Posts Tagged ‘hiking’

Night 22: Most Miles In Maine

Tuesday, July 6th, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn grouse.” I said as I walked on.

Mud caught up to me after all the commotion.

“Did those grouse attack you?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 7 Comments »

Night 21: Saddleback Mountain Magic

Monday, July 5th, 2010

The view from the peak of Saddleback Mountain In Maine

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mud arrived about fifteen minutes after me looking pretty rough.

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

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

“I think I’ll be okay.” Mud said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lay in it.” He said.

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

“I’m sleeping here tonight.” He said.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, headed to Georgia.” I said.

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

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

“What are your names?” He asked.

“Triple P., ABEAR, ans Mud.” We said.

“Were you a thru hiker?” I asked

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thorn- Bloody nose.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 1 Comment »

Night 7: Time To Reflect

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

Underwater Picture Looking Up From The Creekbed Of Cooper Brook Falls

Friday, 6-11-2010
15.7 Miles Hiked. 2,119.4 Miles to Springer

It’s been a week into my 2,179.1 mile walk about and I’d like to reflect on the journey to this point.

The hike has been muddy, rooty, and rocky beyond belief. Half of the time we’re hiking I’m not sure I’m even on a trail. The only thing that let’s me know we are even on track sometimes is the occassional white blaze, which often times look just like the white colored lichen that grow on the trees and rocks.

Seven days into the trip and we sit 2,119.4 miles from Springer Mt. In Georgia. We’ve hiked 59.7 miles, actually 64.9 since we had to climb up Katahdin to get started. We are 44.3 miles deep in the 100 mile wilderness, and hoping to be in Monson, ME by Tuesday afternoon. I can’t wait for the shower, BBQ, and clean clothing that await.

Today was the most we’ve hiked in one day and it was in large part do to the fact that we had our flattest terrain in days.

Matt and I hit the trail at 7:09 A.M. today and booked it. We had 4.3 miles in before breakfast. The views from Jo Mary Lake were gorgeous. We stopped for lunch and then really contemplated hitting the shelter six miles down the old logging road at Jo Mary road where you can have a bean hole dinner and take a shower. The cost of which was 18.95 and that seemed a little too rich for our blood, so we moved on.

I was ready to be at the next lean-to and ready to get my boots off. My feet throbbed all day today. I’ve started thinking Janasty might have had it right. Carrying light weight tradeables would certainly make my back far less sore.

We finished our record day of hiking with plenty of daylight left to just sit in the shelter and relax. I was ecstatic with our mileage and felt it was a good indicator of what our last four days would be like.

Since my title promises reflection I suppose I should deliver. I would like to focus my reflection on my own stink, food, soreness, some miscoceptions about the trail, and trail names.

My stank. It is putrid at it’s worst. It’s unbelievable. It’s so bad it has actually made me gag and prevented me from sleeping at night. When I get in my sleeping bag at night is when I notice it the most. It’s at this moment that all my stank gets trapped in one small area. I’ve spent much of my time hiking just thinking of descriptions that would do justice to the stank.

As i describe it In I think it will help if you close your eyes and visualize the scenario I’m using to describe my stank.

Someone has accidently put some lunch meat in the vegetable crisper. They also accidently spilt some feta cheese when they opened the feta cheese tub and little bits found there way down below into the vegetable crisper. Accompanying the lunch meat which has now been forgotten are a hand full of decaying vegetables which too have been neglected. There are slimy baby carrots, brown lettuce, limp celery, soft tomatos, and some loose garlic cloves and budding onions.

All these food things were forgotten because honestly no one checks the vegatable draw in this house. The wrotting items have begun to release liquids which are forming into a soup at the bottom.

Someone opened the milk jug and drank straight from it. It was bad milk, chunky milk, sour milk. They immediately spit what was in their mouth out. The projectile spoiled milk is now dripping into the vegetable draw joining what already dwells below.

Two weeks have passed. There is now an inch of fury mold covering the entire drawers contents. It looks like that scene in Gremlins where the gremlin gets microwaved.

