Weisel

Steve Weisel’s Diary of Events – The Appalachian Trail in New Hampshire and Maine

Or

How I Spent My 6oth Summer, June – August 2002

The summer of 2002 was my 60th summer. On June 20th George Domas, my roommate at West Point during the summer of 1960, and I set off to hike 450 miles of the Appalachian Trail from Hanover, New Hampshire to Northwestern Maine. Rick Domas, George’s brother joined us during our hike, for several days, and Fred Taylor, one of our USMA classmates joined us for three segments totaling ten days. We completed our hiking by reaching the northern terminus of the trail, Mt Katahdin on the 8th of August. This document reflects my notes and thoughts regarding what was a wonderful adventure. :

Background – What got me out there, a description of various aspects of what we did at a macro level, and decisions and options that are part of the planning process. (Its all project management). These are topics I cover from my perspective:

• How I came to be on the Trail
• The Schedule
• Pack Weight
• Hiking Versus Hauling
• Maps, Guidebooks, Compasses, and Blazes
• Water
• Food/Calories/Stoves
• Health and Aches
• Boots
• Clothing
• Communications
• Money and Bills
• Weapons
• 
  

The Hike – A day by day description , plus some side thoughts, of the hike starting on 20 June 2002 in Hanover, MA and ending at the summit of Mt. Katahdin in ME on 8 August 2002.

PostScript – What we did immediately after completing the hike.

Random Notes – A few points that I thought would help make this document more inclusive.

Conclusion – A brief end statement.

…………..

BACKGROUND

How I Came to be on the Trail. In March, 2001, George Domas set out to hike the entire Appalachian Trail of 2,160 miles. George was my Beast Barracks roommate at West Point, and he had sent out an invitation for classmates to join him on the trail. I was the only one who did so for any significant distance. In April and May, I hiked with George for 254 miles between Damascus, VA and Troutville, VA. It was my first experience with backpacking of this nature. I found it interesting and rewarding but had no specific plans for added long-distance hiking. However, that August, George left the trail for his son’s wedding after covering about 1,710 miles. As fate would have it, he got ill and could not return to the trail as he had planned to cover the last 450 miles – the states of New Hampshire and Maine. Once he realized he would not get back out in 2001, he determined to do this large section during 2002. I quickly agreed to go with him and made associated work plans.

The Schedule. New Hampshire and Maine are often referred to in various guidebooks as 20% of the AT miles, but 50% of the work. The tentative schedule which George and I settled upon was one that took this into account. It did not include twenty mile days, which are practical for trail-hardened hikers in many other portions of the AT. It also assumed we would not be in great hiking shape when we started, but would hike our way into that state. We were both generally healthy and fit, but neither of us were exactly svelte or in condition for tough, long hiking. I was in slightly better shape than George who had a larger "front porch" than I did, but I was definitely plump. We also recognized the need for occasional rest days. We planned for and used four rest days between our start and Baxter State Park. Albeit we took a rest day in N. Woodstock, NH that was not planned, but skipped doing so in Andover, ME. The fact is when you are on a long distance hike, its difficult t not to keep focusing on making miles. Even if you don’t want to do so, you’ve got to go miles to get from here to there. When the weather is good, you think, "better make miles, because tomorrow may be bad conditions." When the weather is bad, you don’t want to be a "woose" and figure "I need to take the weather and terrain I’ve been dealt." The more miles a day you cover the less food you have to carry and the faster you get to hostels/towns to get out of the bugs and cleaned up – no less get a cold drink and eat some hearty meals. Our plan was sound, but our type-A personalities crept in a bit, and we finished four days earlier than planned. Had we really let our Type A actions run unfettered, we could readily have picked up another couple of days.

Pack Weight.. The weight that backpackers on the AT carry with them varies significantly from 20+ to something over 50 lbs. This includes food and water. Most new hikers generally are perceived to carry too much stuff. Experienced hikers know what almost everything weighs to the ounce, and carry almost nothing they can do without. At the outset, with two quarts of water and what we thought was six days of food, George and I were each lugging about 40 lbs. It wasn’t long before we realized we could carry less food due to other eating opportunities, and of course, as we approached a re-supply, our goal was to walk into the town with empty food bags and little water left. Given that water is 2 lbs. for a quart and food was 24-32 ounces per day, that brought our average weight carried to the mid-30’s (in lbs.). I have to say that no matter how much we got our pack weights down, they always seemed heavy and it was always a relief to get them off. Nevertheless, a difference of a few pounds has a real impact. On a 15-mile day, 3 lb. difference can be translated into 45 pound-miles or hauling an extra 45 lbs. for a mile. That takes a lot of energy. The impact of extra weight for a 450-mile trip can readily be calculated.

Hiking Versus Hauling. Although there are some hikers who believe their hikes would be incomplete if they did not carry their full packs every foot of the way, George and I did not. We were with the vast majority who saw their goal as hiking the AT and not hauling stuff over it. The fact remained that you must haul what you need and this means carrying your pack the vast majority of the way. However, there are opportunities to do what is called "slack-packing." This means hiking without your full pack and carrying only what is needed for one day of hiking. Generally, this means either getting dropped off at some point, hiking, and then getting picked up – might include hitch hiking. George and I were eager to do this at every opportunity. Of the 45 days we actually hiked, we slack-packed for 9 days. This included the climb up Mount Katahdin.

Maps, Guidebooks, Compasses, and Blazes. Hiking the AT does not involve navigating with map and compass. The entire way is marked by white blazes, although, occasionally, there are stretches in which, as a hiker, you wish they had marked better or added a few blazes. Generally the path from shelters to water sources and to privies (outhouses) is marked by blue blazes. This should not be confused with the term "Blue Blazing*." Most hikers use maps obtainable from the Appalachian Trail Conference headquarters located in Harper’s Ferry, WV. This can be done via the Internet or by calling them. The maps are really helpful, but there are small number of hikers that use only a book such as one by Fleetfoot and which identifies all the milestones along the way and where they are in relative miles. I didn’t have this book, but I did have the maps, and I did carry a compass. I never used the compass – not once, and it was my perception that few people had one. However, I looked at it as part of my emergency kit and just didn’t want to be out in the woods without one. Finally, the AT Conference Maps show only a very narrow strip of terrain. Hence, I took a road map of the areas in which we would be and, since every bit of weight counts, I cut it down. The result was about a third of a map, but enough to be able to see the towns and roads in a much wider swath then are shown in the trail maps.

*"Blue Blazing" means following a trail, other than the AT but which covers an approximately equivalent distance to an AT segment. This often involves going down a piece of trail that was once part of the AT and which takes you into a town. Changes to the AT in recent years often divert the trail away from towns hikers need to visit for re-supply and or want to visit. Most hikers I talked to consider such changes to not be beneficial. In some cases these changes were made because of land-rights issues. I might also add that the original AT relied more on old dirt roads, logging roads, and traversed far fewer mountains. Although dislike of these changes is not as universal, along with Earl Shaffer, the first person to hike the entire trail, I viewed these changes negatively. Doing the miles is tough enough without the trail going out of its way to bring hikers over the tough spots. Besides, in the low areas, you get more contact with the people who live in each section. To me, that is also part of the experience.

"Yellow Blazing" means driving past sections of the trail. We blue blazed a few times but never yellow blazed. Everyone does their own hike, but there are a small number of people who will convey that they have hiked various sectors (or the entire AT) when they have actually yellow blazed (i.e. skipped) portions. Those who convey having hiked sections that they actually yellow blazed are held in disdain.

Water. In NH and ME there was water all over the place and we had only a couple instances where getting water was any kind of a problem. Every guidebook will tell you to treat all water no matter what the source. Nevertheless, some people don’t and still are fine. This is like playing Russian Roulette. But we even encountered a physician who was thru-hiking and he told us he neither filtered nor treated water chemically. George and I both took some risk in that we didn’t filter water, which has some advantages, but we did treat all the water we consumed using PolarPure. Essentially this was iodine within a solution and it did not have the nasty taste and yellow color of iodine tablets. The big plus was it meant we didn’t have to carry pumps/filters – weight. It was also easy to use. The down side is that you cannot drink the water immediately after getting it, and when the water source is buggy/mucky, not filtering it can be a problem. We only found this to b e the case twice, but out of Northern New England, marginal water sources are far more common.

Food/Calories/Stoves. The first thing to recognize is that virtually everyone loses weight. You can’t carry enough food for the calories you use when hiking. Think about the following. Some people go out of their way a couple times a day to walk up a few flights of stairs to get exercise and burn calories. Now instead of a few flights, think in terms of a staircase that goes two to four miles. Now change the nice flat stair steps to assorted rocks that are often sharp edged or in a jumble – and slippery when wet. Lastly, before going up (or down) an obstacle, throw 35-40 lbs. on your back. Hiking in ME and NH essentially requires you to do the equivalent several times a day. The Maine guidebook indicate, in that state alone, the AT traverses 36 "major peaks," and we had elevation gains of more than 59 thousand feet. I don’t have similar figures for New Hampshire, but we thought that state was tougher than Maine. You burn thousands of calories beyond what you might normally burn – even with regular workouts. When in towns I continuously pigged-out on whatever suited me – although I did make sure I got fresh veggies. Even so, I lost a bit more than twenty lbs. during our hike. What food did I carry? First I carried "bars". This refers to an assortment of food: E.g. Power Bars, Candy Bars (e.g. Baby Ruth and Snickers), Trail Mix equivalent, breakfast bars, etc. I planned for six a day, but when I had more – perhaps as a consequence of getting a day ahead of our plan, I ate as many as eight or nine. I was a proponent of eating throughout the day. George tended to eat more at the start and finish of each day – and even at meals when we were in towns. On the other hand, during hikes he ate much less than I did. Neither of us cooked breakfast with the exception that occasionally George boiled water and made himself some tea. Most evenings we each cooked a Lipton’s (or some other brand equivalent) noodle or rice dish - something that required simply being added to boiling water. An alternative was a ramen noodle dish – perhaps supplement by a small (3 oz.) can of chicken or tuna. I also got a bunch of beef jerky on sale in the commissary (usually it is prohibitively expensive) and I would eat an ounce or two on some nights. On occasion George would cook more than one such item. Stoves varied. A few hikers didn’t carry a stove, but the vast majority did. George used a simple alcohol stove – minimal maintenance and parts and fuel is easy to get anyplace along the trail. I used an Esbit Stove and Esbit tablets. The stove is a small, collapsible metal box. You put the tablet in the box and light it. This is as simple as you can get. One tablet will boil more than a pint of water in a small covered pot without a problem, and there is no liquid fuel, and lighter weight. The main draw backs are that the fuel is not always available at various places along the trail, and the simplicity of the stove dictates against accomplishing much more than simple boiling of things. I solved the fuel availability issue by getting Esbit tablets up front and making them part of my re-supply, but they seem to be becoming more readily available.

Health and Aches. If not often, at least some of the time, you are going to hurt and/or suffer. If you aren’t prepared to grit your teeth and work through some of it, stay home or keep your hike short. When I started I had a sinus flare-up and took sinus pills for a couple of days. I twisted a knee when falling and worried it would do me in. I had lower back pains and got into the habit of doing sit-ups and some stretching – uncommon activities on the trail from what I could tell. I had shoulder pains on and off and had to make adjustments to my pack. At one point, for a couple days, I thought I was coming down with shin splints. I had an infected toe from a splinter. I had a sore on my hips from pack rubs – again made adjustments several times. Of course sore knees were a continuous problem. So I am a whiner, but I handled all of the above and the bugs as well. George had some sores from rubs that made me wince when I looked at them. Again, the point is you will have problems. You must be mentally prepared to deal with them. You must have a decent first aid kit. Finally, you must "listen to your body" and make the needed accommodations such as taking a day off, quitting for the day early, slowing down, etc. P.S. Staying healthy also means some basic sanitation. I used and recommend using some liquid hand disinfectant that is self-dissolving – got it at CVS for under $2. Also, a few of the individually packaged wipes can come in real handy.

Boots. Both George and I wore what I would call traditional boots. They were relatively heavy, lug-soled items, but they provided us wobbly old-timers lots of support and cushioning. Mine were Zamberlan’s Civetta boots which I bought at REI after returning a pair of REI brand boots I had for a couple of days Others wore lighter, lower cut footgear. Lightness is good, but less support can be problematic. I took a long time selecting the boots I would use, and suggest anyone who is going out for a long backpack for the first time, do so as well. I also spent a lot of time breaking in my boots and worked past some rubs and small blisters before getting out on the trail. If you are going to be carrying 35-40 lbs. and are not a real strong hiker, my recommendation is to lean towards good support and boot toughness as opposed to lightness.

Clothing. You don’t need much. Everyone smells. This is an area where new hikers tend to carry too much. However, even during the summer you need to be prepared for some cold nights or mornings – especially at elevation. First off, I wore long pants. Most hikers did not, and the small percentage that did tended to be older. I did so to protect my legs from bugs, to protect them from being scratched by branches, and to keep junk from going into the tops of my boots. I got a pair of very inexpensive pants that had legs that could zip off. I zipped off the legs only one time when hiking, but did so several times in the towns. I wore plain nylon running shorts (support cut out) under my hiking pants, and a tee shirt. George and I both wore quick-drying baseball style caps. Nothing I wore when hiking was cotton. Everything was made of some sort of "wicking" fabric that dried quickly. Good socks were essential, and I wore sock liners. They were recommended to me last year, and as long as I have been wearing them, I have had almost no problems with blisters. Hence I continued to wear them in my hiking. O.k. what else? I carried the following. A pair of spare socks and liners, a second tee shirt, a long sleeved shirt such as you would wear when skiing under your sweater, a mid-weight fleece, and a good rain jacket. I had the Marmot Precip jacket. It was pretty pricey ($100) but well worth it. George had a similarly priced jacket that he was not as happy with because it had less venting, and provided less "breathability." The fact is these jackets are seldom worn while hiking, even in the rain, for keeping dry. They are more often worn as an outer layer for warm and wind protection. Of course, when in camp and around the shelters or in towns, their rain protection is of value as well. I had a pair of glove liners that I had to use in Virginia last year but didn’t use this year. I had a pair of low gaiters and a lightweight balaclava. Some people, to include George, hiked all the time with gaiters to keep junk out of their boots. Since my long pants took care of that function, I needed them only for the possibility of snow. We hit snow in VA in April and I was told that snow was a possibility in the White Mountains – even in summer. Once we got past the White Mountains, I sent home the gaiters and the balaclava – kept the glove-liners, just in case. I also carried a pair of light cotton shorts, which I slept in most nights while I was airing out my hiking trousers and under-shorts. Whenever we ht a place we could do laundry, we did so. When we could rinse items out with a good probability of hanging and drying them before moving on, we did that as well.

Communications. When hiking the AT everyone goes into towns. Once in a town, of course there are phones available, so every hiker should have a calling card AND pay the few dollars needed for a calling card plan. The next best way of communicating is via e-mail. Most towns have libraries and most of them have PC’s connected to the Internet. I used Yahoo for email (it’s free) but there are lots of other programs that can be used. When I had the opportunity, I would check my email at a town library, and then send email to family and friends – plus an occasional one dealing with things like my house, jobs, etc. Anyone who does any traveling can benefit from such a program. Everyone asks about cell phones. I did not carry one and most hikers do not. However some do, and I hadn’t heard of anyone who had one saying they would leave it behind or send it home if given the opportunity. Coverage in some of the mountains of Northern New England is definitely not reliable, but it will work from a lot of places. Plus, as coverage gets better and as the phones have gotten lighter the rationale for carrying one becomes stronger. I think if I were heading out again, especially from VT and South, I would consider taking one. If I already had a very light one, I would need a good argument to leave it home. "Snail Mail" also works. If you can tell folks what Post Offices you are going to check into for re-supplies etc., people can send mail to you there. Simply send the mail to the hiker's name, c/o General Delivery, Town Name and ZIP. Someplace on the item, it supposedly helps if it’s annotated "Hold for AT Hiker." I got a couple of morale-boosting cards and notes that way from my daughter.

Money and Bills. There is a Trail joke that goes as follows: "Question – What is the difference between an AT thru-hiker and a homeless person? Answer – Goretex." The point being that some distance hikers think that they can exist on the trail, roughing it, and accomplish their hike with little to no expense. Some try and give credence to the point in the joke. There are expenses that will certainly vary with approach and available resources, but everyone needs money. I recommend that everyone carry a credit card and a bank/ATM card. I carried two credit cards – one in my wallet, which was on my person 98% of the time. I kept the other stashed away in my pack as a backup. I did likewise with cash. You need cash for small purchases, the occasional vending machine etc., and there are a number of places in these small towns that will only do business with cash. I carried more than I thought I would need, and supplemented it with money from ATM’s and the Post Office fro m which you can get money (only up to $50) without cost if you buy even a post card. The latter was info we got late in the hike and which would have come in handy because sometimes you can get to a Post Office and not to an ATM. I carried a synthetic wallet I bought at Ft Belvoir for about $3 (probably could find one in an Army Navy Store) and kept it in a re-sealable plastic bag. O.K., how did I pay my bills. Essentially, I made a list of them a couple months before heading out, and paid the bills ahead by sending in extra money. This works fine for credit cards, utilities, and virtually every other bill I get. I started working on this several months ahead because there are some bills like water and home owners association that only come in quarterly. This worked fine for me, and eliminated bill paying as something that I needed to think about. Another good alternative is to establish the process of receiving and paying your bills electronically. I am not quite there yet but am moving in that direction and will consider handling at least some of my accounts that way should I go out again. Of course having someone else handling it for you (e.g. a spouse or good friend at home) is undoubtedly a very good option for many people.

