Posts Tagged ‘trail magic’

Night 44: Pink Wine At The End Of The Whites

Friday, March 25th, 2011

Pink wine at Jeffers Brook Shelter

Pink wine at Jeffers Brook Shelter

Sunday July 18, 2010

6.9 Miles, 1781.7 Miles to Springer, 397.4 Miles Hiked

Today’s hike would be my shortest in a while as my schedule was going to be dictated by the United States Postal service. My sister Caitlin had sent a package for me to the Glencliff post office which was just over seven miles away, unfortunately post offices aren’t open on Sundays so I would hike 6.9 miles to the shelter just before Glencliff and walk into Glencliff early tomorrow morning to get my package. Today would be  a relaxed day and I was looking forward to it.

I woke up as the sun rose, not because of the mileage I had for the day, but because I wanted to get over Moosilauke before it stormed again, if it was going to storm and I planned on taking a long afternoon nap at Jeffers Brook Shelter as soon as I got there. As I got my things together I talked with some of the weekend hikers who had shared the shelter with me. There was a man who looked almost exactly like a long haired Paulie Shore, which made me happy because Paulie Shore reminds me of being a kid. I was so distracted by his striking resemblance to Paulie Shore that I didn’t hear a word he said.

The other hikers I talked to were two girls who had attended Brown and Harvard and that was all they had to talk about. I lost interest in them immediately, and I got a very lesbian vibe from both of them, not that there was anything wrong with that. Believe me, I didn’t like them because they were elitists who loved to talk about how special and smart they were for attending an Ivy League school.

I kept the conversation brief, packed up my things and said goodbye to the Ivy League Lesbians and the Paulie Shore look alike and the other day hikers who I had shared the shelter with the previous night.

Before I left the Beaver Brook campsite and shelter area I stopped at the privy. A sign attached to it informed me that it was being maintained by the DOC (Dartmouth Outdoors Club). When I opened the privy door and stepped inside the odor was extra offensive. The door slammed behind me and it was like I was trapped in a four foot by four foot shit covered crime scene. It was terrible. What used to be the back window of the privy was now the toilet seat lid and was it was smeared with shit stains and crusted with dried urine and splashes of what I can only imagine was some poor hiker’s diarrhea.

After grabbing a corner of the plexiglass window pain that covered the toilet I lifted it up as though I was holding explosive material. With the dirty plexiglass removed I saw what was inside.

The toilet seat sat upon approximately a six foot high by four by four foot wooden box. We’re talking about 150 cubic feet ( maybe those calculations are wrong, but hey, math was never my strong suit)  for holding human waste.

Back to what was inside. The privy had been so heavily used and poorly maintained, cleaned, or composted that shit was literally beginning to overflow up and out of the toilet.

As I looked down at the rising, spiraling, tower of shit I knew it was decision time. I really had to poop and if I didn’t do it here I’d be squatting in the woods, potentially squatting above tree line trying to poop in the middle of an electrical storm.  I decided to chance it as I couldn’t hold it any longer and I sat down knowing full well that the poop tower could end up pushing up against me just from sitting or that whatever came out of me would be pushed up against me with nowhere to go down below. Yes, I had become a disgusting person. The decisions of my every day life were not what I had envisioned for myself when I set out on this Mecca-esque quest.

The privy incident left me unsmeared. I didn’t dare reach under myself to wipe for fear that my hand would make direct contact with the poop tower. I stood up with pants around my ankles and wiped while standing up. This is probably far too much to be sharing with the entire world, but this was the way I had to think now, these were my serious life problems.

Since it was a weekend the tent site was filled with weekenders, who had tents the size of Howard Johnson hotels, absolutely ridiculous luxuries that I was secretly jealous about. Just as I left camp I ran into a crazed looking Chihuahua that ran at me and tried to bite me several times. The dogs owners offered me some doughnut holes as a peace offering for the crazed dog nipping at my legs and I took them and gladly scarfed them down and headed to the trail away from the crazed Chihuahua.

The sunlight that greeted me at the shelter that morning was pretty much completely gone by the time I was getting close to breaking the treeline. It appeared I might just make it through the Whites without a single good view from any of the major peaks. The thing is that I didn’t care at all. I was just so excited to be out of the damn White mountains, and excited that I would never have to come back. These mountains as amazing as they were scare the fucking shit out of me.

As I reached the summit of Mount Moosilauke the large cairns came into view as white and misty clouds rolled past me with 20 mile per hour winds that blew and blew.

