked and that they almost missed it when the passed it earlier in the day.

With only a couple miles left to hike in the day I made sure I took the next portion of my hike slow to be sure I wouldn’t walk right past the shelter.

The sign for the shelter was small, but it was still very noticeable, the confusing thing was that there were two signs. One said the shelter was 200 yards off the trail and the other said it was 0.1 miles of the trail. Id say both were wrong and it was more like 0.2 miles off.

I arrived at Baldpate shelter and saw three other sleeping pads on the shelter floor, but no people were inside. Just in front of the shelter was a camping area that was filled with another larger group of teenagers different from the one I saw earlier today. This group wasn’t with outward bound though they were with the Appalachian Mountain Club.

A man who looked and talked like Matthew McConaghey came our of the woods and walked toward the shelter.

“Hey there. Me, my wife, and my daughter are going to be in here too if that’s okay. They’ll be here in just a minute they’re just gettin’ some water.” He said.

“Sounds alright to me.” I said.

“You a thru hiker?” He asked.

“Yeah, my names Tiny Tim and I’m headed South.” I said. I had decided to temporarily change my name to the one Caretaker had given me to see if I liked Tiny Tim better. I was also running from the law after all.

“That’s great. I thru hiked in 2001, name was The Beer Poet. I went North on my thru hike. I couple years after my hike I came up to Maine and worked for the MATC maintaining and building stairs. You remember all those steps going up White Cap Mountain? “He asked.

“Yeah those were a bitch to climb.” I said.

“I helped place each one of those stones.” He said.

“When I walked up those I wondered what poor person had to put those there and here you are.” I said.

“Yeah, we’re from Tennessee, but I wanted my wife and daughter to see some of the trail I helped build in this section. They havent even opened some of the sections I worked on though, the section I worked on here is still closed. In fact that really bad section you came down is actually supposed to be replaced by the nicer section we built a few years back. I don’t know why they haven’t opened the new section.” He said

“That last section was awful.” I said.

“When did you start?” He asked.

“Well I left home on my birthday, June 4th, but I started the thru hike on June 6th.” I said.

“I started on my birthday too.” He said.

“How long did the trail take you?” I asked.

“Eight months, but I worked in Damascus at trail days to get money and I picked apples near Harper’s Ferry for 12 days and I had to come off the trail to save up some money a few times, but I probably hiked for about 6 months.” He said. “Did you say you got hurt on Moody Mt.?” He asked.

“Yeah.” I said.

“I found out about 9/11 on top of Moody Mt.” He said. “It was so quiet for the next few days without the noise of the planes in the sky.” He said.

“When we got into Stratton, ME a few days after 9/11 they gave us a bunch of free lobster because nothing was being shipping out and they had to get the lobster out of their trucks.” He said.

“That’s crazy.” I said. “So you said you live near Damascus. How often do you go to Trail Days?” I asked.

“I’ve been a few times. Basically it’s one giant frunk, debauched hiker festival. I’ll tell you, if you’re a young, single guy with a six pack of beer, there’s a lot of pretty girls with hairy legs who are wild and anyways, well, I mean, I got laid.” He said as he laughed.

“Oh yeah, well, I’ve got a girlfriend I’ve been dating for 2 and a half years and I don’t think that would go over to well with her, but she would probably like to come with me if I went.” I said.

“I had a girlfriend when I hit the trail. We broke up though, a little before I was about to finish. It was my fault though. I never wrote her. Make sure you write your girlfriend, let her know you’re thinking about her. It lets her know you care. I know I dropped the ball on that one.” He said.

“Sounds like good advice. I’ve tried to do a good job of writing and calling and keeping in touch, it’s just been hard with how spotty service is on the trail and how rare it is to find a town to charge my phone in.” I said. I decided I was going to do whatever I could to make sure I didn’t drop the ball with Sarah.

The Beer Poet set up a tent inside the shelter once his daughter and wife got back. His five year old daughter was scared of the mice and the tent was the only way she felt comfortable sleeping. In the short time I talked with them I knew he was a kind man and a good father. I watched him lose to his daughter several times in tik-tak-toe and I watched him help her roast marsh mellows.

Before I fell asleep he gave me his phone number and told me when I get to Tennessee I should give him a call. I was looking forward to meeting up with him again once I had made it all the way down South, but for now I was just looking forward to going to sleep.

Rose – Meeting The Beer Poet,

Bud – Getting closer to leaving Maine.

Thorn – The Climb up Baldpate East Peak in the heat of the day.

Tags: adventure, andover, appalachian mountains, appalachian trail, baldpate east peak, baldpate west peak, goodbye, hiking, hot, maine, older couple, outward bound, shelter, teenagers, tent, the beer poet, thru hiker, thru hiking | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 1 Comment »

Night 32: On The Trail Again

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

Getting back on the trail for the firs time after my sprained ankle at East B Hill Road in Andover, Maine.

Tuesday 7-6-2010
10.1 Miles Hiked, 1922.6 Miles To Springer

I woke up this morning and felt that I was healed enough to try hiking again. I walked to the general store with Mt. Goat because I wanted to get a moonpie before I left and because I wanted to practice walking somewhere with my backpack on to make sure my ankle felt strong enough over the short ten mile distance I had planned to slack pack today. Slacking packing if I haven’t explained is where you have someone with a car take a bunch of stuff out of your pack so you can carry less and they drop you off at one road and meet you at the next so you can get more mileage done with less effort sense you don’t have to carry all of your stuff.

Mt. Goat seemed to be in a weird mood.

“I sense something really strange about Caretaker. I thought about packing up my stuff last night and just leaving, I just get a really werid vibe about this place.” He said.

“I mean, Caretaker and Nightcrawler are different, but they’ve been nothing but good to me, so I just chalk it up to them being different.” I said.

When we returned to the High 5 I talked to Blue Eyes who had just woken up.

“When I got to Katahdin I didn’t really have any emotion. I cried the night before and when I was walking down the mountain. I was just kind of depressed that it was over.” Blue Eyes said.

“Yeah, it’ll definitely be weird once I finish, I’m sure, but I think I’ll be happy that it’s over, that I did it, that I get to go back to my life, to my girl friend, to my family, to my friends. I just think I’ll be happy to be done.” I said.

I began doubting why I was out here. “If I felt I’d be so happy when I was finished, then why was I out here, why didn’t I just go back home to everything I loved?” I thought.

