Adventure | Appalachian Trail Hiker

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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 »

Night 26: There’s More Than Mud

Monday, August 2nd, 2010

Wednesday 6-30-2010
0 Miles Hiked, 1,932.7 Miles to Springer

Mud picked up his pack, walked out of the RV and loaded it into the back of Caretakers truck.

For every time he had ever been on my nerves or annoyed me, none of it mattered. I was going to really miss him. He’d become a close friend. He was the only person besides my college roommate that I’d ever spent more than two weeks sharing a sleeping space with. Mud and I didn’t just share a bedroom. We shared almost every moment of every day for the last three weeks. We’d spent every day, all day together. We’d seen and smelled each other out our lowest and stinkiest, we’d made it through so much together, and yet we’d made it through so little of the trail together. We hadn’t even finished one state together and we were separating. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, but this was how it was going to happen.

I had no doubt of Mud’s importance in my journey. He had saved my life less than two days ago. I would have kept pushing myself up Moody Mountain if he hadn’t given me the okay to stop. I would have pushed until my ankle snapped, until I couldn’t catch a breath, until my asthma got the better of me, until my fever took over and boiled me from the inside. Mud was the reason I stopped, the reason I pushed my pride aside and put myself first. Mud was the reason I was stuck in Andover alive. I didn’t want him to leave, but the trail works in mysterious ways and I knew it was important for him to keep hiking his own hike, just as it was important for me to stay here and get better so I could get back on and keep hiking my own hike.

On the drive back to the trail head Caretaker pointed out some of Andover’s famous landmarks. He pointed to the top of a mountain that was adorned with giant satellite dishes.

“They broadcasted the first nationally televised presidential debate from those dishes. Because of where they are on the mountain and where Maine is they were the only dishes that could broadcast all the way to Europe because of the angle they are at on the mountain.” He said.

Caretaker pointed to a bare rock face on the side of another mountain just ahead of us.

“A family of three crashed their private plane right into that cliff. The mother and father died on impact. Their sixteen year old daughter climbed from the wreckage. She climbed two miles down the mountain with a broken leg. She made it to the road and got to hospital. They had to amputate her leg, but she survived. She’s a legend around here. Tiny Tim, if she did it with a broken leg, what’s your excuse?” He said.

Caretaker became quiet and Mud and I had nothing to say. My mind does what it always does when things get quiet, music turned on in my head. As we drove down South Arm road I couldn’t get Wagon Wheel by Old Crow Medicine Show out of my head. Mud and I had been listening to their music the past two days. I’d never heard anything by them until Mud started playing them on Caretaker iTunes. I instantly loved them and Wagon Wheel had become my trail anthem. I was determined to get back on the trail and start heading south just like the song says.

The trail head sign came into view and Caretaker slowed down and pulled the car of onto the gravel shoulder.

Mud got out of the car and pulled his pack out of the truck bed. I got out and hobbled on my crutches toward Mud.

“It’s going to be weird to be alone.” I said.

“Yeah, I didn’t care about going alone before we started, but it’s definitely going to be more daunting without you.” Mud said.

Mud slung his pack onto his back and buckled his hip belt.

“I’ll miss you, good luck, be safe, be smart, have fun, and text me when you get to Gorham, and be sure to write in the registers so I can see how you’re doing and how far behind you I am.” I said.

“Will do, I don’t think you’ll be catching me though.” He said as we shook hands and our quests all the sudden became separate and our paths took two different directions, at least for the time being.

I stood next to Caretakers truck and watch Mud disappear into the woods. I realized the trail would be different from here on out. There would be no more Mud.

I sat in the RV alone. I was mopey, and I wished I was better. I wished I was back on the trail hiking again.

Caretaker left the house to go get some more hikers. When he pulled into the driveway it was with some familiar faces. Monkey and Giggles, a young couple I had met about a week earlier walked out of the car. They said they had to stay in town because they were waiting for a package and would be here at least tonight and maybe another night. They opted to stay in the conex or Bob, for big orange box, so it appeared I would be alone in the RV.

Monkey and Giggles were doing work for stay so they were busy working and I was alone in the RV with my thoughts and my swollen ankle.

Caretaker left the house again. This time he returned with a smiling group of NOBO’s. Their scraggly crew was made of a one armed, bean pole of a kid named Naptime, because he liked to nap. Caretaker had renamed him The One Armed Bandit. The oldest looking guy in the group was a redheaded guy named Nopoint, apparently everything he says has no point. He was wearing a headband and a red kilt and looked like he was an extra in Braveheart. The final member of their trio was a guy named Walleye. He had piercing blue eyes, thick black wavy hair, and he got his named because he loves the band Fish.

These three would be staying in the RV with me tonight. I was glad to have the company and a distraction from the idea that I was now alone. They moved their gear into the RV and I quickly decided I like them.

With their things settled in the RV they all found something to sit on and cracked open some Old Milwaukee sixteen ounce cans. I found out they were all friends from high school. Each of them went to college for a year and decided after once year that they wanted to take a year off of school so they all decided during that year off they would hike the trail together.

As they sipped on their beers they had nothing but positive things to say about the remainder of the trail. They assured me once I got back on things would be just fine and I’d be moving fast soon enough. I was relieved for the first time since I left the doctors office.

Caretaker got a call from another couple of hikers needing a place to stay. I tagged along for the ride to get them from the general store. I bought some coffee ice cream to ice my ankle and then eat.

The two hikers we picked up were flip floppers, meaning they started in Harpers Ferry were going to Katahdin and then would go back to Harpers Ferry and head to Springer. Their names were Dutch and Chitland and they were both from Pennsylvania.

After talking to Chitland I found out that Dutch was leaving the trail for good. He was having some girlfriend and family issues. Caretaker was going to take him to the train station the next morning.

Naptime, Nopoint, Walleye, Dutch, Chitland and I all squeezed into the RV for a movie night. We watched The Count of Monte Cristo, which was awesome. The RV was dark except for the glow of the Dell monitor on which the movie played.

The occasional lighter flash as a joint was passed around and relit illuminated the faces of each of the new characters I’d met. I felt like I was in a movie, think Wet, Hot, American Summer. The hiker, outdoorsy, hippie, stoner cliche image wasn’t a cliche anymore it was reality and this was my own Wet, Hot, Appalachian Summer. Though I didn’t participate I loved these people, the attitude they carried with them, the air about them. Tomorrow didn’t matter. They were alive for today, for right now and that was all that mattered, feeling good in the moment, being happy in the now. Maybe that was enough. Maybe one day at a time was the way I needed to start living. I’d been planning things my entire life. It was time to stop planning and start living. The only problem was I wasn’t sure how to do that and I thought I’d have to have a plan to really start.

I’d lost Mud this morning, but I’d gained something in return. When the trail taketh she giveth back. I knew things were going to be okay. The trio I’d been sent gave me the reassurance that though Mud was gone I’d be just fine.

The movie ended and my new friends settled into their beds.

“Night guys. If I’m asleep when you’re leaving, wake me. I want to be sure I get to say goodbye.” I said.

“Sure thing.” They said and I shut off the last remaining light in the RV and went to sleep with no Mud in sight.

Rose – Meeting the trio of NOBO’s.
Bud – What life will be like without Mud.
Thorn – Saying goodbye to Mud.

Tags: adventure, appalachian trail, care free, coachman rv, count of monte cristo, fish, goodbye, hike your own hike, hippie, leaving, moving on, mud, new friends, old crow medicine show, one armed bandit, stoner, thru hike, thru hiker, trio, wet hot american summer | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 2 Comments »

Night 25: One Last Night of Mud

Thursday, July 29th, 2010

Tuesday 6-29-2010
0 Miles Hiked, 1,932.7 Miles to Springer

My fist pounded against the storm door of Caretaker’s house around 8:30 A.M. It was far too hot for a morning in Maine. I waited a couple minutes and then a shirtless Caretaker answered the door.