Someone finally notices the drawer. They remove the drawer from the fridge and take it to the backyard to hose it out. They get it outside and the phone rings. They go inside to answer it, it’s aunt Nelly. They get caught up in conversation and forget they were ever going to clean the drawer.

The drawer sits in the hot summer sun all day and festers away. A skunk comes from miles away, he is lured by the scent. That night after a fifteen mile trek the skunk finally reaches the drawer. It gets right up next to it. Even the skunk is not prepared for it’s putrocity. The skunk throws up into the drawer, it then sprays as it feels threatened by the scent. The overall remaining scent is how I smell except their is a slight sweetness to my scent that only bug spray can add.

Food. I was so worried about running out of food that I essentially starved myself our first few days of hiking. Foolish, without a doubt, yes, but fear will make you do crazy things. Now that I stand only four days away from resupply I have become far more carefree with food. This doesn’t make up for the fact that I was only eating about a thousand calories a day those first few days. I’ve probably already lost about eight pounds. I’m not too worried though, it’s just less weight I have to carry.

Soreness and misconceptions. I was in no way shape or form prepared for how difficult this trail would be. The endurance I had from college swimming also seems to matter very little in the mountains.

Pause. Please don’t think I’m not enjoying this, I am. I just currently am in a severe state of hurt that makes my whole demeanor a little more unpleasant. I very much over estimated my own physical preparedness and was not ready fir how tired and sore I would be each and every day, but everyone we’ve met says Maine and New Hampshire are the worst and if we can do those the rest will be a breeze.

Old Man River caught back up to us. He impresses me more every day.

“Hiked 19 miles today.” He said as he set his pack down in the shelter. I noticed he had a strip of bug tape wrapped around the fishing hat he wore and it was covered with hundreds of Mosquitos and flies.

“Got rid of my heavy leather boots. More trouble than their worth.” He said. “I also must have lost my tent poles somewhere further back cause they aren’t in the case.” He said. “I gotta get to Monson by Tuesday afternoon or I’m screwed. I’ll be all out of food.” He said.

I decided at this point hiking was risky business and I would perfer my parents not partake, I worry enough about them without fearing they might end up dead in the woods.

He said our other former shelter mates were nowhere in sight so they must be really far back now. He also said since he’d be at his cabin in Maine the next week that he’d be glad to pick us up and give us a ride into Caratunk. This marked our second sign of trail magic. I wrote down his number with every intention of taking him up on his offer.

Trail names. Matt has decided to go back to one of his old trail names and will be called Mud from this point forth. I have been thinking about what mine should be for the last several days.

OMR said, “Might as well pick one for yourself soon cause you won’t see too many people going SOBO. Probably won’t be anyone to assign you one.”

Upon hearing this I decided to combine Sarah’s and Mud’s suggestions. Mud suggestion Pyro cause I’m the only one that ever builds fires at camp. Sarah suggested Peter Pan since I don’t ever want to grow up and I want to be young forever. This led to me deciding on Triple P to make it more time convenient.

Rose – Picking a trail name.
Bud – Getting to our next rest point
Thorn – Finding three new blisters

Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 5 Comments »

Departing On My 23rd Birthday

Friday, June 4th, 2010

The pack is loaded and heavy. This is my first post from my phone. I’m writing an hour into my 23rd birthday and six hours from departure. I’m anxious, excited, nervous as hell and scared to death. I’m pretty sure all this stress is only exacerbating my IBS. For those who aren’t personally familiar with me that term will make more sense later on I’m sure.

I’ll probably be packing and repackong all night. My nervous tick is constant rechecking. Even with all there is to do I have found some time to be a little sad. I’ll miss all my relationships from home more than anything. I’ll miss my girlfriend, my family, my friends, all my foxes at FME, and everyone I’ve grown to love so much.

As my mom says though, “Fine ships aren’t meant for safe harbors,” so it’s time to set sail, sleep under the stars, eat dried meat, watch a sunset, and poop in the woods.

Tags: , , , , , | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 3 Comments »

Newer Entries »