Post #35: Commencement

Shaw’s hostel in Monson, ME, is one of the most popular hostels on the AT. So I chose to spend September 9 there to find out what all the hullabaloo was about. Once again I was blessed to be indoors while two inches of rain fell during my 24 hour stay; that has happened several times during my trek. Shaw’s has a great food resupply and a small gear store carrying all the replacement gear a hiker may need. They offer delivery of a food resupply bucket to hikers in the Hundred Mile Wilderness (which I took advantage of), provide shuttle service, and serve a big hiker breakfast every morning at 7am.

The Hundred Mile Wilderness isn’t what you may think. It is a hundred mile stretch of the AT where there are no paved roads or places to buy supplies or food. But this is not wilderness- areas where human impact is unnoticeable or limited. There are lots of private dirt logging roads and from the hilltops one can see many plots where trees have been harvested in the past ten years. The area includes many lakes, hiking, snowmobile, and ATV trails. Most of these private dirt roads are open to the public for a fee. Many of the isolated lakes have a cabin on their shores and when I listened carefully, I could hear the faint drone of a generator. Occasionally I could hear the rumble of a logging truck as it made its way along a gravel road.

One of the things Maine is known for in the AT hiking community is the river fords. In other states, there are usually rustic bridges spanning rivers that the AT crosses; in Maine you are expected to wade across these rivers. I was thinking that I was missing out on the fords due to the drought western Maine is experiencing this year. Remember how I mentioned getting two inches of rain during my hostel visit? Well, you can imagine what that did to the river water levels.

While hiking on the morning of the 10th, I met the Umberger family: Butterfly, her husband Bob, and six children ages 8-14, who were thru hiking.  I admitted that I envied them and wished I could have done a thru hike with my family; but my kids probably wouldn’t speak to me again, everyone would require years of therapy, and it likely would have cost me my marriage.

Later that day, I negotiated my first ford in thigh deep water with a strong current and slippery rocks.  And then I did it again when the Umberger family showed up and I realized that they would appreciate another grownup type person to help the kids.  Again I was reminded that this is all part of the adventure.

Sunday, September 12, was the easiest day of hiking that I’ve had this year and it wasn’t due to the terrain. It’s because I spent the day hiking with a couple around my age, known as Gone with the Wind: Rhett and Scarlet. They were a hoot and I was a fresh set of ears for Rhett. It was like listening to an audiobook and made the time pass so quickly. I wished I could have hiked with them for several days, but since they had to pick up their food resupply a day before me, Gone with the Wind had to hike some longer days to make that happen. I was blessed by the time I had with them.

For me, one of the best things about thru hiking is not having a schedule to keep.  I often wouldn’t decide where I was going to spend the night until after lunch time.  It was so freeing not having a deadline.  But once I started the Hundred Mile Wilderness, I had a schedule: I had to be at the Johnson Pond road crossing at 3:00 on the 14th to pick up my resupply; I had to sign up for the thru hiker campsite in the early morning hours when I left the wilderness and entered Baxter Park- they only allow 12 thru hikers per day (Mount Katahdin is within that park and its peak is the northern terminus of the AT);  I had to coordinate my departure from Baxter Park so that I could get a ride home.  I think, like me, many thru hikers feel like their mindsets change once they enter the Hundred Mile Wilderness. With the end in sight , they now think of planes, trains, and buses to catch, in addition to new jobs that are waiting.  For some, there is a greater sense of urgency; for others, their final days are a time to slow down and savor the moment. The days of caring only about the next resupply, where the next water source is, and what flavor of Ramen to boil up are ending.

My mid-wilderness food drop resupply was a little different than I had hoped; I arrived at the designated site six hours early.  I was hoping that Shaw’s would have a morning drop scheduled for another hiker and I could get my food early, but they didn’t, so I waited.  An hour after I arrived, the Umberger family joined me and awaited their resupply that Butterfly’s mom was delivering.  It was a great opportunity to get to know them better.  After our resupplies, I spent the rest of the day hiking with them and that night camped with them.  I finally found someone I could keep up with: Abram, their eight year old.  

We spent the 15th hiking in the rain. My umbrella and my ears got quite a workout; the Umberger kids had a lot to tell me as we hiked. It was amazing how the kids never complained about the rain; they just took it all in stride. You can read about their AT adventure by googling Perch Creek Explorers.

Although we often camped at different sites, I continued to see the Umbergers every day or two for a week. I accepted their invitation to join them at their reserved campsite in Baxter Park on the night of the 19th and summit Katahdin with them on the 20th.

While hiking alone on the 17th, I rounded a bend in the trail.  Waddling toward me just 20’ away was a porcupine.  We both paused and for a moment made eye contact. It then scurried to the nearest tree it could climb while I fumbled around for my phone to take a photo.

