Posts Tagged ‘maine’

Night 16: A Trail Angel Earns His Wings

Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010

Sunday, 6-20-2010
5.7 Miles Hiked, 2,027.9 Miles to Springer

A trail angel is someone who performs trail magic. Trail magic is basically any kind deed done for a hiker with no expectation of getting anything back in return. Trail magic could include: Giving a hiker a lift into town, leaving a cooler, marked ‘for thru hikers’ full of soda and food at a trail head, offering up your home for a night, taking a hiker for a fast food lunch, handing out freezie pops on a hot day, any of these would qualify.

We were ecstatic from the time we woke up today. Mud was feeling much better and both of us were excited to restock, shower, do laundry,maybe stop at a fast food joint, and charge our phones, cameras and selves.

When we left Pleasant Pond lean-to it was only 5.7 miles to U.S. 201, Caratunk, ME, where Old Man River was going to pick us up.

A hot topic between Mud and I the past few days had been Old Man River, and whether he was just a really nice guy trying to help some hikers out or a ruthless murderer luring us back to his cottage for a night drugging, endless torture, and eventual murder or human centipeding.

As we started on our hike I said, “Man, I really hope he doesn’t just pick us up, take us somewhere and murder us.”

“Yeah, that would suck. Have you told anyone we’re going to his house today?” Mud asked.

“I told my parents, Sarah, and all my friends that I’ve talked to. Plus I wrote about it in my journal, and left a recording on my regular tape recorder, and the tape recorder on my iPhone listing all the info I know about him; his name, his trail name, his phone number, where he said he was from, where he said he was taking us and a brief description of what he looks like. So, I mean, if we do get drugged, tortured, and murdered they should be able to trace it back to him.” I said.

“Oh, okay, good.” Mud said as he laughed.

“Yeah, plus I made my facebook status; ‘Old Man River’s house tomorrow.’ So the whole world should know now.” I said.

“You think we could take him if he tried anything, we could take him, I think.” Mud said.

“Yeah we could probably take him, unless he has a gun. Also I’m worried he’ll offer to feed us and there will be crushed up drugs in the food to knock us out. Cause if we get drugged we really aren’t fighting back.” I said.

We went through scenario after scenario of ways Old Man River might try to of us. I’m not sure why we were so worried. He seemed very nice and he had only looked and acted like a normal person around us, but isn’t always the ones you least expect?

The 5.7 miles flew by and we had reached the trail head at Caratunk parking lot thinking there must be a mistake, 5.7 miles isn’t supposed to be that easy and quick.

Neither of us had any service in the town of Caratunk, established 1840, according to the sign that marked the entranced into the town which was a really just one street with several massive, old, tin roofed houses. Half the houses were either empty, falling apart, or for sale.

“I’m going to go find the post office and see if I can find service anywhere.” I said. I left Mud on the steps of an abandoned looking one room school house at the front of the street. Halfway up the street I realized my glasses weren’t on my head and I had taken my contacts out cause they were bothering me. I started squinting to see if any of the old buildings were going to distinguish themselves as the town’s post office.

I felt like I had been walking forever. I crossed a concrete bridge that over looked a stream. All of the sudden two junk yard dogs ran off a porch of a junkyard looking house and yard and began circling me, barking and snarling, teeth a blazing.

I stopped movie and just stood still as they barked and snarled.

“Nice doggies,” I said “You guys are nice doggies, right, okay…please stop circling me and go back. Go back.” I said in a calm more effeminate voice. I set my hands down at my side and the brown snarling dog came up to me an started licking my fingers. “Thank god I just ate peanut butter with my fingers for lunch.” I thought. Once the brown dog had been won over the black one followed suit and both were now letting me pet them.

I found the post office just diagonal from the junk yard house. It too looked just like all the homes on the street. I still had no service. There was a public phone outside the post office which I tried to use, but it informed me I would need an access code to use it, and with the post office closed I didn’t think I’d be getting that code.

