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Night 44: Pink Wine At The End Of The Whites

Friday, March 25th, 2011

Pink wine at Jeffers Brook Shelter

Sunday July 18, 2010

6.9 Miles, 1781.7 Miles to Springer, 397.4 Miles Hiked

Today’s hike would be my shortest in a while as my schedule was going to be dictated by the United States Postal service. My sister Caitlin had sent a package for me to the Glencliff post office which was just over seven miles away, unfortunately post offices aren’t open on Sundays so I would hike 6.9 miles to the shelter just before Glencliff and walk into Glencliff early tomorrow morning to get my package. Today would be a relaxed day and I was looking forward to it.

I woke up as the sun rose, not because of the mileage I had for the day, but because I wanted to get over Moosilauke before it stormed again, if it was going to storm and I planned on taking a long afternoon nap at Jeffers Brook Shelter as soon as I got there. As I got my things together I talked with some of the weekend hikers who had shared the shelter with me. There was a man who looked almost exactly like a long haired Paulie Shore, which made me happy because Paulie Shore reminds me of being a kid. I was so distracted by his striking resemblance to Paulie Shore that I didn’t hear a word he said.

The other hikers I talked to were two girls who had attended Brown and Harvard and that was all they had to talk about. I lost interest in them immediately, and I got a very lesbian vibe from both of them, not that there was anything wrong with that. Believe me, I didn’t like them because they were elitists who loved to talk about how special and smart they were for attending an Ivy League school.

I kept the conversation brief, packed up my things and said goodbye to the Ivy League Lesbians and the Paulie Shore look alike and the other day hikers who I had shared the shelter with the previous night.

Before I left the Beaver Brook campsite and shelter area I stopped at the privy. A sign attached to it informed me that it was being maintained by the DOC (Dartmouth Outdoors Club). When I opened the privy door and stepped inside the odor was extra offensive. The door slammed behind me and it was like I was trapped in a four foot by four foot shit covered crime scene. It was terrible. What used to be the back window of the privy was now the toilet seat lid and was it was smeared with shit stains and crusted with dried urine and splashes of what I can only imagine was some poor hiker’s diarrhea.

After grabbing a corner of the plexiglass window pain that covered the toilet I lifted it up as though I was holding explosive material. With the dirty plexiglass removed I saw what was inside.

The toilet seat sat upon approximately a six foot high by four by four foot wooden box. We’re talking about 150 cubic feet ( maybe those calculations are wrong, but hey, math was never my strong suit) for holding human waste.

Back to what was inside. The privy had been so heavily used and poorly maintained, cleaned, or composted that shit was literally beginning to overflow up and out of the toilet.

As I looked down at the rising, spiraling, tower of shit I knew it was decision time. I really had to poop and if I didn’t do it here I’d be squatting in the woods, potentially squatting above tree line trying to poop in the middle of an electrical storm. I decided to chance it as I couldn’t hold it any longer and I sat down knowing full well that the poop tower could end up pushing up against me just from sitting or that whatever came out of me would be pushed up against me with nowhere to go down below. Yes, I had become a disgusting person. The decisions of my every day life were not what I had envisioned for myself when I set out on this Mecca-esque quest.

The privy incident left me unsmeared. I didn’t dare reach under myself to wipe for fear that my hand would make direct contact with the poop tower. I stood up with pants around my ankles and wiped while standing up. This is probably far too much to be sharing with the entire world, but this was the way I had to think now, these were my serious life problems.

Since it was a weekend the tent site was filled with weekenders, who had tents the size of Howard Johnson hotels, absolutely ridiculous luxuries that I was secretly jealous about. Just as I left camp I ran into a crazed looking Chihuahua that ran at me and tried to bite me several times. The dogs owners offered me some doughnut holes as a peace offering for the crazed dog nipping at my legs and I took them and gladly scarfed them down and headed to the trail away from the crazed Chihuahua.

The sunlight that greeted me at the shelter that morning was pretty much completely gone by the time I was getting close to breaking the treeline. It appeared I might just make it through the Whites without a single good view from any of the major peaks. The thing is that I didn’t care at all. I was just so excited to be out of the damn White mountains, and excited that I would never have to come back. These mountains as amazing as they were scare the fucking shit out of me.

As I reached the summit of Mount Moosilauke the large cairns came into view as white and misty clouds rolled past me with 20 mile per hour winds that blew and blew.

MVI_2165

When I reached the top I saw a tiny slit of blue between two massive dark clouds. I saw a young couple enjoying lunch behind a pile of rocks, protected from the wind. I sat down next to them and we talked. I wasn’t exactly in a rush with less than six miles to go to the next shelter and with no sound of thunder.

“I’m Lola.” The girl said.

“And I’m Sunrise.” The man said. They both wore copper wedding bands, something I’d never seen before and something about them seemed more free and wild then anyone I’d met so far, these people were travelers.

I told them about the Whites , the hut system, the insane weather, and I ate lunch with them.

Since I was in no rush I just waited at the summit even as Lola and Sunrise moved on. I envied them the fact that they had each other to hike with.

I met another couple a half hour later, Moose and Tetherball. They too were so full of life and positive energy they made me wish I was headed North with them. They gave me the boost I needed to keep on keeping on. They were accompanied by another young man named Chewy.

“The only animals I’ve seen so far are deers and bears.” Chewy said. “You get to Virginia and deers will be trying to get into the shelter to spoon with you.” Chewy said.

Moose gave me some of her swedish fish and then departed North. I ate them and then I too left the and headed the just under five miles I had to hike to get to Jeffers Brook Shelter. I arrived around 2:00 P.M. with plenty of daylight left so I decided that after I finished what I had allotted for my lunch that I would take a well deserved nap. And I slept on the hard wooden shelter floor like it was a feather bed.

I woke up to a white trash looking couple named Tracy and Owen. They had two lab and pit bull mix puppies that were terribly disobedient.

They chatted with me and told me they had parked their car just a half mile away and were going to get their tent and food. Food that included hot dogs which they offered me, I was very excited.