I decided that the 20th would be my final day of hiking.  This afforded me the opportunity to have several shorter and easier days; I was finished by early afternoon on my final three days of this trek.

My arrival at the Abol Bridge campgrounds, just south of the Baxter Park boundary, marked the end of the Hundred Mile Wilderness. I was able to get a one day resupply, do my laundry, and take a shower at the private campground. While talking with a couple at Abol Pines campsite along the Penobscot River, we realized we had met before; at a McDonald’s in Gorham, NH, five weeks ago.

The following morning, the 19th, brought crisp, clear skies. With temperatures in the 30s, a thick mist was rising off the Penobscot. The first couple of miles hiking in Baxter Park was like a walk in the park; the AT was a rock and root-free path that followed the river. It didn’t take long for me to remove my down jacket and zip off pant legs. The trail then followed a stream filled with cascades and waterfalls. I ate lunch at a picnic table next to a lake with views of Katahdin. When I reached my destination at Katahdin Stream Campground, I hitched a ride to the group campsite which was three miles up the road. It’s easy for an old guy with a backpack to get a ride when he is in a park filled with hikers. The Umberger’s arrived at the campground later in the afternoon.

We departed for the Katahdin trailhead at 5:30 on the morning of the 20th. Once again we were bundled up because the temperatures were in the 30s. As the ten of us (the Umberger kid’s granddad hiked the first couple of miles with them) headed up the trail with our headlamps lighting the way, some of my apprehension started to fade.

I hadn’t been looking forward to this climb.  The ascent up Katahdin is the longest one on the AT and I remembered what the climbs in the White Mountains were like.  Thankfully, my expectations were completely wrong for the following reasons:

1. It was dark for the first thirty minutes. Night hiking makes things a little more interesting.
2. It was cool. The high temperatures and humidity I had while in the Whites was draining. I do better in cooler weather.
3. I wasn’t alone. Talking while hiking takes my mind off my tired legs.
4. I wasn’t carrying a 30 lb pack. Since we were returning to the parking area, I was able to leave all my camping gear in the Umberger’s van.
5. The scenery and vistas were stunning.

During the few quiet moments that I had while climbing, I reflected on how this journey started as a pipe dream and how the idea captured my imagination even though I really didn’t think it would be a possibility for me. When I concluded this might be a possibility, I remember the hours I spent walking and hiking to get my legs in shape and thinking “This is getting me one step closer to Katahdin.” I remember reverently touching the old Katahdin sign that is now in the Appalachian Trail Museum. This ascent was the culmination of a couple of years of dreaming and then a couple of years of planning.

The hardest step of an epic journey is the first one.  The one where you turn your back on the past, the painful step of leaving, of walking toward an uncertain future.  The odds are stacked against you when you take that step; the shadow of failure nearly envelopes you.  And yet I take that first step, because not to start is failure.

I always tried to make this trip about the journey, not the destination. Katahdin marked the end of the journey, but not the goal. So there I was, climbing over rocks and occasionally pausing to figure out how to clamber over some huge boulders, with a big grin on my face and a heart full of thanksgiving.

We shed our cold weather clothing after thirty minutes of hiking. After being teased with occasional glimpses of adjacent mountains as we gained elevation, we finally broke out above the tree line and our eyes drank in the scenery around us. While the temperatures on mountain tops may occasionally be mild, it is the truly rare day when there is no wind. Well guess what? Not only were we blessed with clear skies and temperatures in the 60s, but the winds were under five mph.

Reaching the summit is like a commencement ceremony- touching the summit sign was receiving my diploma. Lots of congratulations are received from all hikers: thru, section, and day. The thru hikers are my fellow classmates but it was fun to see the sparkle of admiration and the glint of a dream in the eyes of the section and day hikers.

Lots of pictures were taken. I ate my soggy sub sandwich for lunch, thankful that I didn’t have to eat another tortilla wrap. Then we made our careful descent.

Back at the trailhead, I reloaded my pack, said goodbye to the Umbergers, stuck out my thumb and within minutes I was riding to Millinocket.  I was so grateful that our neighbor and friend Sue Seacord, coordinated the end of her Maine canoe trip to coincide with my summit day so that she could give me a ride home.

While I enjoyed the scenery and sleeping in the woods, my fondest memories of this hike are of the people I met and the conversations we had. I’m thankful for the encouragement I got from other hikers, the folks that stopped to give me a ride, the trail magic I received, friends who invited me into their homes, and the encouraging comments from this blog’s followers. Most of all, I’m especially thankful for the support I received from my family. It was my wife, Anita, who pushed me to have a dream and chase after it. May I learn to practice hospitality and encouragement just as these people have done for me.