The only reason I could come up with was that I had told myself for so long that I would do this, I would finish, and that meant that I would do it and I would finish, regardless of whether it was still making me happy or not. This whole thing seemed insane, it seemed kind of pointless, but it also seemed like something I had to do for a reason I didn’t understand.

Caretaker drove me to the trailhead at 8:50 A.M. and Blue Eyes joined us for the ride.

As we drove a decent sized deer crossed into the street and instead of running across the street began running down the road in front of Caretaker’s truck.

“Oh hell yeah.” Caretaker said as he sped up his truck and began driving half on the gravel/dirt shoulder and half on the road so that his truck was heading straight for the deer in front of us. “We’re gonna have fresh deer tonight!” He shouted as the car continued to accelerate.

I clutched tight to the seat, not sure id he was serious or not about trying to hit and kill this deer. I became more certain he was serious as we sped faster and faster and inched closer and closer to the deer’s bushy white tail.

I began to imagine the deer’s massive body flying up into the air upon impact and slamming into the hood, rolling up over the hood and crashing through the windshield at 45 mph killing me as my head collided with the deer’s since the deer was now running just in front of my side of the car.

Just as we were within three feet of the deer it jumped into the woods, the truck zoomed past it, and I took a breath for the first time in about a minute.

“Why do you look so scared Tiny Tim?” Caretaker asked.

“I was just worried that we might hit the deer and it might then come crashing through the windshield and kill me.” I said.

“Naw, I was just going to hit it to the ground, then pin it under my tire, and then I was going to get out and slit its throat.” He said as he pulled his flip knife out of his pocket to show me how he intended to slit its throat.

“Oh, that’s all.” I said as I let out an uneasy laugh.

“You can’t be so scared of dying Tiny Tim. If you’re going to be scared of something be scared of being injured or handicapped for the rest of your life, dying ain’t no thing.” He said. “And I’ve read your blog, you need to stop worrying, no one is going to murder you on the trail.

I felt that that was exactly what someone who was possibly going to murder me might say and I grew a little more weary of Caretaker.

“Yeah, you don’t need to be worried about getting murdered, if you want to be worried, worry about getting struck by lightning on an exposed mountain ridge.” Blue Eyes said from the back seat. “Lady got struck by lightning in the whites last year while I was out. If it starts storming, ditch your metal hiking poles, and fuckin’ run.” He said.

“Thanks.” I said, adding lightning to my latest list of possible ways to die on this thru hike.

“You just got to live and not be afraid to live dangerously. I mean you’re doing it right now driving in a car with me while I’m high out of my fuckin’ mind, just kidding, maybe.” Caretaker said laughing like a madman.

The two lane road we were driving down all of the sudden became one lane. A power company had one lane blocked to work on the electrical wires that lined the side of the road we were driving on. No one was directing traffic and the power truck was blocking our lane right at a curve in the road around which we couldn’t see. We slowed down as we approached the power truck, which was about 500 yards away trying to figure out our options and just then a huge logging truck came speeding around the blind turn down the way we had to head.

“Two kids about you and Blue Eye’s ages got killed last night by a logging truck. You see in Maine, logging trucks always have the right of way, even if they’re in your lane.” He said.

As we got closer to the truck about 250 yards Caretaker started speeding up and didn’t seem to be slowing down as we were about to pass the power truck and head into the blind turn down into the lane the opposite traffic would be headed down.

“You want to live life on the edge or do you want to live safely?” He asked in a tone that emphasized ‘the edge,’ and mocked ‘safely.

“Safely, I want to live safely, safely please!” I shouted as I dug in and began tearing at the seat beneath me realizing he wasn’t slowing down and we were headed for the blind turn at least twenty miles over the speed limit.

We zipped past the power truck and into the blind spot of the turn in the road. We made it back into our lane and within ten seconds of us being back in the lane another huge logging truck came barreling by us in the other direction.

“Well that would have been an ugly accident for us.” Caretaker laughed as we past the truck and I felt as though I never wanted to be in a car with him again.

Caretaker pulled the car over to the trail head about five minutes later. I got out of the car relieved to no longer be in the truck. Caretaker pointed me on my way and I headed North on the AT, back toward Moody Mt. where I thought I might be done with hiking and with life forever, just ten days ago.

The hike was rough and my body could tell I hadn’t hiked in a long while. It took me six hours and forty five minutes to do the 10 mile trek.

The temperatures were in the nineties and I was sweating bullets. All my clothes were soaked and chaffing badly on my hips, shoulders and lower back. I ran into Farm-A-Sea with about two miles left and talked to him about meeting up over the next few days and maybe hiking together for awhile.

The rest of the hike was a breeze and Caretaker pulled up right as I got to the road at 4:00 P.M.

I loaded my stuff into the back of his truck and crawled into the front seat.

“We’re headed to Devil’s Den, everyone else is already there, Nightcrawler, Blue Eyes, and two new hikers that were staying with us tonight.” He said.

“You read my mind. I was fantasizing about the ice cold water at Devil’s Den all of today’s hike.” I said.

“We make wishes come true at the High 5.” Caretaker said.

Devil’s Den was amazing and my ankle felt strong enough to do the running start required for the big jump into the gorge at Devil’s Den. The water felt so refreshing after the hike and Nightrcrawler brought a bag of fresh cherries and shared them with me, Blue Eyes, and the new hikers.

When we got back from Devil’s Den we all hung out in the house. Uconn, who was one of the new hikers suggested we all smoke a little something after dinner, and Everyone there but me suggested maybe it was time for me to lose my weed virginity. I wasn’t interested and no one really pushed the issue after I let that be known.

Nightcrawler offered me a Woodhuck Draft cider which I decided was worth a try. I opened the Woodchuck and sipped on it while I iced my foot. After the first few sips I decided this was far better than I’ve ever thought beer tasted. It was just like the sparkling cider I’ve loved ever since I first tried it as a little kid at Thanksgiving and Christmas time. This was a dangerous drink because it was alcoholic and didn’t taste like alcohol.

That night for dinner Nightcrawler made a mixed grill of bear steaks, deer steaks, deer ribs, chicken, pork chops, and mushrooms stuffed with beef and moose meat. She also made an awesome pasta salad and Mediterranean salad. We were all grateful for the protein, carbs, and deliciousness that Nightcrawler offered.

After dinner Litter Box headed to the bathroom and Uconn let us in on some inside information.

“Litter Box has been on her period so she’ll be in there awhile.” Uconn said.

“I don’t trust anything that bleeds that long and survives.” Caretaker said.”