MVI_2165

When I reached the top I saw a tiny slit of blue between two massive dark clouds. I saw a young couple enjoying lunch behind a pile of rocks, protected from the wind. I sat down next to them and we talked. I wasn’t exactly in a rush with less than six miles to go to the next shelter and with no sound of thunder.

“I’m Lola.” The girl said.

“And I’m Sunrise.” The man said. They both wore copper wedding bands, something I’d never seen before and something about them seemed more free and wild then anyone I’d met so far, these people were travelers.

I told them about the Whites , the hut system, the insane weather, and I ate lunch with them.

Since I was in no rush I just waited at the summit even as Lola and Sunrise moved on. I envied them the fact that they had each other to hike with.

I met another couple a half hour later, Moose and Tetherball. They too were so full of life and positive energy they made me wish I was headed North with them. They gave me the boost I needed to keep on keeping on. They were accompanied by another young man named Chewy.

“The only animals I’ve seen so far are deers and bears.” Chewy said. “You get to Virginia and deers will be trying to get into the shelter to spoon with you.” Chewy said.

Moose gave me some of her swedish fish and then departed North. I ate them and then I too left the  and headed the just under five miles I had to hike to get to Jeffers Brook Shelter. I arrived around 2:00 P.M. with plenty of daylight left so I decided that after I finished what I had allotted for my lunch that I would take a well deserved nap. And I slept on the hard wooden shelter floor like it was a feather bed.

I woke up to a white trash looking couple named Tracy and Owen. They had two lab and pit bull mix puppies that were terribly disobedient.

They chatted with me and told me they had parked their car just a half mile away and were going to get their tent and food. Food that included hot dogs which they offered me, I was very excited.

When they headed back to their car to get their gear an older couple named Grace & Glory and Walking Man arrived. Both loved to complain and did plenty of it to anyone near enough that had functioning ears.

“As soon as I finish my hike I’m writing a letter to my senator about those huts.” Walking Man said.

Bishop arrived not too long after them and I was glad to see a familiar face who I knew I could talk to who I also knew was not crazy.

Turkey and Thrasher arrived shortly after Bishop and told me of the early troubles they faced in their hike.  They said Thrasher got hurt early on and they had a 1000 medical bill to pay and no insurance.

Tracy, the woman in the white trash couple walked back into the campsite dragging a giant cooler on wheels while Owen, her boyfriend carried more than the average camel could hull. Good thing their car was so close.  Tracey opened the cooler and pulled out two giant bottles of pink Sutter Home wine and poured us all very full glasses. One glass had me tipsy and the half bottle shared between Tracy and Owen had them talking about dropping everything and starting their own thru hike. They asked Bishop and I questions and said they were dead serious about hiking, I knew this was all bar talk and would amount to nothing, but bar talk with strangers is at least entertaining.

There was about two cups worth of wine left in one of the bottles as everyone headed to bed. Tracy and Owen offered it to Bishop and me to finish and we did. I poured half in my tin cup and Bishop drank the rest straight from the bottle.

Since Bishop was getting a new phone soon I gave him my number in case we got split up and so he could let me know how far ahead he was when we really got split up when I left Hanover and headed home for my two friends’ weddings.

I had pulled out the card Sarah had given me before I started my hike, the same card I read every night before I went to bed. The front had three pictures of her.  In the first she was pointing to herself, the second making a heart with her hands, and in the third pointing at me and on the inside was a picture of her blowing a kiss with the words ‘I love you’ underneath the picture.

“What are you looking at?” Bishop asked.

“A card my girlfriend made me before I left for my hike that she asked me to take with me the whole way.” I said.

“Can I see it?” Bishop asked.

“Yeah, but you can’t read what’s inside, that’s just between her and me,” I said as I handed him the card.

“She’s really pretty.” He said.

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous.” I said.

“How long you been together?” He asked.

“Just about two and a half years.” I said.

“That’s a really long time.” He said.

“It hasn’t seemed that long to me.” I said.

“Every girl I’ve ever been with has told me I have commitment issues, or maybe it was intimacy issues, I can’t remember.” Bishop said as he handed the card back to me.

“Maybe it was the girls that had the issues, and they just blamed them on you.” I said with a laugh as I tucked the card back in my journal and put it in my pack.

We turned our headlamps off and I felt so ready to be back home, back in the real world, back in the life I once inhabited even if it just was for a week.

We went to bed and I really hoped I’d see Bishop again, but I wasn’t sure if I could make up 10 days hiking on someone who hiked just as fast as I did. I’d really have to move fast if I was going to ever see him again. But people had told me you’d be surprised at what can happen that will bring hikers back together on the trail.

