Tuesday, July 27th, 2010
Sunday 6-27-2010
8.7 Miles Hiked, 1,932.7 Miles to Springer
Advil is a miracle drug. The chills, fever, and cold sweat that tormented me all night had faded within an hour of gulping down my Advil with a Nalgene full of electrolyte infused water. The only thing bothering me now was minor nausea, but nothing that was going to keep me from hiking, from moving forward, from getting out of this God awful place called Maine. It was time to get a state crossed off my list and with forty miles left I was chomping at the bit to be done with Maine.
One of the weekend campers walked up to me with a bag of half eaten Mountain House freeze dried eggs. He handed the bag towards me and said, “Here, you need this more than I do.”
“Thanks.” I said as I took the bag from his hand and looked inside. It was more soup than eggs. Gross looking chunks of egg and bacon bits floated in the soup of now cold water. “I’ve thrown up eggs and bacon that looked better than this.” I thought.
I always appreciate extra food, but this was disgusting. The guy stood next to me and said, “Come on, try them, they’re delicious.”
I did not want to try them, but I also didn’t want to be rude.
I took a bite and said. “Mmmm,” While I sported a fake smile that had to make me look somewhat demented. He seemed satisfied with my feigned satisfaction and walked away. I dumped the bag old, cold, soupy eggs into the bush next to me and packed the empty bag away in my trash bag.
I think people think just because we’re thru hikers we’ll eat anything. We’re still people though, and while any food is a nice gesture don’t give us bags of soupy vomity looking eggs and bacon bits. Give us food that is good, food that is fresh, food that you’d be proud to serve in your own home. Thru hikers are not trash cans or garbage disposals, no matter how much we may smell and look like either of those things. Please remember, we are people too.
Before we left the weekend camper filled campsite I stopped to fill up my Nalgene at the spring. My Steripen wasn’t working for the umpteenth time and I was fed up especially since I didn’t feel well. The water dripped down a large hanging moss pad into my Nalgene. It was ice cold, but flowing over moss for the thirty feet from where the spring started to the lip of my water bottle gave the water a green tint that wasn’t helping my nausea.
With my camel pak and nalgenes filled Mud and I headed out for the day.
“I’m really not feeling well, so don’t get too far ahead of me in case I pass out or something.” I said to Mud as we left.
“Yeah, no problem, we’ll stick together today.” He said.
The trail took us along the remainder of the Bemis Mountain range to start the day and then dropped us down slightly before we had to climb Old Blue Mountain. It was a decent climb, and had no view at the top to reward us for our efforts. The 2,200 foot downhill drop from Old Blue to South Arm road destroyed my left ankle. It felt like it was only supported by a string by the time we reached the black pavement.
South Arm road was not the busy, well traveled road we’d hoped. It took us nearly an hour of hitching before an old couple towing a trailer picked us up. We were lucky to have hit the road on the end of a weekend when tourists from the lake further down the road were heading home otherwise I can’t imagine we would have been able to hitch out and it would have been a nine mile walk into town for resupply.
The older couple put us in the backseat of their pick up and stowed our things away in their trailer. They dropped us off just across the street from the general store. Mud and I went to the general and restocked, buying more than we probably needed as seems to happen when we hit a resupply on empty stomachs, it’s like the say, “Don’t go grocery shopping on an empty stomach.”
Mud and I ate lunch at the general store after we resupplied and we each indulged in some ice cream, which we both needed.
After leaving the general store we headed toward the Pine Ellis Hostel. Mud walked far ahead of me as I hobbled at a turtle’s pace down the side walk. An old man mowing his lawn spotted me and shut the mower off.
“You better take a couple days off in town and get all healed up.” He said.
“Yeah, pretty beat up.” I said, not intending on taking this man’s advice or slowing down in my mission to get out of Maine.
The Pine Ellis was run by a man named David and his mother in-law Eileen. David looks like a Native American except in place of slicked back long flowing black locks David has bangs combed up in the front, and a long flowing mullet in the back. He was wearing skin tight jeans and a t-shirt when he shook my hand as I walked into the house. Around his neck hung a huge turquoise necklace, which was complimented by some turquoise bracelets and a matching ring.
“We’re just looking to get a shower, do some laundry, and get back on the before the sun goes down.” I said to David.
“Okay, that will be 21 combined, or 10.50 each. The shuttle back to the trail is 12, a shower is 3 each, and wash and dry are 1.50 each.” David said.
“Sounds good.” I said.