When they headed back to their car to get their gear an older couple named Grace & Glory and Walking Man arrived. Both loved to complain and did plenty of it to anyone near enough that had functioning ears.

“As soon as I finish my hike I’m writing a letter to my senator about those huts.” Walking Man said.

Bishop arrived not too long after them and I was glad to see a familiar face who I knew I could talk to who I also knew was not crazy.

Turkey and Thrasher arrived shortly after Bishop and told me of the early troubles they faced in their hike. They said Thrasher got hurt early on and they had a 1000 medical bill to pay and no insurance.

Tracy, the woman in the white trash couple walked back into the campsite dragging a giant cooler on wheels while Owen, her boyfriend carried more than the average camel could hull. Good thing their car was so close. Tracey opened the cooler and pulled out two giant bottles of pink Sutter Home wine and poured us all very full glasses. One glass had me tipsy and the half bottle shared between Tracy and Owen had them talking about dropping everything and starting their own thru hike. They asked Bishop and I questions and said they were dead serious about hiking, I knew this was all bar talk and would amount to nothing, but bar talk with strangers is at least entertaining.

There was about two cups worth of wine left in one of the bottles as everyone headed to bed. Tracy and Owen offered it to Bishop and me to finish and we did. I poured half in my tin cup and Bishop drank the rest straight from the bottle.

Since Bishop was getting a new phone soon I gave him my number in case we got split up and so he could let me know how far ahead he was when we really got split up when I left Hanover and headed home for my two friends’ weddings.

I had pulled out the card Sarah had given me before I started my hike, the same card I read every night before I went to bed. The front had three pictures of her. In the first she was pointing to herself, the second making a heart with her hands, and in the third pointing at me and on the inside was a picture of her blowing a kiss with the words ‘I love you’ underneath the picture.

“What are you looking at?” Bishop asked.

“A card my girlfriend made me before I left for my hike that she asked me to take with me the whole way.” I said.

“Can I see it?” Bishop asked.

“Yeah, but you can’t read what’s inside, that’s just between her and me,” I said as I handed him the card.

“She’s really pretty.” He said.

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous.” I said.

“How long you been together?” He asked.

“Just about two and a half years.” I said.

“That’s a really long time.” He said.

“It hasn’t seemed that long to me.” I said.

“Every girl I’ve ever been with has told me I have commitment issues, or maybe it was intimacy issues, I can’t remember.” Bishop said as he handed the card back to me.

“Maybe it was the girls that had the issues, and they just blamed them on you.” I said with a laugh as I tucked the card back in my journal and put it in my pack.

We turned our headlamps off and I felt so ready to be back home, back in the real world, back in the life I once inhabited even if it just was for a week.

We went to bed and I really hoped I’d see Bishop again, but I wasn’t sure if I could make up 10 days hiking on someone who hiked just as fast as I did. I’d really have to move fast if I was going to ever see him again. But people had told me you’d be surprised at what can happen that will bring hikers back together on the trail.

Rose – Glass of Wine.

Bud – Getting closer to Hanover.

Thorn – Only getting 6.9 miles hiked.

Tags: adventure, Appalachian Trial, bishop, black lab pit bull, cloudy, first pasture land, foggy, Grace and Glory, Green Mountains to the west. remnants, hiking, hot dogs, Jeffers Brook, Jeffers Brook Shelter, Mount Moosilauke, muddy water, pink wine, Prospect House, puppies, ruffled potato chips, Thrasher, thru hike, thru hiking, trail magic, Turkey, Walking Man, white mountains to the northeast, wilderness, windy | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 3 Comments »

Night 42: Ink Smudges Lie and Hot Fudge Sundaes Can’t Fix Everything

Monday, March 14th, 2011

Fog on top of South Twin Mountain or North Twin Spur

Friday 7-16-2010
20 Miles Hiked, 1806.4 Miles To Springer

I woke when my watch alarm sounded at 4:45 A.M. Bishop woke too. It was still dark as we started reloading our packs. I grabbed some coffee and gobbled down the giant sugar cookie one of the crew members had given me last night and tossed two Advil down my gullet. I took out my good book and my permanent marker and wrote down the mile markers for the day on my forearm. With my pain meds down, my map on my arm, and food in my body I was ready to go. I was back on the trail just a bit ahead of Bishop and energized by another great hut breakfast.

The climb up my first 4,000 footer of the day, Zeacliff, wasn’t bad at all. The summit was what I had come to expect from any summit in the Whites. It was cloudy, misty, windy, cold and looked like it would storm any moment.

At the top of Zeacliff I noticed a man walking aimlessly through some pine trees next to the trail. He was a NOBO named Dwayne. That was both his trail name and his real name as he would explain to me. As we talked the sun came out and the clouds began to scatter. I realized I had heard about him from a few NOBO’s early on in my hike. They said he was a total oddball and that when he started his thru hike he was carrying a huge axe because he assumed there would be a lot of stuff that would need axing. Apparently there wasn’t enough stuff that needed axing because the axe was no longer on him. I was glad.

“You going to stop at Zealand Falls Hut for breakfast?” I asked.

“Yeah, if I can stay on the right trail. Damn near got lost a minute ago. Is that the A.T. you comin’ from?” He asked.

“Yeah, that’s the A.T. If you eat breakfast there don’t eat the oat meal. We had to pick bugs out of it for our work for stay last night.” I said.

“Hell, I’ll eat the shit outta sum bugs.” He said.

“Okay, then do eat the oat meal.” I said. “The trail is really smooth from hear down to the hut and a little further, enjoy your hike.”

I continued onward and upward over both South Twin Mountain and North Twin Spur. Both mountains were shrouded in thick clouds and at nearly 5,000 feet. The sunlight from earlier had gone back into hiding. The wind was ripping, and it was cold.

By the time I reached Galehead Hut the sun was out again and Bishop had caught up to me. The hut crew guy at Galehead, Mike, offered us the remaining pancakes which he said he’d have to add to the soup for the night if we didn’t finish them. I couldn’t imagine pancakes dissolving into a broth very, but I guess it was possible. We gladly devoured the pancakes like wild dogs. We drenched them with maple syrup, not real maple syrup, but some sort of imitation syrup and together we each ate seven pancakes and split one. We hit the trail again, this time stuffed to the brim and re energized .