“Then you wouldn’t trust her, she’s been on her period for five weeks.” Uconn said.

“What the fuck, somethings gotta be wrong with her.” Caretaker said.

“No, this happens with her sometimes.” Uconn said.

I just sat there and listened and thought about possibly calling the hospital to get Litter Box help, nothing about this sounded normal or okay.

After we left the house following dinner Uconn, Litter Box and I headed back to the RV. We watched Fletch, starring Chevy Chase which I’d never seen and wasn’t all that impressed with. In fact it was really bad. Ive had bad luck with movies lately.

Sarah called and saved me from suffering through the end of Fletch. I excused myself from the RV and sat on the cooler just outside the conex in the pitch black.

“I’m so glad you called. What’s up?” I asked.

“Not too much.” She said.

“Can you get somewhere where you can see the stars?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She said.

“Well if you’re looking at the stars right now then we’re both looking at the same thing.” I said.

“I’m looking at them.” She said.

“Then we’re doing something together.” I said.

“I like that.” She said.

Sarah started in the morning and went through her busy day filled with swim practice, lifting, class, and coaching and I shared my nervousness about getting back on the trail.

“I miss you so much.” She said in a voice that me feel so sad.

“I miss you too. If you think about it I’ll be home in like two weeks.” I said.

“I know but that’s still so long.” She said.

“It’ll go by fast.” I said, not sure if I even believed what I said.

“Okay.” She said and I could tell she didn’t think it would go by fast.

“Well, the mosquitos are starting to bite. I’m going to get back inside the RV and get ready for bed.” I said.

“Okay.” She said.

“Night, I love you.” I said.

“Love you too.” She said. I knew she meant it, but I could tell all this time and distance was going to be much harder on both me and her than I had ever imagined.

Rose – Eating 6 Animals In One Dinner, sorry Vegans.

Bud – Officially starting my hike South again and leaving the High 5 behind.

Thorn – Hearing how sad Sarah was.

Tags: adventure, andover, appalachian trail, bear, beef, chicken, deer, devils den, dinner, Fletch, hardship, heat, high 5, hiker, hiking, hitch hiker, logging, logging truck, love, maine, moose, pasta salad, period, pork, road, salad, thru hiker, thru hiking | Posted in Appalachian Trail | No Comments »

Night 31: The Grass Isn’t Always Greener for The Mt. Goat

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

Mountain Goat on an ATV with his dog.

Monday 7-5-2010
0 Miles Hiked, 1932.7 Miles To Springer

It was just Mt. Goat and I at the High 5 this morning. After I woke up I headed to the big orange box to see what Mt. Goat was up to.

“Caretaker and Nightcrawler told me there was a musical festival in town called Nateva. I think they said the Flaming Lips were going to be there.” I said.

“Really, I like some of their stuff, and I know a few of the other bands that are supposed to be there.” Mt. Goat said.

“Yeah, I’d only be interested in seeing the Flaming Lips cause I’ve never heard of any of the other bands there. That band will always remind me of my good friends’ little sister’s funeral. The Flaming Lips’ song, Do You Realize, played as they walked her fourteen year old sisters white casket out of the chapel.” I said.

“It’s the worst when a kid dies. No parent should have to bury their own child.” Mt. Goat said. “My dad passed away last year.”

“I’m so sorry.” I said.

“It was completely unexpected. He had a heart condition that there was nothing they have done anything about even if they had known about it. His heart pretty much just exploded with no warning.” He said.

“That’s terrible.” I said.

“I remember I was at work. I was a waiter and it was a really busy night. I had like five different tables. The girl who worked there told me the phone was for me. My sisters friend was the one who called, and I remember she said, ‘Your Dad’s dead.’ I asked if it was some sort of sick joke and she said, ‘No.’ Next thing I remember I was in my bosses office and he was slapping me awake. He asked if I felt okay to drive and told me to go home and get to my mom and little sister and then to get to the hospital.” He explaned.

“That’s awful. ” I said, not knowing what else I could say. I felt like my sentiments of sorrow were so insufficient and felt stupid for any complaints I had made about my ankle. I couldn’t imagine losing a parent. I knew at this point in my life losing a parent would destroy me and here he was still standing and living a dream of his.

“After he died I pretty much spent the next year tripping, I don’t remember much of the last year, and here I am hiking the AT, so that’s what I’m doing now.” He said.

“I hadn’t really lived. I’d never experienced pain like Mt. Goat and I never wanted to. Hearing him talk about the loss of his father sent me to a place I hate to go but I place I end up often when I have enough time to think about it. I began thinking about losing my parents about how my time with them would always be less than the time of my older siblings. I’ve always worried about losing my parents while I was still young because they had me when they were forty three. It didn’t take me to long to realize my parents would be as old as most people’s grandparents by the time I got married and started having kids. I hated thinking maybe they wouldn’t get to see me get married or have kids, and I hated the idea that once they were gone I’d have to really become a grown up because there wouldn’t be any grown ups to pick up if I fell,” I thought all of this and I felt alone and I wanted to go home.

I took my anxiety about losing my parents and started walking back to the RV and as I walked I saw Farm-A-Sea walking up the street toward the High 5. It was mid morning now and Farm-A-Sea, Mt. Goat, and I were all sitting in the conex. I sat with my writing pad while they smoked a bowl. Mt. Goat passed the glass bowl back to Farm-A-Sea and he dropped it as he picked it up. The bowl fell to ground and shattered into tiny glass shards.

Farm-A-Sea looked down at the multi-colored glass shards scattered across the ground. He went through the full spectrum of emotions. First, sadness, as his face contorted into a frown. Then denial, as he said, “Maybe we can fix it.” This was followed by anger as he said, “Damn, I loved that bowl, that was my favorite fucking bowl.” Finally he came to acceptance as he said, “Maybe we can still scrap the resin out and smoke that, but we might end up smoking up some shards and getting them into our lungs.”

Farm-A-Sea immediately began looking for a broom. He was so worried that someone might step on the glass and get hurt.

As Mt. Goat later said, “Farm-A-Sea may be a drug addict, or at least enjoy drugs to high degree, but he’s a really smart kid, and he’s unbelievably nice, he does everything like he would if a scout master was watching.” He said.

Everything Mt. Goat said was true. Farm-A-Sea was a smart guy and in every interaction I had seen between him and someone else he was kind and generous, which made me think maybe drugs don’t make bad people.

