Posts Tagged ‘moose’

Night 38: Carter Hut Angels & Ghosts

Tuesday, March 8th, 2011

Monday 7-12-2010
15.2 Miles Hiked, 1866  Miles To Springer

I woke up early and ate a pop tart and some oat meal and watched an old episode of Boy Meets World. It was the one in which Corey and Topenga get married. In the wedding episode, Sean, Corey’s best friend and best man says in his toast that he knows he and Corey will never be best friends again and that’s the way it should be because from now on Topenga is Corey’s best friend. It made me think how once people get married all the friends and acquaintances that once meant so much kind of just fade into the background or fade out of your lives and are only heard from in Christmas cards, or birth announcements, and finally death notices. I wanted to keep my friends around when I got married, but is that really possible? I know for a fact that I don’t know any of my parents friends who they were friends with before they got married. Were all my friends just going to become a part of my past as soon as I said “I do?” That didn’t seem right, but it also seemed realistic, and maybe that’s just part of growing up.

I used the knock off icey hot on my ankle and knee and packed my stuff into the small day pack the hostel had loaned me to slack pack for the day. The small back pack was formerly the hostel owner’s daughter Ashleigh’s and her name was embroidered on the back pack. I put the small pack on and it, combined with my very short women’s dance shorts and with my bandanna on, it appeared that I may be a woman in transition to becoming a man or a man in transition to becoming a woman, either way the look wasn’t very flattering and I thought it might get me into trouble if I ran into any backwoods folks, but this was New Hampshire, liberal land, so I felt a little more at ease.

The woman who ran the hostel told me she was ready to go and could drive me back to where I got off the trail. She dropped me off and I walked down the road and across the street to where the trail disappeared back into the woods. Walking down the street I had to pass a crew of construction workers, and I was dreading the potential gay taunts or slurs, but was surprised that no one said anything and one of the workers even waved and said hello.

The two miles to that first shelter were a complete breeze. It was the flat mulch path I had always dreamed the whole trail would be. With my new short shorts and my ultralight back pack I felt like a completely new man/man wearing women’s shorts. My ankle and knee didn’t hurt in the slightest. Even the climb up Mt. Mariah wasn’t too bad, but right as I reached the summit it started thundering.

My mind went into instant panic mode and I pictured myself in one of those morgue drawers being pulled out so the family could identify me, but they can’t cause I’m charred to a crisp and I’m still smoking since this is my imagination. All my mom can say is, “Why was he so dumb to be hiking through an electrical storm,” and then the morgue guy makes some bad joke about whether anyone else smells chicken and my whole family starts laughing, it was a terrible vision and I needed to get off this exposed mountain top to at least put my mind at ease.

My descent was hurried and I was moving down this mountain as close to running pace as one can get without falling off the mountain. As I moved I heard a loud rustling in the trees to my right. I stopped in my tracks and the rustling grew louder and whatever it was in those pine trees was moving closer to the trail and closer to me. Whatever it was was now close enough that I could make out that it was massive and covered in black and brownish hair. It lifted it’s head up and I saw it’s glassy eyes through the branches.

“Shit, it’s thundering and now I’m going to get mauled by a bear.” I thought.

The rustling stopped.

I could still see it’s shining eyes through the thick pines. I decided to make a run for it. As I ran forward the rustling began again and what was rustling began running and broke the treeline out onto the trail in front of me. I stopped, and a very large mother moose with her baby calf at her side ran right in front of me. I was relieved it wasn’t a bear but I heard momma moose can be dangerous if they feel their calf is threatened. I stood very still, waited til both mother and calf were back into the woods on the other side of the trail and began running again.

I ran right until I found myself behind to older women.

“Are you running from that bear too?” They asked.

“No, I’m running from the thunder and some moose.” I said.

“Oh yeah we saw those moose too, but we’re moving to get away from that bear we just saw, you didn’t see him?” They asked.

“No.” I said.

Now I was running from the bear, and the thunder, and the moose. By the time I reached the next shelter the dark clouds had moved on and I no longer heard the rumblings of thunder. I decided at 1:30 P.M. that it was way too early to be stopping especially with how good I was feeling.

On my way out of Imp shelter I ran into TLC and Piece of Work, a retired couple who were nearing the end of their northbound thru hike. They informed me that I had four SOBO hikers ahead of me, two were thirty minutes ahead and two were one hour ahead and they were all headed to the Carter Hut, the same place I was headed. This wouldn’t have been bad news except that the huts will only take two thru hikers in for work for stay a night and right now I was number five. For those who don’t know, the huts are cabins in the White Mountains, they have fully equipped kitchens and staff and running water, and bunk houses. Rich people or normal people too I guess, pay 90-100 dollars a night to stay in these huts and sleep on a wooden bunk bead, but thru hikers get to sleep on the floor or kitchen tables for free in exchange for doing dishes, mopping, cleaning the pantry, and other odd jobs, hence the term work-for-stay.

I got back on the trail and booked it into full gear hoping to pass all the SOBO’s in front of me so that I could get the work for stay. I knew Abraham was still feeling sick as of yesterday so I really hoped he’d be slowing Bishop down too. I had no idea who the other SOBO’s might be.

I ran up N. Carter, W. Carter, and S. Carter mountains. I began seeing wet footprints on the boards laid down in the boggy areas. I knew I was close to someone. Within five minutes I’d passed Abraham and Bishop. Two down.