I led the hike briefly, but then Bishop passed as I was messing with my tape recorder to try and take some notes.

The next summit I hit was Mount Garfield. I got to it just after I passed Garfield Ridge Shelter and campsite. Garfield offered a nice place for a lunch break. I sat in the insides of what remained of the base of an old fire tower and ate my fruit snacks, snickers, and crackers and watched as beautiful, non threatening, fluffy white clouds passed over the ranges before me. From where I sat I could see Mount Lafayette, Mount Lincoln, Little Haystack, and Liberty Mountain all of which made up the famous Franconia Ridge Range. I’d been hearing about it for days. Hearing about how the views from the ridge were the most spectacular views of the whole trail.

I wished only that I’d get to hike this section free of clouds and storms so that I could enjoy at least one section of the Whites.

I turned my phone on while I ate just to see if I’d get service. The bars came and went and came and went again, and then a text from Sarah came in that she’d sent that morning.

“ONE MORE WEEK!” It read. I was beaming, smiling so wide if someone had found me they’d think I was deranged. I felt on top of the world, and literally I was. I was laying down, basking in sunlight, protected from the wind by the ruins of the old fire tower eating fruit snacks and a snicker bar and fantasizing about being home and being with her again. I would be seeing her in less than a week and we’d be together, dancing, and laughing, and kissing and celebrating at our friends wedding. I couldn’t wait.

The text was what I needed and I knew in that instant that I could tough it out for one more week. I could hike through storms, I could be scared, I could be hungry, and smelly, and uncomfortable, because in a week I’d be home. I’d be with Sarah. I’d be with my family. I’d be safe.

After lunch was done around 12:30 P.M. I started my hike toward the ridge with a new energy in my step. The climb up wasn’t anything brutal just the steady uphills I’d grown accustomed to in the Whites and Maine.

They sky began to grow cloudy, and not the previous unscary type of clouds either. These ones were dark and threatening. The clouds now enveloped the entire ridge line. Each time I’d think I’d reached the peak of Lafayette the clouds would move just enough to reveal a bigger even higher peak. This happened to me about four times before I actually reached the peak of Lafayette.

I was dead tired by this point so I sat down on a boulder and ate the last of my snickers and gulped down my last remaining half liter of water. Three NOBO hikers walked past and said, “I’m glad I’m not over there anymore,” and pointed toward the mountain I was headed to next that had severe black clouds overhead.

I got my pack back on and began walking. I had seen Bishop on top of the next mountain about ten minutes before and figured if I really pushed it I could catch him and then at least I wouldn’t be caught on the top of another mountain in another storm by myself. I don’t know why, but just having someone there eased my fear and anxiety so much.

I had hiked about a half mile from Lafayette which put me halfway to the summit of Lincoln.

CRACK! A loud burst of thunder echoed through the air with deafening sharpness.

I wanted to be home. I wanted to be home. I wanted to be home.

A rush of adrenaline squirted through my body and fear spread with it. I looked at my arm where I wrote the different mile markers in permanent marker that morning, but all the moisture from the clouds at high elevation and my sweat had made it smudgy. I thought it looked like Lafayette was at mile 368.3 and the next stopping area, Liberty Springs tentsite was at 370.1, and if I turned around it would be a mile and a half back to the closest Hut. I figured I could run 1.8 miles to safety before things got really bad .

Unfortunately, my eyes and the smudges had deceived me. Lafayette was actually at 366.3, 3.8 miles to safety and I was in deep shit on the top of an exposed ridge line in the middle of an electrical storm. Oh, and my hiking poles were two metal lightning rods held in each hand, but they were the only thing helping me stay on my feet on the uneven terrain, so I decided they were worth the risk.

The violent cracks of thunder continued like a whip being snapped right by my ear every couple minutes. My mind reverted to primal instincts, it was flight or fright time. I was no doubt frightened out of my mind, but flight won out, and I started running.

I jumped from boulder to boulder, jumping down four foot drops with little care if I landed or fell down them as long as I kept moving forward. My balance was tossed side to side with my quick movements due to the forty pounds of extra weight strapped to my back. I was moving recklessly on these sharp rocks, but all that mattered was that I catch up to Bishop and not die up here alone. If I was going to die I’d have someone by my side, yes, that was all that mattered.

The thunder continued cracking and at closer intervals. Things couldn’t be worse.

Then the sheets of sideways rain came. The drops fell hard and were ice cold. The temperature must have plummeted twenty degrees in five minutes. The wind came roaring and was now blowing at a sustained thirty miles per hour easily. The rain cover for my pack became like a parachute and the wind filled it and dragged me to the left hard. I fell, stood back up and kept hiking this time being more careful with my balance.

I was wearing my glasses because my contacts had been bothering my eyes the last few days. Both lenses were covered in water and I couldn’t see through them. The thunder and rain raged and I kept running without the slightest idea what was more than three feet ahead.

I stopped for the first time since I’d started running. I took my glasses off and tried to wipe the lenses so I could see better.

Both lenses popped out and fell to the ground.

I picked up the lenses.

CRACK!

I shoved them in my pocket and kept running, now actually blind. My heart was racing. I was praying to see the tops of trees to let me know I could take cover below the treeline soon. *(Treeline is the line where trees no longer grow on the tops of mountains due to severe weather conditions that make it impossible for a tree to grow)

“God, please get me out of this, I promise I won’t put myself in any more stupid situations, just please let me live through this. My Mom is going to be so mad.” I kept saying over and over and over in my head.

I’d been full on sprinting across slippery, wet boulders in the middle of a thunderstorm for about 45 minutes when I saw something better than trees, I saw people. A family, a father, a mother, and two young boys. If I was going to die up here at least it wasn’t going to die with this family of strangers.

“How far to the treeline.” I shouted through the gusting wind with water dripping down my face.

“About two minutes that way.” The father shouted back.

