Week Twenty-Three – Platinum-Blazing and The Kennebec Ferry

Hey everyone! We had another amazing (and SUNNY) week on the Appalachian Trail. We’re getting closer and closer to the end, and loving every minute of it. Here’s what’s been going on!

Day 155, Monday August 21: I woke up just before my alarm went off at 5:30am, and then snoozed it for ten minutes anyway. I packed up my sleeping kit and then wandered the campsite looking for the privy; when it didn’t manifest in a few minutes I gave up and dug a cathole. We packed up camp and decided to cook a breakfast of Cajun grits with some pepperoni, which was exactly how it sounded: horrible. I decided that 6:24am was far too early to eat pepperoni l, and that I wouldn’t be able to eat grits with pepperoni ever again at any time of day. We left the Crocker Col Campsite and immediately began to climb South Crocker mountain. The ascent was relatively steep but manageable. Even though the skies had cleared the day before, the fog and clouds had returned with a vengeance and visibility was limited. As we climbed up the mountain, the small pond near our campsite became visible from above, and I once again scanned the edges for a tiny brown dot that would indicate a moose. Seeing nothing, I returned my attention to the rocky mountain face before me and kept climbing.

The climb up to the summits of South and North Crocker Mountains was moderately difficult. The exertion was actually appreciated because it helped to stave off the damp chill that hung in the air from the fog. Both summits were completely “socked in” with low clouds, so we had no views to the surrounding landscapes from the tops. However, a pine forest adorned by layers of swirling fog has become own of my favorite sights to see and environments to hike in, and I don’t think I will ever get tired of it. (Good thing too, because there’s plenty of fog out here!).

On the way down the north side of North Crocker Mountain, we passed over mud, rocks, and roots just as we had for hundreds of miles. Our goal was to get to the next road crossing, where we would be picked up for our next hostel stay. Meadow and I had decided early in Maine to stay in every trail town (our own version of “Platinum-Blazing”!), which would allow us the opportunity to rest but also enjoy the AT experience and community in a deeper way. We hiked down the mountain, and eventually passed a female hiker coming towards us heading southbound back to Harper’s Ferry where she flip-flopped from. Her name was Foxy, and she greeted us with an enthusiastic and beautiful smile. The first thing she told us was “I’m trying to become the oldest black woman to hike the AT!” Before I could stop myself, I asked how old she was. She had just turned 67, which surprised us–she had just a few grey roots showing at the bases of her braids but, hey–I have a few grey hairs too! Foxy laughed. “Hiking keeps you young. Never stop hiking ladies!” She told us about a few highlights from her time in Maine so far and gave us a few warnings. “Moxie Bald Mountain is probably my favorite mountain so far, but watch out for the mosquitoes at the base of Katahdin. Make sure you are completely covered because they are BAD.” As we stood on the trail chatting, our friend Soapy came up behind us and he recognized Foxy from further south. He asked where her hiking companions were, and Foxy shook her head in mock graveness. “They all quit. They said that they got what they needed form the trail already, and went home. I’m just like ‘what the hell?!'” She laughed, totally at peace with having enough grit and determination for her whole group. When we parted, we wished her well on the rest of her Thru-Hike and she did the same for us; I will be looking for her name in the finisher log books for sure. As we descended further down the mountain, we chatted with Soapy. It was difficult to keep up with him and his long legs, but we did our best! We chatted about what we did before the Trail, and exchanged our “AT origin stories” of how we came to hike. Soapy was 50, and had started his Thru-Hike the previous year but ended at Bennington Gap in Vermont. (Meadow and I both remember exactly where Bennington Gap is; I had a nasty fall down the steep descent, and Meadow got a nice nosebleed as we ascended the other side). He returned this year to pick up at Bennington and hiked through to Katahdin. He had become disenchanted with his work as a project manager and had decided to buy a tiny house van to live in down in Florida for a while. He started looking for other opportunities to deepen his connection to the Earth and wanted to spend time in nature, and stumbled across the AT. He purchased a few pieces of gear and went to the Trailhead at Springer Mountain where he met a Thru-Hiker who had just finished their hike, and Soapy became driven to do the same. Eventually we gave up on trying to keep up with Soapy, and he pulled ahead. “I’ll call the shuttle when I get down there!” he called back to us as he disappeared up the trail. Eventually we made it down to the road, and Soapy was still there. He was staying at the same hostel as us, the Maine Road House, and had already called for a pickup. The fog had cleared as we descended lower into the valleys, and the sun had started to shine in the blue sky. We ate a snack and in less than five minutes a large black pickup truck pulled in, driven by a lovely woman sporting real glasses and bright blue and purple hair. She was one Jenn of the two-Jenn team that ran the hostel. It was a twenty-minute drive back into the small town of Caratunk, and eventually we pulled up to a beautiful slate-grey farmhouse with white trim. “The only thing we ask you to leave outside is your hiking shoes–it really helps with the smell!” She gave us a tour and showed Meadow and I to our room. We found giant muumuus in the loaner clothes, which were the correct choice, and wore them to the grocery store for dinner supplies and hiking resupply while our laundry was in the washer. We spent the afternoon resting and chatting with fellow hiker Chili Dog. (His trail name comes from the comical rendition of Mellencamp’s ‘Jack and Diane’ in which all the lines are replaced with the worst line: “sucking on chili dogs”.). Chili Dog had started the AT after us and was moving much faster, but was also committed to slowing down at the end to reflect and enjoy it more. Meadow and I split a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and went to sleep just after 9pm.

Day 156, Tuesday August 22: We got up at 6:30am and began packing our belongings. We got ready to leave and we’re downstairs in the hostel kitchen before 7am. I helped myself to some coffee from the pot, using a Maine-themed mug that actually had a picture of Katahdin on it.

A few other folks who were staying there arrived in the kitchen, and we chatted with them while we waited for breakfast. Their names were Soda Bread, Serendipity, and Where Is. Serendipity, a woman in her late fifties or early sixties with a beautiful short, gray pixie cut and a few tattoos, had hiked the entire AT last year, and was now back to section hike with a few of her friends. We chatted with them about the trail and about what we did before the Trail. Serendipity said that she had done a lot of meditation and yoga practices before the trail and had thought that Thru-Hiking the AT would deepen those practices. She said that instead, she found the transition back into real life was extremely difficult and she had lost her focus. She did say that the Trail gave her a renewed desire to help people and give back, which she was currently doing through her work as an occupational therapist. Eventually the Jenns brought out breakfast and laid a buffet table full of deliciously home-cooked food. There was a wine-braised pot roast, fluffy biscuits, poached eggs, and a hollandaise sauce to make eggs Benedict…it brought literal tears to my eyes. I never would have thought of a pot roast eggs Benedict, but I will absolutely be making that myself in the future! There were also some grits, which were made the way that grits are supposed to be made (i.e. NOT instant grits with pepperoni!) and were therefore delicious. Between the coffee, fresh fruit, and incredible homemade eggs Benedict, it was one of the best breakfasts I’ve ever had!

After breakfast we settled our tab with the hostel and had to get our farewell photos taken…we couldn’t miss out on the opportunity to wear our muumuus again! After that we hopped into their truck to be taken back to the trailhead. When we got back the parking lot, we crossed paths with Shaggy who was staying at that hostel that night! We let him know that he was in for a treat, and said goodbye to both Shaggy and Jen. We crossed the road, and ran back into the cover of the forest. The sun was shining gloriously in the crystal blue sky, and not a single white cloud was visible. It was absolutely the clearest day we had experienced on the trail in what felt like months, and we were happy to not waste it! I spent plenty of time thinking about all the gray and rainy days we have had, and simply rejoiced in the fact that we had been given a truly beautiful day. The first few miles of the day were relatively flat, and although we skirted a few mud pits the trail wasn’t overly rocky or technical. The climb up to the West Peak on Bigelow Mountain seemed to take us a long time, but the hiking was not difficult. We passed one hiker coming down the mountain, who saw our AT hang tags and simply said “Finish strong!” as he smiled and waved us on. We stopped for a break, just as our old AT friend Rachel (one o the Maine-iacs!) texted us for a status update. She and Alyssa had summited on August 16th, one week prior, and she said that she already wished that she was still on the trail. This is one of the main reasons that Meadow and I had decided to continue taking our time through Maine: one of the biggest pieces of advice I and read is not to rush toward the end. We have been enjoying the entire trail experience, and I know we will miss it when it’s over. We know it can’t last forever (I need to summit Katahdin before both my Achilles’ rupture!!), but we want to be at peace with the knowledge that we finished right on time, savoring the experience down to the last drop.

As we climbed up to the first peak, we passed a father and son backpacking duo. We chatted about the weather and the trail a bit before they asked us where we were from. “Pittsburgh? We just came from there! We’re looking at colleges.” the man said, nodding to his son. I asked what the young man planned on studying, and he said engineering. “I’m definitely going to apply to Pitt,” he said. We told him that we both had degrees from Pitt (H2P!), and that it’s a great place for city folks who also love outdoor adventures. When we parted they wished us well as we finished our journey, and we gave him best wishes for his future college plans. As we climbed the Bigelow Mountain, a cool wind picked up but the sun still shone warmly overhead. We took a few snacks breaks as usual, and eventually we reached the West Peak. Here, we knew that Katahdin would be visible on a clear day. This was the clearest day we had experienced on Trail in weeks, but was it clear enough? We scoured the horizon to see if we could find it…and there it was. For the first time on our Thru-Hike, our final destination and the end of our hike was visible to us. WE COULD SEE KATAHDIN! It was shocking and exciting to see, but it still seemed like such a long way off. Seeing Katahdin gave me the sensation of a concrete goal to work toward, but was also still surreal and abstract at the same time. As we gushed over the view, a group of three day hikers seated near us asked if we were Thru-Hiking. We said yes, and explained why seeing Katahdin was such a big deal. “You guys walked over 2,000 miles to be here? You’re still so chipper!” We asked them where they were from and chatted for a few minutes before they finished their snacks and moved on. We sat and gazed upon the horizon for a few more minutes before allowing the wind to push us on.

We submitted the Avery Peak of Bigelow Mountain, and began the long descent into Stafford Notch where we had planned on camping. We accidentally took a few blue-blazed side trails to a few views, which prolonged our afternoon hike but were still worth it! Our friend Shaggy takes every single blue blazed trail to maximize his experience, and more than once he has facetiously shamed us for skipping a long side trail here or there. Here is one of the rocky views we would have missed if we hadn’t taken a side trail: I admit that the extra 200 yards were worth it! (Hear that, Shaggy?!)

We arrived at the campsite just after 6pm, and finished our chores and dinner just before 8pm. The campsite seemed strange, spread out over a large area and deserted. We went to sleep early, to the sounds of chittering chipmunks late into the evening.

Day 157, Wednesday August 23: For an unknown reason, both Meadow and I had trouble sleeping and were awake for several hours in the middle of the night. When the 6am alarm went off, it took a serious amount of effort to get moving rather than just shut the alarm off and go back to sleep. We packed up camp and made peanut butter English muffins and cooked grits for breakfast, which also took a serious amount of effort to eat. While we ate, a fat little chipmunk ran all over the campsite hoping we would drop something good. We hit the trail just after 7:30am, saying goodbye to the weird little campsite and heading out into the cold sunshine. We both started in our rain jackets to stave off the cold, but after twenty minutes or so of hiking we returned to our normal uniforms of t-shirts and shorts. We had a relatively short climb up to the last of the Bigelow Mountain peaks, Little Bigelow Mountain. The weather again was perfect: sunny, slightly chilly and breezy, with a clear blue sky. We admired the views from Little Bigelow, including a reprise of our Katahdin sighting. Although we had only traveled a few more trail miles since seeing it the previous day, I could swear Katahdin looked closer than it did the day before! We hiked downhill to the base of the valley, taking special notice that we didn’t have any more significant mountains to climb until Katahdin. There would definitely be hills, and ups and downs (proverbial and literal), but according to AT lore the hardest parts were behind us!

We hiked on to the parking lot crossing, where we saw a familiar camper van painted with a bear, moose, and an AT logo. Its owner was inside, and he stuck his head out the window. “How has your hike been going so far? You doing okay? Would you ladies like an ice cream sandwich?” Having received an ice cream sandwich from this gentleman before, we couldn’t resist. He so gave us each a cold orange seltzer water and a banana while we talked with him. Or I should say while he talked to us, as it was difficult to get in any words edgewise which I was fine with. He told us briefly about his thirty years serving in the military, and finding God and the Appalachian Trail.

We spent the afternoon hiking up and down a few hills, and around several ponds. Although my feet seemed to hurt even more than usual, the miles spent travelling under an azure sky and around the shores of beautiful lakes and ponds became one of my favorite on trail so far. The water lapped onto the rocky shore of Flagstaff Lake, tiny whitecaps crashing into small boulders. We passed West Carry Pond, admiring the clouds over the pond and the mountains rising behind it.

We hiked through gorgeous forests and over another boardwalk through a wetland in a low valley. The terrain wasn’t overly difficult or steep, but there was plenty of mud and roots to slide in and trip on so we took our time to enjoy the lack of rocks. Eventually we reached the western shore of East Carry Pond, and walked along its shore to its northern edge. The pond was calm but not completely still, allowing the watery reflections of the clouds to hover on its surface.

We found a campsite on the northern shore of East Carry Pond and set up our tent. I found a deciduous tree hiding among the pine trees to hang the bear rope from, preferring that to a short, flimsy pine tree branch. We cooked dinner as the sun set, both of us had less-than-savory Knorr’s instant sides with tuna (we do NOT recommend the garlic parmesan or the olive oil flavors…). We also realized that we’ve started to hit a wall with our trail snacks, and are finding it more difficult to eat things like peanut butter crackers, cheez-its, and peanut butter. We ate peanut butter English muffins anyway, laughing about how wholly unappetizing our dinner was.

After dinner, we sat by the pond for a while. As the afternoon melted into the evening, the pond stilled even more as the golden light played across its surface, highlighting the masses of tiny insects bouncing off its surface. The evening seemed to fade quickly into the early night, the moon brightening in the sky. The pond settled into the night to become completely still, the reticent moon casting a single reflection instead of glittering across the entire surface. We sat on the rocky shore until the temperature crept low and the mosquitoes became too bold, and then retired to our tent around 8:30pm.

Day 158, Thursday August 24: I woke up once again to a gorgeous and clear morning, feeling the familiar gratitude and joy for being able to see the sun. The 5am alarm cut through the morning and drowned out the sounds of a few loon calls, and we began to pack up camp. There was a pale mist rolling across the pond’s surface, the pinkish gold sunlight burning it away as quickly as it could form. We stood by the pond for a few minutes before leaving, taking one last look at one of the most gratifyingly peaceful scenes I have seen on the trail so far.

We started hiking around 7am. The morning was chilly, and although we kept our jackets on to start hiking my hands went numb anyway. We hiked for four hours through gorgeous forests (surprise, surprise!), and we took our time to avoid tripping on the roots and mud. We forded a stream that came up to our knees, opting to change into our camp shoes to avoid voluntarily soaking our shoes and feet since our socks have stayed to smell like mildew even after washing them. We passed through another verdant and lush wetland, and saw the biggest toad be had ever seen. We walked along a stream and saw some gorgeous waterfalls; the dark, tannin-filled water was tempting to swim in, but the water was moving rapidly down a subsequent set of falls which seemed unsafe.

Around 11am, we burst from the forest and hit the shores of another huge AT milestone: the Kennebec River. The River is almost one hundred feet wide and can be very deep, but an upstream dam can release water at unpredictable times making the river dangerous to attempt to ford. At least two Thru-Hikers have lost their lives to drowning in the Kennebec River, and so fording is strongly discouraged. The ATC provides a canoe ferry service across the river as the approved Thru-Hiker traverse method, and as we reached the shores I began to look for the ferry. Across the river a canoe sat against the rocks, and its captain stood on the bank. As we stepped out into the sunlight, the canoe ferrier raised his arm over his head in a large wave, which I returned to signal that we were ready to cross. He stepped into the canoe and launched it, aiming the canoe upriver against the canoe. He deftly maneuvered the canoe almost sideways towards us, arriving to the shore at our feet within a few minutes. “How are we doing this morning ladies?” the captain called to us as he pulled the canoe out of the water. Rob Starbird was in his late fifties (I guessed), sporting gray hair under a black ball cap and very tanned and muscular under his black life jacket. He pulled out a few waivers for us to sign, and once we released the ATC from liability if we drowned Rob put our packs into the canoe and fitted us with life jackets of our own. We stepped into the canoe and Rob pushed off, wheeling us back around to face upriver once again. I took a few photos and then noticed the second paddle laying idly in the bow of the boat. I asked if he would like some help rowing, and he said he leaves it up to his passengers, clearly able to handle a canoe of three on his own. I grabbed the paddle and asked which side he wanted me to paddle on. First he had me paddle on the left side until we hit the current in the middle of the river, then on the right side. By then time we hit the other side, I was already tired from paddling; I’m not sure how Rob paddles back and forth all day. As we neared the northern shore, he said “I can tell you have some experience paddling; it’s like having a little motor up there!” After getting out of the canoe, we noticed the white blazes on the floor of the canoe. Rob said he was extremely slow that day but he expected to get busier from people trying to beat the rain tomorrow. Two other young women hikers, Gravity and Charmer, were hanging out with Rob after their own ferry ride. We chatted with Rob and the ladies for a few minutes, talking about the AT and Rob’s work at as a wilderness guide. Rob eyed the trees across the river, and exclaimed “Ah, there it is! Our eagle is watching the river, waiting for the chance to show us how to really catch a fish!” We all looked for the eagle, and Rob patiently described to each of us exactly where it was to make sure that we all saw it. It was so far away that it looked like a tiny white speck on top of a tiny black spot, but at least we can say we saw a bald eagle on the AT!

After a while, Rob asked us “Meadow and Victory, have you found your gift yet?” We both said at the same time: “Gift?” Rob laughed, and said “The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.” Rob’s gift is being a wilderness guide and survival trainer, which he enjoys doing so much that it never feels like work. Eventually we called for a shuttle pickup for the Sterling Inn, and waited with Gravity and Charmer for the pickup. The inn’s employee Zachary came to get us at the trailhead, coming in hot and nearly running us over in the black shuttle van. Zachary was very non-talkative on the ride, so the four of US hikers just talked amongst ourselves. The Sterling Inn was build in the 1800s, and had been maintained as a bed and breakfast for many decades. Meadow and I picked up our resupply materials from the inn, did some laundry and per the instructions added some vinegar to help with the mildew smell (jury is still out on whether it actually helped), and showered. We rested until dinner when we got a ride to the Kennebec River Pub, pulling a few of Zachary’s teeth to force him to talk to us. It took us a long while to decide what to order since there were so many options, which was overwhelming compared to just eating whatever we have in our food bags. We had crab cakes and pesto pasta, apple ciders, brownie Sunday for dessert. Zachary came back to pick us up, and once again we plied him for conversation that he couldn’t wait to get away from. Back at the Inn, we finished watching Ratatouille and went to bed after 9pm.

Day 159, Friday August 25: The Sterling Inn started serving breakfast at 6:30am, so we didn’t wake up until after 6. It was pouring! With all of our stuff packed and ready to go, we headed down to breakfast as the rain hammered the windows and the tree branches whipped around in the grey winds. We ate cereal, bagels, and yogurt for breakfast, and checked the weather. According to the radar, the heaviest is the rain would clear up between 9 and 9:30am…we had only planned on hiking about thirteen miles for the day, so we could afford to wait a few hours. We kept our electronics on charge and loitered at the hotel, heading downstairs just before 9am for second breakfast (more cereal and some muffins). The rain did begin to fade around 9, so we checked out of the Inn and headed back to the trail. Zachary seemed to have steeled himself overnight for our morning shuttle ride, and he was determined to avoid speaking to us; he never said a word even after I thanked him for the ride and hit him with a goodbye, have a nice day. