Oct 7

Katahdin

Everyone was up with the sun this morning.  I got my tent and the rest of my gear packed up, and waited.  The rest of the guys were all ready to start hiking around 7:30am.  My family wasn't here yet, but they should be on their way.  The guys went on ahead and started up the mountain, but I decided that I wanted to wait for my family to show up.  My dad and my little brother were going to try the climb with me, and I was excited to show them what it was like to be above tree line.  They've never done any hiking quite like this before.  This is going to be so cool for them to see.  Dad said to go ahead and summit if I thought I needed to, but I really wanted to go with them.  I'm not sure if they would have tried on their own if I had started out ahead.

Tripping Yeti, ready to summit in full costume.

A little after 8am the car pulled up.  I haven't seen my family in almost 4 months.  After hugs and pictures, I showed them around the campground a bit.  The weather forecast at the ranger station called for afternoon showers.  Time to get a move on.

Mom, Dad, and my brother with me at Katahdin Stream Campground.

We followed the white blazes away from the campground and into the woods.  The initial section of the trail was really nice, following the course of Katahdin Stream, gently climbing uphill.  After about a mile or so, the grade started to get steeper.  Often the trail had water running down it.  It took a lot of time to dodge the puddles and step up and over huge rocks along the way.  As the trees began to get shorter and shorter, the trail got steeper and steeper.  We stopped often to turn around and look at the incredible views behind us.  We've gained a couple thousand feet now, and broke out above tree line.  The trail was nothing but rocks and boulders, requiring some hand over hand climbing.  We stopped to rest on a rock ledge, and looked out into the valley below.  The land below was on fire with orange foliage.  The sister mountains around Katahdin, which had looked so big from the bottom this morning, were shrinking from this vantage point.  We kept climbing and crawling over the rocks.  Then we came to a really tough obstacle.  A huge rock ledge, with one ladder rung about 7 feet overhead.  I grabbed on to the rung, stuck one foot onto a small crack in the rock, and used my arms to pull myself up and over the ledge.  Dad was uneasy about trying to get up and over the ledge, and rightly so.  We could have helped him up for sure, but this is probably going to the first of many tough spots.  We're still over 2 miles from the summit, and even if he got up, we still have to come back down.  It was a difficult decision to make, because he really wanted to get to the summit with me, but we wisely decided that he shouldn't try to go any further.  Fortunately, right at that moment, another thru-hiker was coming down the mountain.  I had met Smiley several times before, and he offered to take Dad back down the trail to the campground.  I was really proud that he made it this far, and so happy that he got to see those amazing views above tree line.  It was really tough to have to keep going without him, but I tried to keep a strong face.  Not only do I have to make it to the summit, but I need to keep an eye on my brother and make sure he's okay on the climb.

Resting at tree line.

As suspected, the trail got even more difficult.  I tried to maintain 3 points of contact at all times as I pulled myself up and over more boulders and rocky slabs.  I've certainly done climbing like this before in New Hampshire and Maine, but this was probably the toughest climb of them all.  As we neared the top of the steepest part of the climb, Slims, Rainbow, and Apache were on their way down.  I could see it had been physically and emotionally tough for them, but at the same time, they said it was awesome at the top.  My brother and I carefully made our way up to "The Gateway" - the end of the steep boulder field, and the beginning of a plateau at the top of the mountain.  We climbed over the last boulder and stepped out onto "The Tablelands".

Looking up at "The Gateway".

Looking behind us, we could see the thin ribbon of rocks and white blazes on the arm of the mountain we had just come up.  The slopes dropped off incredibly steep on either side.  The look on my brother's face was priceless.  Without words, he seemed to say, "what did you just get me into!?".  Welcome to Maine bro.

Near the top.

The Tablelands were more or less in a cloud.  The trail was soaking wet.  As we moved up and on, the cloud got thicker until visibility was maybe a hundred feet or so.  Rocks and signposts were covered in a layer of ice that stuck out sideways in the direction of the blowing wind.  We passed Thoreau Spring, where crystal clear water was pouring out from under a rock, way up at 4600 feet.  A plaque noted that Henry David Thoreau had hiked up Katahdin in 1846, a climb that helped in his writing of "The Maine Woods".  Even here at the end, the lesson in American history experienced while hiking the AT is ever present.

In "The Tablelands".  Yep, that's ice.

