End of the Line

We ended up spending three nights in the town of Monson before heading out into the 100 mile wilderness.  It was raining nonstop and leaving town to wander cold and wet did not sound at all appealing.  We hadn't spent that much time off the trail in any one place and were starting to feel antsy.  The rain had tapered off to a drizzle when we got back on the trail.

 

One thing we hadn't realized is that in the 100 mile wilderness they tend not to have built bridges where the trail crosses rivers.  This means you need to ford them.  The water this time of year is a bit chilly, no big deal, but when it has been raining for days the rivers swell.  The first crossing was running like white-water when we arrived.  There were huge waterfalls upstream and it was only about 50 yards downstream to another deadly waterfall.  The idea of being swept off our feet was a bit scary.  Some other hikers arrived and after checking it out, we all decided that since the rain had stopped we should just camp there for the night and see if the water level would drop by morning.  Indeed it did and we all made it safely across.

 

 

 



 The 100 mile wilderness contains some of the nicest trail we've seen.  There are a few mountains to go over in the first 30 miles or so and then it levels out somewhat and is a lovely path through the forest.  The leaves were now in full fall color.  With your head down walking, it was through your peripheral vision that the glow of the forest would shift from yellow to orange, peach, pink and magenta as you pass under Birches, Maples and Aspens at different stages of color change.  The leaves on the trail shifted from one color to another.  With little breeze in the woods there wasn't as much homogenizing of color and the leaves from each tree tended to cover the forest floor directly below.  The light coming through the tree above would reflect off the same color leaves below and give you the feeling of being immersed in the color itself.

 

 

There are more lakes in this part of Maine than we have seen along the trail.  With this type of terrain there are also bogs.  Thank goodness for the volunteer trail maintainers who build boardwalks across what would otherwise be soggy, mucky trail.  They also do some great work building stone steps.  We always appreciate some good trail maintenance. 

 

Insect eating Pitcher plant in a bog.

 

Trail art.  A friendly bearded rock.

 

 

We moved pretty good after the initial mountains and river crossings.  We began to get anxious.  It is a difficult feeling to describe.  When you have been walking for a couple thousand miles and you get within 50 miles or so of your goal, you just want to keep going and get there.  Then when you get within 10 miles or so you start to realize that it will soon be over and it hits you that you just might miss this.  These emotions are shared by all of us hikers and the log books at the shelters are full of hikers admitting that they don't know how to feel.  We are excited, sad, nervous, elated, and scared.  Some people (very few) do what is called yo-yoing.  This is when you get to the end and turn around and hike back.  I don't know why someone would do this, but I think that it might simply be so that they don't have to deal emotionally with being done. 









 

 

We got to Abol bridge, which is the north end of the wilderness, ate some breakfast and seemed to just float up the ten miles of trail to Katahdin Stream Campground and the base of the last mountain.  Some volunteers with the M.A.T.C. (Maine Appalachian Trail Club) were doing work on the trail here in Baxter State Park and had brought food to feed thru-hikers.  Those of us who were there that night pigged out on spaghetti and meatballs, salad and cookies.  We didn't even have room for s'mores!  The thru-hikers are given a separate part of the campground.  We sat around a small fire, shared some whiskey and reminisced about good times we've had on the trail.  It was cold that night and it rained.  Waking up on the morning that we all were planning to finish, we saw a mountain blanketed in white.  We were still amped and began our ascent.  Not too far up the trail snow began to gather on the trees, then the rocks and then there was ice.  It wasn't looking good.  Some day-hikers had started just a bit before us and we were surprised when some people in winter gear met us coming down.  They said that above treeline it was pretty bad.  Indeed it was.  We got to treeline and the wind (40 mph+) and snow forced us to turn around.  If we had had our winter gear, we would have continued, but with what we were wearing it would have been risking our fingers and toes.  This decision left us feeling defeated, totally bummed and disappointed.  We had come so far only to be turned around 2 miles short of our goal.  We walked back down the trail and hitched into Millinocket where we met up with my folks.  They had driven out from Minnesota to pick us up and we had been talking for months about how fun it was going to be when we reunited.  It was tainted by the fact that we hadn't summited.  We stayed that night and with the weather looking better the next day, decided we'd give it another go.  We bought some winter gloves and loaded a pack with more clothes that my parents had brought. 

Mt. Katahdin from Abol bridge

 

 

Boy are we glad we gave it another shot.  The following day was gorgeous!  We had little need for all the layers we were carrying.  Even above treeline there was little more than a slight breeze, and the bright sun was melting the snow and ice making it easy to get to the summit.  There was a celebration at the top of Katahdin.  Because the weather was so nice, hikers were hanging out, snapping photos, toasting our accomplishments with cheap whiskey! 

 

This time we came down and met my parents in the parking lot, popped a bottle of champagne and toasted a thru-hike complete.  This was the celebration we had been anticipating.  We won!  We did it!  We walked 2,184 miles from Springer Mtn, Georgia to the top of Mt. Katahdin, Maine!

 

 



 



 



 

stay tuned for future blogging about who knows what....

 

A Hop, Skip and a Jump





The real world is chasing us and we can hear it breathing heavy as it closes in.  There are now 114 miles between us and the northern terminus of this trail.  We are in Monson, Maine.  This is the last town.  Leaving here we enter the 100 mile wilderness and our last week in the woods.  There is no civilization until Baxter State Park. 