“Turn back now and get under treeline with me!” I shouted to the whole family. “It only gets worse the higher up you get.”

“Okay, let’s go.” The mother said to her husband and the the two boys.

We got below the treeline and I felt safe for the first time in about an hour.

“Will I be below treeline until that next campsite?” I asked.

“You come back above for about five minutes, but that’s it.” The father said.

“Okay good. Where are you guys trying to get to?” I asked.

“Greenleaf Hut, about four miles away.” He said.

“There’s no way you’ll make it in this. It’s way too dangerous, just wait it out here below treeline or head back to your car until it clears up.” I said.

“Have you seen a young guy about my age recently?” I asked.

“No, you’re the first person we’ve seen out here.” They said.

“What had happened to Bishop?” I thought.

“Okay thanks. I’m getting out of here now, but whatever you do don’t go out above treeline in this, it’s terrifying.” I said as I quickly turned and started running again.

I made it to the shelter about a half hour later, refilled my water and sat down on the ground thanking God for getting me off that mountain alive.

By the time I reached the main road it was 5:05 P.M. So I headed to the visitor center, at the Flume or something, and was hoping to use the phone. My cell had no service and I wanted to call Chet, a guy in Lincoln who runs a free hiker hostel called One Step At A Time. I called to make sure I could stay there tonight and Chet gave me the go ahead. I called a local shuttle service, I was in no mood to hitch after my near death experience and I would have paid any amount to be taken somewhere safe. The Shuttle Connection van came to pick me up about fifteen minutes later.

The guy who picked me up in the white shuttle van was morbidly obese and told me he had never once climbed anything around here, even though he’d lived here his whole life.

“Why would I hike somewhere when I could just drive there.” He said as he drove me. He knew exactly where Chet’s house was, pulled into the driveway and let me out after I paid him.

Chet came out from his garage. Much to my surprise, in a wheel chair and rolled toward me with a smile and an outstretched hand.

“Thank you so much for taking me in tonight. You have non idea how glad I am to be out of the White Mountains for a night and somewhere safe.” I said with actual tears welling in my eyes. I was an emotional wreck. I don’t think Chet could tell though. Besides being in a wheel chair he was almost completely blind and had two service dogs, one of which was half wolf half German shepherd. It was the coolest and most massive dog I’d ever seen. Chet had the most bad ass guide dog in the world.

“No problem, right on, right on, glad I could help you.” He said.

After I got my things situated in a bunk in Chet’s converted garage, Chet gave me the name of a good pizza place, Elvio’s. I walked from Chet’s house toward down town. It was no more than a ten minute walk. The walk took me past this crazy house that was painted in all sorts of wild colors and had all sorts of crazy sculptures. When I asked about in town they told me the owners had experimented with drugs and liked the way the visual effect of everything the house offered. At Elvio’s I ordered three slices of pizza. Each was the size of my torso and a 24 ounce soda that I must have refilled eight times with every soda flavor they had.

I talked to some locals and they asked me where I was staying.

“Chet’s place.” I said.

“He’s a great guy isn’t he.” The local man said.

“Yeah he’s been great to me so far.” I said.

“You hear about how he ended up in that wheel chair?” He asked.

“No.” I said.

“He was preparing for his own thru hike years and years back. He was practicing using his stove. It was some gas stove or other that lit by being pumped and the thing exploded right in his face. Nearly killed him. Right as it exploded he lifted his hands to cover his face which is why he isn’t horribly disfigured, but he also inhaled right as the explosion occurred. His lungs were essentially incinerated. He only has thirty percent lung function or something crazy. He holds some record for being the only person to survive an accident so severe.” The local man said.

“That’s terrible.” I said.

“Yeah, the company that made the gas canister settled with him. No one knows what company it was, part of the settlement said the name can’t be released and he can’t talk about it, so no one know’s for sure what really happened. It turned out he wasn’t the only person this happened to though, just the only one to survive and file suit. Rough deal for him, but he’s set for life, that’s how come he can help you hikers out. He’s a hell of a guy.” He said.

“He sure is.” I said, thinking how amazing it was that this man was even alive. It was so cool that even though he would never get to do his hike, he was going to make the best of his circumstances and help as many people as he could achieve a dream he wouldn’t be able to. Chet had just become the most interesting person I’d met on the trail.

When I returned to Chet’s I asked him if I could borrow one of his bikes to go exploring through Lincoln.

“No problem.” He said.

Just before I left again I noticed that Abraham was sitting on one of the bunks.

“Abraham, where the hell did you disappear to on the ridge. I saw you in front of me, and I tried to catch you, and then you disappeared during the storm.” I said.

“When the storm hit I started climbing down the side of the mountain looking for somewhere to take cover. I found a little cave, crawled in there and waited out the storm while I rolled and smoked a cigarette. It was a really great hiding place, kept me dry and safe.” He said.

I wanted to kill him. Not sure why, but I had hoped he had been as scared and miserable as I had been. In fact I was angry that he hadn’t been fearing for his life the same way I had.

I had officially gone off the deep end. I was angry that someone else had been safer and in better circumstances then I was.

“I’m headed into to town and I’m stopping at McDonald’s, you want anything?” I asked, as if this would make up for my insane thoughts.

“Nah, I’m good, I’m going to head into town a little later, but thanks.” He said.

As I explored Lincoln I realized this town had everything I would need or want. A book store, a movie theater, a McDonald’s, a grocery store, a moose tour company, an ice cream shop and an outfitter. McDonald’s was the most important of these. I have come to crave fast food on the trail like nothing I’ve ever craved before and McDonald’s is usually the thing I think of most.

I stopped at the McDonald’s and got myself a hot fudge sundae and the world seemed right. I wasn’t so flustered anymore and I certainly wasn’t thinking I was going to die, not today at least. Today I was sitting in a McDonald’s eating a hot fudge sundae and I most certainly wasn’t on some high up mountain in the middle of a lightning storm.

On my bike ride home I bought some ice for my ankle and as I rode past the movie theater I contemplated going to see the new Twilight movie. I couldn’t bring myself to go see it alone, even if it would have been a great distraction from reality.