I got to Carter Dome and ran into a SOBO sectioner with no one with him, he couldn’t have been the other pair ahead of me. I started sprinting with only a mile to go. I’m a damn idiot, my ankle is busted so is my knee and I’m sprinting down and up this rocky mountain. I didn’t care though, I needed to get to that hut cause I didn’t have my tent in the small pack on my back and weather reports were calling for rain tonight.

As I made my final descent after the dome I could see the green tin roofs of the Carter Hut complex. I heard voices just ahead of me and they weren’t from the hut they were much closer. Just 30 yards ahead I saw two people, it was Monkey and Giggles.

“Hey Monkey and Giggles!” I shouted, hoping they’d stop to talk to me and then I would run passed them to the hut. Does this make me a bad person? I wasn’t sure, I mean if I got there first was there any argument as to who deserved it or who was good or bad?

“Hey! You’re back on the trail and you’re flying!” They said as they saw me running toward them full speed.

“Yep, feeling great.” I said knowing that as I passed them the work for stay was mine.

I busted through the huts front door and was greeted by two girls named Mary Anne and Uli, who I kid you not could have been runway models, and it wasn’t just my trail eyes making me think this, these girls were beautiful and the fact that they were living out in the woods all summer long only made them more beautiful.

Uli was Amazonian, tall, toned, had dark brown short hair, and piercing blue eyes. Mary Anne would have made Mary Anne from Gilligan’s Island look like a walking turd. She was thin but not too thin, wore a vintage sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder and short Sophies. She had golden hair, naturally rosy cheeks, and beautiful smile.

“What the hell is going on?” I thought. Trail girls are supposed to be ugly, it’s what they do best.

These girls would have made most men leave wives, leave girlfriends, at least consider being unfaithful, but the one thing these girls had going against them for me was that they weren’t Sarah. They didn’t have her laugh, and it’s a unique one, her smile, her attitude, her ability to know just what to say to make me smile or want to pick a fight. They didn’t make me want to be a better version of myself, and they didn’t make me crazy like Sarah did. I admired their beauty, but that’s all they were to me, two very beautiful girls and I’ve become sure that in this life beauty will fade, and it fades fast, and it definitely won’t be enough to make someone worth spending forever with. Boy Meets World has really made today a day of serious thinking.

“Can I get work for stay?” I asked the two girls. “I really need it cause I’m slacking this section and don’t have my tent and this is my first day back on after spraining my ankle.” I fibbed the truth a little hoping some sympathy for an injured hiker would seal the deal.

“Yeah, I think that’ll work.” Uli said.

A wave of relief flushed over me.

“Just go put your stuff in that shed over there.” She said.

I thought about hiding in the shed so I wouldn’t have to see the disappointed and perhaps angry faces of Monkey, Giggles, Bishop, and Abraham when they found out there would be no work for stay for them. And hide was what I did. I hid for ten minutes in the pantry shed and then I remembered that I was 23 years old and I’d really done nothing wrong except hike faster so I came out of hiding and decided I would face them.

It helped ease my conscience that I was the last work for stay because it meant that they couldn’t have taken two people and both couples I passed would only have taken it if they could have both stayed.

Abraham and Bishop arrived about an hour after me and about thirty minutes after Monkey and Giggles had already left. They were very unhappy to be turned away. The racist I spent the night in The Barn with showed up an hour after Abraham and Bishop and so did a Frenchmen. I felt bad for them, but mostly I felt lucky and grateful as I watched each of them head back to the trail while I got to stay put.

I waited outside with a man named E****, a NOBO who got the other work for stay for the night. He told me he was married, which shocked me because he was a young man, thirty at the oldest and I wondered how his wife was okay with him being gone this long.

“You must have a pretty cool wife to have her be okay with you doing this.” I said.

“I was going no matter what, so it didn’t matter if she was cool with it.” He said.

While I thought his wife must have been cool I now thought he sounded like a dick.

He then started telling me about how he was planning on doing another long hike next year too. It sounded to me like he was a man in an unhappy marriage and things weren’t going to get better, more likely things were going to end or he’d just spend the rest of his life walking through the woods avoiding his marriage, is there a difference?

I didn’t understand why this man was married if all he wanted to do was hike through the woods away from his wife. If I was married my wife would be with me, we’d be doing these adventures together, but he made it clear he didn’t want his wife there even she had wanted to be there with him. He made me sad. I didn’t ever want my life to be like his was.

After the five guests of the hut finished eating me and E**** were called in to eat the scraps the guests hadn’t finished and they were damn good. These hut people knew how to cook.

After we ate E**** was put on dish duty and I was told I would be in charge of taking all the cans out of the pantry and wiping down the shelves the next morning. I looked at the can filled pantry I’d be tackling in the morning and a mouse ran out of the sea of cans and had jumped onto the spoon leading into the bowl of grits. Mac, the cook and the head caretaker at Carter Hut grabbed the mouse by the tail and took it over to a bucket of bleach and dropped it in.

“When I take him out tomorrow all his hair will be burned off. It kills them pretty much instantly.” He said.

I didn’t imagine it killing it instantly. I figured the bleach probably filled the mouses lungs and it would struggle to stay afloat as more bleach poured into lungs until it’s body was filled with bleach and it was drowned and then it’s fur and any other identifying features would be burned off as it sat in the bucket over night. I felt so bad for this mouse. We were in his environment after all.

One of the hut girls who was visiting from another hut, Ashley, was here just for the night to hang out and had some great stories about the huts.

“A few years ago they found the preseason caretaker for the Lakes of the Clouds hut underneath the sink in the kitchen, pale as a line, clutching an axe in his hands and shaking. He hadn’t eaten in days.” She said as she dumped the remaining food into the compost bucket.

“What happened to him?” I asked.

“They didn’t get the story until a few days later when he was re hydrated and coherent.” She said.

“What did he say happened?” I asked.

“Well, it all started on the anniversary of the cog car crash. The cog is the train going up to Mount Washington and it got out of control and crashed killing everyone on board. It happened a long time ago, just around when the huts were being built. The night of the anniversary the caretaker, who was getting the hut ready for opening heard a knock at the front door right around sunset. He went to the front door and there was a man standing about ten feet from the door. ‘Come in.’ The caretaker said from the doorway. The man just stood there and said nothing but he stared directly at the Caretaker. The Caretaker walked back inside rightly spooked. About ten minutes later he heard another knock. This time when he went to check there was a woman standing next to the man, and again neither of them responded to the Caretaker when he asked them to come inside. He went back inside the hut and by now it was pitch black outside. Ten minutes later he heard another knock and went to check. This time no one was outside. The Caretaker was freaked out and barricaded the door shut. After the door was barricaded he heard another knock, this time it came from the window. He looked towards the window and saw a little boy starring through the window and pointing at him. He heard another knock at one of the other windows and there was a little girl doing the same. Every ten minutes or so there would be another knock and a new person standing in each of the windows until every window was occupied. That’s when he lost it and climbed into the cupboard under the sink. The spooky thing about Lakes of the Clouds is that the number of windows in the Lakes of the Clouds hut is the exact same as the number of people killed in the cog crash and that’s why each window was occupied by one of the victims of the crash.” She said.

“That’s too scary.” I said. “Next day at sunrise I would have booked it out of there.”

“I mean, it’s really not that big of a deal. All the huts have ghosts that haunt them, cause almost all the huts have had someone die near, in, or around them. Usually the ghost ends up being one of the longtime caretakers.” She said nonchalantly. “Carter hut is haunted by Red Mac. He’s got red hair and he usually only comes around if the hut isn’t clean or the site isn’t being maintained. He’ll swing the front doors open and stomp his boots on the wood floor.” She said.

“There’s a lot of ghosts in every hut and the dry river area of New Hampshire is mad haunted, there’s even an old Indian burial ground around there.” She said.

I decided the Northeast was too Stephen King kind of creepy for my liking.

After dinner E**** and I got settled on our respective kitchen tables and ready for bed. While we got in our sleeping bags Uli and Mary Ann got ready for a night raid on Mitzba Hut. The huts have different items in them that the other huts will try and steal from them and bring them back to their own huts. The most valuable hut item is a giant rowing oar. Other items that trade hands often are a butler named Jeeves who belongs technically to Carter Hut, a sword, and a painting at one of the huts. A night raid is simply where you sneak into one of the other huts at night and steal their stuff. Besides night raids their are also power raids which are done in broad day light. A power raid happens when an entire crew from one hut goes to another hut and binds them up with tape and rope and in a power raid you can take anything you want. In a night raid if you get caught it’s over. During night raids the raiders will often bring beer with them which they will give to the thru hikers who often wake first since they sleep on the floor and tables and the beer is a bribe to keep them from alerting the crew of the hut being raided.

Mary Ann and Uli leave around 10:30 just moments before I pass out.

“Raid the shit out of that hut.” I say with a laugh and fall asleep before the door can swing shut behind them.

They returned from their hut raid around 3:00 A.M. and they were successful in their efforts. They carried Jeeves in and set him on the kitchen counter.

E**** and I congratulated them and they both headed off to their bunks.

I went back to sleep and rose about thirty minutes later having to pee. I headed out towards the shed just twenty yards from the hut, unzipped and peed for what felt like five minutes straight. Just as I zipped up I heard something coming from behind me.

“Hello.” I said shakily.

I didn’t have my headlamp on but I could make out that it was a figure that was walking toward me. All the ghost stories of the night came rushing through my mind.

“Hello.” I said even more shakily and more quietly. Still no response.

The figure stood directly in ten feet in front of me now.

It was Uli dripping wet with a small towel wrapped around her waist. It was just long enough to cover anything that might have changed a movies rating from PG-13 to R.

“Oh hey.” She said. “Just takin’ a shower, felt so gross after the raid, ha.”

“Oh, ha, I thought you were Red Mac.” I said.

“Oh no, no, don’t worry, he won’t bother you.” She said.

We both walked back into the hut and I fell back asleep.

Rose – 1st Hut Experience

Bud – Getting Closer to being over Mount Washington and done with the White Mountains.

Thorn – Seeing my SOBO friends turned away.

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Night 36: Welcome To New Hampshire

Wednesday, October 20th, 2010

Lost bird

This bird is no doubt dead.