“I thought about taking some LSD on the fourth of July and tripping alone in the woods, but I decided not to.” Farm-A-Sea said.

“Is it more scary to trip alone or with other people?” I asked.

“Wait. You don’t smoke weed, you’ve never done LSD, ecstacy, coke, or anything?” Mt. Goat asked.

“No.” I said.

“What about mushrooms?” Mt. Goat asked.

“No.” I said as I laughed, thinking that mushrooms seemed more extreme then weed.

“Dude, you’ve got it all wrong, tripping isn’t scary whether you’re alone or with people. Tripping is just awesome all the time.” Farm-A-Sea said.

I was still skeptical and didn’t plan on finding out if tripping was in face, “Just awesome all the time.”

“I did acid once, and you just realize that like, the sky is the guitar, is your father, is the universe.” Mt. Goat said.

None of what he said registered at all. “What the hell was he saying?” I thought.

“I haven’t done acid since then, but that shit was intense.” Mt. Goat said.

“Sounds pretty intense.” I said as I imagined a guitar as someone’s father and didn’t see it really working out.

Farm-A-Sea carefully swept up the broken glass that surrounded him and began scrapping out the resin that he was still able to get.

“Good thing I brought this metal pipe as a back up he said as he pulled it out of his pocket.” Farm-A-Sea said.

He loaded and lit the metal pipe and it appeared he had officially stopped mourning his glass one.

Caretaker got a call from a hiker who had stayed at the High 5 last year. His name was Blue Eyes. Last year Blue Eyes made it to Andover on his NOBO thru hike and could no longer hike as a result of a torn meniscus. Caretaker told me he had been stuck at the High 5 last year much like I currently was but his trip had to wait to be finished until this year. The reason Blue Eyes was calling was because he had finished the trail and after 7 hours of fruitless hitching attempts had decided to give up and give his friends at the High 5 a call knowing they would come through for him.

Just as Caretaker left to get Blue Eyes two Juvenile-State-Appointed-Defense-Attorney-Section-Hikers-From-New York came knocking at the High 5′s front door. They entered they RV and once they started talking they didn’t really stop and though they were nice enough, hearing about their lives depressed me. They were in their early forties, had no children, no wives, no girl friends, and the one guys only companion was a cat who apparently attacks him.

“My cat, Romeo, will wait until I’m carrying a bowl of cereal from the kitchen to the dining area, he’ll jump out at me from behind my couch. He’ll start clawing at my legs until I drop or completely spill the bowl and sometimes he jumps out climbs up my legs, and up my body, and he claws my face and just claws and claws while I scream.” He said in his nasaly New York accent.

He and his friend had hiked all the AT in sections except for 70 miles in Georgia and the just over 200 miles from Andover to Katahdin. This was the only thing about their lives that seemed interesting and I think they knew this as they shared their sad daily routines.

When the New York lawyers left to head down to get lunch Mt. Goat told me hearing them talk about their day to day lives was liking hearing his worst nightmare described in detail.

“I hope I’m never working at a job just so I can pay for the car I use to get to the job and the house I only get to use to sleep in while I’m not working at the job that I have to have to pay for the house and car.” He said.

Their seemed to be an incredible amount of logic in a statement that might have at another time sounded nonsensical.

“I feel the same way.” I said.

I’d realized in the short time I’d been hiking that I want to be someone who is living more than they work, and not working more than they live.

Rose-Understanding Mt. Goat a little better.

Bud- Getting back on the trail.

Thorn- New York Lawyers downer lives.

Tags: adventure, andover, appalachian trail, big orange box, crazy cats, death, july, lawyers, loss of a child., loss of father, maine, neteva, new york, pipe, resin, rv, sprained ankle, the flaming lips, thru hiker, thru hiking | Posted in Appalachian Trail | No Comments »

Night 30: Bored On The 4th Of July

Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010

Thrillbilly and Toofpick jumping across Devil's Den to perform a mid air Hi-Five in honor of the hostel.

Sunday 7-4-2010
0 Miles Hiked, 1932.7 Miles To Springer

It was the Fourth of July and Nightcrawler was making banana nut pancakes and scrambled eggs. The VA brothers, Mt. Goat, and I all had breakfast to celebrate.

The pancakes tasted almost like eating giant soft ginger bread cookies with a hint of banana and filled with crunchy flavorful walnuts. I devoured the three pancakes on my plate and gulped down the coffee that I’d made milky in color with creamer.

Thrillbilly and Toofpick were planning to head back to the trail today but only had a few miles of hiking to get to the shelter they were aiming towards. They were hoping to find an overlook to watch the fireworks from cities down below.

It wad another scorcher. Caretaker suggested that we all head to Devil’s Den to cool down, relax and enjoy the holiday. Since the brothers weren’t in a rush to get to the trail they decided to join us.

There were too many of us to take the four wheelers so we all piled into Caretaker’s car. I sat up front with Caretaker, Mt. Goat, and Lou Dog. Thrillbilly and Toofpick laid on the mattress in the truck bed and by way of car it was only a five minute drive.

The gap and swimming hole were empty, we were the only people there and there weren’t any other cars or fourwheelers when we pulled up. I decided on the car ride I wasn’t going to jump today. I remembered how cold the water was and was just along for the ride and a chance to get out of the RV.

With the car parked we all walked toward the jumping spot. Caretaker didn’t waste any time and was completely naked within our first two minutes there. Mt. Goat followed suit and the brothers opted to keep their Umbro shorts on.

I walked away from the gap to pee, one, because I had to and two, because I was looking for a reason to not have to see Mt. Goat’s and Caretaker’s naked bodies running and airborne as they launched into the air above the gap.

When I returned from the woods Caretaker and Mt. Goat were both swimming in the gap. Just as they started climbing up the rock face of the canyon, still bare naked, two overweight men wearing trucker hats walked up to where we were.

Caretaker was climbing up the side of the canyon his clothes were on and quickly grabbed his clothes and got dressed. Mt. Goat was unfortunately halfway up the other side of the canyon when the two men arrived, halfway up the side of the canton his clothes weren’t on. He had trouble getting up the rock face which was made more embarrassing by the fact that he was naked. People should know that almost no one looks good climbing up awkward rocks naked. Once he got to the top he jumped off back into the canyon and climbed up the other side where his clothes were and finally got dressed.

The obese men didn’t turn away or walk away. They just stood there and watched the whole thing play out. I was uncomfortable, but Mt. Goat was probably the most uncomfortable.