In the distance, at the top of a short climb, I saw the silhouette of a sign.  The sign.  The end of the trail.  I told by brother to go on ahead of me.  I stopped to try to compose myself and think about what was about to happen.  In an instant, a slideshow flashed in my head.  I saw white blazes, rhododendrons in bloom, fir trees, dark forests, sunny hillsides, and dozens of smiling faces.  As I neared the sign, my hands were trembling and my lip quivered.  My eyes welled up.  I reached out an touched that sign.  It did exist.  With my arm draped across it, I rested my head on the sign.  After a few moments, I lifted my head, pumped my fist, and managed to choke out a few words - "I did it!".

I am - a thru-hiker!

A man was at the top the same time as us and offered to take our picture at the sign.  I can only imagine what he was thinking seeing me up there with emotion bubbling over.  My brother explained to him that I had just finished hiking from Georgia.  The man's jaw dropped.  After some picture taking, we wrapped things up, and started to make our way back down the mountain.  It was getting cold up here, and it could start raining, or worse, at any minute.  The climb back down was much easier with gravity on our side now.  Even with 2184 miles under my feet, I was tired and sore from climbing Katahdin.  That was such a perfect end to the trail.  I felt like each section prepared you in some way for the next as you headed north.  Then to end it all with Katahdin.  What an amazing mountain.  Words can't describe it adequately.  How sublimely beautiful it was.  The AT saves its best for last.

Me and my brother at the northern terminus of the AT.  
Baxter Peak, Mt. Katahdin - elev. 5268 ft. 

Over the past few weeks, I had plenty of time to think about the end.  Of course I wasn't sure about how it would unfold exactly, but I wasn't at all prepared once it actually happened.  There was no grand epiphany.  No flash of meaning or purpose.  It was just over.  No more hiking left.  No more pasta sides for dinner, no more resupply.  No more spring water.  No more sleeping in the woods.  No more campfires.  The drive out of the park, on the way to Millinocket was a blur.  I kept looking back again and again, trying to get a glimpse of Katahdin.  It's amazing how you can feel so excited and happy, but empty and sad, all at the same time.  After all of this, I was glad I was done with this thru-hike, but I didn't want to leave the trail.  I'm sure going to miss this.  Going home is going to be hard.

