Posts Tagged ‘goodbye’

Night 33: The Baldpates and The Beer Poet

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

Celebrating the view from above Baldpate West Peak

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

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

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

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

“You all ready to go?” Caretaker asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rough.” I said.

“Yeah it sucks ass.” The boy said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds alright to me.” I said.

“You a thru hiker?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That last section was awful.” I said.

“When did you start?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rose – Meeting The Beer Poet,

Bud – Getting closer to leaving Maine.

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

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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.

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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.

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