Rose – Glass of Wine.

Bud – Getting closer to Hanover.

Thorn – Only getting 6.9 miles hiked.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 3 Comments »

Night 21: Saddleback Mountain Magic

Monday, July 5th, 2010

The view from the peak of Saddleback Mountain In Maine

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mud arrived about fifteen minutes after me looking pretty rough.

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

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

“I think I’ll be okay.” Mud said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lay in it.” He said.

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

“I’m sleeping here tonight.” He said.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, headed to Georgia.” I said.

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

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

“What are your names?” He asked.

“Triple P., ABEAR, ans Mud.” We said.

“Were you a thru hiker?” I asked

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thorn- Bloody nose.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 1 Comment »

Night 17: National Hike Naked Day

Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010

Monday, 6-21-2010
13.7 Miles Hiked, 2,013.9 Miles to Springer

The scents of bacon, eggs, homes fries, and Dunkin’ Doughnuts coffee wafted up the stairs this morning and woke me just before my alarm sounded. Old Man River was preparing another amazing feast before he took us back to the trail.

Mud and I gorged ourselves on the more than generous portions Old Man River offered. We ate an ate and washed our food down with coffee,with creamer and sugar, orange juice, and V8 Splash. I felt like royalty. I tossed back two Advil with breakfast and Old Man River told me I could take the bottle he had, and I did. I went into the bathroom and I swallowed all forty five pills right on the spot, I was looking for my way off the trail and back to civilization for good and I found in it in a trip to the hospital to have my stomach pumped. I kid, I joke, I would never want to do anything that separate me from the trail, at least for now.

We loaded back up and I gave Mud shotgun this time round. We stopped at a different Walmart than the previous day so I could buy some bug spray. I also printed off some pictures to send to Sarah with the letter I wrote.

“You guys know what today is right?” Old Man River asked.

“It’s Summer Solstice.” He said. “The longest day of the whole year, after this we’re headed back to winter. It’s also National Hike Naked Day.” He said.

“Wow, that really exists? I came across an article about it when I was researching the trail last year, but I didn’t think it was a real thing.” I said. “Did you see anyone hike naked last year on it?” I asked.

“No, but I talked to some people who said they did it for a couple miles. It’s actually pretty risky cause if you get caught by a ranger and arrested it goes down in your record forever that you’re a sexual offender.” He said.

“Oh wow, yeah, that would not be good.” I said.

Old Man River drove us to the post office and said he’d stick around and take us back to the trail after we got our packages.

“I want to see what’s in those packages to see how much extra stuff you’re gonna have to carry with you.” He said.

I didn’t really see what Mud got in his package but I think some new pants. a new hat, and I know two bags of chocolate covered peanuts or raisins or something.

In my package from Sarah I got two huge bags of Honey Mustard pretzel bits, my favorite snack in the world. One bag was heavy season and one was light season. I don’t really care for the light seasoning in the same way I don’t care for girls who are really flirty and never follow through. Does anyone like a tease? I also got a freeze dried Mexican chicken dish for two, a freeze dried ice cream sandwitch, some Cliff brand Mojo bars, my iPhone solar charger, a black bandana, hand and feet warmers, hand sanitizer, camp suds, and a card from Sarah with four pictures of her mouthing out the words “I,” “Love,” and “You” in the first three, and her blowing a kiss in the fourth. The card was my favorite part of the package.

I sent the sanitizer, camp suds, bandana, and warmers home with m y bag of other things I didn’t need, and I kept the rest. My food bags were full to the brim.

I got my stuff packaged and sent and sent Sarah my letter and pictures. I can’t wait for her to get them.

Old Man River took our trash from us and we loaded back up and headed to the trail head.

In our short trip down the road I told the rest of the car about what I had learned from the woman working at the post office.

“The woman behind the main desk told me she moved here twenty two years ago from Massachusetts. She said its a great place to live and they’ve loved it. She said when they moved in there were twenty three kids in the town grades K-12 and they all got taught in a three room school house by three teachers. She said it was a really cool experience for her kids. She said there just aren’t enough kids in the town anymore so the ones that do live there get shipped to schools close to forty miles away.”

“Oh wow,” Said Mud and Old Man River.

“Forty miles is freakin far.” Said Mud.

“Yeah it is.” I said.

Old Man River pulled into the parking lot and opened the trunk and we pulled out our hiking stick and poles and then our packs and said goodbye  and thanks you and shook his hand.

