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Night 33: The Baldpates and The Beer Poet

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

Celebrating the view from above Baldpate West Peak

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

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

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

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

“You all ready to go?” Caretaker asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rough.” I said.

“Yeah it sucks ass.” The boy said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds alright to me.” I said.

“You a thru hiker?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That last section was awful.” I said.

“When did you start?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rose – Meeting The Beer Poet,

Bud – Getting closer to leaving Maine.

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

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

Night 32: On The Trail Again

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

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

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

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

Mt. Goat seemed to be in a weird mood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not too much.” She said.

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

“Yeah.” She said.

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

“I’m looking at them.” She said.

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

“I like that.” She said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” She said.

“Night, I love you.” I said.

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

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

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

Thorn – Hearing how sad Sarah was.

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

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

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

Mountain Goat on an ATV with his dog.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry.” I said.

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

“That’s terrible.” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” I said.

“What about mushrooms?” Mt. Goat asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I feel the same way.” I said.

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

Rose-Understanding Mt. Goat a little better.

Bud- Getting back on the trail.

Thorn- New York Lawyers downer lives.

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

Night 30: Bored On The 4th Of July

Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, thanksTiny Tim.” Nightcrawler said.

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

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

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

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

“Sweet.” He said.

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

“What’s Dreamscape?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Night 29: An Old Goat Returns

Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010

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

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

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

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

“Want to go hiker cruising?” He asked.

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

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

“Sounds good.” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep.” They said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about AC Farm?” I asked.

“You mean Farm-A-Sea?” He asked.

“Is that what his name was?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They look amazing.” Thrillbilly said.

They tasted amazing too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Night 28: Driving To Devil’s Den

Monday, August 2nd, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s warm.” He said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rose- Going to Devil’s Den and swimming.

Bud- Getting more ankle strength.

Thorn- Cold water at Devil’s Den.

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

Night 25: One Last Night of Mud

Thursday, July 29th, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rose – ATVing.

Bud- Getting one more day into the healing process.

Thorn – Mud packing his things.

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

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

Monday, July 5th, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rose- The Mexican feast.

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

Thorn – Being so damned tired.

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

Night 19: Stratton, Sue, & Soccer

Monday, July 5th, 2010

The Sign For The Stratton Motel & Hostel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We were both soaking wet and miserable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rose- US World Cup victory.

Bud – Hitting the trail again.

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

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

Night 18: The Bigelow Mountains & Grump

Monday, July 5th, 2010

Avery Peak atop Bigelow Mountain

Tuesday, 6-22-2010
17.5 Miles Hiked, 1,996.4 Miles to Springer

Picachu beat us out of the shelter this morning. He packed his things and left before Mud and I had even emerged fully from our sleeping bags.

As I put my pack on today it felt a hundred times better. Now that I had a shirt on and it wasn’t sitting directly on the burns it had inflected a day earlier I felt ready to hike again.

We left West Carry Pond lean-to at 7:29 A.M. and headed out hoping for a decent day of mileage. Picachu had told us that the hiking ahead was easy for the first seven miles until we hit the first lean-to.

We cruised up Roundtop Mountain, across Long Falls Dam road, Bog Brook, East Flagstaff roads, and hit Little Bigelow lean-to for some lunch and a rest. As we ate lunch we both knew that our first 4,000 foot mountain since Katahdin was waiting down the trail.

Little Bigelow was an ass kicker of a warm up and from its peak you were positioned looking straight up at Bigelow Mountain or Avery Peak as it’s also known. It lurked over a 1,000 feet above the mountain on which I sat eating my crackers and peanut butter.

While I sat eating I got a text from my sister on a two day delay, “Hope u r having a blast we find out what baby is tomorrow.”

“My guess is a boy.” I texted.

“U r wrong” She texted back.

My streak was over, I had been four for four on family pregnancies, but apparently I’d lost the gift. I also found out from facebook that my college swim coach was having a baby boy. Little Bigelow Mountain had brought a large amount of baby news into my life.

I walked on and Bigelow seemed to grow with each step I took. Its presence became more and more dominating as I descended Little Bigelow toward the valley before the ascent up Bigelow.

I caught up to Mud just before Bigelow. We stopped to drink some water and have a quick snack before we headed up. We noticed ‘bear warning’ signs stapled to several trees. There was a black bear that frequented this area and liked hikers food according to the sign. I was glad we wouldn’t be staying in this section for any length of time.

I sat on my pack drinking water and looked up at Bigelow Mountain. Mud had already headed toward the base of the mountain to start while I was still packing my stuff.

“Holy shit. It’s straight up.” Mud shouted from 100 yards ahead. He was now outside my field of vision, covered by green trees, and gray boulders.

With pack loaded and my feet moving again it didn’t take long for me to see what Mud was bitching about. Safford Notch had steep boulder filled inclines, but all the fallen boulders created little caves between them that blew cold air out like air conditioning units. Safford Brook Trail picked up right where the notch ended and it continued the steep ascent upward.