I headed back down the street toward Mud. There was an old man working in his massive garage which looked like an old barn and was attached to an especially spectacular white Victorian house. Above the garage was a sign indicating the house had been built in 1888.

“Excuse me  sir? I shouted toward the garage, trying to be heard above the sounds of the tools.

“Yes , son.” He said.

“Is there anywhere in town I might get service or a place I could use a public phone?” I asked.

“The post office has one I think.” He said.

” tried that one, but it said I needed an access code.” I said.

“Oh, hmmmm, well, wait one second and I’ll let you use my phone.” He said.

I dialed Old Man River’s number to verify where to meet him.

“Is this John?” He said as he answered.

“No, it’s Justin.” I said.

“Yeah, Justin.” He said.

“Oh no, sociopaths usually don’t learn their victims names so they won’t sympathize with them, maybe this is one of those things.” I thought.

“Do you want to meet us in the parking lot at the trail head or the post office?” I asked.

“Trail head one s fine.” He said. “I’m about twenty minutes away.”

“Okay, no rush, thanks again, and see you soon.” I said.

“Is that someone you know in Maine?” Asked the man whose phone I was using.

“Someone we met hiking. He’s got a cabin he’s taking us to for the night so we can shower and do laundry and restock on food.” I said.

“That’s really nice.” The old man said.

“Yeah, it is. We’re just hoping he’s not taking us someplace in the woods  to murder us.” I said

“Hahahahaha. ‘Takin’ ya somewhere to murder ya,’ I’d certainly hope not. Better sleep with your knife close to your chest. Hahahaha.” He laughed.

“Thanks for the phone.” I said as I walked down the street back toward Mud.

We headed back to the trail head parking lot to wait.Every car that slowed just slightly at the tralihead entrance caught out attention and made our hearts swell with anticipation.

After several cars played games with our hearts Old Man River arrived in his Texas plated Ford SUV. He dropped off another hiker at the bottom of the hill and then gunned it up the hill to where we were.

“Coke or Diet Coke?” He asked as he pulled a cooler full of ice cold soda cans out.

“Coke.” Both Mud and I replied.

Mud gave me the go ahead to take shotgun and he took the backseat. Maybe he figured the shotgun passenger would be the first to be murdered if that’s what Old Man River was really interested in.

“You guys want to stop and get some fast food on the way. It’s about 58 miles to my cottage. I’ve got dinner taken care of, but we could stop somewhere now or we could go back and you can shower and we could stop on our way to Walmart for your resupply.” He said.

“Let’s stop now.” Mud and I agreed.

“We’ve got McDonalds, Pizza Hut, Burger King, and Subway.” Old Man River said. It was so nice to hear the names of all my oldest, dearest friends.

“You choose.” I said to Mud.

“Okay, how bout Burger King?” Mud said.

“Sounds good to me.” I said.

After Old Man River who used to work in the food industry, informed me that the One Buck Double was Burger Kings biggest money loser because it cost 80 cents to produce because of all the meat it uses I chose that one. I also ordered a whopper junior, a value fried and a value soda. I was living like a king, a burger king. I couldn’t resist.

We finished lunch and headed to Old Man River’s cottage which he told us sat right on a lake. This information caused me to the of the Judd Nelson movie I Cabin On The Lake. I was not interested in suffering the fate of the people in that movie who all become pieces of an underwater garden of corpses.

“Where’s the cottage?” I asked.

“Palmyra, Maine. The town just turned 200 a few years ago.” He said. I noticed the Palmyra sign as we past it driving into town. I figured he probably wasn’t going to kill me if he was giving me accurate information on where we were going. I texted all the information he gave me to people back home.

We made a couple of left turns that took us onto some gravel roads, one of which led to the cottage right on the lake. It was wood construction, brown siding with two decorative white geese wood cut outs hanging from the front. It was quaint, unpretentious, and had the best view the lake had to offer.

Mud got the first shower. I went through my pack and got my dirty close out so they’d be ready to be washed. I also set aside the items I planned to send home; my huge Gerber stabbing knife, my 50% wool, 50% cotton hat, my Indians baseball cap, and some extra emodium tablets.