With Mt. Goat and Caretaker clothed and the obese men gone the Harrisonburg brothers seemed more comfortable and were ready to jump. Each of them jumped from the side you had to run from and then climbed back out.

“You guys should each get on one side, jump across and high five in the middle, I’ve never seen anyone do that.” Caretaker said.

Thrillbilly was reluctant but Toofpick convinced him to do it. They got to their respective sides ran forward jumped, missed the high five, but almost slammed heads and fell into the gap. Even though they missed each other it was still pretty awesome.

After their jump we loaded back into Caretakers car and I tried to erase the image of his large white ass from my mind.

When we got back to the hostel Toofpick was a little bummed because not only had he lost his toothpick in the tandem jump, he’d lost his Shaw’s baseball cap too.

“If it shows up I’ll send it to you.” Caretaker said. “Until then you can take this.” He says as he handed him his own baseball cap.

“That’s you’re favorite hat.” Nightcrawler said.

“I know but I’m sure it’ll make it’s way back to me once they finish the trail.” Caretaker said.

“I can’t take your favorite hat.” Toofpick said.

“Sure you can, I insist.” Caretaker said.

Toofpick reached out and took the hat humbled by Caretakers generosity. He and his brother grabbed their packs and headed down the road looking to hitch a ride back to the trail.

The rest of the day passed slowly. I went with Caretaker on a couple rides into town but didn’t end up buying anything. The day was completely uneventful and it didn’t seem like the fourth without my family and friends and without the usual neighborhood gathering.

That afternoon Nightcrawler made some awesome chili dogs with the left over moose chili she had and she poked my plate with tortilla chips. The chili dog put me a little more in the fourth spirit, but it still didn’t feel right.

I lazed away the time between lynch and dinner and just sat around the RV wishing I could either be home or back to hiking.

Caretaker came knocking on the RV door. “You want to go to the general store I need to stop in and pick up a few things for Nightcrawler.” He said.

“I’d live to come along. Are Mt. Goat and Loudog coming?” I asked.

Before he could answer I saw them getting in the front seat.

At the general store I bought a pint of moose tracks ice cream and put in the freezer to save for a post fourth dinner celebratory desert or maybe just as a post dinner depression medication.

Nightcrawler outdid herself again and made chicken kabobs, rice, and an fresh Mediterranean salad that I dosed with her homemade dressing that if she ever bottled and sold would make her rich, her dressing kicks Paul Neuman’s ass.

After dinner we all sat around the table and loosened our belts and Nightcrawler began preparing the surprise desert she was making. It was a strawberry shortcake.

“Caretaker, I need some strawberry cheesecake ice cream to go with the desert, it’s so much better with the cheesecake than the vanilla.” She said.

“Okay I can go to the store.” He said.

“How bout You guys relax and I’ll go get it.” I said.

“Oh, thanksTiny Tim.” Nightcrawler said.

Nightcrawler put the shortcake mix in the oven and Mt. Goat and I headed back to the RV.

“I’ll bring you guys out some when it’s done.” Nightcrawler said.

As has become my nightly routine with whatever hikers are there for the night we opened up the RV laptop and pulled up netflix.

“How bout you choose tonights movie.” I said to Mt. Goat.

“Sweet.” He said.

“They’ve got fucking Dreamscape. I’ve been meaning to see that movie for so long, we gotta watch it.” He said.

“What’s Dreamscape?” I asked.

“It’s a movie that was made in the eighties starring Dennis Quaid. He’s like a psychic or some shit who can go into peoples dreams, it looks mad cool.” He said.

About ten minutes into the movie I realized is was neither mad cool and not even remotely good. It may have been the worst movie I’d ever seen and I didn’t have to tell Mt. Goat that, he readily admitted it was a bad choice.

The only thing redeeming the whole movie experience was Nightcrawler knocking on the door holding two giant bowls of strawberry shortcake covered in strawberry cheesecake ice cream.

Nightcrawler stuck around to finish her desert with us while the movie ended and she too acknowledged how bad it was. Mt. Goat felt but for what he put us all through.

Sarah called just as the movie was ending so I immediately jumped at the chance to get out of the RV to talk to her and away from the nightmare they was Dreamscape.

She told me about her fourth weekend at the beach and by the time we said goodnight the movie was over and Mt. Goat and Loudog were headed back to the big orange box.

I got back on the RV and thought only about how much I wanted to be out of Maine and back home in Virginia.

Rose – Strawberry shortcake.
Bud – Getting more healed.
Thorn – Seeing Caretaker naked and Dreamscape.

Tags: 1776, andover, appalachian trail, big orange box, conex, family crest, fireworks, fourth of july, independence day, july fourth, maine, rv, sprained ankle, tatoo, thru hiker, thru hiking, united states of america | Posted in Appalachian Trail | No Comments »

Night 29: An Old Goat Returns

Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010

The incredible nachos Nightcrawler made for us to have with our delicious moose chili.

Saturday 7-3-2010
O Miles Hiked, 1932.7 Miles To Springer

The port a potty door banged close behind me as I exited after my morning poop. It had only been two days since it’s delivery and it was already getting gross. Hundreds of beetles and flies crawled all over the waste floating in blue water. I could feel them land on me while I sat.

When I looked up after I exited Caretaker was standing in front of me.

“Want to go hiker cruising?” He asked.

“Sure. What’s hiker cruising?” I asked.

“Just driving through town and seeing if any hikers need a ride to the trail or a place to stay. If you want I can drop you off at the general store while I cruise around.” He said.

“Sounds good.” I said.

We drove around town and stopped at the post office to see if any thru hiker packages addressed to the hostel had arrived.

Caretaker drove me to the house of an old man in town he likes to check in on and visit with. Our visit was short lived. The old man told us he hadn’t taken his morning dump and would have to ask us to leave so he could take care of business.

I bought a box of powdered doughnuts at the general store to have for breakfast. When we returned to the house Caretaker invited me in to watch the Germany and Argentina World Cup match. I brought my doughnuts and shared them with him. We watched the game and talked until Monkey and Giggles called saying they needed to be picked up from the trail so they could check on the package they were expecting at the post office.

When Caretaker returned with Giggles and Monkey they didn’t stay long.

“Don’t walk too fast.” I said as they walked down the road that lead to town. “Hopefully I’ll catch up to you eventually.”

“I’m sure you will, just make sure your ankle is all the way better before you get back on.” Giggles said.