“Is it okay if I use the bathroom?” I asked.

“You certainly may. It’s nice to have one hiker staying with us who has some manners.” He said. “Your friend just barged in this morning without waiting for us to let him in. I don’t like people just walking in and there’s something I just don’t like about him.” Caretaker said in a tone that let me know he wasn’t joking and he really didn’t care for Mud. I knew I’d be here a while and Mud would be leaving tomorrow so I didn’t bother trying to defend him. If Caretaker had decided to like me and not like Mud that would be okay for the mean time.

I came out of the bathroom and heard Caretaker call to me from the basement. “Tiny Tim, come on down here.” He said.

“Oh, no. I’m on crutches, why would he asked me to come down the stairs? He’s probably waiting down there with an axe, or an operating table lined with cutting tools. I was getting a bad Frailty movie vibe from this whole scenario. Maybe he’s calling me down while I’m on crutches cause he knows I won’t be able to run away, at least not fast. He said he’s got a bag knee, if he comes for me I’ll kick out his knee. That’s what I’ll do.” I thought as I scooted down the steps toward the dark basement one step at a time.

When I reached the bottom step of the stairs I realized the basement was their main living area. I didn’t see Caretaker. I picked up my crutches and stood up while looking around waiting for an axe to the face.

“Over here Tiny Tim.” I heard his voice call from the dining room and kitchen area.

Caretaker was inflating a plastic bag with his Volcano vaporizer. It looked like the base of blender and it vaporizes weed into the bag so you don’t have to smoke it. “Since I got hurt in the military I’m prescribed this.” He said. “It’s the only drug I take for all my knee and back problems now, and it’s the only drug I’ve taken that doesn’t have any negative side effects.” He said. “Do you smoke?” He asked as he motioned the inflated baggy toward me.

“No, I don’t smoke anything, never have.” I said.

“Bummer, that ankle would hurt a hell of a lot less if you were high.” He said. “Good on you though, it’s nice to see a straight laced kid whose been raised right. I had never smoked until I got hurt. I was pretty straight laced like you.” He said.

I sat with him at the kitchen table and one his two kittens jumped in my lap. I pet the black kitten named Romeo while Caretaker deflated the vaporized bag of weed.

“Once your friend Mud leaves, since I really don’t get a good vibe from him, you’ll be welcome to come in the house and eat with us and hang out with us cause I like you a lot I’m getting a good vibe from you. But til he’s gone I’ll give you guys your space and if you want food we’ll bring it to the RV cause I don’t want him in our house. Sound good?” He asked.

“That sounds great.” I decided it wasn’t worth trying to defend Mud since he’d be leaving tomorrow and I’d be stuck here for who knows how long. I wanted to stay on Caretaker’s good side as long as I could and if letting him continue disliking Mud was the way to do that than that was what I would do.

As I got my crutches and got up to leave I noticed another kitten. “What’s her name?” I asked.

“That’s Stella. We name our kittens alphabetically like hurricanes he said. It’s sad but we lose them pretty frequently. There’s lots of predators in the woods back there that kill the kittens.” He said.

I quickly counted in my head and realized if they were on an ‘R’ and ‘S’ that they had lost 17 cats. That was a lot of damned cats. Maybe it was time they just started keeping their kittens as indoor cats.

I strolled back to the RV and told Mud to make sure he knocked and waited for them to answer the door before he went inside next time, hoping to spare him from getting any further on Caretaker’s bad side. I’m not sure Mud really cared since he barely looked up from the computer. I figured I’d at least tried.

Caretaker came up to the screen door of the RV and said, “You guys want to go adventuring?”

Mud and I both said yes as we stepped out of the RV toward the two four wheelers caretaker had in his driveway.

Caretaker gave Mud such quick directions on how to use the ATV it seemed like he hoped he’d mess up.

“Tiny Tim, you’re going to ride on the back of my ATV.” Caretaker said.

I hopped over to his camo patterned ATV and hopped on the back. I looked for a grip and quickly realized four wheelers were meant to hold one person, not two, this was no motorcycle. My grips were the piece of plastic covering the wheels and I could just imagine the wheels spraying sharp gravel into my hands or worse my hand slipping down and getting caught in the wheel, or even worse losing my grip and falling right off the ATV unto the hard black asphalt with no helmet and no protection.

Caretaker lead the way as we headed up the street, he hadn’t given me any directions on how to hold on so I felt weird putting my arms around him to secure myself. He flew down the road at near 30 miles per hour. I notcied the ATV trail sign to my left. We drove straight passed it.

“Missed the turn. You know why?” Caretaker asked.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I’m high out of my fuckin’ mind.” He said. “No I’m just kidding, I’m not that high.” He laughed.

We got a little ways down the muddy ATV path and Caretaker put the breaks on and said, “It’s your turn Tiny Tim.” He hopped off and told me slide forward and now he was riding behind me. He hastily showed me where the ignition was, by my thumb, where the breaks were, by my good foot, and then he told me to gun.

We jerked forward as I got used to the ignition and how fast it would move us and I braked as a puddle came into view or a new boulder appeared. Every puddle we drove through sprayed my freshly wrapped ankle bandages with mud and left them more and more soaked.

“Look at us. It’s fuckin’ Tiny Tim and Mr. Scrooge four wheelin’ and we’re fuckin’ flying.” He said as I picked up speed. “Look at you smilin’ like your sayin’ ‘thank you Mr. Scrooge, thank you. It’s good to see a smile back on your face.” He said. “We’re going to have fun here while you get better, it won’t be so bad.”

I wasn’t sure if we were going to have fun or if I was just going to be terrified every day, but I thought it would be worth while to stay and find out. I decided in this moment I wasn’t going home, I was staying right where I was until things got better, or so much worse that I had not choice but to leave.

Caretaker took us to the road and directed us towards town via a snowmobile track. It felt good to be driving, to be moving, to be secure, to be up front, to like I was capable again, to feel in control of where I was going. The scariest part of the drive came when I had to drive over a 70 foot wooden bridge that rose about 20 feet above a small creek. The final push toward the main street in town came with a huge hill we had to go.

“Gun it.” Caretaker said as we reached the base of the hill.

“Okay.” I said as I pushed my thumb down as hard as I could. We flew up the hill. When we reached the top Caretaker told me I did a good job.

“Last time I saw someone go up this with two people on an ATV the ATV flipped, we got lucky.”

“Oh great.” I said, wishing he had shared that information with me before I decided to tackle the hill with a 220 pound man weighing down the back.

We stopped at the fire station in town where Caretaker was a volunteer firefighter.

“I want to stop in and say hi to one of my friends.” Caretaker said as he got off the back. “It’ll only be a minute.”

“How’s everything at the firehouse?” I asked as Caretaker returned.

“Oh it was just the usual, molesting young boys in the back. No, I’m kidding, that’s pretty unusual here.” He said laughing.

Once Mud, Caretaker and I pulled back into his driveway we split ways. Caretaker headed back inside the house and Mud and I returned to our RV or the ‘Pimp Palace,’ as Caretaker called it.

That evening I watched Mud as he loaded his pack and got everything in place for when he would hit the trail the next day. It wasn’t til I watched him pack everything up that I realized that Mud and I would not be reaching Springer together, we wouldn’t even likely hike together again, and in all reality I wouldn’t be seeing him until the next college reunion. Mud was leaving and I was going to be alone.

Our last night together we pulled up Netflix and opted for a more nostalgic choice, a childhood favorite of both ours, Terminator 2. We didn’t talk much before, during, or after the movie. Neither of us addressed the fact that we’d be parting ways likely for good, and we just enjoyed each others company for one last night.