I took the first shower and waited in the medical scrubs David gave me to wear while my clothes were in the washer. If I’d been on Grey’s Anatomy I would have been McNasty, the gross doctor who never showers, has dirt under his finger nails, and smells constantly like a jock strap.
The shower at the Pine Ellis was the first decent water pressure I’d felt all trip, and it was more than welcomed. I hobbled around the front yard making phone calls and checking in with family and friends who I hadn’t talked to in too long.
“How’s it going?” My brother Josh asked.
“It’s good, my ankle has just been giving me a lot of trouble lately.” I said
“Don’t push it to the point where you really hurt yourself. If you need to take a few days off, take a few days off and get better.” Josh said.
“I’ll be fine, I just need to get out of Maine and then I’ll rest. Plus I’d feel bad making Mud stop and pay for a hostel when he doesn’t need or want to stop.” I said.
“Just be smart about it, you still have a long way to go and you’re going to need your ankles.” He said.
“Okay, okay. I’ll be smart, I have to go. Love you.” I said
“Love you too J, keep it up.” He said.
Walking in circles around the yard making phone call after phone call my ankle began to hurt worse and worse.
After nearly two hours our clothes had finished drying in the what I can’t imagine was newer than 1975 era dryer. I put on the dryer warm clothes which immediately made me sweat. I rolled up my extra pants and shirts up, filled my camel pak and Nalegenes and reloaded my pack. I put on my ankle braces and socks and put an extra sock on my bad ankle to give it some extra support in my boot. With everything I had on my feet I had to force them into the boot. It hurt just to put my left ankle into the boot, but it had been hurting the last three weeks, so this seemed normal.
“It’s hurt before, this isn’t any different, don’t be a baby about this, get your ass up and out of this seat, get your pack on, and get yourself ready to hike, because you’re hiking, you’re getting out of Maine, you’re moving on.” I thought.
I hobbled toward David’s mini van and dropped my pack in the backseat. The seats were covered in sheets and plastic drop clothes to keep the stink of thru hikers out of the upholstery. Any normal person who saw the way the entire car was draped with sheets and plastic drop cloths would assume David was a serial killer and this was his murder mini van, you know, the type of mini van murderers lure you into and then slit your throat and dismember you in. Think Silence of The Lambs, the scene where Buffalo Bill pretends to be an old man with a broken arm needing help loading something into his van. It was that type of set up, so of course I got right into the passenger seat ready to go.
David took us to the general store for one last resupply. I bought some batteries and ordered a BLT and a Yoohoo. I got back into the passenger seat and saw that David had bought four twenty ounce malt liquor beverages while I had been battery, sandwich and chocolate milk shopping. I scarfed down my BLT and chugged my Yoohoo knowing there were only 12 miles of driving to go before I had to be hiking again. David drank his malt liquor beverages and had one and a half done by the time we hit the trailhead at South Arm.
I’d made a point throughout my life up to this point to never get into a car with someone who had been drinking, which he had, by my count four beers before we left, and I would not be caught dead in a vehicle with someone who was literally drinking and driving, and now I was doing both these things I had vowed not to do and was paying the person doing both things to drive me.
Maine is an odd odd place, and any and all rules and regulations that apply to the rest of the civilized world do not apply to citizens of this state, this fact should be kept in mind in regards to everything and every character I write about. Maine is her own person, and essentially her own country, and her people live by their own rules.
David parked the car at the trail head and popped the mini van trunk. Mud and I grabbed our packs, said thank you, and started walking towards the trail.
“Wait a second.” David said as he untwisted a plastic bag with two apples in it.
He handed us the apples and we gladly took the fruit as we headed into the woods. I took bite after bite, savoring the sweet juicy red apple.
“Come on, get over this, it’s not that bad, the pain is just in your head.” I thought.
My ankle throbbed and ached with each step. I had succeeded in convincing myself it was no different than any of the previous times it hurt, and was determined to keep moving and that was what I did. My body was sure as hell trying to send me a message, but I wasn’t listening.
“Mud, I need to stop and take a break. My feet and legs feel like they’re on fire, I think the extra layer of socks and the warm clothes from the dryer are making me too hot.” I said. I got my extra socks off and zipped off the bottom half of my convertible pants. A cool breeze hit the sweat on my face, body, and exposed legs and I got the chills. I was shaking and my teeth were chattering. It was still at least 70 degrees outside even with the sun setting. Something was wrong, my body was trying to tell me to stop. I wasn’t listening.