I was alone again, but I wasn’t lonely for long as has become typical at the hostel. Caretaker brought in a pair of brothers named Toofpick and Thrillbilly. Toofpick had brown eyes, shaggy brown hair, caterpillar eyebrows that rivaled mine, and a thick reddish brown beard. He got his name because he always had a tooth pick in his mouth but wanted to be original so opted for Toofpick over Toothpick. His brother, Thrillbilly, got his name cause he’s kind of a hillbilly and he likes adventurous outdoor things, he was on the lumberjack team at his college which I didn’t even know they had at colleges . They were both from Virginia too, and were also both heading south, but moving at a much faster pace than I was.

“So you two are really brothers? You look nothing alike.” Caretaker asked.

“Yep.” They said.

“Well which one of you looks more like the mail man?” He asked. They both laughed.

The brothers loaded their gear into the RV and took their shirts off to throw in with the load of laundry they were doing.

On each of their backs was a tattoo about the size if my head. The tattoo was done in black ink and it was of their family crest.

“Did you guys get your tattoos together?” I asked.

“Yeah, when we turned 18. Our dad and his brothers have them too. Every man in our family gets it when he turns 18.” Toofpick said.

“That’s a cool family tradition, sounds a little painful, but cool.” I said.

Our conversation was interrupted by a barking dog and it wasn’t Caretaker and Nightcrawler’s Besenji mut dog. I walked out of the RV to check it out. My ankle was healed enough that I was able to walk without much pain so I was no longer using the crutches.

As I got to the entrance of the big orange box I saw two familiar faces. It was Mt. Goat and Lou, his small Basenji dog. I hadn’t seen them since the second day of the 100 mile wilderness and hadn’t seen any of the group he was with either. A big part of me had assumed he, JANASTY and AC Farm had called it quits, but here he stood right in front of me.

“Hey, how are you doing? Where’s the rest of the gang?” I asked.

“JANASTY realized she wasn’t prepared for this and wasn’t in any condition to be doing this. She dropped out 30 miles in when we stopped at The White House Landing for the one pound burger. She was a nice girl and she at least had the grace to come off, which was a relief because it meant we wouldn’t have to carry her ass through the 100 mile wilderness and make sure she got out alive.” He said.

“What about AC Farm?” I asked.

“You mean Farm-A-Sea?” He asked.

“Is that what his name was?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s Farm-A-Sea. Not sure how that mix up happened but a couple people thought his name was AC Farm. He’s a little bit behind me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up here today or tomorrow.” He said.

“That’s great that he’s still on the trail.” I said.

“Yeah he’s a really cool kid.” Mt. Goat said.

Toofpick overheard us talking and asked, “Is he the one that quit his job to do the trail?”

“Yeah. He quit his job as a janitor at the high school he went to. He graduated and then he was janitor there for two years after that and decided it wasn’t for him.” Mt. Goat said.

I hung out around the RV while Mt. Goat, Toofpick, and Thrillbilly came and went doing their laundry and taking showers one by one. We spent the afternoon listening to Steve Earle and Old Crow Medicine Show counting down the minutes til Nightcrawler would be done with dinner.

Caretaker hung a dinner bell in the conex that afternoon and when the four of us heard it sound we bolted from the RV, and in my case I hobbled.

The wait was well worth it. Nightcrawler made us moose chili that was spicy as hell and equally tasty. With the chili she brought out a huge plate of nachos covered in cheese, diced jalepano peppers grown in her garden, sliced raw onions, black olives, all garnished with freshly picked cilantro.

The chili and nachos were delicious, but so spicy that all four us were sweating bullets all meal and for the thirty minutes afterward.

After dinner I was so full of moose meat, beans, and nachos, I felt like I would projectile vomit if I moved too fast as I walked from Bob to the RV.

I sat on the empty cooler that sat outside of the RV and I called Sarah.

Right as I hung up the phone I saw Nightcrawler walking toward the RV with a tray full of food. I stood up to see what was on the tray, but before I could figure it out she told me.

“I made everyone some Hillbilly Bon Bons. They’re made with Ritz crackers that I dipped in chocolate and then coated with peanut butter. I put a scoop of vanilla ice cream in the middle and made little sandwiches out of them.” She said.

“They look amazing.” Thrillbilly said.

They tasted amazing too.

The Hillbilly Bon Bons cooled all of us down and cured the sweats the chili had induced.

Lou Dog, Mt. Goat, Thrillbilly, Toofpick, and I settled into the RV and watched Zombieland. The movie was surprisingly funny and Woody Harrleson was hilarious.

There was a cameo by Bill Murray that made me realize how much Caretaker reminded me of Bill Murry. He was crazy, wacky, and inappropriately funny, but he was also a military killing machine. I decided he was a combo of Bill Murry and Bruce Willis with maybe a dash of Randy Quaid.

When the movie ended we could see some fireworks being set off down the street by a group of kids as their parents watched. They weren’t anything special, but they were a reminder that even far away from home and civilization it was Fourth of July weekend, and even though we were in Maine, we were still in America and even the backwoods people here were proud of that fact.

Rose- Hillbilly Bon Bons
Bud- Fourth of July
Thorn- Sleeping in RV with poor air circulation with three guys who just ate chili.

Tags: 100 mile wilderness, adventure, andover, appalachian trail, canyon jumping, corolla, devils den, hiking, hostel, maine, naked, old friends, Skinny dipping, sprained ankle, swimming, thrillbilly, thru hike, thru hiker, toofpick | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 2 Comments »

Night 28: Driving To Devil’s Den

Monday, August 2nd, 2010

Friday 7-2-2010
0 Miles Hiked, 1,932.7 Miles to Springer

This morning Caretakers’s mood shifted the same way it had after Mud had failed to knock and wait that first day we arrived. The latest people to cross him wrong were Monkey and Giggles. They had been hanging around inside Bob too long. Caretaker came into the conex and told them they were supposed to be out by 10:00 A.M,. but there was no sign indicating this anywhere. If they planned to stay any longer Caretaker told them they’d need to pay for another night and if they weren’t going to stay another night they needed to get off his property. He was basically telling them to shit or get off the pot, and in a not so nice manner. I heard the yelling from the RV and decided it would be better to just stay put where I was.

Monkey and Giggles stopped by the RV to say goodbye before they left.

“We’re headed over to the Pine Ellis to watch the world cup game with Abraham and Bishop and then the guy there is going to shuttle us back to the trail.” Giggles said.

“Tell Abraham and Bishop I say Hi, and be safe out there. Hopefully I’ll catch up to you eventually.” I said and they walked down the road toward the Pine Ellis.