I ended up back at Chet’s a little after 7:00 P.M. I showered and put my clothes in the wash then talked to a flip flopper (Someone who starts in the middle and heads to one end, then goes back to the middle and heads to the other end) named Speaker, and a group of NOBO’s who were also staying there and who had dubbed themselves The Traveling Circus, with individual names of Lightening, Monkey, and Ringleader.

After talking to them I tried calling Sarah and walked around the yard trying to find a place with stronger service, but had terrible reception and we kept getting disconnected. I was really upset on the phone because today had been really rough and all I wanted was to talk to her about it. I could hear how upset it was making her that I was having such a bad day, and that we kept getting disconnected. I kept my phone on, but no calls came through, not that they could, my service would stay for a second and be gone for thirty minutes.

I walked down the cellar steps into Chet’s basement where the laundry machines were and I sat in an old rocking chair under the glow of a fluorescent tube light. A new text came in from Sarah. “I love you, I hope you’re ok.” It read. I sat in that rocking chair, in that musty basement, that smelled just like my grandparents house and my eyes welled with tears.

I cried because I was alive, because I was safe, because I had people out there who loved me, because I wasn’t sure I could do this anymore, and because I didn’t know how much more of this I could put my family through, put Sarah through, put my friends through and most of all I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could or wanted to put myself through. I cried for everything I hadn’t and should have been crying about for the last 42 days.

Monkey of the Traveling Circus came walking down the stairs. I wiped my eyes before he saw me and made small talk with him for the next fifteen minutes or so pretending everything was fine. Everything wasn’t fine.

Rose – McDonald’s hot fudge sundae.

Bud – Hiking in non thunderstorm weather.

Thorn – Being stuck in an electrical storm on an exposed mountain top and missing Sarah and home.

Tags: adventure, appalachian trail, appalachian trail thru hiker, blind, broken glasses, eclipse, Elvio's Pizza, falling, Franconia Ridge, Galehead Hut, Greanleaf Hut, guide dog, guide dogs, half wolf dog, half wolf half german shepherd, Haystack mountain, hiker, hiking, lightening, Lincoln, Moose tours, Mount Lafayette, Mount Lincoln, musty basement, new hampshire, poor service, text messages, the traveling circus, thru hiker, thru hiking, thunder, thunderstorm, twilight saga eclipse, washing machine, wheel chair, wind gusts | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 3 Comments »

Night 37: Did I Piss The Bed?

Wednesday, October 27th, 2010

Sunday 7-11-2010
0 Miles Hiked, 1881.2 Miles To Springer

Before I went to bed last night I searched through the junk in the lower level of the barn to try and find something I could soak my ankle in. I found an old styrofoam cooler filled with dead bugs and cob webs. I rinsed it out and filled it with the ice I bought from the gas station across the street and soaked my foot in it. It was so cold it hurt to keep my ankle submerged. After about a half hour of soaking I pulled it out and my ankle no longer throbbed or looked as swollen, but it felt like a joint in my knee had been tightened or displaced and it now hurt to bend my knee. I need to catch a break.

While I iced my foot I worked on a surprise that I was going to send to Sarah. A bunch of pictures that I had written letters on the back of. The letters and pictures I had written and would be sending were heavy though and I had no idea how many stamps to put on the envelop and the post office was closed the next day so I knew I wouldn’t be able to ask them. I figured I’d poll a few people in town the next morning.

When I finally went up into the dark attic to go to bed I sat down on my mattress and one sheet barrier and spread my sleeping bag across the bed. I had filled a zip lock bag with ice and wrapped it around my knee with the ace bandage I had from my ankle. I stared up at the barn ceiling and at the wall at the other end and watched as the moonlight crept through the spaces between the boards that made up the walls. As I gazed at the rays of moonlight I wondered where my life was headed and was unsure, and I fell asleep thinking about who I was supposed to be in the post college adult world I was entering.

I woke up in the middle of the night and was soaking wet from my waste down.

“Shit, I pissed myself in a hostel bed. I’m fucking 23 years old, how am I pissing myself.” I thought.

I reached my hand down, touched the wet sheet beneath me, brought my hand to my face and smelled it. (Please no judgment, I don’t know why I would have wanted to smell my piss covered hand when I assumed I had wet the bed but I felt it was the only way to know for sure.)

I qiuckly realized I had not pissed the bed, but had in fact rolled over onto the ice filled ziplock bag on my knee, which had melted and popped. The melted ice left both my legs, and the sheet covering the mattress soaked.

I got my headlamp on to see just how wet the mattress had become and I saw a big orange yellow stain on the white sheet.

“Had I actually pissed the bed?” I thought again. “It didn’t smell like urine?”

I got completely out of the bed and took my sleeping bag off the sheet, and lifted up the sheet exposing the bare mattress and what was on it. I had not pissed the bed. The mattress was in fact covered in dark yellow, orange, red, and brown stains and the water from my ice pack mixing with the mattress had brought all those stains to the surface and allowed them to be absorbed by the white sheet.

“Ghhh….uggh.” My gag reflex activated as I thought about the fact that I had touched that with my hands and brought it to my face.

I spread my sleeping bag back over the mattress and laid on top of it for the remainder of the night. I had no intention of sleeping on those sheets now that they were covered in who knows what. I imagined what those stains could have been caused from a variety of gross things: period blood, sex juices, urine, poop, throw up, dirt, and sweat. I was ready to be out of this barn attic with the odd racist man who was currently my only companion.

I woke up early that morning wanting to get packed up, and get out of the barn before the racist man or the European girl was up to see my mattress was wet and that my white bed sheet was stained with what appeared to be blood, urine, and poop juices. I figured even if I told the truth it would be assumed I had wet the bed and I didn’t need my trail name to be changed for a false assumption two people I barely knew might make. I grabbed my sheet off the bed, balled it up and shoved it at the bottom of the hamper of used sheets and towels. I was out of the hostel by 8:00 A.M. never to return.