“The pressures not great, but it gets the job done.” Mud said as he walked back into the family room where I had my things sprawled out.

I headed to the shower. I felt I smelled less offensive than when I exited the 100 miles wilderness, but there seemed to be more dirt spiraling down the the drain this time. After we were both clean and our laundry was done, and we’d each talked to loved ones, Old Man River took us to Walmart.

It started storming just as we left the cottage. You could hear the rain and thunder through the Walmart ceiling. Walmart was a heaven to our hungry eyes. We only needed to resupply for two to two and half days at the most. By the time I left I had probably bought as much food as I brought with me into the 100 mile wilderness.

After we returned from Walmart Mud and I put Animal House in the DVD while Old Man River read on the back screen porch and fished on the dock.

6:00 P.M. rolled around and so did the feast Old Man River had been preparing. He made a huge chicken pot pie which he cut into thirds, giving each of us a third. He steamed carrots, green beans, and the sweetest corn on the cob. He gave us potatoes the size of footballs and warm bread that melted the butter I spread on it in seconds.

Once the feast ended Old Man River even took and cleaned our dishes. The three of us hung out in his back yard and talked. He told us about his son and two daughters, and his grandkids and wife. He told us how loons are very territorial so usually you’ll only find two per lake. He told us about his life, and he treated us like we were family.

The sun set and the mosquitos came out in full force. Mud and I moved inside to the screen porch. Old Man River went into the house and was gone for a while. After a few minutes he came out from inside the house. In each hand he held a bowl the size of my head filled with shortcake, strawberries, strawberry juice, and piled six inches high with whipped cream.

“Thank you so much.” Both Mud and I said as he went back inside to get his bowl.

While he was inside I turned to Mud and said, “Oh no, he already drugged, tortured, and murdered us and now we’re in heaven eating desert.”

“I don’t think so.” Mud said. “This is like being on vacation from our vacation.”

“Yeah it is.” I said as I devoured the desert.

After licknig our bowls clean we headed back inside and sat in the family room.

“You up for another movie before we go to bed?” I asked Mud.

“Sure.” He said.

“My vote is for either Stand By Me or Dead Poets Society.” I said.

“Dead Poets Society sounds good to me.” Mud said.

We watched the movie while Old Man River read his book on the history of L.L. Bean. He eventually set the book down and joined us halfway through the movie.

Ir was weird cause I’d seen the movie when I was younger, but I had no recollection at all of the whole suicide scene that the movie basically hinges on. I spent the movie typing away on my phone trying to catch up on my blogging which I always seem to be behind on. I spent hours on one post just to think I lost it when it no longer appeared on my phone. I eventually found it and was relieved beyond belief.

Mud and I flipped a coin earlier to see who got  the bedroom with the queen bed and AC. I wont the toss. Old Man River was nice enough to take the pull out couch so that we could each have a bed.  I turned the AC on high in my room and shut the door. I decided not to lock it because I figured if he was really going to murder me it would have already happened. I texted Sarah “Goodnight” and “Love you.”

Rose – All of Old Man River’s Trail Angel deeds

Bud – Tomorrow is National Hike Naked Day

Thorn – We only hiked 5.7 miles, another nero day.

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Night 13: The Return of an Old Friend

Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010

Shaw's Boarding House

Thursday, 6-17-2010
9Miles Hiked, 2,055.6 Miles to Springer

Today began much like yesterday, except I woke up in a bed for the first time in almost two weeks, and I woke up at 5:00 A.M. to finish as much of my remaining blog posts as I could before I returned to the wild.

The AYCE breakfast was just like yesterday except better in my opionion cause it was french toast today instead of pancakes. Breakfast was also extra special because we were joined by our old friends Katie and Phoenix who were staying down the street at Lakeshore House. They were joined by their two friends Promethius and Achilles who hitchhiked out of the 100 mile wilderness just before we met Katie and Phoenix. Achilles said his heel was almost fully recovered.

“How’s Kodos doing?” I asked, remembering how raw her paws were when we last saw them.