As the explosions happened, Sarah Connor kicked ass, and Arnold strutted naked I began to think how different things would be without Mud and how the journey I had envisioned to Springer with him would be completely different alone. I knew Mud would be fine, he was the backpacker of the two of us, the confident one, the one with the good ankles, I was the reader, the technological nerd, the one that lacked real world hiking know how. Mud would be okay, but would I? I went to bed more unsure than I was the day we started.

Rose – ATVing.

Bud- Getting one more day into the healing process.

Thorn – Mud packing his things.

Tags: adventure, andover, appalachian trail, at, atving, fire station, four wheeling, goodbye, hiking alone, maine, mud, nature, nerd, outdoors, outside, packing up, sarah connor, terminator 2, thru hike, thru hiker | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 1 Comment »

Night 23: Could The End Be In Andover?

Tuesday, July 27th, 2010

Sunday 6-27-2010
8.7 Miles Hiked, 1,932.7 Miles to Springer

Advil is a miracle drug. The chills, fever, and cold sweat that tormented me all night had faded within an hour of gulping down my Advil with a Nalgene full of electrolyte infused water. The only thing bothering me now was minor nausea, but nothing that was going to keep me from hiking, from moving forward, from getting out of this God awful place called Maine. It was time to get a state crossed off my list and with forty miles left I was chomping at the bit to be done with Maine.

One of the weekend campers walked up to me with a bag of half eaten Mountain House freeze dried eggs. He handed the bag towards me and said, “Here, you need this more than I do.”

“Thanks.” I said as I took the bag from his hand and looked inside. It was more soup than eggs. Gross looking chunks of egg and bacon bits floated in the soup of now cold water. “I’ve thrown up eggs and bacon that looked better than this.” I thought.

I always appreciate extra food, but this was disgusting. The guy stood next to me and said, “Come on, try them, they’re delicious.”

I did not want to try them, but I also didn’t want to be rude.

I took a bite and said. “Mmmm,” While I sported a fake smile that had to make me look somewhat demented. He seemed satisfied with my feigned satisfaction and walked away. I dumped the bag old, cold, soupy eggs into the bush next to me and packed the empty bag away in my trash bag.

I think people think just because we’re thru hikers we’ll eat anything. We’re still people though, and while any food is a nice gesture don’t give us bags of soupy vomity looking eggs and bacon bits. Give us food that is good, food that is fresh, food that you’d be proud to serve in your own home. Thru hikers are not trash cans or garbage disposals, no matter how much we may smell and look like either of those things. Please remember, we are people too.

Before we left the weekend camper filled campsite I stopped to fill up my Nalgene at the spring. My Steripen wasn’t working for the umpteenth time and I was fed up especially since I didn’t feel well. The water dripped down a large hanging moss pad into my Nalgene. It was ice cold, but flowing over moss for the thirty feet from where the spring started to the lip of my water bottle gave the water a green tint that wasn’t helping my nausea.

With my camel pak and nalgenes filled Mud and I headed out for the day.

“I’m really not feeling well, so don’t get too far ahead of me in case I pass out or something.” I said to Mud as we left.

“Yeah, no problem, we’ll stick together today.” He said.

The trail took us along the remainder of the Bemis Mountain range to start the day and then dropped us down slightly before we had to climb Old Blue Mountain. It was a decent climb, and had no view at the top to reward us for our efforts. The 2,200 foot downhill drop from Old Blue to South Arm road destroyed my left ankle. It felt like it was only supported by a string by the time we reached the black pavement.

South Arm road was not the busy, well traveled road we’d hoped. It took us nearly an hour of hitching before an old couple towing a trailer picked us up. We were lucky to have hit the road on the end of a weekend when tourists from the lake further down the road were heading home otherwise I can’t imagine we would have been able to hitch out and it would have been a nine mile walk into town for resupply.

The older couple put us in the backseat of their pick up and stowed our things away in their trailer. They dropped us off just across the street from the general store. Mud and I went to the general and restocked, buying more than we probably needed as seems to happen when we hit a resupply on empty stomachs, it’s like the say, “Don’t go grocery shopping on an empty stomach.”

Mud and I ate lunch at the general store after we resupplied and we each indulged in some ice cream, which we both needed.

After leaving the general store we headed toward the Pine Ellis Hostel. Mud walked far ahead of me as I hobbled at a turtle’s pace down the side walk. An old man mowing his lawn spotted me and shut the mower off.

“You better take a couple days off in town and get all healed up.” He said.

“Yeah, pretty beat up.” I said, not intending on taking this man’s advice or slowing down in my mission to get out of Maine.

The Pine Ellis was run by a man named David and his mother in-law Eileen. David looks like a Native American except in place of slicked back long flowing black locks David has bangs combed up in the front, and a long flowing mullet in the back. He was wearing skin tight jeans and a t-shirt when he shook my hand as I walked into the house. Around his neck hung a huge turquoise necklace, which was complimented by some turquoise bracelets and a matching ring.

“We’re just looking to get a shower, do some laundry, and get back on the before the sun goes down.” I said to David.

“Okay, that will be 21 combined, or 10.50 each. The shuttle back to the trail is 12, a shower is 3 each, and wash and dry are 1.50 each.” David said.

“Sounds good.” I said.

I took the first shower and waited in the medical scrubs David gave me to wear while my clothes were in the washer. If I’d been on Grey’s Anatomy I would have been McNasty, the gross doctor who never showers, has dirt under his finger nails, and smells constantly like a jock strap.

The shower at the Pine Ellis was the first decent water pressure I’d felt all trip, and it was more than welcomed. I hobbled around the front yard making phone calls and checking in with family and friends who I hadn’t talked to in too long.

“How’s it going?” My brother Josh asked.

“It’s good, my ankle has just been giving me a lot of trouble lately.” I said

“Don’t push it to the point where you really hurt yourself. If you need to take a few days off, take a few days off and get better.” Josh said.

“I’ll be fine, I just need to get out of Maine and then I’ll rest. Plus I’d feel bad making Mud stop and pay for a hostel when he doesn’t need or want to stop.” I said.

“Just be smart about it, you still have a long way to go and you’re going to need your ankles.” He said.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be smart, I have to go. Love you.” I said

“Love you too J, keep it up.” He said.

Walking in circles around the yard making phone call after phone call my ankle began to hurt worse and worse.

After nearly two hours our clothes had finished drying in the what I can’t imagine was newer than 1975 era dryer. I put on the dryer warm clothes which immediately made me sweat. I rolled up my extra pants and shirts up, filled my camel pak and Nalegenes and reloaded my pack. I put on my ankle braces and socks and put an extra sock on my bad ankle to give it some extra support in my boot. With everything I had on my feet I had to force them into the boot. It hurt just to put my left ankle into the boot, but it had been hurting the last three weeks, so this seemed normal.

“It’s hurt before, this isn’t any different, don’t be a baby about this, get your ass up and out of this seat, get your pack on, and get yourself ready to hike, because you’re hiking, you’re getting out of Maine, you’re moving on.” I thought.

I hobbled toward David’s mini van and dropped my pack in the backseat. The seats were covered in sheets and plastic drop clothes to keep the stink of thru hikers out of the upholstery. Any normal person who saw the way the entire car was draped with sheets and plastic drop cloths would assume David was a serial killer and this was his murder mini van, you know, the type of mini van murderers lure you into and then slit your throat and dismember you in. Think Silence of The Lambs, the scene where Buffalo Bill pretends to be an old man with a broken arm needing help loading something into his van. It was that type of set up, so of course I got right into the passenger seat ready to go.

David took us to the general store for one last resupply. I bought some batteries and ordered a BLT and a Yoohoo. I got back into the passenger seat and saw that David had bought four twenty ounce malt liquor beverages while I had been battery, sandwich and chocolate milk shopping. I scarfed down my BLT and chugged my Yoohoo knowing there were only 12 miles of driving to go before I had to be hiking again. David drank his malt liquor beverages and had one and a half done by the time we hit the trailhead at South Arm.