I knew I wouldn’t be hiking today with my semi bum ankle and now bum knee. I walked around town until I got to a park and then set my sleeping pad up on a park bench and laid down to take a Sunday morning nap. I felt like a hobo, and I loved it. I woke up from my nap around noon as the park I had set up shop in was hosting the towns bimonthly town yard sale/ flea market. I decided to head to the gas station to get some more stamps and to ask some people how many stamps my letter would need.

“I think five should get the job done for sure.” The forty something woman with a bad red hair dye job said.

“Thanks.” I said and I decided to walk back toward the fast food section of town. On the way to McDonalds I stopped at the post office and dropped my letter to Sarah in the mailbox.

At McDonalds I ordered a Big Mac combo meal, a McDouble, and a hot fudge sundae. I ate my food slowly while I charged my phone and scoped out the restaurant for a potential hitch to the White Birches Campground, another hostel in town that I had heard was cheaper and nicer than The Barn, but a good three miles from where I was.

During my time scoping out potential rides I watched a little boy take a hot fudge sundae off the counter from an old man. The little boy thought it was the one his mom had bought him, which I had already seen his mom grab off the counter. The old man was so shocked he didn’t know what to say, and just watched as the little boy walked away with it. I had just seen the old man set it down on the counter so he could grab some napkins before the boy took it, I thought about intervening but figured this might be the most entertaining thing that would happen to me today and I would let things get a little further along before I said something. The boys mother eventually told the boy she already had his and he came back to give the old man the one he had taken.

By the time I had finished my high calorie feast most of the clientele that was there when I had arrived had left. The boy who stole the hot fudge sundae and his mom were still there. I walked up to his mom.

“Are you heading down the road that way, toward the White Birches Campground?’ I asked.

“Yeah, we are, do you need a ride?” The young-beautiful-probably-had-her-kid-in-high-school-aged-mother asked.

“Yeah, I would really appreciate that.” I said.

“I’d love to help you out.” She said.

I followed the young mother and her son to their white SUV. They moved a bunch of cardboard boxes out of the backseat to make room for my pack. She had explained they were moving into a new house because she and her husband had just divorced. I felt it was a bit of an over share but didn’t really care. She dropped me off at the White Birches and I got out, thanked her and walked toward the front office door.

I checked in with the man who owned the campground and lived in the barn buildings first floor with his wife and daughter, Ashely. I paid for a bunk space in the upper level of the barn area which was much nicer than the barn attic area at The Barn. I also paid for a towel to use when showering.

I walked up the outside stairs to the attic area of the barn and opened the screen door. Inside I was shocked to see Abraham and Bishop.

“What are you guys doing here? I was laid up for 11 days in Andover with a sprained ankle, what’s your excuse?” I asked.

“We’ve been watching the World Cup games, been here since the 6th.” Bishop said.

“Yeah, plus I got sick and was throwing up for a few days.” Abraham said.

They both answered me in a somewhat trance like state. They were captivated by the television as the championship game of the World Cup between Spain and the Netherlands had just started.

I watched the first half with them and dozed off towards the end of the half. At halftime I woke up and went outside to the pool that sat near the trailer park section of the campground. I soaked my foot and there was a radio playing nearby. I soaked up the rays shirtless and listened to the radio. It brought back memories of life guarding at hot pools all summer long during my teenage years. I hung out by the pool for more than an hour and headed back figuring it would be close to over when I returned.

When I walked through the screen door I saw that the score remained 0-0. The game ended in overtime on penalty kicks around 5:00 P.M. Just as the game ended and Spain claimed the title of World champions, the rain started pouring and pounded hard against the tin roof of the old barn.

While the rain pounded Abraham and Bishop packed up there things and got ready to meet the old man who lived in the trailer park who would be shuttling them back to the trail. I was glad it wasn’t me that was heading back to hiking in the rain.

The rain eventually cleared and I headed back to the pool to swim and soak my ankle more. No one else was at the pool so I took my shorts off and swam around in my black mesh boxer brief underwear. It felt so good to be swimming and my ankle was pain free swimming around and my knee felt great too. I swam around by myself until 8:15 P.M. and then headed back to the barn. On the way back I called my family. Each person I talked to and told my ankle was acting up told me they thought it was time for me to come home, time to give myself a break, someone even suggested that maybe it just wasn’t mean to happen for me this year. I was furious.

“I’ll be back when I have to come off for my friends weddings like I always planned.” I told them agitated.

After talking to my family and getting aggravated at what I viewed as their lack of support and faith in me I took a 25 cent shower in the first coin operated shower I’d ever used. I thought a quarter for five minutes of hot water was perfectly reasonable since I’d paid five dollars for a shower at other hostels.

Once I was out of the shower I put the underwear and shorts I had swum in in the dryer and I headed back upstairs to warm up a can of soup someone had left behind in the hiker box.

While my clothes dried I wore my Danskin short shorts and walked around the trailer park while I called and talked to Sarah.

“I bought some women’s short shorts from Walmart, I’ll send you a picture of them.” I said.

“Oh my gosh you weren’t big enough to wear the shorts from the women’s section so you had to get them from the girls section, didn’t you?” She asked after receiving the picture.

“Very funny.” I said. ” But I did make the old lady who worked in the women’s clothing section wait outside the changing room and tell me how I looked in the three different colors I tried on.” I said.

“The thing is I don’t doubt that you did that.” She said.

We both laughed.

We talked about her day, her trip back from my aunts house, and missing each other. Missing each other seemed to be the big topic of every conversation and it seemed it didn’t matter how much closer I got to seeing her again, to getting back home because she knew I’d be going back and leaving her again.

The mosquitoes started biting and I was tired, from what I don’t know, I hadn’t done anything all day, I think my body was just spent. I ended the conversation and headed back inside the barn. Back inside I sat in front of the television watching Myth Busters and I began rubbing some Thermosil (Ben Gay equivalent) that I found in the hiker box all over my ankle, knee, and thighs. The thighs were a mistake, a huge mistake, they burned all night.