Weapons. You are not going off to war and you will not be wrestling bears. I don’t recommend arming yourself – it would be excess weight, and in some states it’s illegal. You should have some sort of utility knife – forget the Bowie/Crocodile Dundee knife. I carried a Swiss Army Classic. I kept it on a lanyard in my pocket while hiking and in camps. I had an old C-Ration can opener on the same lanyard. Together they weigh an ounce – yup, one ounce. The knife had a small blade that I used a number of times, a screwdriver that I don’t recall using, and scissors, which I used very frequently. There were one or two occasions when a bigger blade might have been helpful, e.g. when we had some veggies we wanted to cut up, but I will stick with what I have.

THE HIKE
(Note Links to the Photo(s) taken on each date are contained at the end of the notes/comments for the day. To return from the photo to the text document, use the Internet "BACK" function. )

20 June – Starting and to Velvet Rocks, NH (2 miles). This is the start day. After breakfast with Rick and Elise Domas at their home in Needham, MA, Rick drove us about 120 miles to Hanover, NH. In the Hanover area we met Karl and Amy Robinson (USMA ’64) at the home of their daughter, Chrissie, and then we went out to a late lunch in a great Italian restaurant courtesy of George (Old Rainger*). Afterwards George, Rick (Beudreaux), and I hiked about 1.75 miles to the Velvet Rocks Shelter on the AT. This shelter, as well as the next several on the AT, are maintained by the Dartmouth Outing Club. Their shelters were definitely a step below those we encountered later on. Our initial effort had a climb of about 500-ft in a half-mile stretch and drove home that all of us were lacking in the conditioning needed for the journey ahead. The weather was good. The shelter was pretty crude, but in a nice shady area. Since we had eaten a late lunch, we decided not to cook, but simply eat "bar", and get an early start the next a.m. The front roof of the shelter was so low that each of us kept bumping our heads as we went in and out. Also, one of the pluses of using the shelters is the availability of "privies" (out-houses). For this shelter, the privy was simply a steel toilet "throne" sitting totally out in the open on a hill about 150 yards (out of sight) from the shelter. That evening we got the really bad joke telling out of the way. Rick carried a cell phone and called home to let his family know he was still intact. Unlike the shelters in the South, this shelter – as well as the others throughout NH and ME – did not have a table in front of it. This lack of tables was missed. The shelter did have plenty of mosquitoes. It was too warm early in the evening to get in our sleeping bags to avoid them. However, the best solution - using tents - was one we didn’t do because Rick, only with us for three nights, didn’t have a tent. We used repellant (95% Deet), and it helped some.

* In 2001 George used the trail name of "Rainger." This year he became "Old Rainger." 

 20 June Photos

21 June – to Moose Mountain Shelter, NH (9.3 miles). We woke up around 5 a.m. and left the Velvet Rocks shelter at 6 a.m. Our target for the day was 9.3 miles. On leaving the shelter, we stopped/detoured for some water and we began getting eaten alive by mosquitoes. We broke out the Deet, got our water as quickly as possibly, and headed for higher (less swampy) ground. This was my surprising introduction to the fact that we would encounter a significant amount of swamp in NH. Interesting enough, the swamps were not only on low ground, but there were swamps (bogs) on flat sections at higher elevations. By the time we had covered seven miles we were pretty whipped. We stopped at a brook near Three-Mile Rd and re-watered and rested. It was delightful. George took the opportunity to cool his feet in the water. The last two miles of the day were all uphill – to Moose Mountain. We followed our hiking motto in that we "started slowly and then eased back." We needed breaks every 10-15 minutes. We were in a bit of trouble, but persevered to the South Peak of Moose Mountain. We met a woman from Hanover (NASA) who was day-hiking and had stopped to enjoy the view. We chatted and enjoyed the setting for 10-15 minutes and then pushed on to arrive at the Moose Mountain Shelter around 2:15. Again it was a pretty crummy shelter and bug infested. George continued smacking his head on the shelter overhang – and he was a "Star Man" (top 5% of USMA class). He and I decided that not using our tents didn’t help Rick, so we put them up as protection from the bugs. By 5 p.m. Rick was snoring big time, and we had all eaten supper. I had a Lipton’s Chicken flavored noodles and a couple pieces of beef jerky – yum. After less than two days of hiking I assessed myself – filthy, smelly, and covered with bug bites. However, the spirits of all were good. We were alone at the shelter until around 7:30 p.m. when three men – two who appeared in their late 20’s and one wh o was the father of one of the young men arrived. They were out to do a 60 mile section hike. The father, in particular, was interesting in that he had recently climbed Mt Kilimanjaro in Africa and had been trekking in Nepal.

Note: June 21 is "Naked Hiking Day." Lots of folks do some hiking in the buff. We were alone and didn’t realize the occasion when it occurred, but some things are too ugly to try anyway. 

 21 June Photos

22 June – to Trapper John Shelter (5.9 miles). We got started on the trail around 6:30 a.m. The first 1.5 miles were relatively easy as we followed a high ridgeline. Then we began a sharp downhill. I went in front and it started raining – just in time to make the rocks slippery. I slipped and fell twice. The second time, I strained my right knee – the same one I had hurt a week earlier when climbing a tree to do some pruning. The result was considerable discomfort and slowing down. Throughout our hike, downhill efforts were a particular challenge to our 60-year-old knees. As we continued our descent from Moose Mountain we found a great stream just before Goose Pond Rd. Meanwhile, it continued to rain – mostly pretty hard – until we crossed the road to negotiate our way for a half-mile through a swamp. There were boards/logs, but they were in a terrible state of disrepair. Meanwhile, the bugs did a job on us. Of course, as soon as we were done crossing the swamp, the rain came back and stayed with us during a sharp 1,200-ft climb and for the remainder of the day. We completed 6.3 miles and arrived at the Trapper John Shelter. It was only around noon, but as planned, we called it a day. The shelter was .3 miles off the trail (extra hiking), but it was much nicer than the two previous shelters – e.g. at least you could get in and out without bending over sharply or crawling. We got our wet stuff off and, generally, settled in. Rick, who was leaving the trail the next day, had an extra freeze-dried meal, so he gave it to George and me for lunch. It was a nice treat on a cool wet day. The privy was unique. The boards supporting it were badly rotting and you had to step up on a large rock to get into the "seat." I was somewhat concerned that the whole business would collapse with dire consequences. The seat, in fact, was an armchair that was badly tilted. At least the privy had a roof (it was raining) and was partially closed – three sides.< /P> 

(No Photos)

23 June – Rick Leaving and Fred Joining Us; to the Fire Warden’s Cabin on Smarts Mountain (7 miles). It had stormed through the night but had stopped by the time we left the Trapper John Shelter around 7 a.m. However, everything was sodden and the air was thick with humidity. We hiked a bit less than a mile to the Lyme-Dorchester Rd to wait on Fred (Gunner) Tayler (USMA ’64) who was joining George and I for the first of three intervals. It was neat waiting by the country road that seemed totally in the boondocks. George and I got a good chuckle as Rick got a good splattering from a passing truck as it dipped into a mud-hole while going by. Fred’s wife Sandy dropped him off and also treated George, Rick and me to something like an Egg-McMuffin and some orange juice. Sandy took Rick off the trail and drove him back to where he had left his car at Karl and Amy Robinson daughter’s home. Rick seemed to have had a good three days/nights and a wide variety of experiences. Fred seemed to be in as good shape as George and I as we climbed Smarts Mountain. The total elevation change was 2,000+ ft and some of it was very steep. There were probably some excellent views had the weather been cooperative, but it was too foggy to see much of anything and the climb gave us lots of rocky surfaces to traverse and all the work we could handle. We arrived at the Smarts Mountain Fire Warden’s Cabin around 2:00 p.m. It was, essentially, a deserted shack, but it had a front porch and windows with screens. The water source was a relatively long swampy, downhill trek away. The good news was, shortly after we arrived, the sun came out, so we were able to air out ourselves and dry our gear. We were joined over the afternoon by 7 or 8 other hikers – e.g. "Hi-Octane" from Greene City, VA; "Tree-Hugger" a twenty-something from Quebec who was going from Conn. to Mt Katahdin in Maine (732 miles); "Prudence" a guy from Cleveland, OH; et al. They were all young guys who were trail-hardened and hiking big miles. The black flies and mosquitoes were horrendous. The other hikers said it was the worst they had seen. We all crowded into the cabin, and much to everyone’s surprise, Fred broke out a bottle of bug spray. Once he used it in the cabin, we tried to keep the door closed as much as possible.
 23 June Photos
 

24 June – to Ore Hill Shelter (12.3 miles). It stormed heavily during the night and most of what we had left hanging on the porch had been blown down and was in the mud. Getting onto the trail took a bit of extra time, but we were still on our way by 7 a.m. Hiking down from Smarts Mountain I foolishly stepped on a wet log, and I did a pretty dramatic slip into the mud. On a scale of 1-10, George, who was behind me, gave me 8.5 points. He was particularly impressed with the height my feet went into the air but said to get more points I needed to provide better sound effects. Latter on, while crossing Brackett Brook, Fred slipped off a rock and went in – lower body only, but we harassed him plenty about it. After going over Mt Cube we hiked down to Rte NH 25A. We were pretty tired and thought hard about camping just South of 25A. I thought the potential campsite we found was too buggy, so I went out to the road. We saw some great camping areas but they were part of a boys camp (Camp Moosilauke) – though not near any camp activity. I found a counselor and asked for permission for us to camp there – way out of the way, but they turned us down. Hence we decided to push on. From 25A North for about 2 miles we encountered 2 miles of miserable swamp. It was nasty, nasty, nasty! Just getting across 25A required you to wade through muck and get your feet wet. In retrospect if there was any stretch of the trail that seemed to have no redeeming value, this was it. As we were just coming out of the swamp, Fred had urgent digestive needs. I was glad I did not have to lower my trousers amid the variety of bugs on the edge of the swamp. We were starting to extend our mileage and practically crawled up to the Ore Hill Shelter. Once there Fred and I put up our tents nearby. George stayed in the shelter. That evening we met "Phraedus" (Thru –hiker); "Chunk", a young woman who was a pre-med student and could out-hike most of the males; and "Sky-Scraper," a minister/auto-mechanic from NC. Sky Scraper is the only hiker we encountered who had an umbrella. He had created a rig with which he attached the umbrella to his pack and, hence, used it hands-free.
 24 June Photo

25 June – to Glencliff Hostel (7.5 miles). Again, as we hiked from the Ore Hill Shelter to Glencliff, NH. We were munchies for the NH Air Force (mosquitoes and black flies). Sky-Scraper started after us, but then passed us like we were standing still. However, later, we passed him --- tortoise and hare analogy. There were no particularly good views, but the weather was great and the hiking was pleasant and more downhill than up as we descended to Glencliff. About a mile up toward Mt Mist from Glencliff we encountered "Canoe Man." This was a guy hiking uphill with a woman. What made him unique was that he was portaging a canoe that was strapped on his back, He asked us how far it was to a lake that was further up the hill. At the time we saw him, we concluded he was nutty. As we went further and saw what he had climbed to get where we encountered him, we decided he was not only off his bean, but also had super-human strength. He was immediately a legend from our hiki ng experience. We also learned later that there was a road that went up to the lake where he was heading, so we concluded he wasn’t real clever. Oh, well. Sky-Scraper, who later joined us in Glencliff Hostel, also had seen "Canoe Man" and made some comments about him Glencliff was tiny – a post office open part of the day, a few homes, and the hostel. The accommodations were pretty basic as far as hostels go, but on a relative basis, given our six days/nights on the trail, it seemed luxurious. We slept in the loft of a barn-like building with mattresses on the floor laid from wall to wall. There was a washer and dryer and a shower in a separate, partially enclosed shed. Four days earlier, Fred had left his car, an aging Cadillac, at the hostel before his wife had driven him (in her car) out to join us. Hence we had the luxury of transportation to a town five miles away and which had a restaurant and a general store/food market. We ate both a late lunch and then, later, suppe r at the restaurant – Calamity Jane’s after cleaning up, washing our clothes, and dressing our wounds. While we were cleaning up, we bought "smoothies" from the fellow who owned the shelter. Boy, were they good! Meanwhile, we were sitting at a crude table in the lower part of the shelter and talking, making notes in our trail logs, etc. I noted that I didn’t have shorts to change into while our clothes were in the washer. Fred, totally deadpan, told me he would gladly lend me a pair if size 32 would fit. In turn, without even looking up, I responded that size 32 would be just right. George, listened to this exchange, and after a brief pause, totally cracked up laughing. Of course neither Fred nor I had worn anything with a size 32 waist in more than 35 years. Fred was leaving us the next day, but enroute, we coordinated for him to take our packs to The Cascade Lodge in North Woodstock, NH. This would allow us to hike the next part without heavy packs (slack-packing.) Slack-p acking is a common practice. Some distance hikers on the AT eschew it, but most do it whenever they have the opportunity. No one cares how much you carry, just that you cover the territory.
 25 June Photo
 

26 June – over Mt Moosilauke to N. Woodstock (9.9 miles). As AT distance hikers head north, Mt Moosilauke looms as the first major challenge of the White Mountains and the first of the really big climbs since Virginia. We hiked over the mountain after climbing steadily for 5.5 miles. At first it was a reasonable slope, then it became steep and rocky. The climb took us above the broad leaf trees into the pines, and finally, near the top, above the tree line. It was hazy, but the view was still magnificent. We stopped at the Beaver Brook Shelter and rested for awhile in preparation for our descent. At the shelter we met "Transient" and "Gypsonic" – a couple who had been there from the previous night (tented nearby). They had a good smoky fire going to keep the bugs aware, and there was a great water source immediately accessible. The water source was a pipe spring. His is a pipe into the hillside that taps into an underground stream. Such sources are least likely to h ave contamination, are easy to fill up at, and have water that is usually very cool. We then did (often discussed among hikers) the extremely steep and perilous descent into Kinsman Notch (NH Rte 12). We went down more than 2,500 ft in about two miles. Some of it was a bit scary. All of it was beautiful. We went slowly to protect our knees. For more than a mile the trail paralleled a cascading stream that was a series of gorgeous waterfalls. At some points it was literally hand-over-hand effort, and there were even several places where we were dependent on metal rungs driven into rock faces by those who maintain the trail. Once at Kinsman Notch we started walking and hitchhiking towards N. Woodstock, NH where we planned to spend the night and get mail re-supplies. We quickly got a ride in a pickup truck driven by a fellow from Maine. Strangely enough, he was the second person we had met on our hike who had recently climbed Mt Kilimanjaro. We went to the Cascade Lodge where F red had taken our packs. It was not a particularly nice place (shared bathrooms that were like steam closets, generally not very clean, scroungy towels, etc.,} but at $18 per night each you can’t expect much. It did have a great front porch where we sat and socialized with other hikers. We watched as exhausted hikers came in, and sat around and ate and chit-chatted. Met a mother and her two college age daughters (no trail names) who were from Minnesota and were doing a section hike as well as several other hikers whom we had previously encountered. The Pemigewasset River was across the street at a point that was the official town "public beach." I went over and did a bit of wading, but it was icy cold water.
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27 June`-Rest Day in N. Woodstock. Went to Lincoln NH – about a mile from N. Woodstock. Hitched down but ended up walking back. Lincoln is a lot bigger town – very touristy. Main purpose for me was to go to the Linwood Medical Clinic. I was concerned about all my bug bites. My bites seemed to produce larger welts and swelling than bites do on other people, and I had a light rash so I was concerned about possible Lyme’s disease. Dr Falgate didn’t think I had Lyme’s disease, but he said that treating for it was easy and painless as a preventative, so he prescribed for me Doxycycline which I took religiously during the next ten days along with external treatment. George and I went to an "Internet Café" where we paid to use computers to make contact with the home front. It was pretty pricey! Anyway, the day allowed us to relax and heal up a bit. Went to the N. Woodstock "beach" (a group of large rocks next to the river) again and got a bit more of my body into th e icy cold water. Picked up our re-supplies at the Post Office and sent a lot of food and other stuff forward to Gorham, NH – the next town we expected to hit. We spent a lot of time eating – no constraints on what we consumed.
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28 June – Franconia Notch (US 3) to Kinsman Notch (NH 112) (16 miles). We had been advised that this portion of the AT over Kinsman Mountain was really tough and that it would be two days worth of hiking with packs. However, it also could be done in one challenging day by slack-packing. George and I decided to go for the latter and do it from north to south. "Chunk" had slack-packed it the previous day in a little over 7 hrs. It took George and me 12 exhausting hours. Initially the weather was cool and overcast. Great conditions. We did enjoy the pretty Kinsman Pond early in the hike as well as several cascading streams. However, because of the poor weather, whenever we were at any significant elevation any potential views were shrouded in fog/clouds. When we were on the mountaintops we really couldn’t see much at all. In sum, this day was primarily tough work. The first 3 miles were fairly easy uphill to Lonesome Lake Hut. Enroute we had a pretty demanding crossing of a large, fast-moving stream. Luckily we were fresh and still feeling relatively athletic. We stopped in at the hut to take a look at what one of the Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC) huts was like. At about $65 a night, they were generally filled up with short-term (weekend/few days) hikers. Seemed sort of like having a luxury skybox at the ballpark versus the shelters – last rows in the bleachers. Huts provide bunks, good food, potable water, bathrooms, etc. – pretty crude by motel standards, but royal treatment by AT standards. A mile or so after leaving the hut the "fun" began with a very steep climb where were went up 1,600 ft to the north peak of Kinsman Mtn. It was very rocky and the rocks were wet and slippery. After reaching the top we did a dip and then climbed the south peak. The peaks were not marked. Then we began a killer descent of 2,000. Meanwhile it started raining, making the footing very treacherous. There was lots of upper body strength used as we grabbe d trees and swung down over steep, slick rocks, scooted down on our backsides, or went down backwards holding on to pieces of rock, etc. It was very, very tough on our knees. We had to pick our way very carefully and made full use of our walking sticks. I slipped and fell several times and got some minor scrapes. George had a "nice" fall. Although he hurt his finger, the fall was not spectacular. However, George provided great sound effects which resulted in my giving him a high score. After a bit of follow-on consideration, I reduced it to 6.5 out of a possible 10. About the time we got to the bottom of the steep descent, it stopped raining just in time to provide ideal conditions for the "NH Air Force" (mosquitoes, black flies, horse flies) which attacked us in full force. We still had another 1,200-ft climb to the top of Mt Wolf – again, very rocky trail with wet rocks. Then came a series of ups and downs for 4 miles – very little of it "good" trail. The very end brought even more reinforcements from the bugs. George and I both swallowed several and we each got several in our eyes. It was better to keep moving, but it didn’t help much. The end of the day had a 900-ft very steep descent while under full bug attack. By the time we reached Kinsman Notch, our legs were shot and we were totally spent. Luckily, when we stuck out our thumbs to hitch back to N. Woodstock, we got a ride quickly. We could barely walk and were happy to get showers and food. George was a bit worse off than I was, and he declared that this was as tough as it got in his experience on the AT.
 28 June Photos
 