Oct 6

Perfect timing

Up at first light this morning, looking to get an early start.  Old Tomato's parents drove into the park early, and brought us all McDonalds for breakfast.  We headed over to the ranger station to check in before heading up the mountain.  The weather reports in the park change daily.  Bad news from the ranger.  What was a chance of showers yesterday is now a nasty storm is blowing in.  100% chance of rain.  Wind gusts on the summit are expected to be in the 50-60mph range.  It's going to be chilly down here at the base, but up at elevation, colder temperatures means a high probability for sleet and ice.  Not the news I wanted to hear for hiking up the mountain today.  I've been in wind like that back on Mt. Moosilauke, and I got snowed on in the spring back in the highlands of Tennessee.  I've been hiking in 30 degree weather for the past 3 weeks or so in Maine, and I've certainly seen some good rain storms.  But this felt different.  I was tentative about  heading up Katahdin in these conditions.  The route is strenuous, rocky, and above tree line for over 2 miles. Certainly a physical challenge in good conditions, but with the combination of the wind and ice, I didn't feel good about going.  I talked with Slims about it, and he agreed to wait it out one more day too.  Atom Bomb, Old Tomato, Yogi, and BooBoo were going to make an attempt on the summit anyway.  A couple of other thru-hikers were also going up.  Slims and I stayed at the campground watching them head down the trail, as their parents looked on.  Once they were out of sight, I began trying to come up with some sort of plan for today.  I needed to get a cell signal, and the best option would be leaving the park and heading to Millinocket, over 20 miles away.  Slims and I walked down the road, away from Katahdin Stream Campground, trying to hitch a ride out of the park.  There's a good number of people camping in the park, so we expected there to be a lot of traffic leaving this morning.  There was, but no one was picking us up.  We walked about 3 miles to Abol Campground, where we sat on the side of the road and waited, thumbs out.  After about half an hour, an off duty park ranger said he was headed to town and could give us a lift.  He's planning on doing some hiking on his days off, and after grabbing some lunch, he was heading back into the park.  There's our return trip too.  Sweet.  We got to Millinocket and ate lunch at the deli.  I called my brother, and my parents, and found out that they are on their way right now.  They'll be in town tonight, and will meet me in the park in the morning.  When I was in Monson, over a week ago, I had told them that I was hoping to be able to summit on the 7th, and they are right on schedule to be there with me that morning.    If there's one thing I've been on this hike, it's inconsistent.  Despite my constant planning, and pouring over my guidebook each night, I've never been exactly where I thought I would be after two or three days.  To plan eight days out - preposterous.  2100 miles of hiking, over 190 days, and I never got that right.  Not to mention, upon leaving Monson, I had to make it through the Wilderness, with its cold, rain, low milage days, river fords, big milage days, and literally running out of food.  It's a miracle I was here when I told my family I would be, and a day early at that.  Slims and I hopped back in the car and went back to the campground.  The Birches is for one-night use only, which we already used.  Fortunately, we were able to crash at one of the car-camping sites with Tripping Yeti.  His mom had come up for the weekend too, and since Yeti had also decided not to summit today, they were staying at their campsite for another night.  I got my tent set up, just as a cold rain started to fall.  In the middle of the afternoon, Atom Bomb, Old Tomato, Yogi, and BooBoo made it back to the campground.  They were thru-hikers now.  Their eyes were wild with excitement.  They talked about how windy and icy it was at the summit, but it was an epic climb.  It was a beautiful mountain.  They talked about it with reverence and awe.  They felt like conquerors.  Not only was this Katahdin - the great mountain, not only was this the end of the hike, but to do it in such wrathful weather, was spectacularly memorable.  Other thru-hikers were coming down the mountain too, with more harrowing stories.  Everyone was saying how all the day-hikers were turning back at tree line.  They thought the thru-hikers were crazy to keep going up.  Well, that's an accurate assessment, but after this long, and this far, all that's left is 5 miles up and 5 miles down.  Crazy, sure.  But determined, absolutely.  Determined doesn't even begin to describe it.  It was weird seeing them come back down.  They had done it.  And I was just sitting there, offering congratulations.  Shortly after, they hopped in their family's cars.  Just like that, they were gone.  That was a lonely feeling.  As the rain continued to fall, I sat under a picnic pavilion, trying to process everything.  Slims was taking cover in his tent.  Just before dark, I saw a hiker walking toward the ranger station.  I recognized the rain jacket and pack cover.  I ran over to the bridge that crosses the stream and stopped him.  Another hiker came up right behind him.  It was Apache and Rainbow Eyes!  Man, it was great to see them.  They had their own incredible story to tell about making it through the Wilderness.  They had taken a zero day back at Cloud Pond lean-to, to wait out the weather, and reevaluate the situation.  Over the next several days, when the weather improved, they were able to churn out big miles, and catch up.  I ran back to get Slims, and the four of us walked over the the Birches.  Like clockwork, the ridge runners showed up tonight too, and Apache and Rainbow got to have their own candle lighting ceremony.  Shorty after dark, Slims and I headed back to our campsite for the night.  Big day tomorrow.  Early to bed, early to rise.  It's the best of both worlds for me.  The guys are here, and we will be able to end this trip together.  My family will be here in the morning too, and they'll be able to see me finish, just like they saw me start.  I couldn't get to sleep.  I'm too excited and there's too much to think about.  The rain was stopping and starting, off and on all night.  I saw the moon come out.  Occasionally, instead of just merely rolling over, I would get out of my tent and walk around, looking up at it.  Sometimes it was hidden behind blowing clouds.  Over several hours, I watched it as it moved across the sky.

Katahdin Stream Campground.  Mile 2179.1.

Oct 5

Baxter

Up at 5:30am.  I ate my last meal, the couscous and Spam.  I was on trail by 6:30am, after packing up a wet tent.  It was still cloudy, but not raining.  The trail was wet.  The air is not as cold today though.  There was only about 500 feet of elevation gain this morning, over 8 or 9 miles, as I made my way to Rainbow Ledges. I stopped there for about 5 minutes, just to take in another view of Katahdin.  The hiking has been easy so far, and I'm definitely in 'go' mode.  Head down, plowing down the trail.  I stopped at Hurd Brook lean-to for a water break.  Slims gave me a couple packs of peanuts to tide me over.  In a few more miles I finally saw the sign that marked the northern end of the 100-mile Wilderness.  I stepped out of the woods, onto the road, and headed across Abol Bridge.  From the bridge, you get a perfect view of Katahdin, unfortunately for me, it was locked in clouds at the moment.  This isn't a town here or anything.  Just a campground, and a store.  But it was a much needed oasis.  I walked around the isles of the convenience store, trying to decide what I wanted to eat first.  Then I got the good idea to go into the small restaurant on-site, and eat a real meal before doing any shopping.  Yes, I'll have the 1 pound hamburger please.  Kokopelli was there too.  He's out of the hospital and wearing a huge brace on his leg now.  His girlfriend had picked him up and driven him out here.  He wanted to see Katahdin up close.  It was so good to see him and know that he's okay now.  I could see how much it hurt, not to be able to finish.  But with a smile, he said he'll be back next year to climb Katahdin.

