August 24, 2001
5:30 a.m.
Last night I slept in Maine for the first time. I arrived at the final state line--NH/ME at 8:40 last night with Fender and JJ. Happy was waiting for us for pictures, having trucked over Success Mountain at 2 mph. Not me. Slow and steady is my pace next to this crowd. I'm still traveling with the Lost Boys. We stayed three nights in Gorham at Kimmy's--Happy's sister's, Boo's, ex-husband's sister. Boo came to hike for the week, but after hiking a 17-mile day over Mt. Washington her second day, she decided to run support from Gorham. Kimmy was one of the Three Queens I met with Vacilando, Lucky Strike, and Frankenstein at Eliza Brook Shelter. Anyway, Kim was great to us. How can the Yankees not love these Southern Boys? I'm walking with good people.
I started calling this troop of seven the Lost Boys at Oshood tents because they all rolled in after dark and proceeded to help each other set up personal tarps for the community, share dinner, and smoke bud very cordially amid conversation and laugher and singing. Satan plays the mandolin, Brodie the guitar, and Shep the harmonica. When they get together they can tear it up and improvise AT lyrics on the spot.
I can't decide if I want to push to the end with these guys--they're going faster that I want to but are the only people I care about along with the group a day ahead of me (Mary Poppins, Leslie, Longshanks and Blur, Smittee, Green Light, Redneck, etc.) I know I should slow down and stop pretending I'm one of the boys. I can't keep up with their partying--though I can eat and shit with the best of them. Continue being part of the AT community OR hike by myself and put into action everything I've learned on trail and milk out this experience. Talking to folks who have finished, the only regret they have is finishing ahead of schedule. Tough choice.
So many gaps to fill in. Highlights from KT's trip:
A friend from Green Cove finishing her OT/PT internship in NH, Kim, came to visit. She took me to her house near the coast and we sent for a rainy walk on the beach. We made cookies with extra chocolate chips and ate most of the dough raw. She gave me COTTON! to wear and I started packing it on trail. We ate almon at Mindy's and changed the headlight in Handy, her Ford Ranger, that she lent me for the week.
KT arrived with great stories from her 36-hour bus ride east. She also brought me protein galore from both her and the Osengas, homemade fruit roll-ups, jerky, and nature burger. Definitely treats on trail. We started at Franconia Notch late. We got our first hitch both times on a potentially difficult road to hitch on. We stealth camped by a stream on our second night together.
We got a late start the next morning. I cooked pancakes without pot grips. KT sewed her ripped short with dental floss and a leaf stem. I shared in the brainstorming, but she made it work with intensive labor.
We hike seven miles over Franconia Ridge to the top of Mt. Lafayette where we stealth camped with Shouse, Stryder, Maniac, Hooter, and Onward. Franconia Ridge brought 360 degree views for miles. It has been the best chunk of trail.
The next night we stealth camped on top of South Twin. Saw another amazing sunset and sunrise.
We camped near Zealand Falls Hut the next night. We got to camp early and mended the friendship that had been slightly stressed all week. Yummy nature burger. Other hikers started to show up that night and the next day. KT met Norway, Mary, and the Lost Boys.
Happy and Boo threw a lobster feast at Crawford Notch. It was an awesome end to the week. I loved seeing everyone again. Then it was back to Hanover for the last time. I met Sean, a guy biking cross-country. His family history is even worse than mine. His brother died in a fire at age 17 and his father left his estate to a 19-year-old, Polynesian mail-order bride of 6-months. Sean had taken care of him during a prolonged illness as well. He says his mother is schizophrenic and has been out of his life since he was 16. Before leaving for this trip, this 35-year-old man broke up with a 45-year-old woman with kids my age. I don't envy him, though he was a nice guy.
Went quickly over Mt. Washington. It was as touristy as it was beautiful. I hiked up Wildcat Mountain in the rain. The rocks were so slick that a group of us took the gondola down and waited out the rain at a Chinese Buffet. Of course, it was hard to justify because, while the top of the mountain was in a cloud, the town itself was having a partly sunny, dry afternoon. I took a zero day to re-supply and then did a quick 18 mile day. The eighteen miles wasn't quick. The speed I walked it was. I was keeping up with Happy, Shepard, and Fender, who were slackpacking (not carrying their backpacks). Not only was I carrying my pack--as a principle that doesn't make much sense anymore, I don't slackpack--but I couldn't make up my mind so I was carrying four days of food in it as well. I'll get smarter yet.
So I had two more nights of excellent food. I think I may finally be learning how to hang out without being anxious, but I don't feel centered. I do feel antsy now.
I definitely have mixed feelings about returning to respective places in NC and WI. Kelly is moving home. After 36 hours of considering joining her, I realized that it's not healthy for me to live there again.
It's finally light enough to get up considerately. I'm going through Mahoosuc Notch today. I hope that last night's rain was all we get. Those steep faces will be treacherous enough dry.
later
I made camp early tonight with Shepard, Fender, and Happy at Mahoosuc 2, a level spot by a stream in the middle of the Mahoosuc Amr, a notorious climb of 1500' in one mile. We're about a half mile past Mahoosuc Notch, famed to be the toughest mile on the trail. It was one of my toughest days yet, but not because of the notch. The notch itself was a cross between a playground jungle-gym and spelunking as we traversed up and over rocks and were reborn through rock tunnels. The stream that flowed through was ice cold and the air was cooler for that mile.
I know that today would be tough when I woke up to mist and rain before tough terrain. I put off the inevitable for a while and sat around camp. Maine is unmatched beauty. I laughed aloud all morning just to marvel at the mountains, lakes, and crisp blue skies.
It seems like when I entered Maine everything changed at once. The temperature has dropped. Birch leaves litter the ground. It suddenly feels like autumn for the first time. My boot split open and both trekking poles broke as if all my gear had an 1887 mile warranty that ran out at the state line.
And my spirit broke. My knees have begun to ache in my sleep and my left calf screams when I squat. I've been spending a lot of time sliding down rock faces on my ass.
My body and my head are begging me--warning me to slow down. My heart sings of the community I won't have a chance to be part of again. I'm torn and my safety net is gone. Everyone I know is ahead of me except half of the Lost Boys. And for the first time, I can't keep up. It's killing me to admit that to myself. It became so intense today that I stayed behind to cry, then I cried openly in front of Happy and Fender. Fender stayed, listened, helped. He walked with me through the notch and offered to finish with me. That's just the reassurance I needed, though I don't know if that's what will happen.
I don't feel different enough, learned enough, wise enough for this walk to be ending. I realize the journey continues beyond this and began well before Springer Mountain. But today I want to run away more than ever.
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