“Not so good. I’ll be here for a while so they have a chance to heal. The vet suggested I buy her some of those baby socks with the grips which I’m definetly going to do cause right now she looks so awkward and uncomfortable walking around in my big wool socks.” She said.

“That’s a really good idea.” I said. “Have you thought about maybe sending her home?” I asked

“My parets were actually waiting for us at the end of the 100 mile wilderness as a birthday surprise. When we came out there were just standing there and I was like, ‘Aaaah, this is awesome.’” She said.

“What a great birthday surprise.” I said. “I guess you decided not to have them take Kodos home?” I asked.

“No, but I did give them my banjo so if I have to carry Kodos ou I won’t be carrying her and the banjo on my back.” She said.

Our conversation was interrupted by a lively woman who appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties. She had a young looking face, but under her baggy purple shirt that read, “World’s Funnest Aunt,” were a pair of boobs, appearing to be untamed by a bra that suggested she was no spring chicken.

“How’d you earn that title?” I asked as I pointed at her shirt.

“Well, I’ve got a niece and a nephew who think their Aunt Bekah is really fun.” She said.

“Well, you can’t argue with facts like that.” I said. The personality she carried herself with, the metalic purple nailpolish on her toes, her high cut black sophie shorts, and the boldness of her lack of bra all suggested she was a free spirit and didn’t really buy into the idea of age.

“Hi!” She said to Katie, Phoenix, Promethius, and Achilles as if she were surprised to find them here when she came her knowing this is where they were.

“Ive got a list of chores on the table when you guys get back, cause I’ll be out, my kids been dry heaving all night, poor thing.” She said.

By this point I put together that this was the Rebekah who owned Lake Shore House, the other hiker hostel in town and she was here to deliver our friends work for stay chores.

She handed Promethius a letter and asked him to read it to himself. Neither of them ever said what the letter said.

Rebekah did say, “I remembered you said you only had seven dollars left in your pocket and I wasn’t expecting this money to ever come my way so why don’t you keep it and get a little further down the trail.” She said as she handed Promethius a fifty dollar bill that come with the letter.

“Wow, trail magic at its best.” I thought.

As Rebekah left we all started talking again. Phoenix told us he though he’d be getting off the trail soon.

“I might try and hitch to Rock Island, IL, or maybe California and stay with some friends til school starts.” He said.

I was sad to hear he’d be leaving the trail, but we swapped contact information so we could stay in touch and he told me if I was ever in St. Petersburgh he has an open door policy regarding guests. “Just give me a call and I’d be glad to have you.” He said.

“Goodbye.” I said and he walked out the screen door and it slammed hard as he left.

As Phoenix was heading out a man staying at Shaw’s from Bedford, PA, who was marching his overweight son and his friend to Harper’s Ferry to help them both lose weight told us that someone was here to see us.

“Who the hell needs to see us?” I thought. “Everyone we know in Maine is right here with us.”

I hardly recognized him now that he was clean shaven and wearing civilian clothing. It was Old Man River.

“You made it out! You’re alive!” I said.

“Yeah. Didn’t make it too much further after I last saw you guys.” He said.

“I got about two meals worth of food from some guys I met, but my ankles just got too bad, s I walked down an old service road and hitched a ride back to my car in Monson.” He said.

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re okay.” I said.

“You know you don’t have a voicemail set up.” He said. “How are you going to call someone and tell them to call you back and leae a message when you don’t have a voicemail and your phone doesn’t have service?” He said in a more serious tone.

I just know realized that he had driven to Sahw’s because he had no other way of getting a hold of us. “I’m sorry. I just got this phone right before I left and I guess I never set it up.” I said.

“Anyways, I was thinking I could meet you in the post office parking lot at Caratunk on Sunday. Since the post office doesn’t open til Monday and the Kennebec River Ferry only run 9:00-11:00 A.M. I thought I’d take you guys to my cottage. You can shower, do laundry, and just get some rest and eat some good food and then I’lll get you back in time for the post office and the ferry on Monday.