Sarah texted me pictures of dresses asking me which one she should wear to our friends weddings coming up soon. Sarah could have worn a trash bag and put every woman in the room to shame and I told her she’d look beautiful in whichever one she chose, but she wanted more participation than that on my part. I told her the one she liked best looked great, which she jokingly said upset her because that one was out of stock, and then I climbed onto the bottom bunk, which was not stained with anything and I fell asleep, looking forward to getting to dance with her in whatever she wore.

Rose – Swimming in the pool, talking with Sarah.

Bud – Slack packing/Freedom Hiking the next section.

Thorn - My family telling me to come home.

Tags: adventure, appalachian trail, canned soup, coin operated shower, dresses, family, frustration, help, hiking, hostel, lifeguarding, mcdonalds, music on the radio, phone calls, pissing the bed, pool, rain, short shorts, shower, single mother, soup, spain versus netherlands, swimming, the barn, the white birches campground, thru hike, thru hiker, urine, world cup, world cup 2010, world cup championship | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 1 Comment »

Night 34: Speck Pond & Will

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

Speck Pond, highest body of water in Maine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were you in the Army? I asked.

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

“Did you like the Army?” I asked.

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

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

“What are the tattoos for?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rose – Lunch on the tower.

Bud – Mahoosic Notch.

Thorn – Ankle acting up again.

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

Night 33: The Baldpates and The Beer Poet

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

Celebrating the view from above Baldpate West Peak

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

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

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

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

“You all ready to go?” Caretaker asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rough.” I said.

“Yeah it sucks ass.” The boy said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds alright to me.” I said.

“You a thru hiker?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That last section was awful.” I said.

“When did you start?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rose – Meeting The Beer Poet,

Bud – Getting closer to leaving Maine.

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

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

Night 32: On The Trail Again

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

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

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

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

Mt. Goat seemed to be in a weird mood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not too much.” She said.

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

“Yeah.” She said.

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

“I’m looking at them.” She said.

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

“I like that.” She said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” She said.

“Night, I love you.” I said.

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

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

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

Thorn – Hearing how sad Sarah was.

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

Night 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 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 24: What’s Next, Home or Here?

Thursday, July 29th, 2010

Monday 6-28-2010
0 Miles Hiked, 1,932.7 Miles to Springer

When I woke my ankle had nearly doubled in size and looked as though someone had inserted an orange underneath my skin. When I asked David if he could drive me to the doctor he said he was too busy shuttling other hikers around all day. He said he might be able to drive me the 25 miles to the family health center in Bethel the next day.

I was actually enjoying my down time lying in bed and watching the Price Is Right, it brought back memories of staying home from school sick when I was a little kid. I can remember faking sick just to get an extra day of watching Bob Barker call the next contestants down the isle. The only problem was that I was no longer a little kid, this was not my home, and Drew Carry is no Bob Barker. I wanted to get better and get out of Andover, out of Maine, and closer to home as soon as possible.

After seeing my ankle Mud agreed there was some urgency in getting me to a doctor as soon as possible. Since David wasn’t going to be of help in getting me to Bethel Mud said he would run to the general store and beg anyone he could find to drive me us to there. After a half hour Mud returned from the general store with a smile on his face.

“Good news, I ran into the guy who runs the High 5 Hostel at the general store and he said he could shuttle you and it’ll be a dollar a mile. He said he’ll be here to pick us up in about thirty to make sure you make it for the 1:00 P.M. slot you said they had open.” Mud said.

We let David and Eileen know we’d be leaving soon and waited on the porch. Both David and Eileen gave us an odd warning, “The people from the High 5 are nice, but they’re odd.” They said.

I didn’t care how odd they were. They were willing to take me to the doctors and that was all that mattered to me this morning.

A man with minor white facial hair and a beak of a nose and sunglasses pulled his black dented SUV into the drive and gave the horn a honk.

“How you doin’ Tiny Tim?” The man who sported a Jimmy Buffet shirt over his beer gut asked me before he even knew my name.

“Not too good.” I said as hopped toward the car using my trekking poles like a cane or crutches.

“I’m Caretaker.” He said as I climbed into the front seat.

“I’m going to reset the odometer so we both know how much you owe when we get back. I’ can’t keep track of it in my head. I’m no good with numbers since my head injury in Cosovo.” He said.

“Were you in the military?” I asked.

“Army, specs, 17 years. I busted my legs up in a parachuting drill. Broke my femur and never fully recovered.” He said. “Even with the way things ended, I’d recommend the military to any young person today.It was the best experience of my life.”

“I’ve thought about the Navy as a possibility, but never with any seriousness.” I said. “How long have you been doing this whole hostel thing?” I asked.

“We started out as trail angels, helping out people in your exact situation. Then it just kind of expanded into what it is today over the last couple years. We gotta pay the pills like everyone else.” He said.

“That’s pretty cool. Have you lived in Maine your whole life?” I asked.

“No. My dad was in the military and after killing one too many people he found religion big time. Became a Mormon and made our whole family Mormon. He moved us all out to the middle of nowhere fuckin’ Utah. It was actually a great place to grow up. Lots of space to run around. So what brings you guys to the trail?” He asked.

“Just finished college and I didn’t want to get a job or go to grad school right away, and this seemed like a pretty cool thing to do.” I said.

“Same.” Mud said.

“College degree, pretty expensive piece of paper. So you both got B.A.’s or B.S.’s?” He asked.

“B.A.’s.” We said.

“Yeah. You guys seem like silver spoon fed type of kids.” He said. “If you’ve got parents that support you like I figure you do, I say travel as much as you can.” He said. “Besides traveling get into scuba. No matter how worn out your body gets you can always scuba, your weightless in the water.”

“And if you ask my advice for a happy life; Scuba, travel, and fuck as much as possible. I’ll tell you, monogamy is for the fuckin’ Christians.” He said.

“So you’re not married I take it.” I said.

“Oh no.” He laughed. “I’m married.”

The rest of the ride went quickly and we were in the middle of Bethel before long. Caretaker parked the car in the Bethel Family Health Center lot and as I got out of the passenger side he begged me to wait and let him get the wheel chair and wheel me into the lobby. I insisted I’d be fine hopping in. Once I got checked in with the nurse at the front desk Caretaker and Mud left to hit the local grocery store.