My pace was much slower than usual today. I had to stop for an extra long snack break about halfway and I was taking sit down water breaks every fifteen minutes. Mud was surely out of shouting distance by this time.

My head broke the treeline and the world changed.

The panoramic views that began to form were the best ones I’d seen so far. I could see the peak from where I was, now that trees no longer impeded my vision field. I could see the old stone construction fire tower atop the mountain and I could see Mud seated Indian style atop the boulder that marked the highest point on the mountain.

Exhaustion was getting the better of me today. I trudged up the final few hundred yards of mountain before the peak, panting, dragging my feet, and sore as hell, but none of that mattered.

Everything around me was spectacular, gorgeous, no word could do it true justice. It was perfect. I got to the top, motivated to move more quickly with each new piece of the view that revealed itself. As I reached the peak I acknowledged Mud with a wave and then dropped my pack, the thud made no sound because the wind at the top was deafening. I stood and walked around the fire house in circles just taking everything in for a twenty minutes.

Mud and I took turns playing king of the mountain on top of the boulder that was the highest point and we each took our share of posed pictures. For those few brief moments on top of that boulder that overlooked the world, we weren’t just hikers. We were kings, kings of this mountain anyways.

The views tugged at my heart to stay and never leave, but the whipping cold winds stung my face and told me to get out while there was still sunlight. Mud and I left after almost an hour and a half up top and headed for our second 4,000 footer of the day, the highest peak of the day, Bigelow Mountain (West Peak).

The rocks leading from where we were to where we were headed were jagged, spaced far enough apart to be difficult, and they were perfect for catching, tripping, twisting, and breaking ankles. I took my time, slow and easy, and Mud seemed to have wings as he was flying down the rocks.

After the two 4,000 footers we had one mountain standing between us and food and sleep. South Horn didn’t seem too bad at 3,831 feet. The descent from there to the shelter was actually really cool. From the peak you could see the shining roofs of the shelters and the pond that sat near by. It was a sign of hope, and a sign that rest was coming.

Mud got there well before me. I entered the Horns Pond campground and almost immediately met Jeff, the campground caretaker. He was talking to an older couple out for a weekend trip. The couple told me they had good friends from my home town, the world seemed a manageable size again.

Jeff pointed towards the shelter and I arrived to see Mud and all his gear on one side of the shelter and someone’s gear all over the other side, but no person to go with it.

“Whose stuff is that?” I asked.

“It’s Grump.” Mud said. Grump was a 70 year old man section hiking the trail. We knew of him because almost every northbounder we ran into had something to say about him, or had told us to say hi from them if we ran into him. Everyone who had met him seemed to adopt him as a father or grandfather.

Jeff the caretaker came to our shelter to have us register for the night. He showed us the food storage, trash cans and explained that bear bags weren’t necessary here.

“The bears won’t really come above 2,000 feet into what’s known as the Alpine Zone. There just isn’t anything for them to eat here. We only see bears this high if there’s a drought or if the bears are overpopulated.” Jeff said.

Jeff pointed out the areas in camp where the moose frequent, and showed us how the vegetation was more eaten away in these sections. He gave us a brief history of the Bigelow Mountains and of Myron Avery, the man responsible for the much of what is the Appalachian trail today.

“Did you guys here about the wind towers?” He asked.

“We’ve been seeing fliers at the shelters.” I said.

“The towers are going to be put on the mountains that the Bigelow range overlooks. Its going to destroy that whole view. Their going to have to level half the mountains just to build a forty yard road to be able to bring in the towers and then once they get the towers up there’s going to be hundreds of these wind towers the size of sky scrapers covering the mountains. It’s going to drastically change the view. It’s a shame. The views from Avery Peak get nominated every year for best views on the AT and it’s won best view on the trail several times.” Jeff said.

“The locals saved the mountain years and years ago when some Westcoast developers wanted to turn the range into the Aspen of the East, and it seems that they saved it for nothing cause the towers are going up whether we like it or not.” He said.

Jeff finished informing us and had moved on to the man at the shelter next door.

I got out of the shelter and was headed to the pond to fill up my water when Jeff stopped me. He pointed down the path towards the privy.

“It’s a mother and her calf.” He said as he pointed out the huge mother moose and her tiny baby. They were eating leaves off a tree and just staring at us, they didn’t seem to care that we were there.

“You can take pictures, but if she cocks her ears back get out of the way because that means she’s going to charge to defend her calf.” He said.

I walked quickly back to the shelter to get Mud. Grump was back in the shelter too so he came with us. We all took picture after picture, but it had begun to get dark and it was hard to make out what we were taking pictures of, so we just watched them.

“There’s people in Maine who raised a few moose from the time they were calves and now they ride them around like horses.” He said.

I immediately had flashbacks to being five and lying on my stomach on the carpet of my parents house watching Swiss Family Robinson.