“That would be awesome.” I said. “So what time should we meet you Sunday?” I asked

“I’ll be in the parking lot at noon.” e said.

“Okay, see you then.” I said.

“Set up your voicemail.” He said as he walked out the door.

“I will.” I said.

By 11:00 A.M. Mud and I were both getting antsy to be back on the trail. Ashleigh drove us back to where we hitchhiked out and we hit the trail again.

Both of us were astonished at how light our packs felt compared to when we started the 100 mile wilderness. The six cups of coffee I had that morning hit me hard about fifteen minutes into our hike. I had to take a poop break, but I told Mud to go ahead and I’d catch up later. Mud and I walked by ourselves until we met at East Branch Picataquis River ford, another essential creek posing as a river in our guidebook.

The trail today was amazing. The ground was soft, elevation consistant, and I’m pretty certain we walked most of the day on what used to be old logging roads because all the massived pines alongside us were planted in perfectly uniform rows as through they were planted like crops. I’m guessing the logging company was required to reforest after they tore this area down years ago.

The terrain was calm I even walked the last two miles in my Teva sandals. The Tevas were great until about a half mile from the shelter I slipped, slammed my forearms into one boulder, and banged my right shin on another. I decided the Tevas will now be strictly for stream crossing.

Once we had reached the Horse Shoe Canyon lean-to, I posted the add Dawn had asked me to that lsited all of Shaw’s information. I then took out a Snickers and dipped it in my jar of Panner brand peanut butter after each bite.

My chocolate and peanut butter lunch was coma inducing. I passed out at 4:30 P.M. and didn’t wake until 7:45 P.M. It was either that Mud had crushed up a benedryl and slipped it into my nalgene so he wouldn’t have to talk to me, or after a three day rest my body wasn’t used to the hiking and I was wxhausted.

Napping with my contacts in left me with some nasty eyes boogers as I woke that left me blinded. I saw too dark figures as I blinked. Each stood in front of me and neither was Mud. I looked around the shelter. No Mud.

“Oh no, they’ve killed Mud and disposed of the body and I’m next.” I thoguht. My vision began to clear as I wiped my groggy eyes. I saw Mud standing outside the shelter just outside my original field of vision.

I found out the men I thought were murderers were infact to SOBO hikers named Bishop and Abraham. They said they stayed in Monson extra long because they were closely following the world cup and were enjoying their days off and the cheap beer they found in town. They were both from Louisiana and both went to college at schools in the state that I’d never heard of. After talking some I found out both of their packs were half the weight of mine. I became envious and angry that they were carrying so much less. I think it was mostly because I was hungry and I’m never in a great mood right after a nap.

I made myelf some mac and cheeese and got in my sleeping bag. Today seemed way too easy and I knew In shouldn’t be this tired, but I was. I also knew if Maine was handing me an easy day it meant something awful would soon be on the way. I wrote til I fell asleep.

Rose – Old Man River is alive

Bud – Getting to Moxie Bald lean-to which Road Runner raved about

Thorn – Falling and bangnig my shin.

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Night 12: Shaw’s Lodge Angel, Dawn

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

Shaw's All You Can Eat Breakfast

Wednesday, 6-16-2010
O Miles Hiked, 2,064.6 Miles to Springer

Mud and I both slept soundly in our tents on the side yard of Shaw’s Lodge. It seems being clean can do wonders for your state of mind and ability to sleep comfortably. I woke up this morning feeling like I could take on anything, Unlike most nights in the shelter when I wake up six or seven times thinking I hear someone coming to murder me, I only woke up once from my sleep last night. It happened when Dawn left the house to drive a man named Suicidal to the bus stop.

Suicidal had come into the shelter late last night. The man who runs the Monson General store dropped him off at Dawns and said he needed to get back home because of an injured leg. Suicidal had the coloring of a Native American, and the long black and silver streaked hair to match.

“I got my trail name because my doctors told me I would die if I did the trail.” He said as he entered the Shaw’s hiker lounge. I wasn’t there for this part of the conversation, but Mud filled me in on what I missed.

We had heard about Suicidal from other hikers who had read his entries in the trail registers. Apparently his entries were pretty dark:

“I can’t go another day. I’m freezing. I’d rather be dead than be in this terrible pain. I think I’m losing circulation to my legs.” He’d write.

Apparently most of his entries went this way. We never read any of his but our hiker friends asked us if we knew what happened to Suicidal when we met them in Monson.

In the short time I saw suicidal I decided the doctors evaluation was right. His one leg was swelled to twice the size of his other normal leg and he could barely hobble let alone walk.

I stood in the kitchen and poured myself some coffee. Dawn returned from dropping Suicidal off at the bus station as I was adding my much missed cream and sugar and we got to talking.

“What ended up being wrong with him?” I asked

“I don’t know, but the way he talked and acted, I’d say he was probably a manic depressive who went off his meds.” Dawn said.

“Oh yeah, maybe that’s why they said he’s die, maybe he said he was going to go off his meds or something.” I said.

“Yeah, I don’t know.” She replied.

“So how long have you owned this place?” I asked Dawn as I sipped and She and the man who makes the AYCE breakfast began pulling things from the fridge.

“Since 1996.” Dawn said with avoice full of pride. I could tell she loved doing this, not because it made her rich, but because she loved to help hikers, and she loved the hiking culture.

“Do you live here year round?” I asked.

“Not anymore. I was a school teacher in Monson for 37 years. Now I spnd most of the year in Florida. I’m only her during the hiking season. I open with the Mountain (Katahdin) on May 15th and I close with it on Octber 15th.” She said.

“Very cool.” I said. “Do you mind if I get on your computer to update my blog?” I asked.

“Not at al.” She said. I worked on my blog while she and the the cook finished breakfast.

“Do you want two or three?” Dawn asked from the kitchen as the scent of bacon, potatos, sausage, and blueberry pancakes wafted my way. “Twor three means you get either two or three of eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, a full serving of potatos, OJ, and all the coffee you want. If you finish all that and you’re still hungry for more I’ll ask you two or three again and we’ll work from there.” She said.

“I’ll start with two.” I said from the other room.

“Two!” Dawn shouted to the man cooking.

I couldn’t seem to put a dent in my blogging. All the days in the 100 mile wilderness without service really set me back. No matter how fast I typed I still had pages and pages left.

“Your foods done, come eat it now while it’s hot and then you can get back to whatever you’re working on.” Dawn said.

Breaskfast was unreal. The over easy eggs, the seasoned potatos, the blueberry pancakes, the crispy bacon, the juicy suasage links, the sweet orange juice. Everything was perfect. I ate everything on my plate and then had a nother order of ‘two.’ Dawn sure did know how to fill a hungry hiker up.

After breakfast Mud and I lamented over the fact that neither of us were really ready to get back on the trail, but neither of us reall wanted to shell out another twelve dollars to sleep in the side yard again. As we both seemed down Mud reminded me to call Old Man River. As I dialed I hoped to hear him answer and find out he had made it out of the 100 mile wilderness alive and was still going to be able to take us into town at Caratunk for a resupply. There was no answer so I lecf another message.

“Hey, It’s Justin or Triple P. again, just wanted to find out if you could still take us into Caratunk for a resupply. Just give me a call back or leave a message.” I said.

Dawn grabbed her car keys. “I’m headed out to pick up some hikers from White House Landing. I won’t be back for a few hours. My daughter, Ashleigh will give you boys a ride back to the trail when you’re ready. It was wonderful meeting you. Good luck and send us a picture when you get to Springer and we’ll put it up on the wall.” She said.

“It was now or never.” I thought. If we were going to try to weasle are way into another night of stay for free I had to speak now or forever hold my peace.

“I know you said you don’t do work for stay, but what if I put a full page listing for Shaw’s on my website?” I asked. “If I did that could we tent one more night for free?”

“Yeah, I like that sound of that.” She said. “I’ll tell you what I want on it when I get back.” Dawn said as she headed out the door.