I’d made a point throughout my life up to this point to never get into a car with someone who had been drinking, which he had, by my count four beers before we left, and I would not be caught dead in a vehicle with someone who was literally drinking and driving, and now I was doing both these things I had vowed not to do and was paying the person doing both things to drive me.

Maine is an odd odd place, and any and all rules and regulations that apply to the rest of the civilized world do not apply to citizens of this state, this fact should be kept in mind in regards to everything and every character I write about. Maine is her own person, and essentially her own country, and her people live by their own rules.

David parked the car at the trail head and popped the mini van trunk. Mud and I grabbed our packs, said thank you, and started walking towards the trail.

“Wait a second.” David said as he untwisted a plastic bag with two apples in it.

He handed us the apples and we gladly took the fruit as we headed into the woods. I took bite after bite, savoring the sweet juicy red apple.

“Come on, get over this, it’s not that bad, the pain is just in your head.” I thought.

My ankle throbbed and ached with each step. I had succeeded in convincing myself it was no different than any of the previous times it hurt, and was determined to keep moving and that was what I did. My body was sure as hell trying to send me a message, but I wasn’t listening.

“Mud, I need to stop and take a break. My feet and legs feel like they’re on fire, I think the extra layer of socks and the warm clothes from the dryer are making me too hot.” I said. I got my extra socks off and zipped off the bottom half of my convertible pants. A cool breeze hit the sweat on my face, body, and exposed legs and I got the chills. I was shaking and my teeth were chattering. It was still at least 70 degrees outside even with the sun setting. Something was wrong, my body was trying to tell me to stop. I wasn’t listening.

“Can you stay really close, something doesn’t seem right and I don’t want to be alone, just don’t get too far ahead okay.” I said

“Yeah, we’ll stay together the rest of the hike, we don’t have much to go to the shelter, only about four miles.” He said.

Four miles all the sudden sounded like an impossible distance. I should have stopped right there and told Mud I needed to go back, but I was stubborn, I was stupid, I was willing to put getting an extra four miles ahead of my own life. According to the rules of natural selection I didn’t deserve to make it out of this situation alive.

I got my pack back on and told Mud I was ready to keep going.

We made it another half mile up Moody Mountain and I felt like I was burning up even worse. My head was throbbing, my heart started to hurt, and it had all the sudden become hard for me to get a full breath in. My whole body had begun to stress and overcompensate for my one bad ankle.

I unclipped my pack and dropped it on the ground. I had never felt like this in my entire life. I was no longer in control of my body, my body was in control, and it wasn’t going to let me move another inch. I took my inhaler for the second time on this short evening hike. I hadn’t needed my inhaler at any point in the previous 240 miles, this wasn’t normal, this wasn’t right.

The inhaler wasn’t helping, I still couldn’t get a full breath in, I still felt like I was burning up, and I still had the chills and couldn’t stop shaking. I was scared. I didn’t want to be a statistic, tragic story, someone who didn’t take the warning signs their body had given. I didn’t want to die over some stupid thru hike on a trail in the middle of nowhere Maine. I wanted to get off the trail and I wanted to live.

“Mud I don’t think I can make it to the shelter, maybe we can just get down to the stream and camp there and then tomorrow we can hike the six miles to the road and I can get to a doctor then.” I said.

I felt like I was letting Mud down having to stop, but my body wasn’t going to make it much further if any further at all.

“I’m just burning up and my ankle is killing me and I’m having trouble breathing and it’s only getting worse.” I said. “Will you feel my forehead?” I asked.

Mud touched my forehead and then touched his.

“You’re burning up. This is crazy. I think we should just turn around and hike back to the road where we started and get David to pick us he.” He said

“Are you sure, I hate to make you go back cause we’ll have to rehike what we’ve already done.” I said.

“Yeah it’s fine, I know how awful it is to hike when you’re sick or feeling like crap, it’s totally fine.” He said. “Is that what you want to do?” He asked.

“If you’re okay with that, I just feel really bad making you backtrack.” I said.

“It’s fine, I’ve been there I know how bad hiking is when you’re sick. Have you felt like this all day?” Mud asked.

“Not all day, but since we started hiking tonight. I’m sorry man. I’m going to try and get a signal and call David back and see if he can come get us at the road.” I said, and as I said a wave of relief flushed over my body, knowing that I was heading back to safety and if something bad was going to happen to me it was going to happen with more than Mud there to save me.

Eileen from Pine Ellis answered the phone.

“Hello, this is Eileen.” She said.

“Hi, this is Justin or Triple P., we just left Pine Ellis about an hour and a half ago. We got about a half mile up Moody Mountain and I started having trouble breathing and my fever came back and my ankle is really bothering me. I need someone to pick me up, I think something’s really wrong.” The phone died before she could respond and my screen said I had no service.

Mud pulled out his phone and he had one bar. David answered this time.

“What time should we tell him we’ll meet him at the road?” Mud asked.

“We’ve been hiking uphill for an hour and a half, so tell him we’ll be down there in an hour fifteen.” I said.

“He said he’ll meet us at the road in an hour fifteen and will stay there an extra fifteen until 8:15 P.M. in case it takes longer.” Mud said.

Knowing someone was coming and would be waiting for me made me feel a little safe for the first time all evening. I was still scared and I wanted to be home, I wanted to be safe, I wanted my old life back. I promised myself if I got to the road and made it out of this that I’d never let my stubborn mindset overrule the warning signs my body was sending. I would never again put myself in a situation where I put the trail ahead of myself, ahead of my family, ahead of anyone and everyone who cares about me.

Mud offered to take some of the weight from my pack and put it in his as he saw me hobble the first few steps. I couldn’t let him do that, I’d already felt too bad asking him to turn back. I reminded Mud where my epipen was and explained how to use it again.

“If I pass out or my airways start to close it will buy me about thirty minutes to get to help. If I tell you to get it and use it, use it right away and if I can’t tell you, use it right away.” I said.

We scurried down the mountain and adrenaline must have taken over because the pain in my ankle became a non factor. I moved as fast as I could essentially dragging my bad ankle down the mountain and over ever boulder, root, and rock. I had to stop every fifteen minutes to cool down and catch my breath, and then I’d be good for another fifteen.

We reached the stream before South Arm road at 8:07 P.M. I crossed it, walked right up to the road, dropped to the ground, unclipped my pack and leaned back. Leaning back so quickly made me feel light headed. I grabbed my head and I was burning up even worse. I unlaced my boots and ripped my socks off. I squeezed my camel pak into my hand and dripped the water over my head. I leaned my body back over my pack again and laid there gasping for air and glad to be safer than I was.

When I heard David’s car coming down the beat up back country road I really felt like things were going to be okay.

“Thank you.” I said as he stepped from his car. My eyes were welling with tears. “I was really scared I was going to die up there. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been able to get us. You saved me.” I said.

“No problem man, I’m glad I could help.” David said.

Mud grabbed my pack and loaded it into the back of the van. I climbed in shotgun and just stared out the window.

“When we get you back we’ll get you some tea and you can just rest up.” David said. “You probably just pushed your body to hard man, you just need to rest up and you’ll feel way better.” He said.

“Thanks.” I said.

When we arrived at the house these other guys staying there must have heard I was in bad shape cause they came out to the car and grabbed my pack and took it upstairs to my room. I hadn’t noticed how bad my ankle was or how bad it hurt until I got out of the van. I couldn’t put any weight on it.

I hopped on one foot through the entry way and kitchen to the bottom of the stairs. I put my butt on the bottom step and scooted up one step at a time and then crawled across the bedroom floor to a bed and pulled myself up and just collapsed there.