Just as we started walking South again he leaned out the drivers door and shouted, “Carpe Diem.”

“Will do.” I said.

“Sieze the karp.”Mud joked.

I started thinking about the message of the movie last night and what it really meant, what Old Man River’s last words to us really meant.

“Carpe Diem, Seize the day.”

It made me realize the whole movie was about living your life in the here and the now, about doing something risky, something that challenges you, something that brings you happiness, something that not maybe everyone understands, something that maybe you don’t even understand, but something you know you need to do.

I felt like that’s how I was living my life. I’m actually ‘living’ my life and not just the life friends, family, society, or coaches are telling me to live. I’m doing something just because I can and I wanted to. It felt good to feel like I was living in the moment, it felt good to feel in control.

My serious thoughts faded as Mud said, “Well, we weren’t murdered. I locked my door last night just in case.”

“I shut mine but felt safe enough to leave it unlocked.” I said.

We had reached the Kennebec River ferry in no time at all. A man named Hillbilly Dave welcomed us. He had long fried looking hippie locks, and every accessory from his fraying aqua marine sweat pants to his massive gold framed reading glasses, beer gut, and gap teeth added to the hill billy persona.

He gave us some paper work to fill out and gave us some background on the river, how it rises and falls randomly depending on when the damns release, and how that is why crossing it without a canoe is so dangerous.

“Haven’t lost a hiker since 1986 and crossed 23,000 safely since 1987/” Hillbilly Dave said.

“How’d the hiker die?” I asked.

“She was doing a NOBO thru hike with her husband and they decided to try and ford the river. It started to rise faster than she expected and her husband made it across and she didn’t. They found her body washed up on shore up stream.” He said.

“Oh my gosh.” I said.

“Bad way to end a thru hike.” Mudsaid.

After talking with him while he paddled us across we learned Hillbilly Dave was relatively new to the job. He was taking the job over from a man who had been ferrying people for something crazy like the last twenty years. We also learned that last year he crossed over 1200 people with only 12 idiots who had decided they would try to ford the river. He said most people that ford don’t do it because they missed the ferry time, they do it because they think it some how makes them seem like a tougher hiker.

We reached the other side  at about 9:30 A.M. it only took us five minutes.

“Seen any naked hikers yet?” I asked as we unclipped our life vests.

“Not yet. I crossed a guy earlier who said he wasn’t drunk enough to be naked yet, but said he’d be drinking in the woods and would probably be doing some naked hiking later in the day.” He said.

“Oh great, so we should be on the lookout for a drunk, naked hiker. Sounds like this will be a promising hike.

Mud and I strolled down an easy trail to Pierce Pnd lean-to. We saw an old couple in a small bota out fishing. On the shelter wall we noticed and advertisement for a place called Harrison’s ledge. You can shower, spend the night, and have a twelve pancake breakfast all for thirty dollars, not too bad.

After we finished lunch Mud and I figured no one else would be coming toward us since the ferry shut down for the day at 11:00 A.M. and it was now 11:30 A.M. and we figured id anyone were coming from behind us  we’d notice them. We decided the time had come to celebrate National Hike Naked Day in proper attire.

We headed away from the shelter and out of sight of the old couple fishing. Now that we were back on the trail we set our packs down and began disrobing. I pulled my shorts and underwear off over my boots, not wanting to deal with the hassle of relacing them and then I took off my blue shirt.

“Wow, that’s your ass, and you’re already naked.” Mud said.

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at getting naked fast, maybe something to do with wearing a speedo all the time.” I said as I glanced over my shoulder to see hadn’t even finished taking his boots off. That’s a rookie mistake if you need to get naked fast, never waste time on the shoes, cause naked is still naked even with shoes on.

I loaded my clothes into the brain of my pack for easy access in case I had to get to them fast and to get dressed. I put my pack on and buckled it. I grabbed my yellow bandana and hung it from my packs waist belt. It covered just enough so my frank and beans weren’t exposed.

Mud undressed, got his pack on, and rigged his hiking hat much in the same way I had done my bandana. I set my camera timer and set it on a rock and we got some pretty funny photos. Once the camera was away we both followed the white blazes bare asses. It was 12:08 P.M. and the brightest it’s ever been any time that I’ve ever been outside naked, which is a total of twice in my adult life, got skunked in a game of beer pong sophomore year of college and rules are rules.

Mud hiked naked til 12:38. He gave it a full half hour and about a mile of hiking before he called it quits. : Myass is getting bit and I’d really like to not my dick bit too.” He said.