Shortly after they left a 27 year old man named N. stopped in to visit. He was good friends with a girl named Emily who lived with Caretaker and Nightcrawler last year after she had to cut her thru hike short. She was going to start a SOBO thru hike too late in the season and the mountains were covered in ice. With her thru hike done for she got a job at the local ski resort and moved into the High 5 for the winter. Nightcrawler told me she was now living about fifty miles away as a white water rafting instructor.

While there N. and Caretaker did some work around the yard. They strung up a giant blue tarp over the RV. Caretaker said that with the tarp on the side of the RV that gets the most sun it should help keep the RV much cooler.

The other big event of the day was the delivery of the outhouse next to the RV. I was thrilled that I wouldn’t have to worry about waking up in the middle of the night having to go number two. I had woken up a couple nights before and just had to hold it in because I didn’t want to wake Caretaker up and find myself on his bad side.

Today was much like the last couple days. I lounged around until I heard a knock on the RV door.

“You up for adventuring Tiny Tim?” Caretaker asked.

“Yeah. I’m up for anything that will get me out for a little while.” I said.

“I think I can help with that. We’re going to do some real adventuring today. We’ll head out to Devil’s Den. It’s about twelve miles away on the ATV paths.” He said.

I hopped out of the RV and onto the ATV. Caretaker and his massive frame hopped on behind me. I was driving today. The maneuvering was far trickier than the previous trip we’d gone on and I was far more scared.

“Come on Tiny Tim, get her up to twenty five!” Caretaker shouted in my ear over the roar of the engine.

I increased the speed reluctantly and held my hands loosely on the breaks ready to use them at any moment.

“Hell yeah, that’s it, a little smoother on the ignition.” He said as I hit twenty five on the dusty back country dirt and gravel path.

I’d slow as puddles, deteriorating wood bridges, and giant rocks came into our path.

“Stay right on those two boards, the other ones are deteriorating and won’t hold us up.” He said as we approached a weak looking bridge over a creek.

It was scary but the wind blowing through my greasy dirty hair was exhilarating. I was grinning from ear to ear.

“Look at you smilin’ Tiny Tim. We run one fuckin’ sweet invalid home don’t we? Adventures every day, five star food, AC, and netflix, not too bad.” He said.

We got to Devil’s Den which was a deep cut in the middle of a giant rock bed. A stream flowed down the cut and got about ten feet deep at one point. Caretaker took us to the jumping spot and pointed out where it was safe to land in the water. It was a five foot by five foot square where you had to land if you didn’t want to hit jagged rocks.

“If there weren’t so many other tourists here we’d swim naked. It’s better for the water. Look down there.” He said as he pointed down stream to a still area of soapy bubbly water. “That’s from the detergent in peoples clothes and the soap in peoples hair and on their skin.”

I was thankful I wouldn’t have to see Caretaker naked or feel pressure myself to get naked and swim with him.

The side of the canyon Caretaker said was most fun to jump off required a running start which I wasn’t capable of. I decided to walk to the other side of the canyon where you could just step off right into the safe zone without jumping. By the time I reached the other side Caretaker was down to his cargo shorts and was taking a running start and leaping from the edge dropping fifteen feet into the dark rushing water. N. came to the side I was on and stepped right off. I followed him, taking everything off except my underwear .

“How cold’s the water?” I asked Caretaker.

“It’s warm.” He said.

I jumped broke the surface of the water and sunk about six feet under. The water was so cold the breath went straight out of me. I pulled my arms down my side and hurried up to the surface trying not to kick up with my bad ankle. The air hit my lungs and felt warm compared to the water that surrounded me.

“Lying bastard.” I said under my breath as I reached the surface. Caretaker hadn’t heard me. I swam out of the deep area and scooted my way down the stream over the natural waterslides that emptied into the soap bubble filled lagoon area. Once I got in the lagoon area I swam a few strokes and after my first kick with my bad ankle I stopped in place from the twing of pain I felt.

N. and I each found boulders bathed in the sun and laid on them to get warm while Caretaker continued swimming around.

“Mermen on the rocks.” Caretaker said as he swam by us, laughed, and went back underwater.

We headed back to the ATV’s after we dried off and Caretaker told me I’d be riding solo on the way back. We took a different route back that crossed and unbridged creek. Caretaker had N. and I drive the ATV’s through the creek to clean off the undercarriage. It was wet and it was a blast. When we got off the dirt road and back on the asphalt one I fell behind Caretaker.

After a few minutes I came into view of Caretaker again. He and N. turned off into the woods and took us down a very uncleared path to an old abandoned log cabin. We hung out in the old cabin whose windows were broken out and whose door was missing. I thought if there was ever a place I could be taken to be raped murdered and have no one find the body this would be it. I wasn’t at ease until we were back on the ATV’s and back on the main road.

The three of us spent the rest of the day in Caretaker’s living room watching the World Cup match between Ghana and Uruguay.

I decided to try and save money and opted to skip dinner with Caretaker, Nightcrawler, and N. I had cereal for dinner and hung out in the RV for most of the early evening. I headed into the house to get some ice from Nightcrawler and while I was inside Nightcrawler insisted I stay inside for dinner on the house. I joined them for a delicious dinner of sweet corn, perfectly seasoned chicken breast, and mashed potatoes backed with a cheese crust on top served in a shell of potato skin. It was five star and better, it was free.

N. left after dinner and Nightcrawler and Caretaker taught me how to play dice. I must have had beginners luck because I was the first to get to 10,000 points and I won. Before I headed back to the trailer for bed Nightrawler and Caretaker brought a wooden chest filled with dice and told me to pick four alike and one different.

“We got the dice from a guy who took them when they were giving away stuff from the Playboy Club in Atlantic City that was closed in the final stages of opening.” Caretaker said.

“Thanks.” I said as I walked back to the RV with my dice and a feeling that I was becoming a part of the household.

Rose- Going to Devil’s Den and swimming.

Bud- Getting more ankle strength.

Thorn- Cold water at Devil’s Den.

Tags: adventure, andover, appalachian trail, atv, devils den, dice, eclipse, food, four wheelers, maine, outdoors, playboy, soapy water, swimming, thru hiker, thru hiking, twilight | Posted in Appalachian Trail | No Comments »

Night 27: Mmmmm…..Moose

Monday, August 2nd, 2010

Thursday 7-1-2010
0 Miles Hiked, 1,932.7 Miles to Springer

The NOBO hikers I met the day before left my life as quickly as they came into it. We got a group picture in front of the RV before they left. I watched as they packed up, and loaded up to head back to the trail just as I had watch Mud do the day before and I felt alone again.