29 June – to Liberty Spring Campsite (3.2 miles). We really needed rest after the previous day’s effort, but had had enough of N. Woodstock and decided to don our packs and head out. We went only 3.2 miles to the Liberty Springs Campsite, but it was all very steep and rocky uphill – elevation of about 3,000 ft. Fortunately, we had good hiking weather and good visibility. The campsite is one of several run by the AMC. The campsite has a pipe spring right off the trail (great), a whole bunch of tent platforms, and a privy. It also has a caretaker and there is a charge of $8 per person per night. It was very buggy. George and I put up our tents – I had the advantage of having a self-standing tent – and donned head nets. As long distance hikers we were giving the option of doing maintenance for an hour and not paying the $8 fee. Since we arrived at the campsite just past noon, we decided to do the "work-for-stay." I located a couple of large rocks suitable for building a water baffle on the trail and rolled them down to where they could be used. George replanted four small (just larger than seedlings) trees. The person running the campsite was a young woman named Lyrica who was a student at Oberlin College. Since George wasn’t interested in sharing the Good ‘N Plenty candy my daughter and son-in-law had mailed to me in N. Woodstock, I shared some with Lyrica. She seemed appreciative and noted that "Licorice is very under-rated." Around 6:00 p.m., the platform next to ours was occupied in part by "Red FOG (Fat Old Guy)." He was a 44-year-old thru-hiker from Michigan. He told us he had lost 45 pounds since beginning his AT experience. He carried a Hennessey Hammock in lieu of a tent. With no good place to string it up, he wrapped himself in it on the platform. Red FOG was the only person I’ve encountered who carried a bit of hard alcohol with him. He had a flask with Bourbon (he referred to it as "condensed beer’) which he indicated helped h im sleep better.
 29 June Photos
 

30 June – Across High Mountains to Garfield Ridge Campsite (7.7 miles). This was the most scenic day so far. We left Liberty Springs Campsite and climbed over Little Haystack Mountain, Mt Lincoln, Mt Lafayette and Mt Garfield. A good portion of the day was above the tree line. By the end of the day, Mt Garfield was kicking our butts – big time. On the other hand, the weather was great and the views to which we were treated were fantastic. We ended the day at another AMC run campsite – Garfield Ridge. Unfortunately, unlike the previous night, the water was a long way off and downhill from the site.

George and I earned our keep by spending an hour working together to pull nails out of boards from old platforms. The bugs (primarily black flies) in the late afternoon were so bad that we both put on long sleeved shirts and headnets. I already was wearing long pants and George put them on as well. We even wore all this while we were working. Even with all this gear on, the bugs still ate our hands and tortured us. The black flies didn’t seem very intimidated by DEET. At around 4 p.m. we got into our tents for the night to escape the bugs. The first task afterwards was to hunt and kill the black flies that got in when the tent flap was opened. I sat and watched as more flies appeared to be massing on my tent screen. For a short moment I imagined they would mass in enough numbers to force their way in. Oh well, we got to sleep really early that night.
 30 June Photos

1 July – Working the AMC Hut System and going to Zealand Falls (9.7 miles). We were a bit worn down so our intent was to hike to the next hut, get there early so we could get the work-for stay, and relax most of the day. The huts, as noted earlier, are generally booked up, but we understood that each hut accepted two "thru-hikers" on a first-come basis for work-for-stay. I wasn’t sure I qualified as a thru-hiker, but we wanted to be the first to get to the Galehead Hut that day and find out. We covered the 2.7 miles and arrived at the hut at 8:30. We found out that, for their purposes, the huts considered anyone doing major segments (e.g. several hundred miles) as qualified for the work-for-stay. We also found out that the hut managers would not accept anyone arriving before 2 p.m. for that day’s work-for stay. After getting fresh water and eating some of the cake and bread left from the previous day’s meal (hikers can eat as much of what’s put out for a dollar) we moved on to the Zealand Falls Hut. The hike was pleasant and we handled it better than we had anticipated. We arrived at Zealand Falls too late. Another hiker, "Yosarian" (based on character in Catch-22) had gotten there at 1:30 and had "camped" there till accepted. We convince the manager to let both of us stay. We did one work-for-stay, and paid a reduced rate ($39) for meals and "reduced accommodations" – sleeping on the tables with the work-for-stay folks. George and I split the two hours of work required in the huts, and we split the cost. We each washed windows for an hour. As the name would imply the hut was next to a stream which had a small series of falls and pools – very cold. I went out there in my nylon shorts and worked my way into sitting in one of the pools and soaking for a few (very few) minutes. I convinced George to give it a shot too. Boy, did he whine about the cold as he eased himself into the water! My legs looked like they had been gnawed on – despit e wearing long pants when hiking. The other hiker, "Yosarian," was a 44 year old MD (anesthesiologist). He suggested I take Benadryl for my bug bites. We had a great meal with the staff – college-age crew – after the paying guests were done. All the food and general supplies are backpacked into the huts and the trash backpacked out by the staff. The huts differ in size and accommodate from about 40 people to as many as about 100 people (Lake of the Clouds Hut). Many of those staying at the huts were very interesting people and they particularly seemed to enjoy talking with us as long distance hikers. It provided a nice social interlude.
 Photos Around 1 July

2 July – to Crawford Notch, US 302 and N. Conway (7.8 miles). We stayed at the Zealand Falls Hut to eat breakfast (after the paying guests) so we didn’t get started until 8:30. We decided to hike down to Crawford Notch and then hitch our way to a B&B we heard about in N. Conway, the Cranmore Mountain Lodge. The trail was great, and it was mostly level or downhill that was not too steep. We covered the 7.8 miles in just under 4 hours – great time for us at this stage. Enroute we passed Ethan Pond and the Ethan Pond Shelter. At one point we had planned to stay there and were glad we didn’t. The surrounding area was very swampy and buggy. Once we got to US 302 we were picked up by an AMC staff member as soon as we started hitching and she took as all the way to N. Conway – about 25 miles away. She didn’t say, but we were under the impression that she went well out of her way to get us there. At any rate, we were dropped off at Eastern Mountain Sports (EMS), and out fitter. When I went in, the Ass’t. Mgr., Kathleen, looked at me and declared, "you get the prize for the most bug bites this year." I bought a LS shirt, and Kathleen repaired my trekking poles which had been collapsing. They couldn’t be adequately tightened so she replaced they lower sections for me using old parts and at no cost. She then gave George and me directions on how to find the lodge. It sounded like a reasonable walking distance, but by the time we got there after a mile and a half – mostly uphill in the sun, we realized we had mis-judged. The Cranmore Mountain Lodge was exquisite. It once had been the home of Babe Ruth’s daughter. The owners were a relatively young (late 30’s?) couple who had recently bought it. There was a pool, a pond, farm animals, a delightful breakfast room, lots of grassy area, etc. I would gladly go there as a regular guest. In additional to the regular B&B customers, there was also a bunkhouse where George and I stayed for $20 each – to include breakfast. The bunkhouse had a TV, two shower/bathrooms, refrigerator, and soft drink machine – "heaven." After cleaning up, I took a quick dip in the pool and then the owner took us with him back into town so we could get something for late lunch/supper. We downed smoothies while waiting for the production of the burros we ordered to go. When we got them we were shocked! They were huge and must have weighed 4 lbs. each. Nevertheless, we finished them. That night I slept really well. It was the first night (of three) that I took, based on Yosarian’s suggestion, some Benadryl. It may have helped. The weather had turned unusually hot (90’s) – it was 104 degrees in DC, and I was a little nervous about the next day’s activity – it was with good reason.

Cranmore Mountain Lodge; Kevin and Jean Flanagan (owners) http://www.cml.com. 

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3 July – Over Webster Cliffs to Mizpah Spring Hut (6.4 miles). We had a nice breakfast at the Lodge, but had to pay $30 for a taxi back to Crawford Notch and the AT. The car was a late 70s Chrysler driven by a guy who had to be at least 80 years old. As projected, the temperature was in the 90’s and very humid. I don’t think either of us realized how tough this segment was. As we hiked up from Crawford Notch, sweat dripped from us like open faucets. We climbed and climbed toward Mt Webster and there were no water sources. It became hand-over-hand, and, as we approached the cliffs, we encountered walls of stone that were almost shear. I recall standing in front of them and wondering for awhile, "how in the heck do you get past this?" The same scenario recurred repeatedly. We paid a hefty admission price, but the views from the cliffs were spectacular. By the time we crossed the summit, our focus became efficiency and addressing what had become a serious water problem – despite the fact that we had started with three quarts each. Unlike many of our other hikes in NH, we did not encounter any small streams not shown on the map. From Mt Webster we traveled the ridge to Mt Jackson – not tough compared to the earlier climb, but we were drained. The map said Tisdale Spring was between Mt Webster and Mt Jackson, but we could not find it. After awhile we found a small seep and decided to fill one water bottle to use as a last resort/"deep reserve." George used his bandana as a sieve for the water to drain through after scooping it up with his cup, and we gave it a double dose of iodine. We had slightly less than 2 miles to travel to Mizpah Spring Hut. It was relatively easy hiking and we arrived around 3 p.m. with no water left except our "deep reserve." We were compelled to take many breaks along the way, and the demands of the hike truly exhausted us during the just short of 7 hours we were on the trail. Although it was well past 2 p.m. when we showed up, we were the first distance hikers to arrive and were able to get the two work-for stay slots – we swept up the hut. Each hut has unique features. This one was its solar power energy generation, and it was the only hut that was not full because of some reservation cancellations. A couple other little factoids. This was the only day on the trail when I did not hike in long pants. I unzipped/took off the legs of my hiking pants due to the weather. Also, about 2/3 of the way from Mt Jackson to the hut, we spotted a Spruce Grouse on the trail. She appeared to be injured, but as soon as we passed, she scampered away. George suggested she was trying to decoy us away from her eggs. 

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4 July – to Lake of the Clouds (5 miles). We swept up the Mizpah Springs Hut after breakfast and had pancakes and cereal with powdered milk before heading out around 9 a.m. It took about 4 hours to get to Lake of the Clouds Hut. The first half-hour was tough, rocky uphill to Mt Pierce. Then we had good path and general uphill slopes over Mt Eisenhower and past Mt Franklin (not quite over the top) – likewise for Mt Monroe. Eighty percent of the day was above the tree line with continuous breath taking views. Since we got to the vicinity of the Lake of the Clouds hut, around 1 p.m., we spent about 45 minutes relaxing on some rocks overlooking the hut and next to a little lake that sits at 5,000 ft and in the shadow of Mt Washington, 1.4 miles away. Just before 2 p.m. we checked in and requested work-for-stay. Since they were short staffed on this particular day, they were very enthusiastic about having us. Because this hut is so large/popular, they take four work-for- stay hikers, but no other hikers showed up. After the workout we had the previous day we deliberately chose to have an easy day. Also, thunderstorms were projected for late in the afternoon, so we decided the risk of getting caught in them made any potential for going onward a bad idea. Besides, we were enjoying the setting and the socializing in which we were sought out for conversation/relating our experiences. "Biscuit," a grad of the Cornell University Culinary School, was the hut manager. She had George and I put in a solid two hours washing dishes -- best dishwashers she had had. We slept on tables in the dining room. Unlike the regular guests who were crowded into multi-level bunkrooms with minimal windows, we had plenty of room to expend and we each slept next to a set of huge double windows with views of the valley. As projected, in early evening their were some rain squalls. There were some fireworks in the valley, but the inclement weather kept them from us. Not t oo much later the weather cleared away and the stars "were in full bloom." We really enjoyed our stay at this hut. However, the weather changed early (around 5 a.m.) the next morning.
 4 July Photo
 

5 July – up to Mt Washington (1.4 miles). The previous afternoon when we arrived at Lake of the Clouds hut we watched people fairly skipping down from Mt Washington in a clear sunny setting and wearing tee shirts. This a.m., when we left, visibility was not more than 75 ft and it was cold. Everything was in the clouds with winds around 40 mph. We traveled only a few minutes before George had a connector pin on his pack fall out. Fortunately, it fell right at his feet so he could find it. We retreated to the hut where he fixed it. We took the time to also put on our rain jackets to keep warm and for protection from the wind. This was the only time we actually hiked wearing these jackets. The trail to Mt Washington was a moderate climb of 1.4 miles. The wind-chill appeared to be around 30 degrees. Everything got wet from the clouds. George’s glasses couldn’t be kept dry enough to use and he had to hike without them. This was a significant problem for him, so he had to follow me closely, and we had to go slowly. As we progressed, visibility got worse. I went from one cairn (piles of rocks marking the trail – versus the normal white blaze) to another. I could barely see from one cairn to the next. By the time we reached the top a bit after 9 a.m., visibility was only a few dozen feet, the wind was gusting even higher, we were wet, and we were totally chilled. Once on top we couldn’t find any buildings. At one point we were probably 100 ft from the visitors’ center but went in the wrong direction because we couldn’t see it. We had George stand still and I went forward to the edge of his visibility. Then he would close on me. We did this until we found a staircase leading up to a wooden building. We went up the stairs, and found a big sign on the door that said, "closed." We were really deflated, but we went down and, after a little more searching, found the visitor’s center that had just opened. We were the first ones there. In the basement they have a large "hikers room" where we took off our packs and damp clothes and started warming up. I was somewhat chilled but George had gotten soaked under his rain jacket and was even more so. We waited around for awhile and then went back upstairs and looked at exhibits until the snack bar opened. Both of us welcomed the opportunity to get bowls of hot soup/chili. Around 11:00, having dried out and warmed up, we decided to "saddle-up" and continue our hike toward Mt Madison and Madison hut. We had assumed that as the morning progressed, conditions would have improved. We took about a dozen steps outside the visitor’s center, and the only thing that had changed was that the wind was worse. We heard that it was gusting to 70 mph. We retreated back to the visitor’s center, poked our heads out one more time, and determined it would not be prudent to continue on the open ridgeline. We then found that there was a van service ($22 ea) that went to the bottom – Pinkham Notch. We signed up for it and loaded in around 12:30 – along with six or seven other hikers who had the same idea. Fortunately, the van driver knew the road blind because for the first 1,000+ feet of descent he navigated with almost zero visibility. As we descended from almost 6,300 ft (Mt Washington is 6,288) to about 2,000 ft, the weather/conditions did a total metamorphous. At Pinkham Notch it was 70 degrees and sunny with little or no breeze. It was like a different world. We tried unsuccessfully to get lodging at Pinkham Notch in AMC’s Joe Dodge Lodge. Frankly, it seemed pretty pricey for what they offered. It seemed our best option was to hitch our way to a town -- the nearest being Gorham, about 12 miles away. We caught a ride in the back of a pickup truck and, per our request, the driver took us to the Northern Peaks Motel. We had tentatively planned to stay there a few days later anyway. We paid $20 each for a two-room suite with a shared bath and a great balcony. We clea ned up and then ate super at an all-you- can-eat buffet in a Chinese restaurant. The food was mediocre at best, but we did some serious damage to the owner’s profit margin. On return, we convinced the motel owner, Eddie, a retired Air Force NCO, to drive us back to the trail the next a.m.

Note: Mt Washington has a number of different trails to take you to the top as well as a cog rail system and a road privately owned by the Mt Washington Stage Company. The latter is a toll road and also provides a van service to the top and down. Because of its accessibility, the top of Mt Washington, in good weather and foul, can be an eclectic and incongruous group ranging from grizzled thru-hikers to bulbously fat people in loafers with cameras around their necks and clutching soft drinks. It was interesting during our stay to see those who came up via car, van or cog wheel arrive and be shocked as they briefly stepped into the elements before escaping nature into the visitors center. Mt Washington is advertised as having the worst weather in North America and has record winds as high as 241 mph. It’s not simply a matter of elevation, but rather its location at the confluence of several weather patterns. 