I had decided if I was hiking naked today I was going big. I was hiking the whole hike naked.

“If you’re getting dressed how about you walk a couple hundred yards ahead and you can be my warning alarm. Just shout really loud if you see a family, kids, or a ranger and I’ll run into the woods and change before I’m seen.” I said.

“Ok.” Mud said.

I hiked with white cheeks out for what seemed like  an endless amount of time. We crossed North Branch Carrying Place Stream, a logging road, which just after we got to the other side and into the woods, two cars passed. Then we passed East Carry Pond. I had hiked almost seven miles naked and still no sign of another hiker let alone a ranger.

As we came close to Sandy Stream and Middle Carry Pond I heard a voice. I figured Mud was coming back to tell me something. I heard voices.

“It can’t be.” I thought, Mud said he’s me a warning shout if people were coming.

It was. Two men about my age were walking straight toward me talking to each other. Each glanced at me and back at each other and laughed.

“Hi.” I said.

I walked further up the trail to see Mud having a good laugh.

“You’re a bastard, you know that?” I said.

“If it was a family or kids or a ranger I would have warned you, but it wasn’t and that was pretty funny.” Mud said.

“Whatever. I didn’t really care anyways.” I said.

We got to West Carry Pond and then strolled into camp at West Carry lean-to. The pond was beautiful but very choppy water and it seemed like it might be to overcaste for swimming. I decided to swim anyways and after swimming just twenty or so strokes I was reminded how much I love swimming and just how much I miss it, and how much I miss coaching too. The sun came out for a little after I had swum around for a few minutes and I took that opportunity to get out and  dry off.

As I dried off with my bandana I noticed I had burn marks on the top of my butt and all over my back from where pack rubbed against my bare skin during today’s hike. I stung all over. The only way I felt better was by sleeping so I did. I awoke to an awkward looking small man with a funny accent asking me if he had woken me up. I found out he was from Israel but was attending a music school called Berkley in Massachusetts. He said his name was Picachu, but his real name was Ayal.

He told us he was out hiking because he had been looking for a cheap way to spend summer vacation so he subletted his apartment for two and a half months and decided to hike the AT from Massachusetts to Maine. He said unfortunately he’ll be done in a month and a half so he’ll be moving in with his aunt in New York for a few weeks. I also got a chuckle when he told us that at the top of two mountains he made miniature movies. In one he plays the theme song from Titanic on a recorder he brought with him and screams, “I’m king of the world!” and in another he plays the Braveheart theme song and screams “Freedom!”

I need to get my hands on both those videos as they sound amazing.

Picachu also told the said story of a man who helped him out in New Hampshire.

“His name is Chet.” He said. “He was going to be a thru hiker years ago. He’s in his late thirties now I would guess. During his thru hike one of his propane cooking stoves blew up in his face. He was in a coma for fourteen months and the doctors told him he would never function normally again. He lives off disability in a house by himself. Now he takes hikers in who need a place to stay because it makes him happy to help people. It’s very sad, but he is a very nice man.” Picachu said. “I will give you his number so you can stay with him if you need to.” He said.

“Thanks.” Mud and I said.

Picachu fell asleep rather early. Mud and I stayed awake and finished cooking our dinners. Right as I was halfway through making my Ramen I realized I had lost my spoon somewhere between Caratunk, Old Man River’s and our current location.

I ate my Ramen and tuna with my filthy dirt stained fingers, and was excited to be almost in Straton where I could get a new spoon.

Before I went to bed I placed moleskin on my back and butt where the pack burns were extra sensitive. I went to bed with no worries about Picachu murdering me, I felt he was a non threat. I hoped I was right.

Rose – Hiking Naked

Bud – Hiking with clothes on

Thorn – Hiking Naked

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 15 Comments »

Night 16: A Trail Angel Earns His Wings

Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes , son.” He said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it’s Justin.” I said.

“Yeah, Justin.” He said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coke.” Both Mud and I replied.

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

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

“Let’s stop now.” Mud and I agreed.

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

“You choose.” I said to Mud.

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

“Sounds good to me.” I said.

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

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

“Where’s the cottage?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.” He said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bud – Tomorrow is National Hike Naked Day

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

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 2 Comments »

Night 13: The Return of an Old Friend

Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010

Shaw's Boarding House

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, see you then.” I said.

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

“I will.” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rose – Old Man River is alive

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

Thorn – Falling and bangnig my shin.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Posted in Appalachian Trail | 2 Comments »