Saturday 7-10-2010
11.8 Miles Hiked, 1881.2  Miles To Springer

When I woke up this morning the view from the shelter of the mountains in the distance was just as glorious as it had been the night before. This morning though things looked slightly more ominous as heavy gray and black clouds began rolling in over the mountains in the distance. I could see the sheets of rain as they fell from the clouds far away and I knew it wouldn’t be long until they reached the shelter.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have flicked off Maine last night.’ I thought.

By 6:00 A.M. rain drops the size of dimes began falling from the sky and pounding on the tin roof that covered the shelter. I really didn’t want to hike in the rain, hike up and down slippery rock faces, fall down slippery rock faces, and walk in wet shoes, but I did really want to get to a town and nothing was going to stop me with only 12 miles separating me from McDonalds, Pizza Hut, Burger King and a Chinese food buffet.

I got my rain gear on and hung around the shelter while I ate my cold oatmeal and drank my cold instant coffee. Two weekend hikers with a heavy duty weather radio informed me rain was expected all morning.

‘Great,’ I thought. I figured I better get a move on if I planned to make it into town by mid afternoon and I left the shelter.

By 6:32 A.M. I was on the trail heading south. I filled up my water in a stream that the rain had flooded and started my climb. I trudged through puddles, mud bogs, over slippery rocks and roots, but I was determined to get to Gorham and get dry, and comfortable.

By 9:15 A.M. the rain had decreased and become a light mist, not that it mattered. At this point my boots were soaked, my socks filled with water and my shorts wet from rain and my shirt wet from the sweat my rain jacket induces. I wasn’t stopping to look at anything and I blelw right past Moss Pond and Dream Pond.

I stopped for a few food breaks and kept pushing toward the sound of traffic and the idea of civilization.  Every time I felt tired and I’d hear the roar of a car driving on a road somewhere I couldn’t see, but could only imagine my spirits would immediately lift. With about three miles to go I was more than ready to be done hiking. I wanted to be in a building, taking a shower, and doing laundry. I wanted to be off the trail. With about a little less than a few miles left til I would reach Gorham, NH I heard the sound of what I believe was the town’s fire station alarm.

The sound let me know I had to be really close. I was elated, not about the fire in town but that I was getting close to the town. I headed down Mt. Hayes and had to walk down a large slab of rock that was both wet and slick. I tried to be really careful placing my feet on the mossy patches I could find and grabbing onto tree branches when there were any to grab hold of and help me maintain my balance.

As I neared the bottom of the rock slab it broke into tiny rock segments with gaps in between them and became more treacherous. I took a step too quickly and lost my balance. I was on my ass and my packs rain cover acted as an accelerator propelling me further down the slab and taking me straight toward the field of boulders with gaps in between them.

My right leg led the way and got caught right between two boulders right below the knee cap. While my right leg stopped the rest of my body kept moving forward with the momentum the initial fall and slide had created.

The way my shin felt I thought I’d broken something. I gently pulled my right leg out of the crack it had become wedged in. My shin was scrapped and bleeding but as I tested my range of motion I was relieved to find that nothing seemed broken.

After I had recovered from the fall and started moving again the trail went steadily downward toward Hogan road. When I got to Hogan road someone had left a box of Koshi granola bars. I grabbed one of each flavor bar and had a little roadside snack.

As I left Hogan road I noticed a sign for a missing parakeet attached to the telephone pole. Looking at the picture of the bird and thinking about the wilderness I’d already been through I had no doubt that bird was dead.  I crossed the Androscoggin river and walked by the abandon hydro electric plant to my left that sat right on the river.

Once I passed the plant, U.S. 2 curved right. I took my pack off to get ready to starting thumbing. I took off my water soaked boots and switched into my Teva sandals hoping to give my feet a chance to dry. It took about twenty minutes for someone to stop and pick me up. It was a husband and wife and their teenage daughter in a white pick up truck. I sat in the back with the daughter and made small talk until they dropped me off at The Barn, also known as the Libby House on Main Street in downtown Gorham. I thanked them for the ride and they drove away.

When I walked inside the barn, which was a barn style garage attached to a big bed and breakfast there was an Eastern European girl in her early twenties who greeted me wearing a bikini and an apron. Her outfit and poor English had me thinking mail order bride.

“It will be 20 for night, that include shower, another 5 if you want wash dry.” She said.

“Okay.” I said as I handed her the cash thinking this place was a little pricey for getting to sleep on a stained mattress with one bed sheet covering it in the attic of a hot barn garage.

I said goodbye to the young lady and headed down the street toward the Gorham commons in search of Pizza Hut, I hoped to hit up their lunch buffet if they had one. I called Sarah on the walk there since it was about a half mile down the street.

“Hey. How are you doing?” I asked.

“Pretty good.” She said.

“Are you still planning on heading to Aunt Mimi’s for Gram’s 93rd birthday party?” I asked.

“Yeah, probably around noon. I don’t know if I’m going to spend the night though. I have to get back to Williamsburg early tomorrow morning, so I can either leave tonight and then I won’t have to get up early or I’ll have to get up really early tomorrow.” She said.

“Yeah just do whatever works better for you. I’m sure my family would love to see you for as long as you can stay but they’ll understand if you have to leave tonight because of the drive. What are you doing about the bridge?” I asked.

“Claudio is going to be at Kelly’s on Kent Island and he said he’d drive across the bridge to meet me and drive my car over for me.” She said

“Well that works out, that’s really nice of him.” I said.