I called my mom and Sarah not wanting either of them to hear what had happened from Mud’s Mom or Mary Mud’s girlfriend. Both conversations went almost the same.

“I had a scary episode in the second half of hiking today. My fever came back, I started shaking again, and I had trouble breathing. We got about halfway up Moody Mountain and I couldn’t go any further so we had to call for help. I’m back at the hostel we were at earlier today and I’m going to go to a doctor tomorrow. I’m really exhausted so I can’t talk about it tonight, but I’m going to be okay and I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.” I said.

“Okay, I love you, hang in there. I’m just glad you’re okay” They both replied something along those lines.

“Here’s the tea. I put some honey in it.” He said just as I was putting my phone away.

“Thank you so much.” I said as he walked out of the room.

When he left the room I took three Advil, scarfed a Snickers, sipped the rest of the tea, and passed out still wearing my hiking clothes.

I woke up about two hours later when Mud walked in the room. I didn’t feel hot anymore but my ankle hurt like hell. I decided to take another shower to get all the sweat from my fever washed off before I went to the bed for the night. I scooted down the stairs one step at a time and hopped toward the bathroom. I lowered myself into the tub of the dimly lit bathroom and sat down with my knees pulled toward my body. I turned the shower on and let the hot water run over me as I held my face in my hands. I sat in that position for about fifteen minutes and cried off and on.

Today the trail defeated me in ways I never imagined. It got in my head. It was in charge and it was calling the shots. I felt like a victim today, and I was a victim of my own stupidity. After my fifteen minute pity party was over I vowed I would never be a victim on this trail again. I dried off after the shower and put my sweaty underwear back on but left the rest of my sweaty damp clothes off. I scooted back up the stairs, crawled across the dark bedroom floor, and pulled myself up onto my bed.

“Mud, you awake?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m up.” He said.

“I’m really sorry about today. I feel like an idiot. I should have told you before we left that I didn’t think I could hike. I just thought it was all in my head and I didn’t want to be a baby about it. I just want to say thanks for making me realize I needed to go back and get help. If you hadn’t suggested it I know I would have kept pushing it, so thanks.” I said.

“It’s okay, I understand.” Mud said.

I fell asleep fully believing that someone up above had my back. I said an extra prayer and said thank you to every dead relative I have for watching over me. It might sound crazy, but I don’t think I’d have made it off that mountain without some outside assistance. I felt lucky to be alive and lucky to be able to feel the pain in my ankle. I was still breathing and for today that was enough.

Rose – Hearing David’s car come to the rescue.

Bud – Seeing a doctor.

Thorn – Thinking I was going to die.

Tags: adrenaline, adventure, advil, andover, appalachian trail, apples, back pack, blt, chills, death, doctor, epipen, fear, fever, general store, hiking, hostel, ice cream, laundry, malt liqour, mcnasty, moody mountain, mud, nausea, outdoors, shower, swollen ankle, thru hike, thru hiker, yoohoo | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 2 Comments »

Night 22: Most Miles In Maine

Tuesday, July 6th, 2010

Saturday 6-26-2010
19.5 Miles Hiked, 1,941.4 Miles to Springer

ABEAR was asleep when we left the shelter this morning. He had a liner sock over his eyes to block out the morning sun since he had no need for an early start with the two mile stroll into Rangely that lay ahead.

Mud and I separated early today and I led the way early on. About twenty minutes into the hike a rogue grouse came running full speed from the forest. After it had taken about ten steps it was airborne and flew two feet in front of my face. “What the he’ll was that about?” I thought. It squawked and cooed as it landed on the other side of the path.

In case you don’t know what a grouse is it’s like a wild chicken or a quail.

Approximately fifteen minutes later I suffered my second grouse attack.This one started running towards me from the woods just as the previous one had. It took flight and instead of flying just in front of me flew straight at my head. I was so panicked I dove for the ground and the grouse’s beating wings grazed my head. “What is this bullshit?” I thought as I dusted off my knees and stood back up. The grouse walked back and forth along the side cooing and sqawking.

“Damn grouse.” I said as I walked on.

Mud caught up to me after all the commotion.

“Did those grouse attack you?” I asked.

“No they were just making noises as I walked by them.” He said.

We crossed Maine 4, the get off for Rangely and kept moving.

Mud and I split up again at 10:14A.M. He needed to eat lunch and I can’t eat that early so I kept pushing toward the next shelter. I arrived at Sabbath Day Pond lean-to around 12:20 P.M. just as the rain started. I had done 11.2 miles in about four hours and was glad to be eating lunch and resting out of the rain.

Mud arrived about a half hour after me and joined me for a quick snack. After lunch he led the way while I stayed behind to fill my water bottles and filter them.

After passing Long Pond and Mixie Pond I stopped at the break in the trees just before Maine 17. I took in the view of the lake and stared down at the valley where Bemis Stream was and up at Bemis Mountain where I was headed.

I called Sarah since I had service and was at a good breaking point. As we talked I watched a bright orange Ferrari scratch it’s bottom on the sharp turn on the road below, it seemed like karma to me.

Talking to Sarah was good, but I could tell she’d had a rough day and I wished I could be there for her.

“I’ve had to start censoring our phone calls because I have to worry you’ll blog about everything I say. After our last conversation I got worried phone calls from people that read your blog. I can’t have you blowing up my scene, people are going to start to think I have feelings and emotions. I don’t need that.” Sarah said. She was serious too and I had to stop and think how much sharing is too much when it comes to what I write.

Once I got off the phone I hiked down to the stream and headed up the mountain. It was rough and hard on my ankles. My body could tell today was the longest mileage so far.

I arrived at Bemis Mountain campsite to find it filled with tents and people. I hadn’t realized it was the weekend. Days of the week have become meaningless to me while I hike.

I talked briefly to a son and his father and found out the oil spill still hadn’t been stopped. Their jaws dropped when I told them I’d hiked 19.5 miles today.

“We did one tenth of that today.” The son said.

After this short conversation I headed to the lean-to. The shelter was one third of the way filled with massive logs and the other two thirds were I occupied by four people including Mud. Besides Mud there was a quiet flip flopper named Sampson, a middle aged man and an old man wearing long underwear which were far too sheer. Right as I left to set up my tent an older woman wearing a pink skirt and floral top appeared. I would later walk in on this woman going to the bathroom because she left the privy door wide open while she did her business.

I looked for a good spot to set up and couldn’t find much. The weekenders had taken all the good spots. I set up camp next to a young couple a few years younger than me. The guy went the University of Southern Maine and the girl went to Clark University. They were very friendly and interested in what I was doing. I shared with them how unprepared I was for this trip, how much I’ve learned, and how much fun I’ve had, and how I constantly fear being murdered.

I said goodnight and headed toward my tent. The middle aged man came up to me and offered me a night cap of 151.

“You get the most bang for your weight with this.” He said as he took a swig.

“No thank you.” I said as I thought about how bad 151 burns and about how I had nothing to chase it with, but water.

I thought I had picked a rock free tent site but as I settled into my tent I realized it laid right on a nice big round rock.

I put my pack at my feet as I always do when I tent. I noticed something wet in my sleeping bag. “Oh my gosh, you’re so exhausted you’re pissing yourself without knowing it.” I thought. I reached down and felt in my bag and brought my hand back up. It was wet but it didn’t smell or taste like urine.

I realized my feet were pushing against my camel pak bladder and forcing the water out.

I wrapped my fleece around my legs and listened to my tape recorded notes while I wrote and fell asleep with my ear phones in.