“Can you stay really close, something doesn’t seem right and I don’t want to be alone, just don’t get too far ahead okay.” I said
“Yeah, we’ll stay together the rest of the hike, we don’t have much to go to the shelter, only about four miles.” He said.
Four miles all the sudden sounded like an impossible distance. I should have stopped right there and told Mud I needed to go back, but I was stubborn, I was stupid, I was willing to put getting an extra four miles ahead of my own life. According to the rules of natural selection I didn’t deserve to make it out of this situation alive.
I got my pack back on and told Mud I was ready to keep going.
We made it another half mile up Moody Mountain and I felt like I was burning up even worse. My head was throbbing, my heart started to hurt, and it had all the sudden become hard for me to get a full breath in. My whole body had begun to stress and overcompensate for my one bad ankle.
I unclipped my pack and dropped it on the ground. I had never felt like this in my entire life. I was no longer in control of my body, my body was in control, and it wasn’t going to let me move another inch. I took my inhaler for the second time on this short evening hike. I hadn’t needed my inhaler at any point in the previous 240 miles, this wasn’t normal, this wasn’t right.
The inhaler wasn’t helping, I still couldn’t get a full breath in, I still felt like I was burning up, and I still had the chills and couldn’t stop shaking. I was scared. I didn’t want to be a statistic, tragic story, someone who didn’t take the warning signs their body had given. I didn’t want to die over some stupid thru hike on a trail in the middle of nowhere Maine. I wanted to get off the trail and I wanted to live.
“Mud I don’t think I can make it to the shelter, maybe we can just get down to the stream and camp there and then tomorrow we can hike the six miles to the road and I can get to a doctor then.” I said.
I felt like I was letting Mud down having to stop, but my body wasn’t going to make it much further if any further at all.
“I’m just burning up and my ankle is killing me and I’m having trouble breathing and it’s only getting worse.” I said. “Will you feel my forehead?” I asked.
Mud touched my forehead and then touched his.
“You’re burning up. This is crazy. I think we should just turn around and hike back to the road where we started and get David to pick us he.” He said
“Are you sure, I hate to make you go back cause we’ll have to rehike what we’ve already done.” I said.
“Yeah it’s fine, I know how awful it is to hike when you’re sick or feeling like crap, it’s totally fine.” He said. “Is that what you want to do?” He asked.
“If you’re okay with that, I just feel really bad making you backtrack.” I said.
“It’s fine, I’ve been there I know how bad hiking is when you’re sick. Have you felt like this all day?” Mud asked.
“Not all day, but since we started hiking tonight. I’m sorry man. I’m going to try and get a signal and call David back and see if he can come get us at the road.” I said, and as I said a wave of relief flushed over my body, knowing that I was heading back to safety and if something bad was going to happen to me it was going to happen with more than Mud there to save me.
Eileen from Pine Ellis answered the phone.
“Hello, this is Eileen.” She said.
“Hi, this is Justin or Triple P., we just left Pine Ellis about an hour and a half ago. We got about a half mile up Moody Mountain and I started having trouble breathing and my fever came back and my ankle is really bothering me. I need someone to pick me up, I think something’s really wrong.” The phone died before she could respond and my screen said I had no service.
Mud pulled out his phone and he had one bar. David answered this time.
“What time should we tell him we’ll meet him at the road?” Mud asked.
“We’ve been hiking uphill for an hour and a half, so tell him we’ll be down there in an hour fifteen.” I said.
“He said he’ll meet us at the road in an hour fifteen and will stay there an extra fifteen until 8:15 P.M. in case it takes longer.” Mud said.
Knowing someone was coming and would be waiting for me made me feel a little safe for the first time all evening. I was still scared and I wanted to be home, I wanted to be safe, I wanted my old life back. I promised myself if I got to the road and made it out of this that I’d never let my stubborn mindset overrule the warning signs my body was sending. I would never again put myself in a situation where I put the trail ahead of myself, ahead of my family, ahead of anyone and everyone who cares about me.
Mud offered to take some of the weight from my pack and put it in his as he saw me hobble the first few steps. I couldn’t let him do that, I’d already felt too bad asking him to turn back. I reminded Mud where my epipen was and explained how to use it again.
“If I pass out or my airways start to close it will buy me about thirty minutes to get to help. If I tell you to get it and use it, use it right away and if I can’t tell you, use it right away.” I said.
We scurried down the mountain and adrenaline must have taken over because the pain in my ankle became a non factor. I moved as fast as I could essentially dragging my bad ankle down the mountain and over ever boulder, root, and rock. I had to stop every fifteen minutes to cool down and catch my breath, and then I’d be good for another fifteen.