View from Abol Bridge.

After lunch, and resupplying, our group headed out into the woods.  We entered into Baxter State Park.  At the information board at the trail head was ATC ridge runner, Johnathan.  The last time I saw him was on Day 1, March 24, on Springer Mountain, where he had handed me a book of matches.  He said if any of us still had the matches, bring them to the ceremony tonight at the Birches in Katahdin Stream Campground.  No idea what this meant.  I thought the matches would get me a souvenir at the camp store or something.  We signed in with Jonathan, planning to stay at the Birches lean-to tonight.  The hiking in Baxter this afternoon was amazing.  More ponds, flat terrain, waterfalls, and beautiful colors.  There were even 2 streams we had to ford.  The lower fork of the Nesowadnehunk was waist deep, and fast moving.  We spent a bit of time trying to find an easier way, but eventually I just went all in.  Wet shoes, wet socks, wet shorts.  Who cares, I only have one more day right?  The upper fork of the stream was a mile further down the trail.  It was a much more dangerous crossing, but fortunately we were able to rock-hop across to the other side.  I kept thinking, it was crazy and hilarious that these 2 fords in Baxter were just as bad or worse than anything we just saw in the Wilderness.

Seriously?  No more fords, please!

We made it to Katahdin Stream Campground, and checked in at the ranger station there.  I signed in, and was the 627th northbound hiker to do so this year.  Atom Bomb met his parents there, and they drove him out of the park to stay with them in town for the night.  Slims, Old Tomato, Yogi, BooBoo and I, checked in at the Birches for the night.  Around 6:30pm, ridge runner Jonathan, and ridge runner Regina showed up at the campsite.  They called us over to the picnic table for the match lighting ceremony.  Now I'm not going to give away the secret of what actually happened to that book of matches I had from Springer Mountain.  All I'll say is that they did come in handy for the ceremony.  Jonathan and Regina gave us an amazing and warm final gift of trail magic.  A fitting end to an epic journey.  21.2 miles today.  I managed to get out of the Wilderness and into Baxter after some incredible hiking.  Now I'm happy, and well fed, and getting ready to spend my last night on the trail.  I'm having mixed emotions about tomorrow though.  I haven't spoken to my family since I left Monson over a week ago.  I know they're planning to come up to meet me, but I have no idea if they are on their way or not.  Rainbow and Apache are still somewhere behind too.  I've hiked all the way from Georgia with these guys.  They've got to be here too.  It wouldn't be the same without them.  I'm sitting here in camp at the base of Katahdin, and I'm not sure if I should hike it tomorrow or not.  I know I should.  I'm here now, and if the weather is good, I shouldn't wait.  It could snow at any time, and they could close the trail for safety concerns.  I can't wait around, or I risk not being able to finish at all.  Regardless of what happened, I knew I needed to push really hard and get out of the Wilderness as soon as possible.  I did that.  Now, I'm not sure what I should do about summitting.  I guess all I can do is sleep on it, and see what the morning brings.  As for now, it looks like tomorrow, I'll be a thru-hiker.

Katahdin.

  

