Posts Tagged ‘thru hike’

Night 23: Could The End Be In Andover?

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.

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Night 22: Most Miles In Maine

Tuesday, July 6th, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn grouse.” I said as I walked on.

Mud caught up to me after all the commotion.

“Did those grouse attack you?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Night 21: Saddleback Mountain Magic

Monday, July 5th, 2010

The view from the peak of Saddleback Mountain In Maine

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mud arrived about fifteen minutes after me looking pretty rough.

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

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

“I think I’ll be okay.” Mud said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lay in it.” He said.

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

“I’m sleeping here tonight.” He said.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, headed to Georgia.” I said.

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

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

“What are your names?” He asked.

“Triple P., ABEAR, ans Mud.” We said.

“Were you a thru hiker?” I asked

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thorn- Bloody nose.

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

Monday, July 5th, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rose- The Mexican feast.

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

Thorn – Being so damned tired.

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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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Night 6: All Alone Again

Wednesday, June 16th, 2010

Me At Nahmakanta Lake

Thursday, 6-10-2010
13.9 Miles Hiked, 2,135.1 Miles to Springer

Old Man River beat everyone to the punch when it came to waking up this morning. As Matt and my watch alarms sounded at 6:30 A.M. He was making his exit. I caught him just long enough to say good morning.

Matt and I were planning on breakfast on the trail today. We got our gear together, pulled down our bear bags and investigated what OMR had left behind. The weight he dropped included a whistle, two caribeaners, a whistle, a journal, and a very nice Leatherman pocket knife. We were both tempted to take the knife but decided against it.

I hit the privy right before we left and were heading South again by 7:05 A.M. I was in disbelief that it was our sixth day and I still hadn’t pooped inthe woods. What is this, summer camp?

We stopped about an hour later for breakfast along the river. The cold river water oat meal and river water coffee really warmed my soul. We ended up passing OMR about 20 minutes into our hike and he returned the favor as we stopped for breakfast. Once we cleaned our pots and drank the cleaning water, sounds gross, but it’s what you do on the trail, we were hiking again and passed OMR one more time.

Apparently Maine doesn’t need rain to produce mud because it was just as muddy as the day it rained and it was our fifth day without it. Maine is starting to look the same to me. There are ponds, lakes, rivers, and streams everywhere. The entire trail is covered in sharp rocks and big roots. When there aren’t rocks and roots in your path it’s cause your walking through a bog. Sometimes Maine sucks. We hit our first big climb if the day as we summitted Nesuntabunt Mt. The climb just about killed me and Matt. We passed a shelter about 8 miles in but kept moving.

The white sand and pebble beaches of Nahmakanta Lake almost convinced us to stop right there, set up our tents, and get a beach bonfire ready. Where’s the Coronas and lime? Oh, that’s right, neither of us packed them. Noon also seemed way to early for us to be calling it a day. We kept pushing toward our goal of 13.9 miles for the day.

Right we left I noticed freshwater oyster shells half the size of my palm. Fantasies of sea food buffets on the boardwalk with ocean air filling my nostrils ran wild in my head. I started walking faster before the temptations of Nahmakanta Lake overwhelmed me.

We got faked out by a makeshift campsite right on the trail. There was a fire pit and everything. Matt was desperate for this to be the site but I pointed out the guidebook said the site would have a privy abdthis place had no privy. We kept moving.

After another half mile of walking we found the real site. By this point I was covered in mud from stepping on a rock the wrong way, twisting my ankle, and falling into a bog. As soon as I set my pack down I started pulling of clothing and ran towards the river. I gorded the river, than swam to a huge boulder, climbed up it and laid there in my underwear for about an hour just enjoying the sun and the water around me.

Matt eventually joined me and we both used the four foot deep area next to the rock for our first bath in five days. I Also used this opportunity to rinse out my clothing. I some how didn’t think about the fact that the sun was setting soon and our campsite was deep in the forest under the shade if trees and soon temperatures would be plummeting.

I got to work fast setting up a clothes line. I shivered as I stood in my wet underwear trying to the rope from tree to try. The line didn’t help much in drying.

For some reason my dinner of a tuna packet and an easy mac pack seemed almost too much food, which I don’t get sense I feel starving all day. Maybe my body is beginning to get used deprivation.

Once the tents were set up and my bear bag stowed away, I got to work on building a massive fire to help dry my stuff out. The fire was massive, and my clothes were dryv but I burned a hole in my socks and two holes in my shirt, go me!

I settled into my tent comgfortably. Being inside something completely enclosed just feels safer to me. Something keeps walking by my tent. I really hope it’s a small animal. It really sounds like a person, please let it not be a person.

Rose- Texting Sarah & getting a text back
Bud- 15.7 miles closer to Monson.
Thorn- Falling in the bog

P.S. We finished our first page of the guide book. Woop! Woop!

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