“Yeah.” She said.

“I’m so jealous you get to go to the party. I really wish I could be there with you and the whole family, but instead I get to stay here all alone.” I said.

“You should be jealous, I can’t wait to see your family.” She said.

“I know, I bet it’s going to be so much fun.” I said. “I just got to Pizza Hut so I’m going to go in and get lunch and I’ll talk to you later, okay?” I said.

“No, don’t go yet. We never get to talk.” She said.

“I know, and I know this sounds lame, but I’m starving, I haven’t had lunch yet, and I still have to hitch a ride to the Walmart and back and then I have to get in contact with Ashley Green about her possibly meeting me in Hanover to give me a ride to the train station in Manchester, but I’ll call once I get everything done.” I said.

“Fine.” She said.

“I’ll talk to you later. Tell everyone at Gram’s party I say hi.” I said.

“Okay.” She said.

When I got inside I found out the buffet was only for salad and though I did crave vegetables I wasn’t going to pay for all you can eat salad. I ordered 10 bread sticks and a pepperoni personal pan pizza and devoured all of it along with three Pepsi’s in just over thirty minutes.

“Does the soda have refills?” I asked the waitress. She looked at me as though I was a crazy homeless person and I could tell she feared if she said there were refills that I would hang out in here all day, smelling like a dumpster, covered in dirt, sipping Pepsi after Pepsi until the place closed.

“Well, you can have two or three refills but it’s not unlimited.” The Waitress said.

‘What the hell type of Pizza Hut is the place?’ I thought. I had come to a fast food place for a few reasons. First to gorge myself on greasy, high calorie, and fattening food. Second, to enjoy food in the comfort of air conditioning. Third and lastly to drink as much damn soda as I pleased. I felt cheated that this Pizza Hut only delivered on the first two of my three wishes.

After I left Pizza Hut I headed to the road to try and hitch to Walmart. I ran into the guy who had offered me 151 the night before I sprained my ankle. He informed me that there was a bus service that ran through town every thirty minutes and for two dollars you could ride it unlimited all day. With this information I kept walking with him down toward the bus stop.

I spotted a McDonalds along the way and headed inside for an ice coffee to take with me on the bus. By the time I had reached the bus stop I had already finished the iced coffee and it and the Pizza Hut food had apparently shot right through my system.  I had to go and I had to go immediately.

“What’s your name?” I asked the 151 distributor.

“I go by Pneumonia.” He said.

“How come?” I asked.

“I got pneumonia and was in the hospital the last week and a half.” He said.

“Oh no. Well I’m  glad to see you’re doing better now. Do you happen to know when the bus comes?” I asked.

“It’ll be here in five minutes.” He said.

I ran to the gas station next to the bus stop knowing I would not make it another five minutes and a bus ride to Walmart without pooping in my pants if I didn’t take care of business now.

I got inside the gas station. There was a line of two people before me. My mind had already told my body when I walked into the gas station that I was going to get to go in the next minute. Things had started moving.

I waited in line trying to think of anything but going to the bathroom to help slow things down. The two people in front of me seemed to take forever. The last woman ahead of me got out just in time. I ran in, dropped my shorts and started going not a half second after they were down.

I made it back to the bus stop before the bus arrived and got in when the female bus driver pulled up. Pneumonia wasn’t coming with me, so it was just me and the female bus driver.

“Hiker?” She asked.

“Yep.” I said.

“You must be interested in traveling then?” She asked.

“Yeah.” I said.

“I wanted to travel the country when I was your age.” The forty something woman said.” So I got my CDL (Commercial Driver’s License) and became a trucker and got to drive all over the country. I kept driving until the day I delivered each of my first two kids. It was great, my husband and I got to see every inch of America.” She said.

“Sounds pretty cool, I don’t think I could do it though.” I said.

“Sure you could, you’re still young, you don’t have anything tying you down.” She said.

I thought of myself as a free spirit, but I wasn’t that free. I wanted to be stationary most of the time. I wanted to be able to still see Sarah, see my family, see my friends whenever I wanted and I knew a life of non stop moving would make that impossible. The bus driver sounded like she loved her life but I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. I had officially crossed off cross country truck driver from my list of potential professions. I knew I couldn’t do it.

I got to the Walmart and finished my food shopping relatively quickly. I still wanted to find a pair of shorter shorts to replace the long cargo shorts that hung over my knees and caught on my knees every time I had to take a big step up.

There was nothing in the men’s section that didn’t hang over my knees. I headed to the women’s section and asked one of the employees to help me find some very short women’s athletic shorts. The older lady gave me a strange look and then helped me. I ended up trying on and loving the way a pair of black women’s dancing shorts called Danskins felt. I bought them and then walked around Walmart trying to find someone I could ask to drive me back to Gorham since the bus was no longer running at this time of the evening.

I met a woman leaving the pharmacy section who said she and her husband could drive me back. The couple drove me back to the hostel and waved goodbye as they drove off.

After I loaded my food things into my pack I talked to a man in his mid 40′s named T*******ack who was from Utah and as I found out was born in the same hospital I was in Virginia.

“I could never live in Virginia.” He said.

“Why” I asked.

“Living in Utah I know I’m way less likely to get shot up by any black boys. I just feel more comfortable there being around mostly white boys.” He said.