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6 July – South from Gorham to Imp Shelter (8 miles). After looking at the weather forecast for the next 4 or 5 days, instead of immediately going back to the top of Mt Washington to continue our hike, we decided to go from Gorham to the south until we got back to Pinkham Notch. Then we would go to the top of Mt Washington and do the hiking from there, north to Mt Madison and back to Pinkham Notch. Once we had gotten this far, we would go back to Gorham and continue to the North. (Guess you might need to see it on a map to fully understand.) This morning, not only did Eddie take us to where the AT approached Gorham from the south, his wife, Sam, originally from Turkey, got up and also rode with us on the 4-5 mile trip. We followed the Rattle River as far as it went – very scenic, and then continued to the AMC run Imp Shelter and Campsite. This was the only AMC facility where, in lieu of work-for-stay, we paid $8. They had both a shelter and tent platforms. We arrived at about 2 p.m. – just before it began to rain. It also got chilly enough (with wind) that we wore rain jackets. As is normal, I immediately went to the water source to get a re-supply. It was a good, quick running, stream that was nearby, but I got caught in a downpour and got soaked and chilled. We had three others in the shelter with us that evening. One was a woman, Molly Jones, who was (wild guess) in her mid-forties with the trail name of "Who Cooks for You." It derived from the sound of a specific bird (don’t remember which). Molly was a Buddhist, and in "real life" worked, with her partner, as a cook in a Buddhist monastery in West Virginia. Molly was someone we ran into again in Andover, ME and with whom we spent several days at The Cabin in Maine. At any rate, Molly was at the shelter when we arrived, and decided, as did George and I, that the inclement weather was enough to dissuade us from serious thought of going further. She also presented and shared with us s ome "trail magic."* Someone had left a six-pack of bagels at the shelter and a package of cheese. This satisfied my hunger enough, along with a couple bars, that at 4 p.m. I took off my wet clothes and got in my sleeping bag so I could warm up. This was the first of only a couple nights that I didn’t cook something warm for myself. That night the wind really howled and t was good to be in a warm bag and a shelter. The weather also kept the "New Hampshire Air Force" (bugs) grounded. 

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7 July – to Carter Notch Hut (7.1 miles). Our destination, the AMC hut in Carter Notch, was a little more than 7 miles away. We started at 7 a.m. There were several steep climbs and descents – North Carter Mtn, Middle Carter Mtn, South Carter Mtn, Mt Hight, and, lastly and highest was Carter Dome. The first few hours were windy and drizzling. We couldn’t see potentially nice views, but the trail visibility and conditions were o.k. Coming down from Carter Dome into Carter Notch was exceptionally steep, but by that time visibility had cleared and we were treated to equally exceptional views. The hut was very nicely situated with two small mountain lakes immediately adjacent. The hut was also different than those we had encountered before. The previous ones were "full service" huts. This one was "self-service." That meant that the hut staff did not prepare meals for the guests. Rather, the guests were responsible for their own food, but they could use the hut’s kitchen facilities and utensils. In lieu of $65 a night per person, the self-service price was $21. Again, George and I did work-for-stay. This time we defrosted (with hot water) and cleaned up a pretty grungy refrigerator. The hut manager, Lydia, a sophomore at Columbia University, looked at George and me and asked if we were brothers. Actually we don’t look anything alike, except for the fact that our beards were growing in almost identical patterns. We were asked if we were brothers several other times during our time on the AT. We decided to try and reduce the weight of the food we were carrying because we knew we would re-supply in two more days. Consequently, we ate hot food (ramen noodles) early in the afternoon, than ate bars, and in the evening a Lipton’s-type meal. Among the guests staying at the hut was a trio of women from Connecticut – college student, mother, and grandmother. I was somewhat nonplussed when the college student told me her grandmother wanted to know how old I was. Guess a beard does make you look a bit more "mature" – especially with white in it.
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8 July – back to Mt Washington and on to the Madison Springs Hut (9.5 miles). This was the day where we could get back to Mt Washington and which had the best weather projection within our window of opportunity. We left Carter Notch Hut at 6 a.m. and hiked a "blue blaze" of 3.8 miles to Pinkham Notch in a little under 2 hours. This "blue blaze" route was along 19-Mile Brook Trail and for the majority of the time we could see a tremendously inviting, large, cascading stream that paralleled the trail. It was easy trail and the route that most of those who get to the Carter Notch Hut use to access it. Once at Pinkham Notch we were still 1.5 miles from where the road up the mountain and the van service was located. We started walking in that direction, but a couple with a camper picked us up after a few minutes. We got to the auto-road a little after 8 a.m. The weather reports still seemed promising so we bought tickets and got on the first van – around 9 a.m. We found a far-improved situation from our previous visit. Even so, the summit was still cloud encased and there was a pretty strong wind – wind chill in the 30s. At first we thought we wouldn’t be able to get a picture on the summit, but there was a small opportunity when most of the clouds momentarily cleared. We put on appropriate clothing and set off down the ridgeline towards Madison Springs Hut. After about half an hour we were out of the clouds and had great visibility. Not too much later we were going past the cog wheel tracks (it comes up from a different direction than does the road) as a train was ascending. We spent some time waving and receiving return waves from those riding the train. Only later did I learn that it was "traditional" for hikers to drop their trousers and "moon" the cog wheel passengers. The views were dramatically magnificent and remained that way through our 5.7-mile journey. We hiked along some very rocky ridgeline, above the tree line, and around the huge bowl called The Great Gulf Wilderness. The AT took us up, but not always fully over the summits of Mt Clay, Mt Jefferson, Mt Sam Adams, and Mt Adams. As we hiked, at times the wind gusted strongly enough to move me (and my 35-lb. pack) sideways. The rockiness of the trail was such that at times it was truly non-discernable with a pile of rubble. Only the closely spaced cairns showed the way. It took us about 5.5 hours to get from Mt Washington to Madison Springs Hut. By that time our knees were a wreck and our feet felt like they had been pummeled with bamboo wickets. We truly hobbled in for the last quarter mile or so. Once we arrived and had a chance to rest, we recovered quickly. I cooled my feet in the nearby spring. The max I could keep my feet in the water was only about 15-20 seconds at a time. We also did work-for-stay. Part of that was checking out portions of the waste disposal system and shoveling some compost. Then we washed dishes after supper. The hut is at about 4,800 ft and the temperature was such that everyone was wearing sweatshirts and/or jackets. Mason, a recent graduate of The University of the South at Sewanee, TN and Carter, a recent engineering graduate, were the hut staff who were our main contacts. Mason’s father was a USMA ’70 grad (named Herring) – note: I still shoveled the compost. We had an excellent supper and slept on the dining room tables. I asked for and got pillows for us to use so we didn’t have to use our clothing bags as pillows – something I should have thought of doing at other huts. The dining room table may sound crude, but it seemed far better than the bunk room which, in this case, had folks stacked four-high. I was feeling very social and talking with a number of hikers/guests from NJ, Conn, Canada, et al. That night it rained, thundered, and the wind howled.
 8 July Photo
 

9 July – Over Mt Madison and back to Pinkham Notch (7.8 miles). Usually I am first up, but this a.m., although I was awake at 5 a.m., I lingered in my bag till 5:30. It had stopped raining, but the wind was still howling. I wasn’t looking forward to going out – nor was George. Unfortunately, there were no good choices from getting from the Madison Springs Hut to where we needed to end up, Pinkham Notch. There seemed to be a by-pass of Mt Madison on the map, but we were advised that it was a terrible trail, and quite risky when wet. Consequently, at 6:15 we headed out on the AT. It took us up and over Mt Madison. From the hut, this was a vertical climb of about 500 ft to 5,400 ft. This would be work, but not something that would normally be intimidating. It was truly harrowing. The wind was so strong it buffeted us around as we climbed up the sharp-edged and pointy rocks. George led the way so he couldn’t see me, but his embedded image was of hearing the loud flappin g of my pants. I distinctly recall a couple loose straps from my pack "whipping" me repeatedly. As we approached and went over the crests, and finally the top, we were in peril. I was physically lifted and moved to the side several times. Meanwhile, as we ascended, we went into a cloud. At one point, near the summit, we were literally crawling over the rocks. When we got to the top, the adventure was not over. The path took us along the ridge of a finger, but it descended slowly over a series of knobs and mini-crests. The inhospitable rocks continued while we remained exposed to the gale-level winds. For more than a mile we scrambled from and across treacherous rocks, and we continued to get tossed about by the fiercest winds in which I have ever tried to do anything. At one point when I was, literally, tossed sideways, I saved myself from a likely injurious fall by arresting my movement by planting both of my trekking poles horizontally into a large stone. George was behind me at this point, and, as this occurred, he said he thought I was in "big trouble" if I hadn’t reacted so fortuitously. We spent more than two hours dealing with this situation and were highly relieved to finally get back into the wood line to continue our descent. Later during the day we encountered three others who had made the same passage that day. All three were stronger hikers than we were and all assessed the experience as we did – harrowing. One said he fell six times. After getting into the wood line we descended through the Great Gulf Wilderness via a series of several connecting trails on which the AT is overlaid. There trails got progressively less difficult and the last several miles on the Jackson Highway trail was very easy and pleasant. We arrived at the Pinkham Notch AMC visitors center at around 2:00 p.m. – a tough (mentally and physically), 7:45 hrs of hiking. Since we had previously (when the weather drove us off of Mt Washington) hiked from Gorham, NH t o the South to Pinkham Notch, we hitched a ride to Gorham. A young manager who told us he was the overall manager of the hut system gave us a ride. He was also the older brother of Mason (worker at Madison hut) and, hence the son of a USMA ’70 grad – last name of Herring. We passed on our compliments about the huts and, in particular, the young people working there, and he took us back to the Northern Peaks motel where we had stayed on 5 July. Eddie gave us the same suite we had had previously. About 3:30 George and I had a big spaghetti dinner. Then we picked up our re-supply packages at the Post Office and called Fred Taylor to coordinate for his rejoining us in Gorham, as planned, the next afternoon. We then found and used a local laundromat and cleaned our gear, which we aired out on the balcony. Had some interesting conversation with a "local" at the laundromat. He worked for the large paper mill that was nearby and related that Gorham was somewhat of a "lower middle cl ass/workingman’s resort town."
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10 July – Day off in Gorham, Fred Taylor Rejoins Us, and "Bronson Moves." Aside from the day in N. Woodstock, NH when I went to the medical clinic (in Lincoln) this was our first full day off. We needed the break and pretty much kicked back, watched TV, ate, prepared our gear/packed our re-supply, shipped home or forwarded some of the supplies we didn’t need, and spent a lot of time at the Gorham library using its personal computer. Fred had told us he would arrive in the early evening, but we knew he would be fine if he got to the motel and we weren’t there. The library had only one PC and there was a waiting list to use it. Consequently, George and I went different ways. Around 5 p.m. I went into a restaurant/ice cream parlor/bar and had a large chicken parmigian dinner with spaghetti and a large salad. I polished it off with a hot fudge sundae (large and with all the trimmings.) About the time I was half way through the sundae, Fred walked in. He said he had no d ifficulty finding me. Fred decided that he would eat some supper, so, just to be sociable, I had another large sundae with all the trimmings – one of the benefits of burning all those calories. Fred bunked with George and I in our very small two-room suite and made arrangements with Eddie to leave his car at the motel for the 4-5 days he would go out hiking with us. That evening George, Fred and I watched TV in the motel. We watched an adventure movie in which Lee Marvin and cohorts were pursuing Charles Bronson through the wilds of northern Canada. Bronson performed numerous "great moves." For example, at one point he comes to this humongous gorge. He throws his pack and his rifle across, takes a few steps back, and then leaps across the gorge. He does another one where he leaps off of a cliff to land in a snow-covered pine tree. At any rate, from this point forward, any time we did anything that seemed to have any risk, we referred to what we were doing as "Bronson moves." Sometimes we used the terms "mini-Bronson" and "baby-Bronson" for moves that seemed a bit bold for us but were not really all that risky.
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11 July – to Gentian Pond Shelter (12 miles). The three of us ate a full breakfast at the Hiker’s Paradise, a restaurant adjacent to a hostel that caters to hikers. We then walked to the end of town, crossed the Androscoggin River on a footbridge, and headed north on the Mahoosic Trail. We were done with the White Mountains and the Presidential Range and were heading into the Mahoosic Range, which straddles the NH-ME border. It was a good trail with a relatively easy grade and great hiking weather. We had some great views of the Andoscoggin River Valley as we ascended and then went over Cascade Mountain. At one point we couldn’t find any blazes to follow and determined we needed to cross a beaver dam and then ended up wading through some significant mud to stay on the trail. Fortunately, I had been able to apply water-resistant spray to my boots during our day off and this allowed my feet to stay dry. We paralleled mountain lakes/ponds enroute to the Genetian Pond S helter. The shelter was beautifully located overlooking a ravine and near a small pond, and the bugs were minimal due to the coolness and a pleasant breeze. Fred, being from Maine, decided he would go for a swim in the pond – too cold for George and me. Fred found that the pond was pretty shallow and got goop all over his lower body. He also got a bit chilled. We were joined at the shelter by two thru-hikers who had just turned 50 or so. They were "Vashna," a retired banker, and "Chief," a retired Air Force senior NCO. We had run into them before, but enjoyed chatting with them. They were both strong hikers with whom we stayed for a couple days but who then pushed on ahead of us.
 11 July Photos

12 July – to Full Goose Shelter – Crossing into Maine (9.6 miles). We left early, had great weather and were bug free while hiking. However, it was tough hiking – continuously up and down. The day started with a climb over Mt Success and from then on it was a roller coaster. When we were high we had fantastic views. Some of the rock climbs, both up and down, were risky and very demanding, and they consumed a lot of energy. On several of the descents, we threw our hiking poles to the bottom of large drops and proceeded hand-over-hand with high surges of adrenaline. There were several places where the trail was not well marked. On the last knob before the shelter we spent 5-10 minutes finding where the trail went. Including three 30-minute rests, it took us 10 hours to cover the 9.6 miles. Fred, who had not been out with us continuously and, hence was not as trail-ready as we were, suffered and had trouble eating that night. At the Full Goose Shelter we had Chief and Vashna with us again – tenting near by, along with a young couple from Columbus, Ohio. About halfway through the day’s hike we crossed into Maine, the state whose motto is "The way life should be." New Hampshire was behind us.
 12 July Photos

13 July – thru Mahoosic Notch ("Toughest Mile on the Trail"), Mahoosic Arm to Speck Pond Shelter (5.2 miles). For those heading north,Full Goose Shelter is pretty much the jumping off point for the Mahoosic Notch. The notch is about a mile away downhill. It is often referred to in guide books as "The toughest mile on the Trail." Actually it is a bit longer. It consists of huge boulders scattered in a deep ravine and with a stream flowing underneath. Getting through the notch seemed to me to be more related to a gymnastic event than any concept I had of hiking. There were places you had choices of taking off your pack and crawling under rock formations or scaling precipitous walls to go over them. At one point I received kudos from George and Fred for doing a "Charles Bronson" (see notes of 10 July) for jumping across a chasm between two rocks. George and I had collapsed our trekking poles and attached them to our packs. Fred had two regular wooden walking st icks. Since I was in the lead, I took Fred’s sticks, and at each obstacle, would toss them forward (hoping they would fall into the holes – at the bottom of several the cooling was such that there was actually snow). When we got to the poles, I would pick them up and soon would toss them forward again. I really found going through the Notch exciting and enjoyed the excitement and the challenge. Shortly after finishing the Mahoosic Notch, we took a 40-minute break by a pretty and very inviting stream. Fred took advantage and soaked his feet. We then climbed almost 1,500 ft in about 1.25 miles as we ascended the Mahoosic Arm. This was a nasty, very steep climb and it took its toll. We stopped and rested several times and more frequently than was our norm, but we did have great views near the summit. We came down the other side of The Arm to Speck Pond that, at 3,500 ft, is the highest significant pond in Maine. Fred and I considered swimming but the weather seemed too chilly, and as we had no towels, etc., we passed. We stayed at the nearby Speck Pond Shelter which was fully packed with seven hikers. It was a little buggy, but I decided to stay in the shelter although I did think about putting up my tent. One of the young men in the shelters was a young man named Seth who grew up in Springfield, VA. He had gone to Brandeis University and was an orthodox Jew. Since July 13th was a Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath, he had been at the shelter all day as a rest day from hiking. After getting off the trail he intended to move to Blacksburg, VA. Also, one of the people in the shelter was a man from Maine who had hiked up (on a different trail) so he could fish in the pond. Since the pond is very isolated, it doesn’t get fished a lot. He waded in the lake (did not wear "waders") and he caught numerous brook trout. Most were too small so he tossed them back in. However, he caught several large ones which he fried. He shared some – George got a piece – but Fr ed and I were "cutting Z’s" by the time this occurred. Fred had still not regained his appetite and was starting to feel the effects of not taking in the needed calories.
 13 Jul;y Photos

14 July – to East Andover, The Cabin in Maine (5.3 miles). We decided to hike over the top and then down Old Speck Mountain to Grafton Notch (Maine Rd 26) and then hitch into Andover, ME for our re-supply. We would spend the night under-roof and then continue on. Climbing Old Speck Mountain from Speck Pond was pretty tough. It took us into the alpine vegetation with great views near the top. The AT didn’t go over the very top, but we were not willing to exert the energy to go an extra 0.6-mile (each way) so we could get a few feet higher. While resting near the top, the bugs started coming out in force as the morning warmed up. I put on a long-sleeved shirt to protect my arms and all of us used some Deet. We then did a 3.5-mile downhill section (with an occasional uphill knob) off Old Speck Mountain. The trail and weather were good, but there wasn’t much to see and the trip was pretty uneventful. The exception was that Fred, who had not been feeling well, continued to feel worse. He was up front and he had us racing down the mountain until we suggested slowing down. Just as we arrived at the bottom of the trail, at the trailhead in Grafton Notch, a van was arriving and it let out a couple passengers/day hikers. The driver, Earle Towne, asked us, "Do you need a ride some place?" It was an example of "trail magic."* He gave us a ride almost 50 miles (without charge) back to Gorham where Fred had left his car. Once in Gorham, George and I had Sunday dinner (lunch) which I finished off with a large peanut butter sundae with all the trimmings. Fred had only a ginger ale. During our ride we found that Earle was a retiree (mid-60’s) and that he and his wife Margie owned and operated The Cabin in Maine. The Cabin in Maine is a hostel located in East Andover. (207-392-1333; www.thecabininmaine.com;thecabin@magalink.net). After picking up the car and eati ng, Fred drove us there so we arrived in style – in Fred’s Cadillac (albeit and old one.) What a great place it was to stay. $23 a day included breakfast, supper, laundry, showers, clothes to wear while resting and washing your trail togs, TV, use of their PC for email, use of a phone, rides to and from the trail, and great company. Earle and Margie really demonstrated that they really cared about hikers, and maintaining the trail, and they truly welcomed us into their home. There were several other hikers at The Cabin when we arrived. Two were a young couple from Iowa, "Team Corn." They had contracted giardia and were "holing-up" to rest and get care. Another was "Who Cooks for You" whom we had previously encountered at Imp Shelter. She greeted us like a long-lost sister. While waiting for supper, we had some home made pizza, an egg, etc. I guess my hiker’s appetite had kicked in and was holding strong. Later in the day, Earle picked up from a town some distance away two Br itish fellows – not hikers – who were visiting the area "to see Maine." Fred would be heading home in the a.m. and rejoining us just before we completed our effort at Mt. Katahdin. George and I decided we would take advantage of The Cabin’s great location and Earle’s magnanimity in providing transport to and from the Trail. This translated to being able to hike from The Cabin for 3 days. That night we had a great family-style supper and socialized a little later than our normal early evening bedtime.