I think Caretaker’s wife, Nightcrawler, sensed I was lonely, down, and struggling. Nightcrawler is a woman whose personality emits warmth and comfort. She’s is younger than her husband is Greek and has the tan complexion, and long thick black air you’d picture any Greek woman to have and she cooks like she’s Greek too. Her smile is warm and welcoming and she has an extreme motherly vibe about her.

“Tiny Tim,” She said as she knocked on the RV door. “I have a warm Epsom salt bath with some lavender mixed in for you to soak your ankle. It’ll help draw the blood in and bring down the swelling.”

“Thank you so much, this is so nice.” I said. I spent the rest of the morning and early part of the afternoon watching Lost. I’d decided if I was going to be stuck here for potentially more than a week than I would do something productive with my time like try and watch the entire series of Lost since I’d never seen any of the show. As I wasted my day away I began immediately hoping Kate and Jack would just get it over with because the sexual tension was almost too much.

While I watched Lost Monkey and Giggles were doing their work for stay in Caretaker’s yard. They were cutting down fields of weeds and clearing out fallen logs and debris from the yard and moving them onto a trailer which they towed further down the yard with one of Caretakers ATV’s.

“How are my hiker slaves doing?” I heared Caretaker ask as he inspected Monkey and Giggles work. Satisfied with they job they were doing Caretaker walked toward the RV and through the screen door said, “Tiny Tim, we’re having shepherds pie for lunch today, it’s five dollars if you would like to join us.”

“I’d love to join you guys for lunch.” I said.

I’d never had shepherds pie and the only image I had in my mind of it was when Anthony Hopkins serves a shepherds pie made of two human men to their own mother in the film version of Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus. The shepherds pie in that movie was bloody and raw looking, but I was hungry and hungry for meat and I decided I would enjoy this pie even if it was a little bloody.

Caretaker gave a shout toward the RV from the conex where lunch was being served. “Lunch’s ready!” He said.

I crutched my way from the RV to the big orange box and had a seat at the long wooden table in the common area.

The huge meaty pie piece that sat on my plate was steaming hot, but not bloody. It looked delicious. There was a layer of ground beef on the bottom, a layer of corn cut from the cob on top of that, and it was topped with mashed potatoes that were covered in a crust of golden baked cheese. On the side were a few slices of Nightcrawler’s fresh baked bread covered in chopped garlic and soaked in melted butter.

“Did Caretaker tell you he almost hit a black bear today when he was taking Dutch to Portland?” Nightcrawler asked Monkey, Giggles, and I.

“No.” We all replied.

“Fuckin’ thing ran out in front of my car, just fuckin’ missed hitting it. I saw something black bolt from the side of the road and next thing I know I’m swerving to miss it. It scurried off into the woods on the other side. It was a decent sized bear too, probably about 200 lbs.” He said.

“What exactly are the rules on hitting a big game animal like a bear or moose, if you don’t have a license to hunt it and you hit it or see someone else hit it are you allowed to just load it up into your truck and take it?” I asked.

“Oh, did Nightcrawler not tell you, you guys are eating road kill.” He said.

My stomach turned a little as I imagined dead skunk, squirrel, raccoon, and possum making up the meat I was chewing on.”

“No, she didn’t. What type of road kill?” I asked as I swallowed the last bit of meat in my mouth.

“The meat in the shepherds pie is a moose that got hit by a car just up the street. We loaded the thing up into our truck. The head was hanging out the back, tongue out flopping all around. Hope you’re okay with eating road kill moose.” He said laughing.

“That’s fine with me, tastes like hamburger. It’s actually kind of cool to be able to say I’ve eaten moose.” I said.

“I mix it with beef fat cause it’s too lean on it’s own and it falls apart when you cook it if you don’t have the beef fat to help hold it together, and you can’t really taste a difference, can you?’ Nightcrawler asked.

“I can’t taste any difference. Everything tastes awesome.” I said.

After lunch I lounged around the RV and watched more Lost until I heard Nightcrawler knock on the door again.

“We’re having pork chops, spinach pies, and a Mediterranean salad for dinner, if you’d like to join us it’s six dollars.” Nightcrawler said.

“Yeah, I’ll join you guys, you’ve got me hooked after lunch.” I said.

“Oh thanks, we’re glad to have the company. Did the Epsom salt and lavender bath help?” She asked.

“Yeah I think so.” I said.

“I’ll bring another one out after dinner.” She said.

“That’s really nice of you thanks again.” I said.

Dinner came and Nightcrawler did not disappoint. The spinach pies had the flakiest crust and melted in your mouth. The pork chops were seasoned so they had a perfect sweetness about them, and the salad Nightcrawler picked from her back yard garden was so fresh you could taste the earth the greens were grown in.

After dinner I crutched my way back to the RV. I was filled to the brim and feeling like I could get used to eating like this. Monkey and Giggles invited me to play cards in Bob with them, but I was more interested in seeing what was going to happen next on Lost so I told them I’d have to take a rain check on the game.

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Nightcrawler had found a way into my heart and she had filled it with hope and happiness. I fell asleep full for the first time in too long and I had hope that things were going to get better much sooner than Dr. Moses had predicted, especially if I kept eating like I had today.

Rose – Nightcrawler’s cooking.

Bud – Being one day closer to my return to the trail.

Thorn – Still being stuck on crutches.

Tags: adventure, amazing food, appalachian trail, big orange box, coachman rv, conex, fresh salad, garlic bread, hiking, moose, moose head, pork chop, road kill, shepherds pie, spinach pie, sprained ankle, thru hike, thru hiker, tongue flopping, white blaze | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 3 Comments »

Appalachian Trail Hiker

Archive for the ‘Appalachian Trail’ Category

Night 36: Welcome To New Hampshire

Night 35: Mahoosuc Notch, Not So Bad

Night 34: Speck Pond & Will

Night 33: The Baldpates and The Beer Poet

Night 32: On The Trail Again

Night 31: The Grass Isn’t Always Greener for The Mt. Goat

Night 30: Bored On The 4th Of July

Night 29: An Old Goat Returns

Night 28: Driving To Devil’s Den

Night 27: Mmmmm…..Moose

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Archive for the ‘Appalachian Trail’ Category

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