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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.

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

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

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

Mountain Goat on an ATV with his dog.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry.” I said.

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

“That’s terrible.” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” I said.

“What about mushrooms?” Mt. Goat asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I feel the same way.” I said.

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

Rose-Understanding Mt. Goat a little better.

Bud- Getting back on the trail.

Thorn- New York Lawyers downer lives.

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

Night 30: Bored On The 4th Of July

Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, thanksTiny Tim.” Nightcrawler said.

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

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

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

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

“Sweet.” He said.

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

“What’s Dreamscape?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Night 29: An Old Goat Returns

Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010

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

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

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

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

“Want to go hiker cruising?” He asked.

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

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

“Sounds good.” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep.” They said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about AC Farm?” I asked.

“You mean Farm-A-Sea?” He asked.

“Is that what his name was?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They look amazing.” Thrillbilly said.

They tasted amazing too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Night 28: Driving To Devil’s Den

Monday, August 2nd, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s warm.” He said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rose- Going to Devil’s Den and swimming.

Bud- Getting more ankle strength.

Thorn- Cold water at Devil’s Den.

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

Night 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.

Tags: adventure, amazing food, appalachian trail, big orange box, coachman rv, conex, fresh salad, garlic bread, hiking, moose, moose head, pork chop, road kill, shepherds pie, spinach pie, sprained ankle, thru hike, thru hiker, tongue flopping, white blaze | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 3 Comments »

Night 26: There’s More Than Mud

Monday, August 2nd, 2010

Wednesday 6-30-2010
0 Miles Hiked, 1,932.7 Miles to Springer

Mud picked up his pack, walked out of the RV and loaded it into the back of Caretakers truck.

For every time he had ever been on my nerves or annoyed me, none of it mattered. I was going to really miss him. He’d become a close friend. He was the only person besides my college roommate that I’d ever spent more than two weeks sharing a sleeping space with. Mud and I didn’t just share a bedroom. We shared almost every moment of every day for the last three weeks. We’d spent every day, all day together. We’d seen and smelled each other out our lowest and stinkiest, we’d made it through so much together, and yet we’d made it through so little of the trail together. We hadn’t even finished one state together and we were separating. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, but this was how it was going to happen.

I had no doubt of Mud’s importance in my journey. He had saved my life less than two days ago. I would have kept pushing myself up Moody Mountain if he hadn’t given me the okay to stop. I would have pushed until my ankle snapped, until I couldn’t catch a breath, until my asthma got the better of me, until my fever took over and boiled me from the inside. Mud was the reason I stopped, the reason I pushed my pride aside and put myself first. Mud was the reason I was stuck in Andover alive. I didn’t want him to leave, but the trail works in mysterious ways and I knew it was important for him to keep hiking his own hike, just as it was important for me to stay here and get better so I could get back on and keep hiking my own hike.

On the drive back to the trail head Caretaker pointed out some of Andover’s famous landmarks. He pointed to the top of a mountain that was adorned with giant satellite dishes.

“They broadcasted the first nationally televised presidential debate from those dishes. Because of where they are on the mountain and where Maine is they were the only dishes that could broadcast all the way to Europe because of the angle they are at on the mountain.” He said.

Caretaker pointed to a bare rock face on the side of another mountain just ahead of us.

“A family of three crashed their private plane right into that cliff. The mother and father died on impact. Their sixteen year old daughter climbed from the wreckage. She climbed two miles down the mountain with a broken leg. She made it to the road and got to hospital. They had to amputate her leg, but she survived. She’s a legend around here. Tiny Tim, if she did it with a broken leg, what’s your excuse?” He said.

Caretaker became quiet and Mud and I had nothing to say. My mind does what it always does when things get quiet, music turned on in my head. As we drove down South Arm road I couldn’t get Wagon Wheel by Old Crow Medicine Show out of my head. Mud and I had been listening to their music the past two days. I’d never heard anything by them until Mud started playing them on Caretaker iTunes. I instantly loved them and Wagon Wheel had become my trail anthem. I was determined to get back on the trail and start heading south just like the song says.