*Trail magic is loosely defined as unexpected generosity or support along the trail. This has ranged from people providing soft drinks where the trail crosses roads, unexpected gifts of food, rides, etc. 

 14 July Photos

15 July – from East B Hill Rd South to Grafton Notch (State Rte 26) (10.3 miles). We started the day with a great breakfast. Coffee was available about 5:45 and breakfast, family style was at 6 a.m. Earle was The Cabin’s breakfast maker – Margie did supper. He prepared home fried potatoes with lots of garlic, bacon, and blueberry pancakes – all you could eat. We had bottomless juice, and fresh melon. Those who wanted them made their our own eggs (as many as they wanted) and Earle had items for omelets such as chopped green peppers, tomatoes, and onions. After breakfast, Fred dropped George and me off at East B. Hill Rd and we hiked to the South for 10.3 miles back to Grafton Notch. It was really good trail most of the way with only a couple of tough stretches. The salient feature we encountered was Baldpate Mtn which required us to hike up 2,300 ft (to around 3,500 ft.) As the name would suggest, the summit was above the tree line and was covered with rock. Shortly before we got to the top it started raining and we both got soaked thoroughly and were pretty chilled for awhile. Keeping moving kept it from being a problem. The top was really dual-peaked (East Peak and West Peak). Going between the two peaks was rock slope. Most of the time we could have readily walked across the rock, but it was covered with lichen, and being wet, the combination of lichen and rock was really slippery. George and I each fell and we had several slips, so we minced our steps and went very slowly. On top we had great views for awhile. The problem was that we were in a rain cloud. Coming down the far side, the rain stopped and, once off the slippery rocks, we really enjoyed the hike. During our hike we ran into "Mother Goose." "Mother Goose" was a woman who appeared to be in her 60’s. She was hiking from Key West, FL to Canada. She told us she had done the entire AT (2,160.2 miles) five times. She also added sardonically, "Perhaps I should get a life." Georg e and I were in full agreement, but we held our thoughts. We arrived at Grafton Notch very close to when we had projected our arrival. Earle was waiting for us at the trailhead and we went back to Andover. Andover, a couple miles from E. Andover, has about 6-7 business establishments. (E. Andover has none) We stopped at the general store to get drinks and odds and ends. That evening at The Cabin, another British fellow arrived. Super was fantastic – roast beef, potatoes, gravy, cooked carrots, peas, apple crisp, and as is the norm, all the ice cream we could eat. Guess you could say it was not exactly roughing it. That evening we stayed up real late – about 10 p.m. as we continued to socialize. 

 Photos Around 14-16 July 

 

16 July – North from East B Hill Rd to South Arm Rd (10.3 miles). Following the grand breakfast we had each day at The Cabin, Earle took us to East B Hill Road from where we had headed south the previous day. On this day we hiked to the north. We took a break at a bit the more than halfway to the Hall Mountain Lean-to. In Maine, what are called shelters on the rest of the AT are called lean-tos. We also found that what people elsewhere call horse flies are often called moose flies in Maine. The first half of the hike was a fairly easy climb over Wyman Mountain – great hiking weather and uneventful. Some group(s) had been at the shelter and had left a lot of good trail food – some in sealed packages and some in plastic bags. George and I took some, but unfortunately, if other hikers didn’t get the remainder promptly, the squirrels, et al. would have done so. It may have resulted in a problem around the shelter. This was a good example of abuse of a shelter and violat ion of the principal that you pack-out what you brings in. From the lean-to we had a steep decline to Sawyer Notch. Enroute, we met, separately, three section hikers who were hiking the 170 miles from Caratunk, ME to Mt Washington, NH. They were all from the Hanover/Gettysburg area of PA. The first told us he owned two shoe repair shops and had been section hiking for a significant number of years. After this year he will have covered 1,500 miles of the AT. He cautioned us that we were approaching a "brutal climb" up Moody Mountain. The next person we encountered was a woman of about 60 (rough estimate.) She was out hiking with her son, apparently in his 30’s, and who was lagging further down the trail. The climb up Moody Mountain was steep and long, but the Maine Trail Club had done a great job in making it easier – ladders, rungs of steep rock slabs, stones pushed into steps, etc. Nevertheless, we certainly "needed our Wheaties" to get over the top. Having paid our dues, a lthough it was wooded at the top, we did enjoy at least one spot enroute which included great views. When we arrived at the end point for the day, South Arm Rd, we found Earle’s pickup truck – as planned, and "Who Cooks for You" (Molly Jones) who had hiked a different segment that day. Earle knew he couldn’t pick us up, so he gave us a set of keys for his truck and he and his wife dropped it off where we would be coming off the trail. Amazing generosity and trust. We piled in, and George drove us down the country roads to Andover. We again stopped at the general store where we used the ATM machine and at the food place across the street for some ice cream. That evening, two new hikers came into The Cabin. One was "Amtrak," a young man from Israel, and the other was "Songbird," a girl from CA who was going into her last year of college. They pretty much replace "Team Corn" who had continued hiking to the North. Supper that night was roast chicken with all the trimmings, cake ice cream, et al. We kept marveling at how well we were living and how fortunate we were to have encountered Earle a couple of days earlier.
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17 July – to Maine State Route 17 (13.3 miles). After our great breakfast in The Cabin, Earle dropped us off at South Arm Road and we headed North on a 2,200-ft climb up Old Blue Mountain. It was fortunate that the top was marked because we didn’t find the climb nearly as difficult as we had anticipated from reading the map. Following Old Blue Mountain we went over Elephant Mountain, Bemis Mountain and three peaks north of Bemis Mountain. They were simply known as Third Peak, Second Peak, and First Peak. The up and down elevation changes were not great, but there were so many knobs and so much up and down that it was difficult to keep a good hiking rhythm. Between Third Peak and Second Peak we stopped at the Bemis Mountain Lean-to for a break and to link up with "Who Cooks for You." Her arrival there marked her completion of the entire 2,160-mile AT over the course of three years. She joined us as we continued north and enjoyed, particularly on Second Peak, continuo us, great panoramic views of miles of Maine’s forests, mountains and lakes. Near First Peak we came upon a fledgling (baby) grouse. It was barely old enough to fly, and it fluttered to the top of a scrub pine and it stayed there as we approached to within a few feet and took a picture. It must have been terrified, so we moved on without further delay. We finished the day with a steep descent to Bemis Stream and then a climb to Route 17. Of note was that during the day we encountered about a dozen hikers heading in the opposite direction, i.e. from north to south. This is part of the crush of those who started at the Northern terminus of the AT (Mt Katahdin) in early to mid-June. Our timing for the day’s hike was pretty close to our projection. Margie Towne arrived with a van a few minutes after we did and took us back to The Cabin. This was our last night there. In addition to another wonderful super, we had a mini-celebration of "Who Cooks for You’s" accomplishment.
 17 July Photos

18 July – to Piazza Rock Lean-to (15 miles). We hiked North from Route 17. "Who Cooks for You" had decided that she was going to stay on the Trail for awhile and would hike north with us. Unfortunately, she had hurt her knees, and shortly after we started, she fell back, and she told us to go on ahead. We later found out from Earle Towne, that he had picked her up because her knees caused her to get of the trail. As we hiked we passed 6 different ponds that were all pretty large and very picturesque. We took a long break around mid-day at the campsite near Little Swift River Pond. The trail was really good hiking and the grades were moderate. We saw only half a dozen southbound hikers and no other north-bounders. By the time we had completed the 15 miles to the Piazza Rock Lean-to, George and I were both really tired. The good news was there was a really good water source nearby and George and I had the shelter to ourselves. We cooked our Lipton’s Rice dishes for su per and prepared for a tough next day by "crashing" around 7 p.m. The bugs were out in enough force to be a problem, but not a big one. Before getting in our bags, we dressed ourselves so we were covered from head-to-toe. I made a fire in a metal bucket using a combination of dead and green pine branches and needles. This was very smoky and helped keep the bugs away until the cool evening help ground the critters. A little side note about the Piazza Rock Lean-to’s privy. It is often referred to by hikers and in guidebooks as "The best privy on the AT." It is a roomy two-seater with a cribbage board in between.
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19 July – Over Saddleback Mountain and Camping on a Logging Rd – Deserted (13 miles). This day we took on what we knew was one of the toughest areas on the AT – but also one of the most scenic. Signs on the trail leading into the area warn of the difficulty of the Trail and the large amount of elevation change we would encounter during the next several days. We had good cool weather that was slightly overcast but with good visibility. We went over Saddleback Mountain, The Thorn and Saddleback Junior. It lived up to its billing both from the standpoint of beauty and of difficulty. The hike kept us above the tree line for almost three miles and provided fantastic views as well as steep, rocky challenges to our endurance, agility, and knees. Around 1:30 p.m. we arrived at Poplar Ridge Lean-to after having covered 8.9 miles. We decided to take a long break and then, if we were feeling up to it, move on. Because we were not in what we thought of as our range to another l ean-to or campground, we would have to find a place to camp in the vicinity of our target destination. We cooked our daily meal – in lieu of waiting until evening, took off our boots, and aired our feet and generally relaxed. After a little while, two women in their early 50’s came to the shelter. They, jointly went by the name, "Mothers on Mountains,"(Alice Johnson from Olney, Md and Jo Ann from Potomac) and they had been hiking the AT together in sections for more than ten years. They were, at this point, a couple hundred miles from completion. They were going to stay at the shelter and head South over Saddleback, et al. the next day. We enjoyed chatting with them for awhile and later regretted that we didn’t coordinate a bit more. This was because they had a car in the area and we might have coordinated doing some mutually-supporting slack packing. At any rate, we were feeling reasonably strong, so George and I decided to continue north rather than stay at the shelter and socialize. We both figured, as a variation of an old Grocho Marx joke, that we wouldn’t be interested in any woman that showed an interest in us (not that they did). We hiked for several hours more. The Trail took us on a steep 1,500-ft descent down Poplar Ridge into a deep canyon that contained the Orbeton Stream – a pleasant and fast moving water source. Coming up the far side was a near vertical climb of almost 200-ft. We then started up toward Lone Mountain. Our target was an old, unused logging road. Enroute, we crossed a stream and got water. When we got to the logging road, we moved down it, off the Trail, for a couple hundred yards. There were some very large ditches and mounds in the road so we were comfortable some truck barreling down it in the middle of the night wouldn’t surprise us. We pitched our camp for the night and were glad to have stopped after 13 miles in which George and I both thought our packs had gotten awfully heavy.
 19 July Photos
 

20 July – to Crocker Cirque Campsite (10 miles). It had rained the previous night so we broke camp with wet tents and go underway around 6:30. The first effort continued our climb up and over Lone Mountain, then we took a 40-minute break at the Spaulding Mountain Lean-to. We then descended a short way before we went up and over Spaulding Mountain. It was a steep climb without any very good views, but it was a beautiful day – bright, and sunny, but cool in the shade in which we were located most of the time. After awhile we passed a side trail that led to Sugarloaf Mountain. It was farther out of our way than we were willing to exert ourselves to venture. We then encountered a very steep descent. In a couple places we abandoned our trekking poles to go hand-over-hand down precipitous rock scrambles. Most of the descent presented us with truly breathtaking views of the panorama of mountains, valleys and lakes to the north. At the very bottom of our descent we crossed the South Branch of the Carrabassett River. The map guide said that fording the river was sometimes difficult. We had little problem, but we did get over a part of the river on a loose board resting over the tops of two boulders. We then climbed up from the riverbed and traveled about a mile, gaining 500 ft in elevation, to the Crocker Cirque* Campsite. We arrived around 2:30 and no one else was there. We took advantage of the sun and the tent platforms to dry out our gear from the previous nights rain. There was a very nice, very cool, stream quite nearby so we also cooled our feet in the stream. As late afternoon arrived so did a group of about 10 weekend hikers – they were a hiking club that was mixed in age and mostly people from Maine. A man in his early 70’s and his 65-year-old wife particularly impressed us. They were quite efficient and obviously knew what they were doing. (I privately was pleased to see more folks wearing long pants for hiking.) I recall him noting that hiking had giving them an entire new set of younger friends along with the comment that most of their friends their own age just didn’t do anything any more. I also remember thinking some of these Maine folks are tough! Well, with late afternoon came the bugs. The weekend hikers remarked how the bugs were not only bad this year but were lasting late into the season. They used a little repellant while George and I lathered up and covered up. The Maine people seemed impervious to the bugs and did little to cover up, while George and I had to go into our tents early because our hands were proving to be a bug feasting area.

* During the hike, George and I were exposed to several geological terms that were new to us.

Cirque -- formed by glaciers, is a circular valley with precipitous walls.

Col -- A depression between two mountains; a gap in a ridge serving as a pass between two valleys.

Esker – A ridge of glacial gravel, deposited by a subglacial stream between banks of ice.
 20 July Photos

21 July – to Maine Route 27 and Stratton, ME (7.3 miles). We hiked out of the cirque over Crocker Mountain. To say it was a steep climb out would be an understatement, but the footing was generally quite decent. We went over the double peaks (South Peak and North Peak) of Crocker Mountain, which didn’t have very much in the way of views. After getting past the North Peak we began a long descent to Maine Rout 27. Most of the descent was of medium grade, but there were portions that were exceptionally difficult and seemed particularly perilous. To the extent that we could pause while negotiating these descents, we enjoyed views that seemed to get better and better. We also were able to view the massif called The Bigelow Range. Once arriving at the road, we thumbed our way to Stratton, ME after waiting about 20 minutes for a ride. Our ride was a couple that appeared to be in their early 60’s. He was a builder who had been building homes in the Sugarloaf complex and pro udly described the huge log home that they had recently completed for themselves. As requested, we were dropped off at The Widow’s Walk, a B&B/hostel. However, there was a note on the door saying no one would be back till 4 p.m. Since it was only a little past 1:00, we checked in at the Stratton Motel, a six-unit "Mom and Pop" operation located a couple hundred yards away. The owners were Charlie and his wife. She was also the acting local postmaster. They were very pleasant and friendly people. We then went across the street and ate at the Stratton Diner, and followed this by finding the town laundromat in the back of one of the other town buildings. Stratton, with several hundred people, had a choice of three different places to eat as well as a bar. Since it was Sunday, we had to wait until the next day to get our re-supply from the Post Office. Having hiked for 11 straight days, as initially planned, we determined to take the next day as a rest day. After cleaning up , we watched a movie on TV and then sat on the motel porch for an hour or so. I was eating potato chips, Good and Plenty candy, Hot Tamales (candy), and an apple. I also drank some Moxie. Moxie is a Maine soft drink that is available throughout the state and which has been around since 1884. It is definitely unique as soft drink flavors go. It seems like a cross between sasparilla and root beer, but with a little bit of a bitter bite. 