I awoke in the middle of the night to the joyful experience of my whole body shaking. I was burning up as a cold sweat rolled down my face. I burrowed into my sleeping bag as deep as I could and I shoved my hands under my armpits and continued shaking. I couldn’t sleep and shook and burned from 1:30A.M. to 4:30 A.M. I felt scared, sick, and alone. I would have given anything to be home where my mom would make me soup and tea and toast and bring me Advil and an ice pack.

Realizing fast that my mom wasn’t coming to the rescue I took some Advil and ate three Ritz and peanut butter crackers, a piece of squashed raisin bread covered in peanut butter and I chugged a 32oz. Nalgene that I had dropped an electrolyte tablet into. I was in and out of an uncomfortable sleep until 5:30 A.M. when I was officially starting my day. I felt like shit.

Rose- Meeting some people my age other than Mud.
Bud- Getting to a town to resupply and feel better.
Thorn- Waking up sick and scared.

Tags: adventure, appalachian trail, at, chills, clark university, fever, green water, gross eggs, hiking, nausea, nineteen miles, outdoors, sampson, shaking, sick, thru hike, thru hiker, university of southern maine, weekend campers, weird snickers eater | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 7 Comments »

Night 21: Saddleback Mountain Magic

Monday, July 5th, 2010

The view from the peak of Saddleback Mountain In Maine

Friday, 6-25-2010
16.9 Miles Hiked, 1,960.9 Miles to Springer

Mud informed me that the General and the Cadets woke up at 4:30 A.M. and were hiking by 5:00 A.M. Mud and I on the other hand didn’t get started hiking until 8:55 A.M. and ABEAR had left about a half hour before us.

We blazed through the first eight miles of the day. Mud stopped for an early snack break, but I pushed on looking to get some more mileage in before I rested and refueled. By the time I had reached the Poplar Ridge lean-to it was only 12:30 P.M. and I had caught up to the General and Cadets and caught ABEAR too. We all sat in the shelter and enjoyed lunch before we made our final push of the day.

Monkey, Giggles, Abraham, and Bishop probably hadn’t even left the last shelter at this point as they were planning on an eight mile day today. They only had sixteen to go because they were stopping in Rangely to watch the next US World Cup game. ABEAR was getting off in Rangely too, but he wanted to get the majority of his hiking done today.

After we finished lunch we left the General and Cadets in the dust, not expecting to see them again based on the fact that we started almost four hours behind today and had caught them in four hours. ABEAR hit the trail around the same time as us and quickly passed me as my pace has been so slow lately, but Mud was dragging today so I was at least faster than him.

The three of us all met up again at the top of Horn Mountain.

Mud arrived about fifteen minutes after me looking pretty rough.

“Hiking just sucks when you’re feeling shitty. It really ruins your day.” He said.

Upon hearing Mud’s troubles ABEAR said, ” Want to make your day a lot better?” He pulled out his blue and purple glass piece and motioned it toward Mud.

“I think I’ll be okay.” Mud said.

“I’m good.” I said as he motioned it toward me.

It was three weeks into my thru hike and I couldn’t think of a three day span in which I wasn’t offered free weed. I had officially been offered weed more times in twenty one days on the trail than I had in four years of college.

If you’re looking to get a high on a very regular basis and for very cheap, hit the trail and you’ll get what you’re looking for. Maybe this is a sign that I need to start smoking weed?

From the Horn we were headed to our highest mountain of the day, Saddleback Mountain. I loved the ascent from the Horn to Saddleback. Both mountains sat high above the treeline. You were able to see exactly where you were headed, no trees to cover up all the hills and valleys that lay ahead. Mud and ABEAR flew by me, but since there were no trees I could see exactly where they were the whole time.

The views from the top of Saddleback rivaled those of the Bigelows. Mud and ABEAR were sitting and snacking behind some piled rocks to block the twenty plus mile per hour winds. After being up there for just a couple minutes I became very cold.

I put on my fleece and windbreaker and then ABEAR called me over. He showed me a grave like indent in the ground.

“Lay in it.” He said.

I did and I was surprised to find that no wind hit me where I lay.

“I’m sleeping here tonight.” He said.

“Wow, it’s way too cold for me up here, plus I didn’t bring enough water to make it through the night. ” I said.

“I didn’t think about water.” He said. “I also need to check the forecast and make sure no storms are coming in overnight too.”

As ABEAR and Mud talked a fourth hiker came into view. He had hair down to the middle of his back and wore a baseball cap that said, ‘AT Caretaker.’

“Name’s Ed.” He said. “You a thru hiker?” He asked.

“Yeah, headed to Georgia.” I said.

“Cool.” He said “I brought an extra one of these up here in case I ran into s thru hiker.” He said as he pulled a 16 oz. can of Budweiser from his jacket pocket.

“I’m alright, but I think my friend, Mud over there would be happy to take it off your hands.” I said after thinking about the fact that the beer had been in his warm jacket pocket for an entire day of hiking and was probably best case scenario luke warm Mud and ABEAR finished it off while we talked to Ed.

“What are your names?” He asked.

“Triple P., ABEAR, ans Mud.” We said.

“Were you a thru hiker?” I asked

“Yeah, started SOBO in 1997 and got the trail name ‘It’s All Down Hill From Here’ cause if you think about the elevation at Springer Mountain compared to Katahdin, you’re really dropping about one foot every mile you hike. It’ll help keep you positive if you think about that when you’re climbing up some of those killer mountains.” He said.

“I had to come off the trail in Hanover that year, got too banged up.” He said. I started a NOBO hike in 1999. I’ll tell you SOBO is so much harder, Maine is bad ass. Once you get through Maine and New Hampshire you’ve only done 20% of the trail, but you’ve done 80% of the work. The rest is going tot be so easy for you guys.” He said.

“That’s good to hear.” I said. “Maine is kicking my ass.”

“Yeah, Maine is bad ass, it’s killer.” He said.

“What’s the caretaker hat for? Are you still doing that? I asked.

“No. I used to be the caretaker at the Piazza Rock site a few years ago. Now I live in Rhode Island and try and come up once a year and do some trail magic. I left a cooler full of beer, soda, and sandwiches up top for some thru hikers last year. Being a trail angel is pretty sweet.” He said.

“Yeah I’m definitely going to do some trail magic once I’m done.” I said.

The conversation came to a lull and Mud and I said bye to Ed and ABEAR and headed straight down hill to Piazza Rock lean-to.

There was no sign for the lean-to, but I saw one for a toilet so I knew I must be close. After seeing the toilet it made sense that the toilet had a sign and the lean-to didn’t because the privy was pimped out.

There were two toilets, a mini set of Sponge Bob poker cards, and a PCT and AT hiking magazine. Theoretically if you had a friend you were that close with you could poop together, while holding hands, while playing gin rummy, and reading each other hiking articles. Could you ask for anything more?

Mud and I opted not to participate in the simultaneous poop and instead began preparing dinner. While we set our stoves up and got our water ready ABEAR appeared much to our surprise.

“There was a chance of a storm so I figured I better not chance it.” He said.

“Good thinking.” I said as I ate my Lipton soup mixed with deviled ham spread chunks.

Just as I said it I felt something warm run down my lip and I looked in my soup. It appeared as though my soup was a foamy yellow sea and one of my noodles has been shark attacked as clouds of red blood surrounded them. Pretty soon my soup was looking pink.

I cupped my nose and my hands were covered in blood. The blood began dripping through the cracks between my fingers. With my left hand I unzipped my pack and rifled through everything to find my toilet paper.

I took a wad and held it to my nose. The wad was quickly soaked with blood. I twisted some more toilet paper up like a tampon and shoved it in my nose.

The bleeding stopped. I looked at my toilet paper roll. I had used so much to stop the bleeding that I only had three squares left. I hoped I wouldn’t have to poop tomorrow and fell asleep.

Rose- Meeting It’s All Down Hill From Here.

Bud- Getting closer to getting the hell out of Maine.