The trail head sign came into view and Caretaker slowed down and pulled the car of onto the gravel shoulder.

Mud got out of the car and pulled his pack out of the truck bed. I got out and hobbled on my crutches toward Mud.

“It’s going to be weird to be alone.” I said.

“Yeah, I didn’t care about going alone before we started, but it’s definitely going to be more daunting without you.” Mud said.

Mud slung his pack onto his back and buckled his hip belt.

“I’ll miss you, good luck, be safe, be smart, have fun, and text me when you get to Gorham, and be sure to write in the registers so I can see how you’re doing and how far behind you I am.” I said.

“Will do, I don’t think you’ll be catching me though.” He said as we shook hands and our quests all the sudden became separate and our paths took two different directions, at least for the time being.

I stood next to Caretakers truck and watch Mud disappear into the woods. I realized the trail would be different from here on out. There would be no more Mud.

I sat in the RV alone. I was mopey, and I wished I was better. I wished I was back on the trail hiking again.

Caretaker left the house to go get some more hikers. When he pulled into the driveway it was with some familiar faces. Monkey and Giggles, a young couple I had met about a week earlier walked out of the car. They said they had to stay in town because they were waiting for a package and would be here at least tonight and maybe another night. They opted to stay in the conex or Bob, for big orange box, so it appeared I would be alone in the RV.

Monkey and Giggles were doing work for stay so they were busy working and I was alone in the RV with my thoughts and my swollen ankle.

Caretaker left the house again. This time he returned with a smiling group of NOBO’s. Their scraggly crew was made of a one armed, bean pole of a kid named Naptime, because he liked to nap. Caretaker had renamed him The One Armed Bandit. The oldest looking guy in the group was a redheaded guy named Nopoint, apparently everything he says has no point. He was wearing a headband and a red kilt and looked like he was an extra in Braveheart. The final member of their trio was a guy named Walleye. He had piercing blue eyes, thick black wavy hair, and he got his named because he loves the band Fish.

These three would be staying in the RV with me tonight. I was glad to have the company and a distraction from the idea that I was now alone. They moved their gear into the RV and I quickly decided I like them.

With their things settled in the RV they all found something to sit on and cracked open some Old Milwaukee sixteen ounce cans. I found out they were all friends from high school. Each of them went to college for a year and decided after once year that they wanted to take a year off of school so they all decided during that year off they would hike the trail together.

As they sipped on their beers they had nothing but positive things to say about the remainder of the trail. They assured me once I got back on things would be just fine and I’d be moving fast soon enough. I was relieved for the first time since I left the doctors office.

Caretaker got a call from another couple of hikers needing a place to stay. I tagged along for the ride to get them from the general store. I bought some coffee ice cream to ice my ankle and then eat.

The two hikers we picked up were flip floppers, meaning they started in Harpers Ferry were going to Katahdin and then would go back to Harpers Ferry and head to Springer. Their names were Dutch and Chitland and they were both from Pennsylvania.

After talking to Chitland I found out that Dutch was leaving the trail for good. He was having some girlfriend and family issues. Caretaker was going to take him to the train station the next morning.

Naptime, Nopoint, Walleye, Dutch, Chitland and I all squeezed into the RV for a movie night. We watched The Count of Monte Cristo, which was awesome. The RV was dark except for the glow of the Dell monitor on which the movie played.