Oct 4

Hunger Games

Even after a big couple of days, we haven't caught up with Slims.  Apache and Rainbow should be a half day  or so behind.  The rest of the League and I got up at 5am, and we were out on the trail by 6:30am.  I feel conflicted with our group split up a bit, but the overwhelming drive to get through the Wilderness trumps all other thoughts right now.  Thankfully, the last 2 days have been great.  Easy terrain, nice weather.  Early in the morning, I had a decision to make.  I came to a dirt road that led to the White House Landing Wilderness Camps.  They have showers, food, bunks, and resupply available - the only such place on trail in the Wilderness.  Running low on food, the smart thing would have been to head to the camps.  After waffling back and forth, ultimately I decided it would take too much time.  If I went there I would probably end up staying, based on what usually happens during this hike.  I'll just go light on meals and snacks for the next 2 days and push to Abol Bridge at all costs.  The hiking this morning has been incredibly flat.  I walked by, and  crossed over, one stream after another.  Earlier this morning, I walked past the shore of Pemadumcook Lake, where I had another view of Katahdin.  The mountain is looming even larger as I draw nearer, fueling my desire to keep hiking.  It's been early mornings and long days lately, but the need to get out of the Wilderness and to the base of that mountain has been overriding any urges or trends that I had formally been used to.  My stomach had been grumbling for many miles now as I arrived at Wadleigh Stream lean-to.  Instead of my usual tuna and tortilla lunch, I decided to bulk up and eat a heavy dinner meal.  I figured that would do better in providing me fuel to hike on for the rest of the afternoon.  This turned out to be a great idea.  After lunch there was a short climb up Nesuntabunt Mountain.  This was the last climb of any significance before Katahdin.  I was surprised how steep it was.  For the entire afternoon, I was continuously hiking around streams and ponds.  The terrain was easy, and I managed a 3mph pace all the way to the next shelter, at Rainbow Stream.  After a short rest there, I pushed on for several more miles in the late afternoon, all the way to the Rainbow Lake campsite.  It was just before 5pm, when I rolled into camp, finishing a 22 mile day.  I managed to catch up with Slims here too.  The rest of the group came into camp over the next hour or so.  For dinner I ate half of a pita and two pouches of tuna.  The only things left in my food bag are some coffee, some drink mixes, a single pouch of Spam, and a serving of couscous.  I wanted to eat that couscous and Spam so bad, but I knew I needed to save it for breakfast.  Right at dusk, it began to rain.  There was the last little bit of daylight left when, with a grumbling stomach, I crawled into my tent to get out of the weather.  No matter how bad it seems right now, I know all I have to do is hike 11 miles in the morning and I'll be able to stuff my face.

View of Katahdin from Nesuntabunt Mountain.
16 miles line-of-sight distance, but still  36 miles away by trail.

Oct 3

The push

Slept in a little bit later today, but still managed to get on trail before 8am.  Just past the shelter, the crossing of the East Branch of the Pleasant River was not nearly as formidable as yesterday's crossing of the West Branch.  A simple rock-hop got me to the other bank.  Hiking this morning was again a joy.  The trail was like a tunnel through the trees.  Rays of early morning light shone through the branches.  My pack finally felt lighter, due to the huge dent I had put in my food supply over these past few days.  Not only was the hiking physically less demanding, but my mind was also aiding me in a fast pace.  I thought about all my hiker friends that were ahead of me.  They've already seen this.  Some of them are already done.  I pictured so many smiling faces, and like a magnet, they were pulling me down the trail toward that final mountain.  I felt weightless.  The Wilderness has been as unforgiving as it is beautiful.  Although I am relishing all the sights, smells, and sounds that it has to offer, I'm ready to be done.  That's a hard concept to wrap my head around.  On one hand, I don't want this experience to be over, but at the same time, I'm tired, and I'm ready to climb Katahdin.  I passed more ponds and streams.  The forest was a wall of green at my sides, with an orange and red canopy overhead, and bits of blue sky poking through.  On a short, but steep climb up Little Boardman Mountain, the forest started changing back to predominantly fir and birch again.  After a few more miles of pond-side hiking, I crossed a stream, walking over yet another beaver dam.  I've been loving the hike this morning, with all the incredible colors and light.  It's been like looking through a kaleidoscope,   with leaves constantly shifting colors as I walked from one bend of the trail to the next.  The trail itself is littered with fallen leaves - red ones, yellow ones, orange ones, and brown ones - in all sorts of shades in between.  I thought it looked like confetti.  Like the woods had a party, welcoming in the fall, and I was walking through the morning after.  Near Cooper Brook, I stopped for water at a spring.  The water was so clear it almost had a blueish tint.  I stopped for a lunch break, just a bit farther, at the Cooper Brook Falls lean-to.  This was an amazing shelter area.  The brook itself runs a few yards in front of the shelter, and the water was up, and it was flowing strong.  I thought this would be an outstanding place to stay in the summer when it's warmer. You could walk right out in front of the shelter and jump into deep pools and slide down rushing rapids.  After lunch, I had 8 miles of flat, easy hiking.  The trail was covered with pine needles.  There wasn't even much mud.  I stopped at the Antlers Campsite for a break.  There's an awesome two-seat privy there too that I had to check out.  This is another campsite I would love to revisit.  It sits right at the edge of Jo-Mary Lake.  It is immaculately maintained, with several tenting sites, and stone-lined paths.  It's early in the afternoon, and I've made it 16 miles to this point.  I felt great, so I kept on hiking.  After a 19.5 mile day, I arrived at Potaywadjo Spring lean-to at 3:45pm.  Awesome pace.  Awesome hike today.  The shelter here was really nice, and the spring was amazing.  It was a 15 feet around, and crystal clear, with water seeping up through sand.