Thorn- Bloody nose.

Tags: abear, adventure, appalachian trail, bloody nose, general and cadets, hiking, it's all down hill from here, lunch, mega, outdoors, Saddleback mountain, ski resorts, south bound hiker, thru hike, thru hiker, trail magic, two seated shitter, windy | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 1 Comment »

Night 20: Three 4,000 Footers and Plenty of Flames

Monday, July 5th, 2010

Privy Without A Door Visibile To Everyone In The Spaulding Mt. Lean-To

Thursday, 6-24-2010
13.5 Miles Hiked, 1,977.8 Miles to Springer

I woke this morning exhausted from the less than five hours sleep I had under my eyes. I crept down the stairs not wanting to wake Abraham, Bishop, and Mud. My grungy clothing dropped on the cold tiled bathroom floor as I disrobed. I hopped in the shower hoping it would help me wake up, and excited at the prospect of being clean before we hit the trail again. I was thrilled to see a bottle of blue Suave shampoo and could have cared less that there wasn’t any conditioner.

I used the old bar of soap some hiker of days before had left behind . I held it under the shower head to rinse off the black curlies that some previous hiker had donated and embedded into the bar of soap. My hygiene standards had been drastically altered by the trail. If I saw a black hair on a bar of soap in my own house I wouldn’t have used it and here I was soaping up and washing my face with a bar some stranger had used and shed pubic hair onto.

After my shower I felt so much better. I walked across the street to the general store for one last resupply and to grab some fresh breakfast. I chowed down on a vanilla yogurt Yoplait crunch and chugged some Oakhurst chocolate milk. I bought a buffalo chicken wrap with lettuce, tomato, and ranch dressing that I was looking forward to having for lunch on today’s hike.

When I returned from the general store I realized there was a scale in the kitchen. Good motivation to leave that last doughnut in the fridge I guess. First I stood on the scale just to see how much I weighed. I had lost nine pounds since I weighed myself three weeks ago the day I left. I grabbed my pack and put it on and stepped on the scale.

My pack weighed 44 pounds. “This is bullshit.” I said. “Somehow my pack is a pound and a half heavier than when I entered the hundred mile wilderness and I sent a few pounds of crap home.” I said to Mud and the gang as they sat in the hiker lounge.

Mud weighed his pack and it came to 41 pounds. Abraham and Bishop weighed their packs too and they weighed 25 and 22 pounds respectively. “This is bullshit, I need to lighten this pack.” I thought.

After finding out the small amount of weight Abraham and Bishop would be carrying I was instantly jealous and I immediately liked them less.

Sue told Bishop, Abraham, Mud, and I that she could take us to the trail head as soon as we were ready.

It was cloudy out, but not raining, at least not yet. Each of us reluctantly headed out to the Sue’s SUV and loaded up.

Mud and I battled with our mammoth packs while Abraham and Bishop tossed their packs in the back like school girls handling a lunch pail.

“When we get to the shelter I want you guys to show me what you’re carrying so I can figure out what I’m doing so terribly wrong.” I said to Abraham and Bishop and they both laughed.

Bishop sat shotgun and I was sandwiched in the back between Abraham and Mud.

“So you guys didn’t shower?” Bishop said stating a fact more than he was asking a question.

“No, we did, we just didn’t do our laundry while we were here.” Mud and I said.

“”Oh that must be why you guys still smell. I always clean my clothes when we stop in towns.” Abraham said.

“Well fuckin’ good for you, you trail hiking snob.” I thought.

Sue pulled into the gravel lot at the trail head. I crossed the highway to where we got picked up the day before. I’ve become neurotic about making sure I get every inch of the trail walked.

I looked both ways before I turned back around and crossed the highway. I was officially back on track. Abraham and Bishop told us we should go ahead even with our heavier packs because we’d still be faster than them. I didn’t see how we could be faster with our packs nearly double the weight of theirs unless they were planning on stopping to have sex with a moose or grouse somewhere along the trail today.

We were faster until it started to rain and we stopped to take our lunch breaks. Abraham, Bishop, and Mud all passed me while I slowly savored my buffalo chicken wrap.

I hiked alone and found myself climbing and slipping up a steep rock slide. After a hundred yards and no sign of a white marker I headed back down the slide. Rocks began sliding out from underneath my feet and I slid most the way down and right back down to a white marker that had me back on track.

I caught back up to Mud around South Crocker Mountain and both of us passed Abraham who was really dragging ass at this point. Mud and I hiked together only briefly and separated again.

I walked alone until I caught Monkey and Giggles. I was shocked to see them since they had left a full day before us.

Monkey is a lanky young man, twenty years old, he has short black hair and a trash stache that rivals mine. Giggles is a nineteen year old with the face and pig tails of a twelve year old girl. Her and Monkey have been dating about a year and when she told him she was doing the trail his response was, “We’re going to have so much fun hiking.” She said there wasn’t much to it besides that and that’s how they ended up on the trail together. I envied them and wished Sarah could do this with me, but also thought this hike would be a real test for any relationship. I walked the last mile to the shelter with Monkey and Giggles, none of us were moving very quickly.

I arrived at the shelter to see it already filled with Mud, and The General & Cadets. I told Giggles and Monkey to take the last two spaces in the shelter because I slept better in my tent. They were both thankful.

Right as I finished securing my rain fly the clouds opened up and it started pouring. I hurried to unzip my tent and dove inside onto my sleeping pad. I was already decently soaked and listened as the rest of the gang hung out dry inside the shelter.

The rain cleared up and Abraham arrived at camp. I walked down to the privy to find that it had no door and faced directly at the shelter. It was about a hundred yards away from the shelter, but if you looked towards it you would have for sure seen the person inside doing their business. I could see everyone in the shelter as I squatted so I figured if they wanted to they could see me too.

When I returned from the privy it started sprinkling again. I was hungry, but I didn’t want to cook in the rain. I set up my alcohol stove and pot of water underneath the vestibule of my tent. I lit the stove and the flames grew higher and higher. They were getting dangerously close to the rain fly material.

I began to panic. I poked the stove and pot forward trying to get it out of the vestibule area. I would have grabbed it but it was too hot still. I nudged and nudged the stove inch by inch.

The pot on top of the stove toppled over and spilled all over my alcohol stove. The water didn’t extinguish the flames it just dispersed the alcohol all over the pine needle and leaf covered ground. The flames began spreading and growing. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” I thought.

I took the bandanna off my head and covered the flames with it. After about ten seconds I lifted up the bandanna. The flames were still there and still roaring. “Great, you’re going to burn down a forest and you’ve been out here a total of three weeks.” I thought.

I put the bandanna back on the flames and pulled another one from my pack to lay on top of it. I left both bandannas on the fire for about thirty seconds and lifted them to check. The flames were gone but the nail polish scent of the alcohol fuel still remained and was now soaked into my bandannas.

After my tin can stove cooled I set it up away from the tent and tried cooking again, this time with success. I added the boiling water to the freeze dried Mexican chicken and rice feast for two. Sarah had mailed it to me in Caratunk. It was spicy, meaty, salty, and delicious, all things I good. After I polished off the Mexican feast I chowed down on the freeze dried ice cream sandwich Sarah had also sent me. It was as disgusting as the Mexican feast was delicious.

I fell asleep and woke to the sound of an unfamiliar voice. A new hiker had arrived. His name was ABEAR. With his beard and slightly chubby build he kind of looked like a teddy bear. He said his trail was actually the phonetic spelling of his Cajun name that was spelled something like Hubert.

I had come out of my tent to talk to him in my underwear and red Northface fleece. I was cold enough that I wasn’t interested in staying out too long. I did discover in the short time we talked that ABEAR had thru hiked the Pacific Crest Trail last year and he didn’t believe in purifying any of his drinking water. He seemed insane to me, but to each their own.