The occasional lighter flash as a joint was passed around and relit illuminated the faces of each of the new characters I’d met. I felt like I was in a movie, think Wet, Hot, American Summer. The hiker, outdoorsy, hippie, stoner cliche image wasn’t a cliche anymore it was reality and this was my own Wet, Hot, Appalachian Summer. Though I didn’t participate I loved these people, the attitude they carried with them, the air about them. Tomorrow didn’t matter. They were alive for today, for right now and that was all that mattered, feeling good in the moment, being happy in the now. Maybe that was enough. Maybe one day at a time was the way I needed to start living. I’d been planning things my entire life. It was time to stop planning and start living. The only problem was I wasn’t sure how to do that and I thought I’d have to have a plan to really start.

I’d lost Mud this morning, but I’d gained something in return. When the trail taketh she giveth back. I knew things were going to be okay. The trio I’d been sent gave me the reassurance that though Mud was gone I’d be just fine.

The movie ended and my new friends settled into their beds.

“Night guys. If I’m asleep when you’re leaving, wake me. I want to be sure I get to say goodbye.” I said.

“Sure thing.” They said and I shut off the last remaining light in the RV and went to sleep with no Mud in sight.

Rose – Meeting the trio of NOBO’s.
Bud – What life will be like without Mud.
Thorn – Saying goodbye to Mud.

Tags: adventure, appalachian trail, care free, coachman rv, count of monte cristo, fish, goodbye, hike your own hike, hippie, leaving, moving on, mud, new friends, old crow medicine show, one armed bandit, stoner, thru hike, thru hiker, trio, wet hot american summer | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 2 Comments »

Night 25: One Last Night of Mud

Thursday, July 29th, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rose – ATVing.

Bud- Getting one more day into the healing process.

Thorn – Mud packing his things.

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

Night 24: What’s Next, Home or Here?

Thursday, July 29th, 2010

Monday 6-28-2010
0 Miles Hiked, 1,932.7 Miles to Springer

When I woke my ankle had nearly doubled in size and looked as though someone had inserted an orange underneath my skin. When I asked David if he could drive me to the doctor he said he was too busy shuttling other hikers around all day. He said he might be able to drive me the 25 miles to the family health center in Bethel the next day.

I was actually enjoying my down time lying in bed and watching the Price Is Right, it brought back memories of staying home from school sick when I was a little kid. I can remember faking sick just to get an extra day of watching Bob Barker call the next contestants down the isle. The only problem was that I was no longer a little kid, this was not my home, and Drew Carry is no Bob Barker. I wanted to get better and get out of Andover, out of Maine, and closer to home as soon as possible.

After seeing my ankle Mud agreed there was some urgency in getting me to a doctor as soon as possible. Since David wasn’t going to be of help in getting me to Bethel Mud said he would run to the general store and beg anyone he could find to drive me us to there. After a half hour Mud returned from the general store with a smile on his face.

“Good news, I ran into the guy who runs the High 5 Hostel at the general store and he said he could shuttle you and it’ll be a dollar a mile. He said he’ll be here to pick us up in about thirty to make sure you make it for the 1:00 P.M. slot you said they had open.” Mud said.

We let David and Eileen know we’d be leaving soon and waited on the porch. Both David and Eileen gave us an odd warning, “The people from the High 5 are nice, but they’re odd.” They said.

I didn’t care how odd they were. They were willing to take me to the doctors and that was all that mattered to me this morning.

A man with minor white facial hair and a beak of a nose and sunglasses pulled his black dented SUV into the drive and gave the horn a honk.

“How you doin’ Tiny Tim?” The man who sported a Jimmy Buffet shirt over his beer gut asked me before he even knew my name.

“Not too good.” I said as hopped toward the car using my trekking poles like a cane or crutches.

“I’m Caretaker.” He said as I climbed into the front seat.

“I’m going to reset the odometer so we both know how much you owe when we get back. I’ can’t keep track of it in my head. I’m no good with numbers since my head injury in Cosovo.” He said.

“Were you in the military?” I asked.

“Army, specs, 17 years. I busted my legs up in a parachuting drill. Broke my femur and never fully recovered.” He said. “Even with the way things ended, I’d recommend the military to any young person today.It was the best experience of my life.”