 

It has gotten cold.  I guess is does that this time of year at these latitudes.  It never ceases to amaze us that it was cold in Georgia when we started, we saw 100+ degree days this summer and now it is cold again.  When you walk through the seasons, the change is subtle.

 

Monson is a small town "in the middle of nowhere".  There are two hostels here.  Both are full of hikers striding to finish before the big freeze.  We know almost all of them, however, we have recently run into a few hikers on the trail whom we hadn't met yet.  After almost 6 months on the same path, that seems odd.  There are those hikers who knew they wouldn't make it to Mt. Katahdin before the mountain closes for safety reasons, usually Oct. 15th.  Many have chosen to "flip-flop".  This is when you leave the trail and head north, hike up Katahdin then south back to where you left off.  Some folks just hike slower, others needed to make some more money to continue, there were injuries that needed to heal and weddings to celebrate.  In any case, this flip-flopping has given us a chance to pass some old friends we hadn't seen in perhaps a thousand miles or more!

 

In the early days of the AT here in Maine, 1930's and 40's, it was set up for day hikers and those on shorter vacations.  It was never intended to be a trail to "through-hike" in a single season.  Silly.  Instead of going directly over the big peaks, it wound its way from fishing camp to fishing camp.  Hikers carried a bucket lunch and fly rod and arrived at log lodges where there awaited hot baths, beds and meals.  Oh how things have changed!  We ate breakfast the other day at one of the original camps.  It is just off the trail at Pierce Pond.  There is a hiker Lean-to (not called shelters in ME) at Pierce Pond as well.  To eat breakfast, hikers need to make a reservation the night before.  We mosied over, past the waterfall and across the hand-hewn cedar log bridge and signed up.  It consisted of 12 pancakes filled with blueberries, raspberries and apples, eggs, sausage, coffee and juice.  The real deal!  We were the only two there so Tim, the proprietor/cook/everything else, sat and ate with us and shared some of the history of the place.  The leaves are changing color now and the view from the dining room was lovely.  You don't find breakfast spots like this on Main St.

 

We have memories of hanging out around campfires in the Smoky Mountains, or scenic vistas in the hills of Virginia with new friends.  Though it seems so long ago, we have done nothing but continue going about our days in the same manner.  We have been living the dream.  It is coming to an end. It is bittersweet.

 

 

 

 

Clouds rolling in...

A couple of ladders.  Their sketchiness cannot be fully conveyed.

You can't miss this trail junction.

spongy

Ok, almost to the clouds!

A shore lunch, but without fish.

Bogs.  Thank goodness for boards.

Red bellied wood snake.

The trail changes color too!

Another fungus among us.

Live Free or Die

And so it goes. 298 miles of footpath left between us and Mt. Katahdin. We will be in Maine in a few miles. Our guide book, and some south-bounders (Sobos), tell us that the "most difficult or fun" mile of the trail lies ahead. The Mahoosuc notch is said to greet us with a jumbled pit of boulders the size of cars. We are currently celebrating having made it through the White Mtns by taking a "zero" day here in Gorham, NH. Zero is the number of trail miles we hiked today. We don't feel too guilty. Hike the Whites and you too will feel justified in taking some time to relax. It was definitely some of the most difficult trail we've seen. Straight up, straight down, jagged boulders above treeline, in the clouds, grab that tree and be sure not to slip. Oh look at that waterfall...no, wait, that's the trail. All that being said, it was lovely. These are the biggest mountains in the northeast and the most time we spend in the"alpine zone", near or above treeline. For most AT hikers it is a new and exciting experience to hike above treeline and be able to see the views we haven't had since the "balds" down south. For us it felt oddly familiar, like hiking back home in Montana. Mt. Washington and the Presidential Range look as though they could have been plucked from the Rockies and dropped amongst green hills. People from all over the east come to hike in the Whites. Most pay $80-120 a night to stay in one of the handful of huts operated by the AMC (Appalachian Mountain Club). For that price they get a bunk, no showers and dinner and breakfast served family style in the dining hall. For many this is seriously "roughing it". For a thru-hiker it is luxury with all the fixins. So the running water isn't hot, it comes out just by turning a handle! The AMC does allow for the huts to accept a limited number of thru-hikers (4 or so) each day to do work-for-stay. This usually involves some dish washing and sweeping in exchange for eating dinner and breakfast leftovers and sleeping on the floor. We took advantage of this opportunity on an afternoon where the weather was predicted to go south. It did. We stayed inside and polished off a turkey dinner with green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy while a cold rain fell on all the poor suckers camped in the woods. The floor wasn't bad but with all the guests there was lots of noise and so we opted to go back to the tent after that. We did, however, stop in at some of the other huts and were successful at doing some work-for-sandwich! We hiked up to the top of Mt. Washington which is home to the "worst weather in America". There is a road to the top. There is a cog train as well. We had to wait in line to have our picture taken at the summit. I walked into the gift shop and heard a man ask the cashier, "So, is there a hiking trail that comes up here? Do people ever hike to the top?" My laughing out loud caught his attention so I felt I needed to explain my presence there. I'm not sure if he quite comprehended the scope of a long distance trail like this, or even believed me at all, though the cashier nodded in corroboration. We are just going to keep walking until we get to the end. Starting tomorrow!