Given this was one of the first things he said to me I could tell any conversation I had with him would involve me bring highly uncomfortable and offended so I decided to tell him I had to leave to get to dinner before the restaurant closed and hoped to not return until he was asleep.

I headed down town to the Dynasty Chinese food buffet and tried calling each of my four siblings, my mom, my dad, and my three siblings in-law and Sarah so that I could wish my grandmother a happy birthday. No one answered their phones. I felt really alone and sad. I figured everyone was having such a good time that they were too busy to answer.

I entered the restaurant at 9:15 P.M. and I was the only person there. They had even shut off the heat lamps on the food and were cleaning the table tops with a wet rag while half the employees were eating dinner in another section of the restaurant.

The feeling of isolation in my stomach grew bigger and the greasy, half warmed Chinese food wasn’t capable of filling it. The rest of dinner I felt terribly lonely. One wall of the restaurant had mirrors and when I looked over and  saw myself, not looking like myself and eating all alone a thousand miles from home I realized my new life wasn’t as glamorous as I had hoped it would be.

I could barely eat the rest of the food on my plate. I spent the remainder of time there picking at my egg roll and starring out at the pool of the Motor Inn Motel across the parking lot watching as a family splashed and laughed with each other.

I left the buffet both unsatisfied by the food and sad that I wasn’t with the people I loved and that I wasn’t with anyone. I was alone and I realized I may very well be alone for a long time to come.

I opened my fortune cookie on the walk home. It read ‘bread today is better than cake tomorrow.’  I took it to mean that I should be thankful for what I had today instead of upset about what I didn’t and I walked back to the hostel alone.

Rose – Pizza Hut and getting dry

Bud – A full day off.

Thorn – Feeling so alone.

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Night 35: Mahoosuc Notch, Not So Bad

Monday, October 11th, 2010

In between the crevices is ice that stays through summer and a couple moose skeletons which I never did find.

Friday 7-9-2010
14.7Miles Hiked, 1893.0 Miles To Springer

I had planned on an early start, but got caught talking with Farm-A-Sea while I finished my breakfast and loaded up my backpack. He was unloading his backpack and I found out he was carrying speakers with him and had a ton of extra food, his pack had to be at least twenty pounds heavier than mine. He pulled out an extra pop tart and offered it to me. I took the pop tart which made me feel obligated to stay longer and talk with him while I ate it.

“So you’ve really never smoked?” He asked as he loaded and puffed on his metal pipe.

“Never.” I said.

“That’s awesome dude. I can’t remember a day where I didn’t wake up thinking I needed drugs to make it through the day.” He said.

“Yeah, it just never appealed to me.” I said. “Do you have any idea what you want to do once you finish the trail? Think you’ll head back home?” I asked.

“Hell yeah, but I don’t know what I’ll do once I get home, I was a janitor at the high school I went to for two years and they pay $13 an hour but I can’t go back to doing that.” He said.

“You seem pretty sharp to me, you ever think about going back to school?” I asked.

“Sometimes, but high school was so fucking stupid. I could never do pointless shit like that again. Maybe a trade school or community college.” He said.

“Yeah, any type of school is a good idea in my opinion.” I said.

He put some more of the resin he had scrapped out of his broken pipe a few days earlier into his metal pipe.

“I know there’s fucking tiny pieces of broken glass in here, but fuck it man.” He said.

“How long have you been smoking?” I asked.

“Since like sophomore year of high school.” He said “I paid some doctor $200 to say it’s legal for me to smoke to get my mom off my back. That means I can grow up to six plants with three budding at any time. I’m thinking of telling him I’m giving up smoking cause if you’re eating the weed then you can grow up to 20 plants.” He said.

“Sounds like a pretty genius plan.” I said.

He reached into his bag to pull some more food out and two razor blades fell on the wood shelter floor.

“What are those for?” I asked.

“Snorting coke.” He answered as if I had asked him the time of day.

I decided it might be time to hit the trail and leave Farm-A-Sea behind. I liked Farm-A-Sea and didn’t really want to be alone, but I also thought he might be more of a liability than I was willing to take on.

“Thanks for the PopTart, I’m heading out.” I said.

Mahoosuc Arm was a steep rock face and I slipped and fell on my tailbone about two dozen times heading down. The rocks were wet from a light mist the previous night and they were extra slick. Water also appeared to be flowing down the rock face, from where, I have no idea. I listened to my tape recorder music on the way down and fell down every few steps. Falling was the way I hiked this entire section.

I entered the much talked about Mahoosuc Notch around 9:15 A.M. Every SOBO I had met up to this point had warned me of it’s difficulty as though there were dead hikers all along the trail in this  section.  It was like walking through a giant air conditioned jungle gym. Between several of the rock crevices were pockets of ice that remained solid even in the summer heat. I passed an older man who had no traction on the bottoms of his shoes and was struggling on the rocks, getting up a little ways and then slipping back down.

“I’m getting my new shoes as soon as I get to Gorham.” He said.

“Looks like you better.” I said as I passed him.

I did my best to stay on top of the boulders and had almost no trouble. I made it through the Notch in just over an hour and was unsure what all the fuss was about. I was disappointed in both how easy it was and that I didn’t see any of the moose skeletons I heard were lodge between some of the boulders.