“I’ve thought about the Navy as a possibility, but never with any seriousness.” I said. “How long have you been doing this whole hostel thing?” I asked.

“We started out as trail angels, helping out people in your exact situation. Then it just kind of expanded into what it is today over the last couple years. We gotta pay the pills like everyone else.” He said.

“That’s pretty cool. Have you lived in Maine your whole life?” I asked.

“No. My dad was in the military and after killing one too many people he found religion big time. Became a Mormon and made our whole family Mormon. He moved us all out to the middle of nowhere fuckin’ Utah. It was actually a great place to grow up. Lots of space to run around. So what brings you guys to the trail?” He asked.

“Just finished college and I didn’t want to get a job or go to grad school right away, and this seemed like a pretty cool thing to do.” I said.

“Same.” Mud said.

“College degree, pretty expensive piece of paper. So you both got B.A.’s or B.S.’s?” He asked.

“B.A.’s.” We said.

“Yeah. You guys seem like silver spoon fed type of kids.” He said. “If you’ve got parents that support you like I figure you do, I say travel as much as you can.” He said. “Besides traveling get into scuba. No matter how worn out your body gets you can always scuba, your weightless in the water.”

“And if you ask my advice for a happy life; Scuba, travel, and fuck as much as possible. I’ll tell you, monogamy is for the fuckin’ Christians.” He said.

“So you’re not married I take it.” I said.

“Oh no.” He laughed. “I’m married.”

The rest of the ride went quickly and we were in the middle of Bethel before long. Caretaker parked the car in the Bethel Family Health Center lot and as I got out of the passenger side he begged me to wait and let him get the wheel chair and wheel me into the lobby. I insisted I’d be fine hopping in. Once I got checked in with the nurse at the front desk Caretaker and Mud left to hit the local grocery store.

I waited a short time before one of the nurses called me into one of the back rooms and left me there to wait for Dr. Moses. She gasped a little when she first saw my ankle.

“How did you do this?” She asked.

I explained that my ankle had been bothering me for a few weeks. I told her I’d been rolling it on a daily basis and that I woke up two days earlier with chills and fever and explained what had happened the previous day on the way up Moody Mountain. I told her how I woke up this morning and it had doubled in size.

“It looks really bad. I’d say you’ve got a severe sprain or strain. You’ve done some pretty severe soft tissue damage by being on it day after day when it’s been bothering you. It’s a good sign that there’s no cuts or scraps around the ankle given how red and hot the area is, and from how you’ve described it I’d say it’s not broken. The breathing troubles and fever were probably just your body telling you something was wrong when you weren’t giving the ankle the time it needed to heal and you probably were working harder than you normal have too since you essentially had one dead leg.” She said.

“Can you do x-rays to make sure nothing is broken?” I asked.

“We can, but it’s really not necessary in my opinion.” She said.

“I think we better do x-rays because I know my mom will first ask if anything is broken and then ask what the x-ray showed, and if I tell her there was no x-ray she’ll make me wish I’d had one done.” I said.

I put on the lead vest and we got the x-rays. They were developed and nothing was broken. I thanked God I hadn’t done any permanent damage.

“How long do I need to stay off the trail? What’s the earliest I could try hiking again?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t recommend getting back on before a minimum of two weeks and I’d say three weeks to be safe.” She said.

My heart instantly sunk. I was hoping she’d say a few days. Three weeks was a death sentence, at least for this portion of my hike. Three weeks meant I might as well catch the next train home and heal there until I was able to hike again.

“You’re sure it might not be better in more like five days?” I asked.

“It might feel better in five days, but if you get back on it that soon you’ll likely injure it again and you could do permanent damage and be off the trail the rest of the year.” She said.

“Okay, so two to three weeks. What about ten days, you think maybe ten days and I might be good to go?” I asked.