I crawled back into my tent, drained from a day of hard hiking, and exhausted from lack of sleep the previous night. My body was still in shock from not hiking for a day and from the three 4,000 foot mountains we hit. I was excited to sleep and excited to get my hiking legs back.

Rose- The Mexican feast.

Bud – Getting a good nights sleep and hiking with some rest behind me.

Thorn – Being so damned tired.

Tags: abear, abraham, adventure, appalachian trail, bishop, chocolate milk, cooking fire, denatured alcohol fire, exhaustion, general and cadets, giggles, maine, monkey, mountains, rain, stove fire, tent, thru hike, thru hiker, yogurt | Posted in Appalachian Trail | Comments Off

Night 19: Stratton, Sue, & Soccer

Monday, July 5th, 2010

The Sign For The Stratton Motel & Hostel

Wednesday, 6-23-2010
5.1 Miles Hiked, 1,991.3 Miles to Springer

Heavy drops pounded against the tin roof and woke me around 3:00 A.M. Grump and Mud were both still sound asleep, unfazed by the drum beat of the drops. I momentarily thought about the fact that if it kept raining we’d be hiking in the rain today. This thought faded from my mind and I was out cold.

Grump left camp with the Bigelows on his mind. As we looked up at them from the shelter he said, “Whenever I look at something like that, I want to be up there.”

He left camp with his bulky external frame pack, his massive wrapped up tarp, and an outfit of a hug cotton long sleeve t-shirt and denim jeans.

“I hope he’ll be okay.” I thought. I worried about him the rest of the morning as we got ready to leave. It was cloudy and foggy as hell, you couldn’t see more than thirty feet in front. I was sad that Grump would miss the views from the peak that were so glorious yesterday.

As we marched out of camp we ran into the couple out for the weekend I had met yessterday. We crossed paths about a mile into our hike. By this point Mud and I had both slipped and fallen several times on wet rocks and we were soaked from the rain that had fallen. The couple told us that in weather like this it would be really hard for us to see the markers and it would be extremely dangerous since some of the hiking ahead was on a cliffs edge.

This information was the final nudge we needed. Mud and I decided we would take a nero day in Stratton and stay at the hostel there.

It took about thirty minutes of thumbing before we got picked up. The woman that picked us up moved one of her two baby seats to the back.

“My brother thru hiked a few years ago so I try and help hikers out when I can, plus, you guys looked soaking wet and miserable, I had to pick you up.” She said.

We were both soaking wet and miserable.

She dropped us at the Stratton Motel and Hostel and we checked in with the woman at the front desk, Sue. She was originally from Virginia but had been here since 2005. I managed another free listing for a posting on the site, but she made Mud pay.

She told us she thru hiked in 2004 and bought the Stratton Motel and Hostel along with a hostel four miles down the road called the Maine Road House a year later.

My jaw just about hit the floor when she said she had thru hiked. Sue is by my best guess, 5’5″ and 350 pounds. Her hair is almost pure white, she looks about fifty, and each one of her unsupported breasts was the size of a deflated basketball. She reminded me of Mrs. Claus and radiated a type of warmth that only helped build on that stereotype.

Sue became my latest form of inspiration. My new motto was, “If Sue can, so can I.”

Mud and I settled into the hikers lounge where we found Abraham and Bishop, and met two new hikers, a boy named Monkey, and a girl Giggles who was napping on the coach. Monkey and Giggles didn’t say much so I have nothing further on that front.

Mud and I picked up some delicious grub from the general store across the street. We returned and watched the remainder of the U.S./Algeria match. It wasn’t looking good, but in the four minutes of injury time added on to the game Landon Donovan scored to send the US on to the next round. I was standing and screaming at the TV after they scored. I was so excited and I thought, “You don’t even like soccer that much, what’s wrong with you?”

After the game I headed to the library where I stayed until closing at 5:00 P.M. I blogged pretty much my entire day away.

When I got back I enjoyed a free hot dog some previous hikers left behind in the communal fridge.

Sue barbecued a lot of chicken, enough for a family of five. Just looking at it had my mouth watering. I sat at the picnic table and talked to a caretaker from one of the nearby campsites who was off for the next few days. He said he saw Grump earlier that day and he was doing fine. I felt relieved.

Sue ate her chicken and had half a cucumber and half a tomato, both of which were coated in a millimeter thick crust of salt. I’d never seen someone salt vegetables the way Sue had. There were three chicken breasts left after Sue had her share and fed her giant white poodle, Knucklehead his portion. Sue offered Mud and I the rest and we eagerly took her up on the offer. We even finished the cucumber and I ate the tomato and I hate tomatoes.

“I noticed the ‘for sale’ sign out front. Are you selling this place?” I asked.

“Yep. This place and the Roadhouse. It’s time for my next adventure. I’m planning to bicycle around the perimeter of the entire country. It’s 15,000 miles total. I’ve got a tricycle type road bike I’ll take.” She said.

Sue was too cool. Not only had she thru hiked, but now she was biking the whole country. I loved that she was the type of person who just thinks of something to do and does it. She’s a dreamer who does what she dreams and that’s an incredibly rare quality in most people.

Sue headed over to the Roadhouse for the night around 8:30 P.M. and I headed over to the general store to get some more grub. I bought a 24 count bag of hostess chocolate covered Doughnettes. It was a good night and the Doughnettes didn’t stand a chance.

I sat at the motel check in desk working all night on my blog on Sue’s Mac.

I ended up checking in some of Sue’s guests. One of them was a man from Syracuse, NY. He said he was looking to join the less than 500 people who have reached the peak of all 115, 4,000 foot mountains in the Northeast region.

“I’m at around 70.” He said. “I’m also working on my Winter 46er status.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You summit all of the mountains in the Adirondack’s that are considered high peaks, there’s 46 of them, and you do it between December 21st and March 21st. Only a few hundred people have done it. I’ll tell you, snowshoeing up a mountain sure beats hiking it, even if you have to create your own trail.” He said.

“That’s awesome, sounds pretty intense.” I said.

“It definitely is, but nothing beats it.” He said. “I’m headed off to get some food, if I don’t see you tomorrow good luck on your thru hike.”

I glanced at the clock and it was 2:00 A.M. as I started my last blog entry. My eyes were tired and my mind was moving slow. A shadow appeared behind the blinds covering the door window. The handle turned and the door opened.

My constant fear of being murdered on the trail resurfaced. I took a glance at the room roster, no one else was supposed to be coming in tonight.

The man that entered spoke French with broken English. He said he was looking for a room for him and his wife or girlfriend. I didn’t see any of the motel rooms being marked as filled so I told him to check if any were unlocked and if they were to take one and settle with Sue in the morning. He never came back in so I assume he found a room or left.

I finished my last post and the clock read 2:45 A.M. This nero day in Stratton left me more exhausted than any day of hiking had yet. I walked upstairs, fell on my mattress and passed out.

Rose- US World Cup victory.

Bud – Hitting the trail again.

Thorn – Not really getting a chance to rest in town.

Tags: abraham, adventure, appalachian trail, bishop, cross country bike trip, giggles, htru hike, maine, maine road house, monkey, rain, stratton, stratton motel and hostel, thru hiker, united states, victory, world cup | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 1 Comment »

Appalachian Trail Hiker

Posts Tagged ‘adventure’

Night 29: An Old Goat Returns

Night 28: Driving To Devil’s Den

Night 27: Mmmmm…..Moose

Night 26: There’s More Than Mud

Night 25: One Last Night of Mud

Night 23: Could The End Be In Andover?

Night 22: Most Miles In Maine

Night 21: Saddleback Mountain Magic

Night 20: Three 4,000 Footers and Plenty of Flames

Night 19: Stratton, Sue, & Soccer

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Appalachian Trail

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