 21 July Photo

22 July – Resting in Stratton: Wanted to sleep in but still got up at 6 a.m. I ate an apple and went to the general store and ate an ice cream bar. Then I joined George in the dinner where he ate the traditional breakfast of eggs plus... To be sociable I had some toast. After breakfast, in front of the general store I spent some time talking to a section hiker, "Melissa," who was hiking from Gorham, NH to the north for a couple hundred miles. She was looking for a ride back to the trail. Melissa had been a banker in Minnesota for 18 years, but she had been raised on a farm. She said the more successful she had become as a banker, the less she liked what she was doing. So, with no husband or children she "chucked" banking and had been doing a variety of things for a couple years. Her intent, when she finished her hike, is to become "an intern on a goat farm," and she was considering options in Massachusetts and Pennsylvania. I found out that goats in the US are raise d primarily as dairy producers. The folks out hiking certainly seem varied! The post office opened at 8:30 so we got there shortly afterward for our re-supply. For the third time I ended up re-shipping a box of stuff (food, razors, et al.) home. Obviously, I sent out too much stuff, but better to be over-supplied than under-supplied. I really like power bars but decided to restrict my consumption to one a day. I had been eating two, and I believe they constricted my bowel movements. Hence, I sent home a bunch of bars, and George gave me some of his excess trail mix that he had intended to ship forward. Later in the morning we went to the combined grocery/hardware/paint store. I bought a deli sandwhich, tomatoes, fruit and yogurt for lunch. We tried to coordinate for a slack pack out of Stratton, but two things tilted us against it. One was the cost. It would have cost us $80 to get the two rides we needed along with the cost of another night in Stratton. Also, the weather wa s projected to be bad the next day, and the geography and associated trail layout would have required us to cover more than 15 miles. If we ran into thunderstorms and needed to get off the ridgeline, we wanted to have food, tents, etc. with us. The bottom line was we decided to drive on with full, newly replenished packs and take on the weather and a very tough Bigelow Mountain. Note: Jim Bigelow, USMA ’64 is from Maine. George and I wondered if Jim’s ancestry might be associated with the naming of the Bigelow Range or mountain. Later we found out there was no connection.
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23 July – Over Bigelow Mountain and to Safford Notch Campsite (10.5 miles). Charlie, the owner of the motel we stayed at gave us a ride to where we left the trail – at Maine Route 27 about seven miles South of Stafford. We started up Bigelow Mountain at a good pace and the weather was o.k. To the top is a vertical ascent of about 3,000 ft. Part of the way up, at The Horns Pond Lean-to, we took a break. This lean-to, and adjacent tent platforms, had a resident caretaker. Martha, the caretaker, was an architect who decided she wanted some time off in the woods. She certainly got what she was looking for. The water source in her area was low and it was buzzing with bugs that were swimming, so she was nice enough to use her pump to provide us with water. The pond itself was relatively small, but as all those that we had seen, it was quite picturesque. To this point, the weather was holding so we moved out and climbed South Horn. Around 11:30 it started raining hard as w e were climbing the West Peak of Bigelow Mountain. As we went up, the weather conditions and the climb both became nasty. At one point, as we were scrambling up some steep rocks, the runoff made it seem almost as if we were in a stream. Earlier hikers coming toward us had told us that the summit was very windy. Now, of course, we had wind and rain. When we got near the top the wind was howling and we were thoroughly soaked and chilled. Also, we could hear thunder, but it was not real close and we didn’t see lightening, so we pushed on. However, we did add distance between us to diminish the potential of both of us getting hit by one strike. The wind became so bad that it looked like it was going to take off my pack cover. George helped me get it off and I had to accept that my gear would be wetter than it would have been otherwise. A little further on we couldn’t tell for sure where the trail went because visibility was so poor. We hoped it went around some rocky knobs, but after some hesitation, I pushed myself up the rocks and found a white blaze that marked the trail. It was pretty serious business for us as we went over the top of several more large rock scrambles. As had been the case during our ascent of Mt. Washington, George couldn’t use his glasses because of the moisture and he had to move very carefully. We were very, very glad to finally get into the tree line again as we came down the far side. We planned to stop at the Avery Memorial Lean-to to get out of the rain, warm up, and warm up – maybe cook something, and wait-out the nasty weather. We went down a slick, steep trail with this in mind. When we got to the site, regardless of what our AT maps reflected, there was no lean-to. We were quite disappointed. We later learned it had burned down a year or two earlier, but the maps hadn’t been changed to reflect this. Having no place to get shelter, we decided that our best option was to keep ourselves warm by continuing to hike. This proved to be a good decision. We climbed Avery Peak – a steep but relatively short hike, and going over the top, we were exposed to the wind a relatively short time. Also, the rain was starting to become lighter. We then slowly negotiated our way down a rocky 2,000-ft drop while covering two miles. Fortunately it had stopped raining, but we went very carefully because everything was wet and slippery. After getting to the bottom we had covered a total of 10 miles that day. We had hoped to do more if the bad weather had held off, but we were happy to go a quarter mile off the trail to the Safford Notch Campsite. Getting there took us literally through some huge rock caves. At the campsite there were only two platforms, but no one else was there (or came in later). We set up our tents and hung up our gear and clothes to dry. We were totally in the shade, but there was a pretty good breeze that did some good. The hot, soupy (I put in a bit of extra water) noodle dish I made for super tasted particularly good that evening. It was a really tough day, but as another hiker said in the White Mountains, "If whatever is tough doesn’t hurt you, it makes you stronger." As we hit the sack that night, we were feeling pretty good about ourselves.
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24 July – to the West Carry Pond Lean-to (12.5 miles). The previous night had been cool and very breezy but dry, so our tents and equipment had dried from the previous day’s rain and were without dew. However, we still had wet boots and socks from the previous day. I put on dry socks and put my wet ones in the boots on the back of my pack to air out and, hopefully, dry. It was a gorgeous hiking day – cool but sunny. We went to the top of Little Bigelow Mountain, and, as we walked along the flat crest for almost a mile, we had terrific, panoramic views of Flagstaff Lake, the Carrabassett Valley, Sugarloaf Mountain, et al. Coming down the mountain we dropped almost 2,000 ft, but the trail was good and the slope was comfortable. At the base of Little Bigelow Mountain we touched on the southern edge of Flagstaff Lake. This is a serious body of water covering 20,000 acres. We then hiked another 5.5 miles, over Roundtop Mountain (relatively small) to the West Cary Pond Le an-to. The pond was the largest pond we had seen to that point. We arrived at about 2:15 after hiking for a solid 7.5 hours. This early arrival gave us a chance to air out our equipment and clothes and generally relax. During the last several miles, my lower back was aching. Previously, it had been stiff in the a.m., but it had never bothered me while hiking. Consequently, at the lean-to I did some sit-ups and some stretching. Throughout the remainder of the hike I tried to do the same on most days. This seemed to have a beneficial effect. I also thought about taking something like Motrin, Advil, etc. I did so twice, but avoided it because I didn’t think masking pain would be beneficial in the long run. As of 5 p.m. George and I still had the lean-to for ourselves. I went down to the pond – maybe 50 yards, and sat on a rock by the water’s edge. I enjoyed the serenity of the beauty of the pond and listening to the lapping of the water on the rocks. For about five minutes I da ngled my lower legs in the water. It was very refreshing but comfortable – cool but not the icy cold of some of the earlier streams. When I returned to the lean-to there were new arrivals consisting of a couple and a young man from Portland, ME who had hiked South from Caratunk during two days. The good news was they used their tents so George and I had the lean-to for ourselves. By 6 p.m. George was already "in the bag" and I followed soon after. Caratunk was the next town we planned to enter – the AT goes right to it, and at which we had mailed ourselves a re-supply. We planned to get an early start the next day to make sure we could get across the Kennebec River and reach Caratunk.
 24 July Photo
 

25 July – Swimming at Pierce Pond and Across the Kennebec River to Caratunk (14 miles). We got underway at 5:40 skirting the West Carry Pond. The pond was surreal. You could see out onto the pond for some distance, but the mist rising from the pond made it impossible to see the far side and almost impossible to see where the water ended and the sky began. It was quite chilly and we wore light long-sleeved shirts to start/warm-up. However, after about 15 minutes we stopped and took them off. The hiking was fairly level and the trail was excellent so we ended up going faster than we had projected. Soon we were skirting East Carry Pond – more eye candy. We pushed on to Pierce Pond Lean-to. We had covered 10.3 miles to get there by 10:30 a.m. There were three hikers there who were spending the day there – as opposed to moving elsewhere. This was because it was such a wonderful site. One had been a thru-hiker the previous year, and he had remembered this spot. He had hik ed down from Caratunk simply to spend the day. Another hiker was a 72 year old retired Air Force Chief Master Sergeant, "Arkangel," (Bob Gabriel). Bob related that he had accumulated 160 hours of free fall time in over 10,000 HALO (high altitude, low opening) jumps – one of the top ten in the world. He also knew Chris Needles, USMA ’65 who had led the US Army Parachute Team. At any rate, the temperature seemed to be in the low to mid- 70’s in the sun and we had made far better time than we anticipated. Consequently George and I both shucked our clothes and went for a short swim. There was a series of rocks that were like shelves and which made getting into the water a very easy process. Also of note was a pair of loons on the pond. We were able to watch them for some time. They could dive and stay under water for what struck us as amazing lengths of time. Also, surprisingly, when we entered the water, they did not go away, but continued to play and dive as we swam near by. A fter drying in the air – we had no towels, around noon we started on the 3.7 miles from Pierce Pond to the Kennebec River. The Pierce Pond Stream cascaded in view or within hearing for almost the entire way. It was quite beautiful and some of the drops were quite dramatic. A good portion of the trail was very gnarly (large roots, rocks, and a series of ups and downs.) Hence, even though the trail was generally downhill, it proved laborious going. Just before arriving at the Kennebec we climbed a large knob and, from the top, had a magnificent view of the river. The Kennebec is a large river. It is "the most formidable, unbridged crossing along the entire AT. It is 70 yards wide with a swift, powerful current." The Maine Appalachian Trail Club provides a free ferry service – via canoe. In the afternoon, on the date we arrived, service is from 3-5 p.m. Our rush to get there was so we could be the first north-bounders over the river with the idea of getting to the Post Office i n nearby Caratunk that afternoon to pick up our re-supply. The Post Office closed at 4 p.m. so we figured it would be a close call. We arrived at the river around 2 p.m. and went to what appeared to be the "ferry" site on the bank of the river and waited. It was an idyllic setting. George cooked for himself and I ate jerky, made trail notes, and did some stretching and sit-ups. At 3 p.m. the ferryman came across from the north side carrying one hiker in his canoe. George and I were the only ones on the south bank. Beside himself, the ferryman can carry two hikers and their packs at one time. He gave us life jackets and asked which one of us would like to paddle. Since George does a lot of canoeing and my experience in that domain was nil, he was the front paddler, and I sat in the middle of the canoe and enjoyed the ride. George reported that out, away from the banks, the current was really strong. The canoe/ferryman (Steve) was really pleasant. Once on the north side we hik ed .3 miles to Caratunk. On the way to the Post Office, we stopped at the Caratunk House, run by two men who were partners (Paul and Jensen). We confirmed there was room there and dropped our packs. The postmistress was expecting us because of a radio message from the canoe/ferryman. We got our packages and then returned to Caratunk House where we took lodging in the bunkhouse ($14). It was really nice. There were six beds and the only other resident was a woman from Michigan (60+ years old) who was doing some short, non-pack, hiking. Caratunk was the smallest town we encountered. Population estimates were between 85 and 100 people. Aside from the Post Office and Caratunk House that sold some re-supply type items, there were no stores. The only restaurant within town was on the nearby highway, US Route 201. It was called Moose Crossing, and it was a trailer selling items out of a window – burgers, sandwiches, pizza, ice cream and soft drinks. The food was surprisingly good a nd there was a neat outside, covered eating area, with some very pretty hanging flowers, where we ate and socialized with a couple who worked at an "adventure camp" in the general area. Breakfast at the Caratunk House is optional, and since we were the only breakfast eaters (the lady in the bunkhouse declined to eat), we were able to set the time as 6:15.
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26 July – from Moxie Pond to Caratunk (12.2 miles). Paul dropped us off at a place called Joe’s Hole at the south end of Moxie Pond. I hiked with only a small fanny pack as we were heading from north to south for the day and would spend the night again at the Caratunk House. The ride out was very interesting and included about 10 miles along the length of Moxie Pond. Ponds in Maine can be quite large. We had another great day for hiking. We were dropped off at 7:40 a.m. and covered the planned 12.2 miles by 2:10 p.m. The trail included a bunch of false tops and knobs as we went over Pleasant Pond Mountain, a 1,500-ft climb, but in general the trail was good. At the top there were nice views and a few wild blueberries that we indulged in. We encountered about 15-20 teenagers from a Jewish Camp Group. They had come up from the south via a shorter route, but they still had a real climb. I asked a couple of the boys if they could recognize my trail name, "The Hammer," f rom Jewish history. They drew a blank, but after I reminded them of the Maccabees and the holiday of Hanukah, their recognition seemed genuine. Several expressed awe at the amount of hiking George and I are doing. Coming down the south side of the mountain was steep, but not unusually tough. We actually took a .3 mile detour to go to what was billed as a "sandy beach" on Pleasant Pond. It wasn’t much of a beach, and it was cool and breezy so we skipped taking a dip. We then hiked at about 20 minutes per mile pace (exceptionally fast for us) back to Caratunk. The Caratunk House had filled up with hikers to include Arkangel. Most of the hikers went over to Moose Tracks to eat. I had eaten pizza the previous day. This time I had burgers and fries. The fried potatoes were as good as any I can recall ever having eaten. I had to then have a hot fudge sundae made with Gifford’s ice cream. Apparently Gifford’s ice cream is a Maine name-brand product. It was yummy.
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27 July – to Horseshoe Canyon Lean-to (16 miles). Again we started at Joe’s hole, but this time we continued our northbound trek. We went as fast as it was practical for us to hike because it looked like it was going to rain and we wanted to avoid being in it if we could. We went over the top of Moxie Bald Mountain. There is a by-pass to avoid the sharp/steep summit but we did not take it. Unfortunately, as we went over the summit, we were in low clouds so we didn’t get more than fleeting views of the surrounding country. However, the occasional glimpses were striking. On a plateau, a short way down the north side of the mountain, we found a lot of wild blueberries that were just ripening. We spent about 10 minutes scarfing them up. They were a nice treat but were much smaller than the commercially grown ones found in the supermarket. Hence, it was a lot of work for the few tasty mouthfuls we garnered. We might have stayed longer, but we were damp (from sweating) as a result of the climb and started to get chilled. After about 13 miles we came to the West Branch of the Piscataquis River. The map guide said, "crossing can be difficult in high water." We perceived that the water levels were not real high, but hikers coming from that direction told us they had taken their boots off and come across the river in Tevas (name-brand sandals.) When we got there we decided to try crossing in our boots – we didn’t have Tevas and we did not want to go barefoot. We did some fancy rock hopping. We got our boots wet, but didn’t get water in/over the tops, so we kept our feet reasonably dry. To this point the trail had been great, but the last 3 miles to Horseshoe Canyon Lean-to were a pain. The Trail followed the river we had just crossed and was very scenic and, at one point, there were some very interesting rock walls (canyon) that were 60-80 ft high. However, the route was one continuous roller coaster of ups and downs and filled with roots and ro cky places. We arrived at the lean-to around 4:15. At the lean-to we met two French-Canadian couples (late 30’s to early 40’s) from the city of Quebec. They were doing two weeks of hiking and seemed interesting. George, who spent two years studying in France, parlayed with them in French. George told me they were well educated and spoke better French with him then when they were talking amongst themselves. In addition to the six of us who filled the shelter and who slept like cordwood in it, three other hikers arrived later and put up tents/hammocks. One was a hiker who was doing a "flip-flop." He had hiked from Georgia north to Damascus, VA (450 miles). Then he got off the trail and went to Mt Katahdin in Maine from which he started hiking to the south and intended to continue until reaching Damascus. The other two were northbound thru-hikers. They included "Songbird" the college student from CA whom we had first met at The Cabin in Maine (in E. Andover), and "JR" from Sout hwest, Virginia – "not far from Abingdon." Songbird told me that when she had started hiking she was able to do so few miles per day that she thought it would take her 9 months to finish the AT. At this point, with 115 miles to go, she said she would finish in 5 1/2 half months. JR is in his early 50’s. He was in Viet Nam in a Signal Corp unit at age 18. After three years in the Army he got a degree in industrial forestry at the University of Montana. He worked for forest industry companies and than became an independent contractor serving as a middleman between landowners and timber companies. JR didn’t have a tent, but used a hammock instead. His hammock was a Hennessey hammock and he used an additional tarp, which he spread over the top to shelter his gear and to serve as a place under which he could cook if it were raining. That night George and I were in our sleeping bags by 7 p.m. He snorted and honked through the night and one of the French Canadian men was no slouch either. I probably added my own bit to the sound effects, so the two women probably thought they were at some sort of freaky concert.
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28 July – to Monson, ME (9 miles). George and I got up around 4:50, ate, used the privy and packed out quietly by 5:40. I am sure those sharing the shelter (especially the women) were glad not to have us around while getting up. We hiked the 9 miles Maine Route 15 by 10:15. It was mostly good trail and had only one hill (Buck Hill) that got us breaking sweat and huffing and puffing. When we got to the road we started to hitch. There was a car in a small parking lot across the road. The driver beckoned to us. When we went over, the driver, a stocky and tough looking man of about 75 years old asked us where we were going. We told him we were headed for Monson and to Shaw’s Boarding House. He then responded in a deep, gravely voice, "I’m Shaw." He was waiting on another hiker, "Steve" from Michigan, who was coming from the north. Once Steve arrived Shaw took us to his place in Monson – about 5 or 6 miles away. Steve was very strongly built young man in his early twenti es. He was a south-bounder who had hiked the 115 miles from Mt. Katahdin. He started out carrying 70 lbs. He told us he was down to about 50 lbs. and sought, and received, tips from us on re-gearing to get his load lighter. Monson is a pretty town of about 700 people that is situated on a small lake. Shaw’s has been around for a long time and is pretty large. There are three different buildings. George and I shared a double room in the main house for $35/night. The bunkhouse cost $15/night per person, so, for the extra $2.50/night each, we had a little privacy and a black and white TV. Shaw had a second house and tenting area across the street, and a barn next door. The barn was partly turned into rooms, but there was no plumbing in that building. Of course the main purpose of the barn was for housing the cows he raised for beef. He had two good-sized cows and two young calves. His son, 20 something years old, said they butchered a cow about once every six months. Meals at S haw’s were $5 for breakfast and $10 for supper. We ate lunch on the day we arrived at Springcreek Barbecue – good food, although probably not very healthy, and all suppers and breakfasts would be at Shaw’s, where the food was served in large amounts, family style, and for which Shaw’s had a very positive reputation.
 28 July Photo
 

29 July – Rest Day in Monson, ME: Took a day of R&R (rest and re-supply). It was a far cry from the R&R’s of my youth while in the Army. In the a.m. we picked up our packages at the Post Office. I also got a mailing from Sonja (my daughter) and Eric (her husband.) The sent me a nice card and a package of NECCO Wafers to ensure that my sweat tooth did not go neglected. We organized what we would need for the next hiking leg and then reviewed the maps. We made what we perceived to be a fairly solid estimate of when we would reach the commercial campground, which is where the AT crosses Abol Bridge over the West Branch of the Penobscot River. This is where Fred ("Gunner") Taylor was going to re-join us. We contacted Fred and solidified our plans. We then each prepared and sent a box with excess items home. Shaw’s did not accept credit cards so we needed more cash. We learned that although there was no ATM machine available, if you go to any Post Office and make even a minimal purchase, you can pay with a bankcard and have the Post Office provide you $50 in cash. Had I known that, I could have avoided a few ATM charges I had incurred earlier in the hike. During the afternoon we went to the Monson library which was open 1-5 p.m. on weekdays only and we reviewed and sent email. Later, a group of us, all on the older side, all sat on the front lawn chatting. The flies were really bad (big surprise with the cows in a barn 100 feet away) so one of the guys went down the street to the general store and bought all the fly swatters available and distributed them to the group on the lawn for self-defense. The group included: "BJ the Bear" from Minnesota who was hiking a short section; "Tom the Woodsman" from Falls Church, Virginia and who was injured and probably cutting short his hiking; "Troll" from Baton Rouge, LA who had a mobile van; "JR" the timber contractor from near Abingdon, Virginia; Keith Shaw (owner of Shaw’s); and Connie from Michigan who was waiting for her husband who had gone out for a section hike. Also three hikers from Germany, and their American friend came in. They had come to hike "The Hundred Miles Wilderness"* between Abol Bridge and Monson and their arrival at Shaw’s reflected their completion of this effort. They pretty much kept to themselves, but I tried out a little of my broken German and found that they were from the Cologne area of Germany.