“Sweet. Another day to recover.” Mud said.

“I know,I’m so happy we don’t have to leave yet.” I said.

With the knowledge that a full day off lay ahead Mud and I headed to the Monson library, which also happened to be the Town Hall and the Fire Station. I’m not sure whether it’s because the town reminded me of the setting of Northern Exposure or because the woman I met was actually on the show, but the librarian looked just like the old lady on that show who looks and sounds like she’s an old man.

“I’m a smoker she said,” As she got up for the second time in the five minutes I had been there to go outside for a smoking break.

“I couldn’t tell from your voice.” I thought.

I was more than ready to get cracking on my blog and really hammer out some serious writing. After typing in the URL I found out that apparently this county in Maine believes my blog may be a malicious site and it cannot be accessed on a public computer.

Defeated, I left the library and hit up the Monson General Store before I returned to Shaw’s. I felt bad using the houses computer for so long, but I really did need to catch up. I blogged while Ashleigh, 24, did her grad school reading and watched Gilmore Girls, it was oddly reminiscent of when I used to work on my homework while my older sister Caitlin watched the show in a trance like state. It reminded me of home.

Dawn returned home so Ashleigh headed out. Dawn sat on the couch and we talked while I worked.

“So how many kids do you have?” I asked.

“I’ve got Dana and Ashleigh who both work here with me in the summer, and then I’ve got two sons, one of them was my foster son, he’s the oldest.” She said.

“That’s great.” I said. This information only furthered my belief that Dwan just loved to help and care for people.

“Hey. I’m going to need the computer at 4:30 P.M. and then after that some of my girlfriends are coming over so this room will be off limits the rest of the night.” She said.

“Okay, thanks so much for letting me use the computer as much as I have. It’s just so much faster than typing on my iPhone.” I said.

When 4:30 P.M. came I went back to the hikers lounge and slaved away on my iPhone. I called Sarah, my parents, Coach, all my siblings, and a bunch of friends. Very few people answered, which bummed me out.

Just before dinner we met a NOBO thru hiker named Roadrunner. He was from Damascus, VA and told us he was finishing up before he started med school at Marshall. He said we chould give him a call when we get to the Virginia section and he’ll hook us up with some serious trail magic. He also told us that when he reaches Katahdin in four days it will only have taken him three and half months to finish his thru hike.

After metting Roadrunner I had dinner at the Mobile gas station; two slices of bacon pizza, and an Arizona Iced Tea Arnold Palmer, the dinner of champions.

When I returned to the hikers lounge that evening the weather channel was on. The forecaste called for heavy rains tonight. Since there were empty beds upstairs Dawn told us to pack up our tents and head upstairs and pick a room. She said it didn’t make any sense for us to stay outside and get everything soaked the day before we headed otu again. We got room eleveln which had a spot right near the window where I got perfect service so I blogged away.

We even had out own television in our room and the best thing we could find on that night was the Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis version of Freaky Friday. I knew I had been away from entertainment for too long because the movie was good, really good.

I got thirsty from all my blogging and headed down stairs. Dawn had a jar by the fridge and told us to put fifty cents in and take whatever soda we want out. I grabbed for a sunkist in the dark kitchen. I opened it, sipped it, and thought, “This Sunkist must be bad.” I looked at the can and realized I was drinking something called Moxie that also comes in an orange can. It tasted like bad cough syrup or what imagine crystal meth might taste like. After I finished my disgusting Moxie I returned to the kitchen at 1:00 A.M. needing another jolt to stay awake. This time I got the Sunkist I had been craving. By the time I called it quits I was almost caught up. I was pscyhed for the soft bed and clean sheets that awaited me and headed up stairs.

Rose – Getting to sleep in a bed.

Bud – Returning to the trail.

Thorn – Returning to the trail.

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Night 7: Time To Reflect

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

Underwater Picture Looking Up From The Creekbed Of Cooper Brook Falls

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Departing On My 23rd Birthday

Friday, June 4th, 2010

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

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

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

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