We reached the stream before South Arm road at 8:07 P.M. I crossed it, walked right up to the road, dropped to the ground, unclipped my pack and leaned back. Leaning back so quickly made me feel light headed. I grabbed my head and I was burning up even worse. I unlaced my boots and ripped my socks off. I squeezed my camel pak into my hand and dripped the water over my head. I leaned my body back over my pack again and laid there gasping for air and glad to be safer than I was.
When I heard David’s car coming down the beat up back country road I really felt like things were going to be okay.
“Thank you.” I said as he stepped from his car. My eyes were welling with tears. “I was really scared I was going to die up there. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been able to get us. You saved me.” I said.
“No problem man, I’m glad I could help.” David said.
Mud grabbed my pack and loaded it into the back of the van. I climbed in shotgun and just stared out the window.
“When we get you back we’ll get you some tea and you can just rest up.” David said. “You probably just pushed your body to hard man, you just need to rest up and you’ll feel way better.” He said.
“Thanks.” I said.
When we arrived at the house these other guys staying there must have heard I was in bad shape cause they came out to the car and grabbed my pack and took it upstairs to my room. I hadn’t noticed how bad my ankle was or how bad it hurt until I got out of the van. I couldn’t put any weight on it.
I hopped on one foot through the entry way and kitchen to the bottom of the stairs. I put my butt on the bottom step and scooted up one step at a time and then crawled across the bedroom floor to a bed and pulled myself up and just collapsed there.
I called my mom and Sarah not wanting either of them to hear what had happened from Mud’s Mom or Mary Mud’s girlfriend. Both conversations went almost the same.
“I had a scary episode in the second half of hiking today. My fever came back, I started shaking again, and I had trouble breathing. We got about halfway up Moody Mountain and I couldn’t go any further so we had to call for help. I’m back at the hostel we were at earlier today and I’m going to go to a doctor tomorrow. I’m really exhausted so I can’t talk about it tonight, but I’m going to be okay and I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.” I said.
“Okay, I love you, hang in there. I’m just glad you’re okay” They both replied something along those lines.
“Here’s the tea. I put some honey in it.” He said just as I was putting my phone away.
“Thank you so much.” I said as he walked out of the room.
When he left the room I took three Advil, scarfed a Snickers, sipped the rest of the tea, and passed out still wearing my hiking clothes.
I woke up about two hours later when Mud walked in the room. I didn’t feel hot anymore but my ankle hurt like hell. I decided to take another shower to get all the sweat from my fever washed off before I went to the bed for the night. I scooted down the stairs one step at a time and hopped toward the bathroom. I lowered myself into the tub of the dimly lit bathroom and sat down with my knees pulled toward my body. I turned the shower on and let the hot water run over me as I held my face in my hands. I sat in that position for about fifteen minutes and cried off and on.
Today the trail defeated me in ways I never imagined. It got in my head. It was in charge and it was calling the shots. I felt like a victim today, and I was a victim of my own stupidity. After my fifteen minute pity party was over I vowed I would never be a victim on this trail again. I dried off after the shower and put my sweaty underwear back on but left the rest of my sweaty damp clothes off. I scooted back up the stairs, crawled across the dark bedroom floor, and pulled myself up onto my bed.
“Mud, you awake?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m up.” He said.
“I’m really sorry about today. I feel like an idiot. I should have told you before we left that I didn’t think I could hike. I just thought it was all in my head and I didn’t want to be a baby about it. I just want to say thanks for making me realize I needed to go back and get help. If you hadn’t suggested it I know I would have kept pushing it, so thanks.” I said.
“It’s okay, I understand.” Mud said.
I fell asleep fully believing that someone up above had my back. I said an extra prayer and said thank you to every dead relative I have for watching over me. It might sound crazy, but I don’t think I’d have made it off that mountain without some outside assistance. I felt lucky to be alive and lucky to be able to feel the pain in my ankle. I was still breathing and for today that was enough.
Rose – Hearing David’s car come to the rescue.
Bud – Seeing a doctor.
Thorn – Thinking I was going to die.
Tags: adrenaline, adventure, advil, andover, appalachian trail, apples, back pack, blt, chills, death, doctor, epipen, fear, fever, general store, hiking, hostel, ice cream, laundry, malt liqour, mcnasty, moody mountain, mud, nausea, outdoors, shower, swollen ankle, thru hike, thru hiker, yoohoo | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 2 Comments »