Grump, Mud, and I followed the moose as they moved around camp, just enjoying them for what they were. Something spooked them and they ran.

Grump told me he wasn’t sure if his disposable camera had taken any good photos and asked if I would email mine to him.

“I’d be glad to.” I said.

Grump may have been 70 but he had the attitude of someone much younger, he seemed so hopeful about life. He seemed certain that every day would be better than the next. He even looked like one of the seven dwarfs with his sagging cheeks and big smile, but he didn’t look grumpy.

“How’d you get the trail name? You seem pretty happy to me.” I said.

“Well the whole reason I’m out here is that I promised myself when I turned 65 and retired that I’d let myself see Baxter Peak as a birthday and retirement present. I hadn’t always planned on starting in Georgia before I saw the peak, but it seemed right.” He said.

“I was able to retire a year early at 64 and I decided my trail name should be Rump, for retired, united, Methodist, pastor. My wife didn’t think rump sounded right for a retired pastor so she added the G. It took me a couple days to realize she had called me a grump.” He said as he laughed.

“The whole Grump thing spiraled out of control and now my daughters and wife get me all this seven dwarfs grumpy stuff and they bought me this hat.”

He handed me the hat that read “CAUTION, GRUMPY OLD MAN.”

“I tell people right now that the acronym stands for grateful, retired, united Methodist, pastor. I’m grateful I’m retired, that them church politics is the dirtiest in the world.” He said and then paused.

“Ah, scuse me, I’m not supposed to let out trade secrets.” He said as he trailed off mumbling.

“Now, I’ll talk your ear off, so if I’m talking too much just say, ‘Grump, you’re retired, quit preaching. I promise I won’t be offended.” He said

“Okay.” We said.

Grump didn’t false advertise, he talked and talked. He told us he first fell in love with the ME mountains when he was stationed in Bangor with the Air force.

“They fascinated me.” He said.

“Is that what made you want to hike?” Mud asked.

“Something about being the first one in the continental US to see the sunrise just did it for me. Hiking in ME and getting to do that made me want to hike everywhere.” He said.

“When I started my thru hike five years ago I made it to West Virginia. I started out with a 65 pound pack and the ranger at Springer told me I wouldn’t be able to carry it so I of course did. Being stubborn for me is like that Hank Williams song, ‘Family Tradition,’ it’s a tradition in my family to do things the hard way. It was mostly so heavy because I like to carry about a months worth of food at a time. I probably had enough trail mix to get me to Katahdin. With my food I have a rule too, nothing I have to cook cause I refuse to carry a stove. ” He said. “I’m funny like that, won’t carry a stove, but I always carry a shortwave radio.”

He told us before he was married when he was in the Air Force one of his wives best friends asked him if her friend, Judy, could write him letters. He said he agreed because he wanted to get mail and he knew the only way to get mail on base was to write to someone and have them write back. He said they corresponded all year and that summer she came to his town to visit.

They went to a church service at his local church and he said when the pastor introduced Judy to the church he introduced her as his fiance.

“That evening her and this best friend showed up, and I can mark the spot in my front yard. They pulled in the driveway and I went up and talked to them and Judy looked me in the eye and said, ‘Am I really your fiance?’ I said, ‘I don’t see why not.” He said

Mud and I laughed.

“That was probably in late July, early August. I think early August, and she set the date for December 27th. We drove out to my sisters in Oregon for our honeymoon.” He said.

Something about the way he described his marriage, and how it came to be seemed old fashioned, classic, and meant to be. It was like the lifetime commitment of marriage was no big thing and he came into it by diving head first, on a summer night, in his parents driveway at 22 years old. He was either incredibly in love, brave, or mentally unstable. I think he must have been all three.

Grump had only good things to say about his life and his stories made me laugh. He reminded me of my own grandfather, rest his soul.

I remembered how much I used to love to just listen to him talk about his life, about being dirt poor, living on his own with his father as a child, waking up in the same bed as his dead father at fourteen on a cold winter day, about sailing the Great Lakes all of his adult life, about meeting my grandmother, about raising my dad and his sister, about living small town, living simple, and living happy.

Grump was a reminder to this young, wayward traveler of the man I one day hope to be, and the stories I one day hope to have to share with any young person that will listen.

Rose – Meeting Grump

Bud – Stopping in Stratton for resupply

Thorn – The descent from Bigelow

Tags: appalachian trail, Bigelow mountains, calf, caretaker, composting., grump, horns pond, maine, moose, nice privy, thru hike, thru hiker | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 2 Comments »

Appalachian Trail Hiker

Posts Tagged ‘maine’

Night 33: The Baldpates and The Beer Poet

Night 32: On The Trail Again

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

Night 30: Bored On The 4th Of July

Night 29: An Old Goat Returns

Night 28: Driving To Devil’s Den

Night 25: One Last Night of Mud

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

Night 19: Stratton, Sue, & Soccer

Night 18: The Bigelow Mountains & Grump

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Posts Tagged ‘maine’

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