The climb up Fulling Mill Mt. after the notch was almost void of white blazes. I stopped half way up for lunch and the older man I had passed earlier now passed me. About a half hour later I ran into the older man walking back down the mountain.

“I haven’t seen a white blaze anywhere in the last thirty minutes, I’m heading back down.” He said as he walked back down the mountain past me.

“This seems too much like the AT to me to not be the AT, I’m going to keep heading up.” I said.

“Good luck.” He said as he went on his way.

The remainder of the climb was in fact almost void of white blazes with the exception of one I saw painted on a rock on the top of the mountain and one more I saw at the bottom of the mountain just before Full Goose shelter.

I sat at the shelter eating my usual snickers and peanut butter and the old man showed up.

“Guess that was the AT, I walked all the way to the bottom and realized it was the only possibly option.” He said.

“That sucks.” I said.

Before I left the shelter the old man I had passed who I found out was named, Coal Cracker, told me that his weather radio had said there was a storm coming in and a chance for flash floods. I left Coal Cracker behind and headed up Goose Eye North. The views from up top were gorgeous and Goose Eye East was also beautiful, but less impressive then the former.

Mt. Carlo was nothing to write home about and Carlo Col shelter, the only water source for miles was a 0.3 excursion off the trail and straight down hill, but I needed the water to make it the last 5.5 miles to the shelter which stood a half mile past the Maine and New Hampshire border.

When I did reach the Maine/New Hampshire border I started shouting at the top of my lungs. “YES! YES! YES! ONE STATE DOWN THIRTEEN TO GO!” I shouted. I was alone in the middle of the Maine/ New Hampshire wilderness shouting until I was hoarse.

I was thrilled to be out of Maine, to cross a state off of my list, to feel like I’d finally accomplished something on this thru hike. I kissed the border sign, took a step into New Hampshire looked directly at Maine and flicked that bad ass state off. I put my middle finger away and I walked into New Hampshire vowing never to step foot in Maine again.

My first challenge in New Hampshire was called Mt. Success, fitting considering how accomplished I felt for finishing Maine. My phone had service when I got to the top so I left Sarah a voice mail and texted my family to let them know I had finally finished a state, and was feeling much better, physically, but mostly mentally, I was back in the game and I felt reinvigorated for my thru hike.

The climb down toward Gentian Pond Shelter wasn’t easy, at least for me at the moment. When I arrived at the shelter it had the most stunning view of mountains and fluffy clouds colored pink and orange as the sunset. Walking toward the shelter I saw two moose swimming in the pond next to the shelter.

I talked with two NOBO hikers, one from Leesburg, VA and one from England. They told me neither of them were purists when it came to hiking, meaning they didn’t care if they were hiking on the AT the whole way, and both of them were encouraging me to take a blue blazed trail that led to a road I could walk on straight into Gorham that would cut ten miles off of tomorrows hike.  I  hadn’t decided yet if I was a purist but I had decided I wasn’t ready to start taking short cuts at this point in the trip.

“Did you guys get water from the pond?” I asked.

“Hell no, there are moose swimming in there, which means there are moose shitting and pissing in there, I’m not trying to get giardia.” The man from Leesburg said.

“Probably good thinking, is there anywhere else to get water?” I asked.

“Yeah, there’s a stream a little past where you came in.” He said.

The shelter was a little off trail and I was tired and not looking to do more walking so I decided the water could wait for tomorrow morning and began getting ready to be settled in for the night.

The two NOBO’s had occupied the floor of the shelter so I was left with the loft area up top. I climbed up top and got settled in my sleeping bag. It was too hot to stay in the bag so I just slept in my silk liner.

I kept waking up feeling hot, unable to breath, and my legs were itching like crazy. I decided it was the loft that was making me feel so hot so I climbed down and squeezed into the open space on the shelter floor between the two NOBO hikers. My legs kept itching like crazy though. I scratched and scratched until I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided to get my headlamp and see if I had a rash or bug bites.

I turned my headlamp on and didn’t see any rash. What I did see was far worse. There were 50 or so tiny little black and brown bugs no bigger than the head of a needle crawling all over my legs and up and down the hairs that covered my legs. I started brushing them off in a panic. I felt disgusting. I felt filthy and now I couldn’t go back to sleep. I kept thinking of everywhere on my body they might be. I figured if they were on my legs they had probably crawled up toward my crotch region, and most likely I had some in the hair on my head too.

Even though it appeared that I had gotten them all off I figured they were still in my sleeping bag sense that is where my legs first started itching. I got out of my sleeping bag and out of my liner and laid on top of both. I was now cold but I felt a little cleaner and I think I managed to get a couple hours of sleep.

Rose – Mahoosuc Notch, Finishing Maine!

Bud – Getting to Gorham, New Hampshire, First Fast Food!

Thorn – Flea or Lice infestation inside my sleeping bag.

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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.

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Night 27: Mmmmm…..Moose

Monday, August 2nd, 2010

Thursday 7-1-2010
0 Miles Hiked, 1,932.7 Miles to Springer

The NOBO hikers I met the day before left my life as quickly as they came into it. We got a group picture in front of the RV before they left. I watched as they packed up, and loaded up to head back to the trail just as I had watch Mud do the day before and I felt alone again.