*Note: From Monson to the Abol Bridge over the Penobscot River is known as The Hundred-Mile Wilderness. This is because for that distance there are no towns with any practical accessibility nor are there any significant roads through the area. Road accessibility is via privately owned and controlled logging roads. 

 29 July Photo

30 July – from around Long Pond Stream South to Maine Route 15 (14.2 miles). We hadn’t realized it was practical but we found that we could slack-pack the first stretch of trail north of Monson. JR joined us so the total cost for getting taken out twice ($40) was split three ways. "Little Keith," the owner’s son, drove us to a point where we could hike in to the trail and then head south for 14 plus miles. He drove us out in his pickup truck and it was a bit of fun as JR and I sat in the back in plush armchairs. After being dropped off we learned that the hike of "about a mile" to get to the trail was more like a solid mile and a half. It was miserable. We had to go down a dirt road with huge potholes that were filled with stagnant water and a zillion swarming mosquitoes. After a few steps, once we got off the road, we put Deet (95% solution is what we used) on all exposed areas. It helped some, but the mosquitoes were worse than anything we had seen before. They we re biting us through our tee shirts and were swarming through our repellant as we were beating them off each other. JR remarked that if we stopped moving for three minutes, he figured that we wouldn’t have any blood left. We moved as quickly as we could to where the Trail intersected with the road. Once we reach the AT, as we started climbing and moving away from the road, the mosquito assault slackened. The hike was fairly non-eventful except that it poured rain starting about a half-hour after reaching the trail and the rain continued for several hours. There were no big hills – from an AT perspective, but we went up and down continuously on small hills with slick rocks. George and I both slipped and fell simultaneously while crossing a rock slope. The highlight of the day’s hike, by far, was stopping at Little Wilson Falls. It’s a 60-ft drop and one of the highest falls on the AT. A couple of stream crossings were also interesting. We rock-hopped hoping to keep our feet d ry and were relatively successful, but it was only of marginal value since we were already soaked from the rain. Even after the rain stopped, the wet foliage kept us wet. The 14.2 miles on the AT took us 8 hours. All three of us were pretty experienced at estimating mileage and our pace, and all of us agreed that the map guide understated the distance we covered. Once we arrived at Route 15 we hitched back down the road to Monson. All three of us piled into the back of a pickup truck that was already loaded with junk. Note: The evening before, Keith (The elder) had a medical problem and an EMT Team came out and took him to the hospital. His wife and son carried on and Keith (The elder) was reported as doing o.k. We later learned that he was released a couple days later and went back to his crusty, hardworking, cantankerous ways. 

 30 July Photos

31 July – to the Chairback Mountain Lean-to (11.8 miles). To continue heading north, "Little Keith" again took George, "JR" and myself to the same drop off point he had the previous day. Before we headed down the dirt road that was a gauntlet of mosquitoes yesterday, we slobbered Deet all over ourselves. Having gained familiarity with the road from the previous day, we also were mentally geared to move as quickly as possible – I would have sprinted if I had been able. At any rate, this plus different weather and fresh rain seemed to have alleviated our problem with swarming mosquitoes. "JR" was a faster hiker, so after a short while he left George and me. We hiked over the formidable Barren Mountain (an ascent of about 2,000 ft), Fourth Mountain, Third Mountain, and Columbus Mountain to the Chairback Gap Lean-to. We stopped at a brook 1.7 miles before the lean-to and each got two quarts of water. This was fortunate because the water source near the lean-to was terri ble and the "water source" was inconveniently located down a very steep hill below the lean-to. It had been a tough hiking day and I didn’t appreciate the effort it took to get down and up. This was particularly so because the "water source" was literally puddles that appeared stagnant in a streambed that had almost dried up. If really pushed, we might have used it, but we chose not to. I didn’t have enough water to cook super. I had 1.5 quarts after getting to the lean-to and wanted a quart when I started out the next a.m. Not cooking was not a problem, though being water-constrained was an inconvenience. I ate jerky, a small can of tuna, crackers with peanut butter, a breakfast bar, and a Baby Ruth. We shared the shelter that night with three other hikers. One was a young man, "Tex," (from Texas) a 17 year old between his junior and senior year of high school, and who was hiking the State of Maine by himself. Tex was a burly, good-natured kid, but he was not well outfitted (e.g. he was carrying a four-person tent), and I had to wonder about his family letting him go off on this venture by himself. The other hikers were two friends who had thousands of miles of hiking experience and were out for a week or so. One was a 62 year old from NC and the other was 68 and from TX. These guys were going slowly, but the 68-year-old really impressed us with his agility.
 31 July Photos
 

1 August – to Sidney Tappan Campsite (11.5 miles). We started out around 6 a.m. and hiked over Chairback Mountain. We encountered some nice views and again found some very tasty wild blueberries. I enjoyed them, but not with an equal enthusiasm that George conveyed. I wasn’t quite sure they were worth the work involved. At this point our quest for water became a bit more serious. We hiked down to the West Branch Pleasant River where we tanked up. We followed the river for awhile until we had to cross it. Since we had had good fortune previously in rock hopping across streams that generally called for wading, we tried again. Bad decision. The river was pretty shallow but about 50 yards wide. About a third of the way across, I slipped off a rock and fell on my derriere. I got up quickly, but my entire lower body was wet, so I just splashed the remainder of the way across. Fortunately, my sleeping bag (inside a trash bag within its stuff-sack) stayed dry. George got a little further across with dry feet via rock hopping, but he, too, ended up splashing across with water over his boot tops. In retrospect, we should have taken off our socks, put our boots back on, and waded across. On the far side, we took a 30+ minute break and enjoyed the nice weather and pleasant setting while partially drying out our socks, boots and other stuff. . Tex, who had been in our shelter the previous evening, had passed us earlier in the morning, but we re-linked up with him shortly after we left the river crossing. He asked if we minded if he hiked with us for awhile. We certainly had no objection but thought we might be too slow for him. He fell in the rear. After awhile it turned out that he had to work very hard to keep up with us. He told us later that he had thought we were in our late 30’s or 40’s and that he had never met 60 year olds with our level of physical condition. (This kid will go far in politics.) At the Carl A. Newhall Lean-to we stopped for a long (90 minutes) break. We cooked, dried out further, and relaxed. Tex decided he had had enough hiking for the day and stayed there when George and I moved on. We didn’t run into him again nor hear that others behind us had encountered him. I believe he probably left the trail after hiking with us. After our break, George and I climbed Gulf Hagas Mountain and went down the far side to the Sidney Tappan Campsite. There were no tent platforms but simply a couple of small, relatively flat clearings with a good water source and a privy nearby. We shared the campsite with "Moosehorn," a 52 year old from Upton, ME who was out hiking the Hundred Miles Wilderness. He got his name because he had a hobby of going into the woods and looking for moose horns that had been shed by bull moose. It had been another tough day with little of the hiking being easy, but George and I were feeling good and enjoyed both the campsite and a good night’s rest as a prelude to what we anticipated ( correctly) to be a tough next day.
 1 August Photos

2 August – Over White Cap Mountain and to Cooper Brook Falls Lean-to (17 miles). Although it didn’t rain, everything at the campsite got thoroughly soaked courtesy of unusually heavy dew. It was just as if it had rained. We packed up wet and headed out in cool but overcast weather. We would be going over several mountains, to include White Cap Mountain, as we did our last major mountain range before Baxter State Park and Mt. Katahdin. This did not mean we still didn’t have plenty of up and down hill work to do – simply not any more major ranges. We went over West Peak, then Hay Mountain. As we approached the summit of White Cap Mountain we were astounded to encounter Earle Towne (owner of The Cabin in East Andover, ME). He was out in the "middle of nowhere," many miles from home, on a nasty day, with a chain saw (and face mask) doing trail maintenance – clearing deadfall off the Trail. Many Trail hikers have no idea how indebted they are to volunteers like Earle who give so much of themselves. At any rate we had a pleasant reunion for several minutes. At one point, I jokingly asked Earle if he had any beer with him. He told us no but he would be at the Jo-Mary Road to pick up some hikers the next day and would have some then. We didn’t give that much note as we didn't think we were apt to encounter him again As we pushed over the top of White Cap Mountain we found ourselves in windy rain clouds. It was also very chilly. At one point, George started to stop for some reason and I growled at him, "Keep moving!" He did and would have done so – barring an accident. Coming down the far side was fairly steep but the trail was good. We arrived at the Logan Brook Lean-to around 10:30 a.m. and decided to take a break. We encountered a group of about a dozen 15and 16 year old French Canadian girls from Quebec. Despite the late hour, they were still in the process of getting up and breaking camp. They were out to hike The Hundred Miles Wilderness but were doing it very leisurely. George found out that many Canadians like to go to Maine to hike because, while they have plenty of wildernesses in Canada, blazed trails such as the AT were considerable lures. George and I went on to the East Branch (of the Pleasant River) Lean-to that had been our target for the day. However, it was only 1 p.m. so we decide to go on another almost 8 miles to the Cooper Brook Falls Lean-to. It was crowded with surrounding tents belonging to a camp group of about a dozen teenage boys plus a counselor a couple years older. I mused that it would have been interesting if the girls we encountered two shelters back and this group got together. We thought it was of note that the counselor was hauling a unicycle through the Hundred Mile Wilderness. The really good news was the brook and falls were beautiful and at the base of the falls was a large pool. I took a very pleasant and refreshing swim. We also took the opportunity to air out, if not com pletely dry our wet gear from the previous night’s camping. At this point, we had started to close in on the end-game of our adventure so a sense of anticipation had started to kick in.
 2 August Photo

3 August – to the White House Landing Wilderness Camp (14 miles). It poured rain during the night – sounded like it was coming down in buckets. We were glad to be in the lean-to. We got up a little early to make sure we were underway before the nearby campers were stirring and competing for the privy. The Trail was very pleasant and we moved swiftly. We covered almost 4 miles and arrived at the Jo-Mary Road at 7:30 a.m. We were surprised to find Earle Towne sitting there next to his truck. He had told us he would be there that day, but we had thought he would go home and come back out during the middle of the day or the afternoon to pick up the hikers he was expecting. Earle hadn’t gone home but had driven to this point and had spent the night there in the back of his pickup on which he had put a camper-cover. So here he was sitting in the absolute middle of the "boonies" with two folding chairs for us to sit on and two coolers full of beer. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any soft drinks – more to my taste. It was a bit early in the day, but George had a beer and we sat there and socialized for about a half-hour. Earle would be giving out the beer to any hikers that passed ("trail magic") until his 3 hikers arrived. After we continued hiking another easy 4 miles, we took another break at the Antlers Camp Site. We had been told it was a beautiful spot and it lived up to its billing. It was a gorgeous area to camp in on a small peninsula jutting out into Lower Jo-Mary Lake, and definitely one of those places worth coming back to if ever in that part of the world again. We had originally planned to stay there, but we were well ahead of our schedule and it was only 10 a.m., so after lingering for awhile, we continued on to our revised objective for the day of reaching the White House Landing Wilderness Camp. Not too much further on we stopped at a point slightly off of the trail to get our first good look at Mt. Katahdin in the distance. It was awesome! Around 1:30 p.m., after having hiked 14 miles, we cut off the AT and followed a trail blazed by red and yellow ribbons to get to the shore of Lake Pemademcook across from the wilderness camp. There, we sounded a foghorn and waited on a small dock until Bill Ware picked us up via motorboat. Bill and his wife Linda own and operate the camp. It is a totally picturesque setting and foregoes electricity, plumbing, TV etc. It is located on land owned by the Great Northern Lumber Company for which the Ware’s have a long-term lease, and the only land access is via a secured, controlled, logging road. There are 5 buildings that are beautifully situated on a gently sloping open area overlooking a remote portion of this very large lake. Bill and Linda live there with their five-year-old son, and have been living at and operating the camp for eleven years. They have one neighbor within several miles on the Lake (none off the lake) and that is a place occupied only part-tim e by several elderly brothers as a "men’s camp." It was an ideal afternoon – warm and sunny, but not hot, and with a gentle breeze coming across the lake. We aired our things out in the sun and I actually washed some of my clothes in a basin using lake water and a wringer dryer before hanging them to dry. George and I each went for a swim in the lake that we were told was about 20-25-ft deep off the end of their dock. Around 4 p.m. Linda opened the Main House where food was served. We socialized with her and the five other hikers who were staying there and then ate. The food choices were limited but what they had was good. I had a humongous hamburger, and an apple, and I split a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream with George. I also got a root beer with mine so I had a float. After supper George and I used one of the camp’s canoes and paddled down the lake for 45 minutes as we looked, unsuccessfully, for a good place to take pictures of Mt. Katahdin. Then, of course we had to paddle back against the wind. George was in the stern steering and I was in the bow. Note the nautical jargon. We spent the night in the bunkhouse and paid for a shower and a towel. Using the gas light in the bunkhouse we stayed up for awhile after dark – unusual for us. However, we knew we could sleep in because breakfast wasn’t until 8 a.m. and we could not start until we were taken back across the lake after breakfast. The timing didn’t strike us as being very hiker-oriented, but not everyone chose to start his or her day’s activity as early as we preferred. As I sat making my notes at 6:15 the next morning sitting in the common area of the bunkhouse overlooking the lake, the beauty, and serene isolation of this place was truly moving.
 3 August Photos

4 August – to Rainbow Spring Lean-to (15.9 miles). The reason for the 1.2-mile hike to get picked up is to get a place where whoever is coming can be seen and the horn can be heard from the wilderness camp. Leaving doesn’t require this, so Bill ferried across the lake to a point closer to the trail. After about a quarter of a mile we were back on the AT and heading north. After about four miles, the portion of trail we were on was about 50 yards from a stream we were paralleling. George spotted a moose between the stream and us. It was a cow moose that was standing still. As we approached, it bolted. However, it had stopped a few dozen yards away and stood still as we, as unobtrusively as we were able, got out our cameras to take pictures. We took a break at Wadleigh Spring Lean-to and spent some time chatting with "Tin Man." He had spent a night with us at Shaw’s in Monson and also was at White House Landing Wilderness Camp while we were there. He said he was from Michigan and was a semi-retired homebuilder. He appeared to be in his mid-40’s and was a strong hiker but came across as a bit of an egotist/jerk. However, having spent some time with him, I started to actually like the guy some (not sure that George came around) and we developed a friendly relationship. At the lean-to I took off one of my boots. I had treated a toe the previous evening for a blister, and it was hurting me. It certainly seemed strange, that after 400 miles of hiking I would develop a blister. We finished hiking for the day around 5:30 p.m. – late finish for us, at Rainbow Springs Lean-to. Another lean-to situated on a great stream. My toe continued to hurt during the entire day, and I washed it and used my first aid kit that evening to provide as much treatment as I was capable of giving myself. We were tired but were quite excited to be near the end.
 4 August Photos

5 August – to Abol Springs Campground (15.4 miles). The West Branch of the Penobscot River marks the end of the Hundred Miles Wilderness. Abol Bridge traverses it and there is a commercial campground just on the north side of the bridge. The trail is relatively easy, but we found that it was gnarly and we were quite tired by the time we reached Abol Bridge. We were glad to finish our last day of hiking with backpacks. Just before crossing the bridge we noted a sign warning south-bounders that there are no towns for 100 miles. Enroute, a few miles to the south we met "Tooth," (Emily Kimball) a woman who is a 71 year old motivational speaker from Richmond, VA. She was completing the last segment of the AT. She had done is in sections during a period of nine years. We met her on top of a high hill mass called Rainbow Ledges. She was sitting and painting a great view of Mt. Katahdin, and she also regaled us with a story about how, when hiking alone, she had fallen backw ard on Camelback Mountain and hit and bloodied her head. Truly a tough old bird. (She has a web site "theagingadventurer,com").* She came into the Abol Bridge Campground several hours after we did and joined us as George and I were helping "Ada." Ada was in the campsite next to the one George and I occupied. She was a recently widowed 45 year old from Union Mills, NC who was starting her north to south trek, and did not seem fully prepared. (E.g. she had no means of filtering or treating drinking water.) We gave her one of our PolarPure bottles for treating water. We only had two days left and could readily share one. George showed her how to make and use a ‘trucker’s hitch" for hanging a line, and we gave her lots of tips. When "Tooth" joined the discussion and reaffirmed much of what we said, she took it in with close attention. With our campsite established and everything put away, we went to the camp store and ate junk. This included some very ugly hot dogs, cold drinks, a sandwhich, chips, and Necco Wafers during the course of the afternoon. We were another day ahead of schedule. Our original plan had us getting to Abol Bridge on August 9th and our last communiqué with Fred had us arriving on August 6th. We called him and coordinated his joining us at the campground the next afternoon/evening. That night, in my tent, with penlight in mouth and totally cleaned up after a shower, I broke out my first aid kit to pay attention to the toe that had been hurting me for a couple of days. What I thought was a blister turned out to be an infection from a splinter that I hadn’t seen before. Maybe it had been deeper and had worked its way to the surface, but, at any rate, I was pleased to find the source of my trouble. I dug the splinter out with my Swiss army pocketknife and treated the wound for infection. By morning it was feeling much better and over the course of the next couple days it fully healed.