“In ten days it might be decently healed, but you don’t want to mess around with this, especially with as much as you have left. I’d make sure you let it heal completely before you try and hike on it again and I’d like to see you in a week if you’re still in town.” She said.

“Okay, I’ll be careful and I probably won’t be here in a week.” I said.

I pivoted out of the exam room on the used crutches they gave me. I saw Caretaker and Mud waiting for me in the lobby. I gave them the bad news. In the five minutes since I’d been told of my recovery timeline by Dr. Moses I’d already started thinking of what my next move would be.

“I’m going to look at train and bus ticket prices and see if it makes more sense for me to stay here and heal or to head home and just take all off July of and come back at the beginning of August.” I said.

We picked up my prescription from the local CVS. I was given a weeks supply of an ant-inflammatory called indocin. I picked up some heal lifts for my boots and I bought some bandage wraps to keep my ankle bound.

As we drove back to Andover Caretaker gave me some news that changed all the plans of heading home that I’d made in my head.

“If you decide to try and stay here and heal I can make it as economical as possible. It’ll be ten bucks a night, and you can stay in the RV in my front yard and watch Netflix on the laptop we keep in there until you’re healed up. A young swimmer like you, you’ll be healed in no time. Breakfast is four dollars, lunch five, and dinner six, and my wife is an amazing cook. If you decide you still want to catch a train or bus home we can get you there tomorrow, but I just wanted you to know all your options.” He said.

Caretaker took us back to the Pine Ellis. I started crutching too quickly and trip up the porch stairs and fell to the ground. We settled our debts with David and grabbed out gear, I didn’t grab anything, but Mud grabbed mine and his gear and we loaded back into Caretakers car. When we got back to Caretaker’s house, or the High 5 Hostel Mud and I got settled into the RV and looked around the big orange conex shipping box that was filled with bunk beds and wired with satellite tv. The High 5 Hostel was by far the most interesting hostel I’d seen in all of Maine, and it seemed like a place I might be comfortable recovering.

After we finished exploring and getting settled down we checked out the iTunes on the RV’s mini laptop. Caretaker came back to the RV to check on us and make sure everything was okay and he gave us the rundown.

“I close the main house at 9:00 P.M. I usually wake up around 7:00 A.M. If you have to pee just go behind the RV. If you have to do more than pee use the main house bathroom, but knock on the door and wait for someone to tell you to come in before you enter. I don’t like people just walking in. The RV is hooked up to water from the house, and if you need anything else just knock.” He said.

“Okay, sounds good, thanks for everything.” I said.

Mud and I relaxed and ate some of our stockpile from the grocery store in Bethel. Once we figured out how to set up Netflix we spent the rest of the night watching a Zach Galifinakis snowboard comedy, Out Cold. It was stupid, raunchy, and funny, and I didn’t have to think while watching it. It was nice to have something to laugh at and to take my mind off of what my next move would be. I could heal in Andover or head home. I wasn’t ready to leave the trail, but there was no guarantee I’d get better in Andover. I decided to sleep on it.

Rose – Meeting Caretaker

Bud – Deciding what the immediate future held.

Thorn – News of a 2-3 week recovery timeline.

Tags: andover, ankle brace, appalachian trail, at, beautiful, bethel, coachman rv, epsom salt bath, high 5 hostel, hiking, ice bath, indocin, nature, netflix, outdoors, pine ellis, sprained ankle, suv, thru hike, thru hiker, x-rays | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 1 Comment »

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.

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 »

Appalachian Trail Hiker

Posts Tagged ‘thru hiker’

Night 32: On The Trail Again

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

Night 30: Bored On The 4th Of July

Night 29: An Old Goat Returns

Night 28: Driving To Devil’s Den

Night 27: Mmmmm…..Moose

Night 26: There’s More Than Mud

Night 25: One Last Night of Mud

Night 24: What’s Next, Home or Here?

Night 23: Could The End Be In Andover?

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Posts Tagged ‘thru hiker’

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