I think Caretaker’s wife, Nightcrawler, sensed I was lonely, down, and struggling. Nightcrawler is a woman whose personality emits warmth and comfort. She’s is younger than her husband is Greek and has the tan complexion, and long thick black air you’d picture any Greek woman to have and she cooks like she’s Greek too. Her smile is warm and welcoming and she has an extreme motherly vibe about her.

“Tiny Tim,” She said as she knocked on the RV door. “I have a warm Epsom salt bath with some lavender mixed in for you to soak your ankle. It’ll help draw the blood in and bring down the swelling.”

“Thank you so much, this is so nice.” I said. I spent the rest of the morning and early part of the afternoon watching Lost. I’d decided if I was going to be stuck here for potentially more than a week than I would do something productive with my time like try and watch the entire series of Lost since I’d never seen any of the show. As I wasted my day away I began immediately hoping Kate and Jack would just get it over with because the sexual tension was almost too much.

While I watched Lost Monkey and Giggles were doing their work for stay in Caretaker’s yard. They were cutting down fields of weeds and clearing out fallen logs and debris from the yard and moving them onto a trailer which they towed further down the yard with one of Caretakers ATV’s.

“How are my hiker slaves doing?” I heared Caretaker ask as he inspected Monkey and Giggles work. Satisfied with they job they were doing Caretaker walked toward the RV and through the screen door said, “Tiny Tim, we’re having shepherds pie for lunch today, it’s five dollars if you would like to join us.”

“I’d love to join you guys for lunch.” I said.

I’d never had shepherds pie and the only image I had in my mind of it was when Anthony Hopkins serves a shepherds pie made of two human men to their own mother in the film version of Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus. The shepherds pie in that movie was bloody and raw looking, but I was hungry and hungry for meat and I decided I would enjoy this pie even if it was a little bloody.

Caretaker gave a shout toward the RV from the conex where lunch was being served. “Lunch’s ready!” He said.

I crutched my way from the RV to the big orange box and had a seat at the long wooden table in the common area.

The huge meaty pie piece that sat on my plate was steaming hot, but not bloody. It looked delicious. There was a layer of ground beef on the bottom, a layer of corn cut from the cob on top of that, and it was topped with mashed potatoes that were covered in a crust of golden baked cheese. On the side were a few slices of Nightcrawler’s fresh baked bread covered in chopped garlic and soaked in melted butter.

“Did Caretaker tell you he almost hit a black bear today when he was taking Dutch to Portland?” Nightcrawler asked Monkey, Giggles, and I.

“No.” We all replied.

“Fuckin’ thing ran out in front of my car, just fuckin’ missed hitting it. I saw something black bolt from the side of the road and next thing I know I’m swerving to miss it. It scurried off into the woods on the other side. It was a decent sized bear too, probably about 200 lbs.” He said.

“What exactly are the rules on hitting a big game animal like a bear or moose, if you don’t have a license to hunt it and you hit it or see someone else hit it are you allowed to just load it up into your truck and take it?” I asked.

“Oh, did Nightcrawler not tell you, you guys are eating road kill.” He said.

My stomach turned a little as I imagined dead skunk, squirrel, raccoon, and possum making up the meat I was chewing on.”

“No, she didn’t. What type of road kill?” I asked as I swallowed the last bit of meat in my mouth.

“The meat in the shepherds pie is a moose that got hit by a car just up the street. We loaded the thing up into our truck. The head was hanging out the back, tongue out flopping all around. Hope you’re okay with eating road kill moose.” He said laughing.

“That’s fine with me, tastes like hamburger. It’s actually kind of cool to be able to say I’ve eaten moose.” I said.

“I mix it with beef fat cause it’s too lean on it’s own and it falls apart when you cook it if you don’t have the beef fat to help hold it together, and you can’t really taste a difference, can you?’ Nightcrawler asked.

“I can’t taste any difference. Everything tastes awesome.” I said.

After lunch I lounged around the RV and watched more Lost until I heard Nightcrawler knock on the door again.

“We’re having pork chops, spinach pies, and a Mediterranean salad for dinner, if you’d like to join us it’s six dollars.” Nightcrawler said.

“Yeah, I’ll join you guys, you’ve got me hooked after lunch.” I said.

“Oh thanks, we’re glad to have the company. Did the Epsom salt and lavender bath help?” She asked.

“Yeah I think so.” I said.

“I’ll bring another one out after dinner.” She said.

“That’s really nice of you thanks again.” I said.

Dinner came and Nightcrawler did not disappoint. The spinach pies had the flakiest crust and melted in your mouth. The pork chops were seasoned so they had a perfect sweetness about them, and the salad Nightcrawler picked from her back yard garden was so fresh you could taste the earth the greens were grown in.

After dinner I crutched my way back to the RV. I was filled to the brim and feeling like I could get used to eating like this. Monkey and Giggles invited me to play cards in Bob with them, but I was more interested in seeing what was going to happen next on Lost so I told them I’d have to take a rain check on the game.

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Nightcrawler had found a way into my heart and she had filled it with hope and happiness. I fell asleep full for the first time in too long and I had hope that things were going to get better much sooner than Dr. Moses had predicted, especially if I kept eating like I had today.

Rose – Nightcrawler’s cooking.

Bud – Being one day closer to my return to the trail.

Thorn – Still being stuck on crutches.

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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

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