I waited a short time before one of the nurses called me into one of the back rooms and left me there to wait for Dr. Moses. She gasped a little when she first saw my ankle.

“How did you do this?” She asked.

I explained that my ankle had been bothering me for a few weeks. I told her I’d been rolling it on a daily basis and that I woke up two days earlier with chills and fever and explained what had happened the previous day on the way up Moody Mountain. I told her how I woke up this morning and it had doubled in size.

“It looks really bad. I’d say you’ve got a severe sprain or strain. You’ve done some pretty severe soft tissue damage by being on it day after day when it’s been bothering you. It’s a good sign that there’s no cuts or scraps around the ankle given how red and hot the area is, and from how you’ve described it I’d say it’s not broken. The breathing troubles and fever were probably just your body telling you something was wrong when you weren’t giving the ankle the time it needed to heal and you probably were working harder than you normal have too since you essentially had one dead leg.” She said.

“Can you do x-rays to make sure nothing is broken?” I asked.

“We can, but it’s really not necessary in my opinion.” She said.

“I think we better do x-rays because I know my mom will first ask if anything is broken and then ask what the x-ray showed, and if I tell her there was no x-ray she’ll make me wish I’d had one done.” I said.

I put on the lead vest and we got the x-rays. They were developed and nothing was broken. I thanked God I hadn’t done any permanent damage.

“How long do I need to stay off the trail? What’s the earliest I could try hiking again?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t recommend getting back on before a minimum of two weeks and I’d say three weeks to be safe.” She said.

My heart instantly sunk. I was hoping she’d say a few days. Three weeks was a death sentence, at least for this portion of my hike. Three weeks meant I might as well catch the next train home and heal there until I was able to hike again.

“You’re sure it might not be better in more like five days?” I asked.

“It might feel better in five days, but if you get back on it that soon you’ll likely injure it again and you could do permanent damage and be off the trail the rest of the year.” She said.

“Okay, so two to three weeks. What about ten days, you think maybe ten days and I might be good to go?” I asked.

“In ten days it might be decently healed, but you don’t want to mess around with this, especially with as much as you have left. I’d make sure you let it heal completely before you try and hike on it again and I’d like to see you in a week if you’re still in town.” She said.

“Okay, I’ll be careful and I probably won’t be here in a week.” I said.

I pivoted out of the exam room on the used crutches they gave me. I saw Caretaker and Mud waiting for me in the lobby. I gave them the bad news. In the five minutes since I’d been told of my recovery timeline by Dr. Moses I’d already started thinking of what my next move would be.

“I’m going to look at train and bus ticket prices and see if it makes more sense for me to stay here and heal or to head home and just take all off July of and come back at the beginning of August.” I said.

We picked up my prescription from the local CVS. I was given a weeks supply of an ant-inflammatory called indocin. I picked up some heal lifts for my boots and I bought some bandage wraps to keep my ankle bound.

As we drove back to Andover Caretaker gave me some news that changed all the plans of heading home that I’d made in my head.

“If you decide to try and stay here and heal I can make it as economical as possible. It’ll be ten bucks a night, and you can stay in the RV in my front yard and watch Netflix on the laptop we keep in there until you’re healed up. A young swimmer like you, you’ll be healed in no time. Breakfast is four dollars, lunch five, and dinner six, and my wife is an amazing cook. If you decide you still want to catch a train or bus home we can get you there tomorrow, but I just wanted you to know all your options.” He said.

Caretaker took us back to the Pine Ellis. I started crutching too quickly and trip up the porch stairs and fell to the ground. We settled our debts with David and grabbed out gear, I didn’t grab anything, but Mud grabbed mine and his gear and we loaded back into Caretakers car. When we got back to Caretaker’s house, or the High 5 Hostel Mud and I got settled into the RV and looked around the big orange conex shipping box that was filled with bunk beds and wired with satellite tv. The High 5 Hostel was by far the most interesting hostel I’d seen in all of Maine, and it seemed like a place I might be comfortable recovering.

After we finished exploring and getting settled down we checked out the iTunes on the RV’s mini laptop. Caretaker came back to the RV to check on us and make sure everything was okay and he gave us the rundown.

“I close the main house at 9:00 P.M. I usually wake up around 7:00 A.M. If you have to pee just go behind the RV. If you have to do more than pee use the main house bathroom, but knock on the door and wait for someone to tell you to come in before you enter. I don’t like people just walking in. The RV is hooked up to water from the house, and if you need anything else just knock.” He said.

“Okay, sounds good, thanks for everything.” I said.

Mud and I relaxed and ate some of our stockpile from the grocery store in Bethel. Once we figured out how to set up Netflix we spent the rest of the night watching a Zach Galifinakis snowboard comedy, Out Cold. It was stupid, raunchy, and funny, and I didn’t have to think while watching it. It was nice to have something to laugh at and to take my mind off of what my next move would be. I could heal in Andover or head home. I wasn’t ready to leave the trail, but there was no guarantee I’d get better in Andover. I decided to sleep on it.

Rose – Meeting Caretaker

Bud – Deciding what the immediate future held.

Thorn – News of a 2-3 week recovery timeline.

Tags: andover, ankle brace, appalachian trail, at, beautiful, bethel, coachman rv, epsom salt bath, high 5 hostel, hiking, ice bath, indocin, nature, netflix, outdoors, pine ellis, sprained ankle, suv, thru hike, thru hiker, x-rays | 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 »

Appalachian Trail Hiker

Posts Tagged ‘hiking’

Night 44: Pink Wine At The End Of The Whites

Night 42: Ink Smudges Lie and Hot Fudge Sundaes Can’t Fix Everything

Night 37: Did I Piss The Bed?

Night 34: Speck Pond & Will

Night 33: The Baldpates and The Beer Poet

Night 32: On The Trail Again

Night 29: An Old Goat Returns

Night 27: Mmmmm…..Moose

Night 24: What’s Next, Home or Here?

Night 23: Could The End Be In Andover?

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