*I have visited this web site since getting home and communicated with Emily. She told me she spent 12 hours going up and down Mt. Kathadin. She wasn’t sure she could get past the big boulders (see 8 August) but once she got past the first, she said she felt that she would be successful if she persevered. Pretty impressive for anyone – no less a woman in her 70’s. I highly recommend visiting her site and thinking about her as a motivational speaker. I’ve heard from her since getting home and she is off to Alaska pretty soon for a couple of speaking engagements. 

 5 August Photo

6 August – to Katahdin Stream Campground (10 miles). The end-game plan as it evolved ended up as follows. On 6 August, George and I would hike the 10 miles of the AT from the Abol Bridge Campground to Katahdin Stream Campground. We would leave our campsite at Abol Bridge intact. After completing the 10-mile hike, we would hitch hike back to Abol Bridge, where Fred would join us. After spending the night at Abol Bridge, on the 7th, we would take the day off. Fred would drive us all into Baxter State Park, and we would spend the night of the 7th at Daicey Pond Campground for which Fred had made a reservation. Then, on the a.m. of 8 August we would drive to Katahdin Stream Campground and ascend Mt. Katahdin. We didn’t leave the Abol Bridge Campground on our 10-mile hike until 7:30. When we left, Ada was still assembling her gear for her day’s hike. My guess was that she would be off the Trail within two weeks. Hope I was wrong. The 10 miles was relatively easy and sple ndid with breathtaking views of the surrounding mountains, streams, and ponds. After we arrived at Katahdin Stream Campground, we found that our intent to hitch hike back had some serious issues. The road network would require us to go quite a long way in one direction, and then change directions and go another relatively long distance. The obvious alternative was to hike back on a more direct trail – The Blueberry Trail, which was 4.4 miles of relatively easy hiking. I was in favor of doing the hitch hiking anyway. I was not interested in extra miles and enjoyed the "adventure" of thumbing it. George supported the Blueberry Trail option. After some added map reconnaissance, we reached a compromise. We hitched to the Abol Picnic Area that was about 7 or 8 miles away. We caught a ride with the second vehicle to come by – this took about a 10-minute wait. We sat on the toolbox in the back of a pickup truck and hung on for dear life. From the Abol picnic area there was a trail of about 1.2 miles that took us back to the Abol Bridge Campground. The trail was overgrown at first and seemed not to have been heavily used. However, after about 10-15 minutes we came to a footbridge crossing a stream. There was a family of four on the bridge cautioning us to be quiet. When we got onto the bridge we saw why. They were watching a bull moose taking water from the stream about 50 yards away. The moose looked up at us and then went back to drinking.. Once back at the campground we encountered four hikers who had been with us at the White House Landing Wilderness Camp. We had taken 2 days and they had taken 3 days to reach Abol Bridge, but two of them were significantly older than George and I –my guess was by close to 10 years. They were a retired minister and his wife – a very pleasant couple who were tough out-of-doors people. At any rate, they and the two younger men all greeted us warmly and tapped us for our recently gained information on reaching the bas e of Mt. Katahdin, climbing it, getting nearby camping space, etc. We were back by 1:30, and we pretty much lazed around and ate junk from the camp store as we waited for Fred to arrive. Without question I was a bigger junk eater than George who was always trying his hardest to find fresh fruits and veggies and seemed indifferent, at best, to sweet food. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much fresh produce to be had at the campground. Fred arrived at about 5:30. After setting up his tent et al with us, he put on his chef’s hat – figuratively. He had brought lots of food with him and treated us to a supper of Kilbasa Sausage with rice and fresh tomatoes and cucumbers. Yum! 

(No Photos)

7 August – Prepping for the Last Climb – to Mt. Katahdin: It rained during the night, but by morning it was dry and quite chilly. It was the only instance during the entire hike that I wore my fleece for any length of time. We took coin operated showers (three minutes for a quarter) at the Abol Bridge Campground, and then made a nice fire. Fred outdid himself with his field culinary skills. He had brought and prepared for us fried eggs, bacon, orange juice, bananas and oranges. It was a great treat. We lingered for a couple hours so our tents would dry off. We then packed up and drove around 20 miles to the Baxter State Park offices in Millinocket. Millinocket is a sizeable town with a population of around 8,000 people. Its primary industry is the Great Northern Lumber Company. At the park office Fred confirmed the reservation for a campsite in the park and we supplemented the food Fred had brought for supper – burgers rolls and rice, with tomatoes, onions, chips an d drinks. We then drove 20 plus miles to the park, checked in with the ranger and set up camp. It was very different than the commercial campground in that there was no plumbing or fresh water, camp store etc. In lieu of putting up tents, we had a very small lean-to supposedly with a capacity of four. It was just right to accommodate the three of us. Fred was the primary chef, I did the rice, and George prepared the veggies. We had a grand meal and finished cleaning up around 4 p.m. We waited an hour or so and drove the couple miles to the Katahdin Stream ranger station. The rangers encourage hikers to leave their large packs at the bottom and use daypacks for the hike up and down Mt. Katahdin. Our goal was to get daypacks for the next day’s climb. There was a very limited selection, but we got what we needed. When we returned, we started a fire in the fire pit and kept it going for awhile, and then went to sleep, ready for an early start the next morning.
(No Photos)

8 August – to the Top of Mt. Katahdin, the Northern Terminus of the AT (5.2/10.4 miles). We got up and moving at 4:40 a.m., ate some bars, packed our gear in the car, and got to the Katahdin Stream Campground shortly after 5 a.m. By 5:15 we had left the latter and were on the Hunt Trail to hike to Baxter Peak – the highest peak (5,271-ft) on Mt. Katahdin. Katahdin is Abernaki Indian language for "Great Mountain." There are other trails to get to the summit from trailheads located elsewhere in the park, but the AT follows the Hunt Trail. The hike is 5.2 miles to the top (and another 5.2 down) and includes an elevation gain of about 4,000 ft. This is the largest single, direct elevation gain on the AT. Unlike Mt Washington with its cog rail and road access, the only way to get to the top of this mountain is to "pay your dues" by hiking. The weather was perfect – cool and dry, and not long after starting it became sunny and clear. At first the trail was gentle uphill a s we followed Katahdin Stream for a mile. We then crossed the stream and continued another quarter mile to Katahdin Stream Falls, a gorgeous fifty-foot plummet of significant amounts of water. The trail then became steeper and gnarly but we moved strongly for another 1.7 miles past a small rock-slab cave (The Cave), to the tree line. As we hiked we were treated to increasingly fantastic panoramas of valleys, lakes and other mountains. At the tree line the heavy-duty work began in earnest. There where huge boulders that were a real gymnastic-like challenge to get over, though or around. This obstacle-filled stretch sends some hikers down to the bottom – particularly if the weather is not favorable. It was relatively good weather, but we were exposed to enough cold wind that we donned added clothing. It was a hand-over-hand exercise and many people with walking sticks (trekking poles) packed them away or would toss them forward. The visibility remained great and the views beca me ever more and more breathtakingly dramatic. After the boulder section we continued up the ridgeline on a long, steep stretch that was covered with rocks that were smaller, but still large enough to require lots of upper body action. The exposed ridge had very large drops on both sides and the climb had a number of places that definitely seemed risky. Finally, after a mile of very demanding work -- mostly hand-over-hand effort, we reached "The Gateway," the start of a gently sloping plateau area. It seemed steeper on the map than it did on the ground. This gently sloping area included going past a small spring, Thoreau Springs. Yup, he was one of the first climbers of this mountain. This easy stretch lasted about a mile, and then we started up the last rise to the summit. It was pretty steep, but we were so pumped-up that we scampered over the rocks. It was nothing short of glorious! There were about 20-25 people on top. Some were AT hikers (thru-hikers and large section h ikers), some were short section hikers, and some were day hikers. Everyone was busy euphorically congratulating each other, taking pictures, and generally luxuriating in views so majestic that they are not readily described or captured by cameras. We stayed on top of the mountain for about 45 minutes. As we descended it was even easier to take in the panoramas we had noted on the way up, but we had to pay close attention to what we were doing. Getting down the tough parts was more time consuming and riskier than climbing. We were very cautious and were very tired. I think there was also a mental anti-climax following our successful efforts to get to the top. It had taken us 4 hours to climb the mountain and about 25 minutes longer to descend back to the Katahdin Stream Campground. We were exhausted, but we were really pleased and pleased to have completed our hike.
 8 August Photos
 
  

POST SCRIPT – LINGERING IN MAINE AND GETTING HOME

8 August – Spending the Night in Medway, ME. We had planned to spend the night in Millinocket 24 miles away, but we decided to push on a little – not much because we were very tired. We were looking to find a nicer motel than the kind of mom and pop older places that had been available and which we used during the past 50 days. We figured we would find a decent place in Medway 10 miles from Millinocket and near Interstate 95 – the same I-95 that goes through Wash, DC. The Gateway Inn filled the bill for us. We took a room with two double beds and paid five bucks to have a cot (nice one) added. After cleaning up, we ate at a restaurant section of an Irving’s Service Station. Irving Gas stations, a Canadian company, have pretty much taken over and dominate that field in Maine. At any rate, the station was recommended as having good food that was reasonably priced – kind of like a truck stop. It surpassed expectations. It was good food, friendly service, and the quantity and prices more than suited us just fine. At the end of the meal I tried to get George and/or Fred to share with me a huge piece of chocolate cake with peanut butter icing but they were totally full so I had to handle this by myself. Back at the motel, we tried to watch TV for awhile. There was minimal reception and we were soon asleep.

9 August – to the Taylor’s in Old Orchard Beach, ME. We ate a continental breakfast and then began our 200 mile or so journey to Fred and Sandy Taylor’s home in Old Orchard Beach. We went down Interstate 95 to the Bangor area, which was about half the distance. We then got off the interstate and went to US Route 1, the scenic route that followed the coast. We enjoyed going through one town after another. It became pretty obvious that many of these towns (increasingly so as we moved southward), had become large vacation/tourist draws. We stopped in Freeport, ME and visited the LL Bean Store. The town was the epitome of a visitor/tourist draw. This was brought home to Fred when he paid $4.00 for an ice tea sold from an upscale pushcart. We arrived in Old Orchard Beach in mid-afternoon, and Fred and Sandy were very gracious hosts. They live in a high rise condo, overlooking and right on the beach which is top notch – clean, wide, and with light sand that is comfortable to walk on and that slopes gently down to the ocean. Fred and I did a little body surfing that afternoon. I mostly wanted my body in the salt water for a little while to help heal all my little nicks and scratches. The water was not prohibitively cold as Fred indicated is sometimes the case. That evening, we all went out to eat seafood and were joined by Jim Bigelow (USMA ’64) and his wife Jeanne who live in the general area. We had a really nice mini-reunion.

10 August – Lingering at the Sea Shore. The next morning Fred and George took Fred’s inflatable, seagoing canoe and set off paddling for some island barely visible on the horizon. Fred was willing to give me his seat in the craft, but I had been given adequate paddling opportunities at the White House Land Wilderness Camp and opted to lounge on the beach. Sandy had a Homeowners’ Association meeting to attend. By early afternoon, the seafarers had returned, and we washed Fred’s car, which was pretty funky with dust and grime from its excursions in the campground and state park’s dirt roads. By late afternoon we were cleaning up for the condominium’s annual luau. As the luau began, I started feeling poorly and later in the evening "tossed my cookies" several times. The next day I was heading home and the connections dictated a very early start.

11 August – to Home in Burke, VA. How does one get from Old Orchard Beach, ME to Burke, VA carrying a large backpack and with a beard making you look like a member of the Taliban? The deal is, get to Boston and then take Amtrak to DC. Our joint initial thinking was to get to Boston via the train that goes through Old Orchard Beach. The problem was that the train from Maine stopped at the North Boston Station and the train south went out of the South Boston Train Station. Getting between the stations I would be on my own and the ability to do so and make a good time connection was very doubtful. Plan B, which we followed, was to take a bus from Portland which was 15 miles or so north of Old Orchard Beach. It would go directly to the South Station and get there well ahead of when I needed to make my connection. Fred drove me up there to catch a 6-something a.m. bus and George came along to see me off as well. George stayed with the Taylors an additional day. What a pl easant surprise the bus was. The station was clean and orderly, and provided free donuts and orange juice. The service was friendly and efficient. The bus was comfortable and clean, and the passengers were well mannered, well dressed, and pleasant. The bus was about 80% full, but I had a double seat to myself. I wouldn’t have wanted to sit next to me either. The biggest surprise was that headsets were provided and a movie was shown on a series of small screens (like the airlines) during the journey of a little more than two hours. It was definitely the way to make this trip. At the train station I found that, at no additional expense, I could get off in New York City, spend the night, and continue my trip to D.C. the next day. I strongly considered doing so to visit my sister in the NYC suburbs – would like to have shown off my beard, but I was feeling very poorly and continuing to have stomach problems. I had eaten seafood both Thursday and Friday nights and figured I had g otten a touch of food poisoning. I was a bit angry that I remained healthy through more than 7 weeks on the Trail and, 2 days after getting off of it, I was ill. At any rate, I arrived in DC that Sunday in the early evening. If it had been a weekday, I would have taken the Virginia Rail Express from Union Station to Burke Center, but it was a Sunday. Sonja and Eric came to the station and hauled me to my home.

 12 August Photo

ADDED NOTES

1. The miles shown with each daily heading are only my estimate of the miles on the Appalachian Trail itself. They do not include distances off the AT to shelters/lean-to’s, diversions to scenic points (there weren’t many) and other distance covered off the Trail such as going to White House Landing Wilderness Camp, walking towards towns, etc.

2. There were many places we reached via the AT that could be reached via other routes. Generally, the AT route was the more challenging. Hence, many of the people we encountered were not having the same experience as we were having.

3. I am enthralled with Maine. I think their motto of "Life as it should be" is not far off of the mark.

4. Addressing the logistics/transportation of getting to the AT to start and getting off of the AT when finished is one of the big planning challenges.

5. I lost more than 20 pounds during the 50 days on the trail. When I arrived home I could wear trousers that I had in my "charity bin" because I didn’t think I would ever squeeze into them again. We’ll see how long the weight stays off. I will try.

6. George normally has a beard and when given the opportunity, he trimmed his to its normal length. I, on the other hand, did some occasional trimming on the fringes, but let it grow full for about eight weeks. Many people told me it was a good-looking beard. Some would add – "if you like beards." Others flat didn’t like it. Without doubt it made me look older. It came in fairly square and, after awhile George and I agreed that it made me look like General Grant. It was fun for awhile, but I didn’t like it very much myself. I had it shaved off in a local barbershop. It would have been impossible to shave with a safety razor, so this was the first time I had ever had a barbershop shave.

7. Throughout the entire trip I did not lose one single item – until the very end. On the day before climbing Mt. Katahdin I lost the map that covered that area. It was one of eleven maps we used. (Getting the needed maps was part of the re-supply process) and not having it, particularly losing it, drove me to distraction. On return home, I contacted the Appalachian Trail Conference Headquarters at Harper’s Ferry, WV – my initial map source, to replace it. They would only sell me the entire set of seven maps covering Maine. They promised to call me back when I asked about getting the one map I needed directly from the Maine Appalachian Trail Club (MATC) from whom the AT Headquarters buys them. They never did call back, but, via the Internet, I did reach the MATC and acquired the single missing map.

8. I bought and carried 4 mini-snap-links (carabiners). They weigh very, very little and proved useful in a variety of ways, e.g. putting up lines for hanging things, hanging things in shelters, and attaching things to my pack. I carried a water bottle in an outside pocket on my pack. The water bottle had a line attached to it. The other end had a loop I hooked into my snap-link and the snap-link was attached to my pack. On a number of occasions this kept me from losing my water bottle – or at a minimum, chasing it down a hill. The snap-link made it easy to take the water bottle off my gear for filling the bottle up or for using the bottle with my pack taken off.
 
  

CONCLUSION

I was glad to be home, and pleased and satisfied to have completed a challenging but wonderfully gratifying adventure. George’s brother, Rick who spent three days with us, opened his home near Boston to us, and he and his wife Elice showed us tremendous hospitality. Rick drove several hours to get us on the Trail. He was a great plus to our trip and a new friend for me. Fred Taylor was with us three different times for nine days and then took us to his home for another couple days. He and Sandy were truly gracious and generous hosts. Fred was a classmate whom neither George nor I had known well previously, but whom I now consider a true friend. He demonstrated the epitome of the camaraderie that exists across the USMA Class of ’64 and which I have seen repeatedly. My old Beast Barracks roommate of 42 years earlier, George Domas, and I were with each other constantly for more than seven weeks. We hiked at compatible paces and stayed together every day and on every part of our 450 miles on the Trail. We were not apart from each other for greater than an hour or so more than a couple times in 52 days. We had some minor disagreements, which we always worked out quickly, and we never had anything that could remotely be called a dispute. We ended better friends than we were when we started. You can’t match up any better than that! Thanks, Rick, Elice, Fred, Sandy, and George!! Thanks, too, to all the wonderful long distance hikers and those who supported us from home and whom we met along the way. The latter were an eclectic group, but all reflected an inner toughness, generous spirits and camaraderie of shared experiences that are not very common in my work-a-day world. To me the hills and woods and mountains were beautiful, but they paled against the widening scope of people I came to know and appreciate.