Crossing by Crawford Pond early in the morning.

Oct 2

The end is within sight

So this is day three in the Wilderness, and I've only covered 25 miles.  Not good.  No matter what the terrain, what the obstacles, and what the weather, I have to start churning out some big miles to make it out of here.  We had alarms set, and were up at 5am.  I was on trail at 6:30am, walking along the ridge line of Chairback Mountain to beautiful views.  The sun has just started to rise over the mountain tops.  This is a magical time of day to be hiking.  The trail dropped sharply down from Chairback, several hundred feet, over a jumble of rocks and boulders.  It was slow going, as the rocks were still slick.  I made it to the West Branch of the Pleasant River, and I was now at the exact 2100 mile mark.  A staggering thought.  Only 84 miles left.  It looked like today was going to be beautiful and sunny.  I took a break beside the river and washed out my muddy socks.  

BooBoo crossing the West Branch of the Pleasant River.

The ford across was knee deep at most, but the river was really wide, and had a strong current.  We all made it across with no trouble.  For several miles, the trail gradually gained elevation, winding along beside multiple streams, full of pools and cascades.  We made it to the Carl A. Newhall lean-to for lunch.  Ten miles by lunch.  Awesome!  We talked to some other hikers who were out doing a section here.  They filled us in on some really bad news.  Apparently, a couple of days ago, our fellow thru-hiker friend, Kokopelli, had fallen on the trail near here.  He hit a rock, shattering his knee cap.  Some other hikers helped him hobble down a side trial for several miles to get out of the Wilderness, where he was able to get picked up by a rescue crew, and taken to a hospital.  Not only is there the intense physical pain that he went through during that ordeal, but I can't even imagine what it must have been like, being this close to the end.  It's all over.  Just like that.  Heartbreaking.  I'm so thankful for the safety I've been granted so far.  After lunch, we began climbing Gulf Hagas Mountain.  It was a joy, thanks in part to some beautiful stone steps along the way.  It was the first real climb of the day, but more would follow.  

Fall colors around Gulf Hagas Mountain.

Next up was West Peak, with more great steps, topping out a little higher than the previous summit.  More stairs led up to the top of Hay Mountain, where the summit was a little higher still.  More stairs along the way up White Cap Mountain.  Bear wasn't kidding, this section that they had helped maintain years ago was amazing, and so well kept.  Around 4pm, I walked to the summit of White Cap Mountain, where the elevation was just over 3600 feet.  I felt victorious.  I've hiked over 15 miles today, and left four mountains in my dust.  I was with Old Tomato at the summit, and we stopped for a break.  We took a small side trail to the left and I saw the most beautiful mountain I've ever seen.  As we stepped out of the small fir trees, onto the edge of a rocky slope, there it was in the distance.  Katahdin!  He was able to get a signal on his phone, and made a few calls home to let everyone know what was going on.  Meanwhile, I was running and jumping around on the rocks, pointing at the mountain, giggling hysterically.  I heard Yogi talking, coming up the trail, so I yelled out for him and BooBoo to hurry up and come see this view.  Below us, looking toward Katahdin, the landscape was dotted with ponds and lakes.  The forest was ablaze in a cloak of orange.  Katahdin majestically rises up from the flat landscape.  Lingering clouds kept us, and most of the surrounding terrain, in the shade.  But like a beacon, the top of Katahdin was perfectly illuminated in sunlight.  A breathtaking sight.  I hiked on, cackling like a madman, following the trail as it wrapped around the north side of Whitecap.  The trail was totally open and rocky path which provided a continuation of the views of Katahdin.  I passed by the next shelter, in no mood to stop.  After crossing a brook, I entered a beautiful pine forest.  The trail was mostly flat, and littered with soft pine needles.  Lush mosses covered grey boulders, and spread along the trail as well.  Yellow leaves of birch trees provided a wonderful contrast to all the green.  After 20.7 miles, right at dusk, I made it to East Branch lean-to, where we all stopped for the night.  Today was incredible.  Full of both literal and metaphoric, ups and downs.

View of Katahdin, from the trail on Whitecap Mountain.

Oct 1

Here comes the sun

It's incredibly cold this morning.  No snow fell last night, but it must be just above freezing.  A light rain is coming down intermittently, and the ground in front of the shelter is full of cold puddles and mud.  I have to keep moving, but the motivation to do so is hard to come by.  That requires getting out of my warm sleeping bag, changing out of my dry long underwear and putting on my cold wet hiking clothes from yesterday.  Everyone in the shelter is up and moving around, so I guess it's about that time again.  Apache is up for breakfast, but Rainbow hasn't gotten out of his tent yet.  The rest of the group headed out from the shelter, I was soon to follow, and Apache is staying back for a while to make sure Rainbow is holding up okay.  Back on the trail, I headed down from the ridge, into a boggy area at the base of Fourth Mountain.  The split wood bridges through the bog were slick.  A cold fog blew through.  The entire area felt really creepy.  The climb up Fourth Mountain was short, but steep.  Rain was now falling steadily, making for a miserable hike.  I came down from Fourth, then headed right back up Third Mountain.  I came to a flat rock, where I sat down to eat a snack.  The sisyphean task of hiking up and down these mountains, along the waterlogged trail, in the cold, rain, and fog, has been totally demoralizing these past few days.  For a brief moment, a strange dull yellow disc of light broke through the clouds.  Instantly, a smile came across my face, as I begged the sun to stay.  I sat on the rock enjoying the marginal bit of warmth it provided.  A few birds flitted around in the trees, making all kinds of racket.  One of them must have really done something wrong, because it was being assaulted by this other bird, in a high speed aerial chase.  Between the amusement of the fighting birds and the warmth of the sun, my mood started to improve.  But it would only be a short-lived moment of contentment.  The sun disappeared behind the clouds again, so I zipped my rain jacket back up and kept on hiking.  It was astounding how much difference just a little bit of sunlight can make.  The terrain so far in the Wilderness hasn't been awful at all, but the cold and wet has made it seem so much worse.  Just after Third Mountain, the trail crossed a stream.  Usually this would have been no problem, but with all this rain, the stream was nothing but raging whitewater.  I could see the white blazes of the trail just on the other side of the water.  This was definitely a "you've got to be kidding me" kind of moment.  There was no way to just rock hop across.  My shoes and socks were soaked anyway, so I said screw it, and plodded through the rapids.  It was actually kind of fun.  The rain trailed off to a few drops here and there, and by early in the afternoon, I made it to the Chairback Gap lean-to.  I sat my pack down, and began to have lunch.  The rest of the group was waiting there too.  There's another river ford coming up in a few miles.  Slims had moved on, trying to make it there by the end of the day.  The rest of us weren't looking forward to the idea of another ford in our current condition.  On top of that, we hadn't seen Apache and Rainbow yet.  The area around the shelter here was really nice, with lots of evergreens and birch trees.  We decided to call it a day.  Red squirrels were running around in the trees near the shelter.  They are funny, but incredibly annoying little critters.  I've been seeing them throughout New England, and I've dubbed them the 'security alarm' of the forest.  Before you ever see them, they know you're walking under their trees, and call out in a high pitched chatter, alerting everything in the vicinity to your presence.  Sometimes it can be quite startling when they go off as you are walking along in the still and quiet forest.  Walking out behind the shelter to gather firewood, they started back up at me.  "Yeah, yeah.  I hear you."  It was the same for the rest of the group as they were gathering wood too.  At least the rain had stopped.  All of the wood we gathered was wet, but we managed to get a roaring fire going.  I was on fan duty, furiously waving a plastic disc at the coals, until the largest logs were hot enough to burn through on their own.  Big campfire equals instant morale boost.  Nightfall came, but no sign of Apache and Rainbow.  We had only hiked 7 miles from Cloud Pond today.  I guess they stayed there to wait out the weather.  Not a bad idea considering what a slog today was.  I hope they're doing okay.

The trail over Third Mountain in the Hundred-Mile Wilderness.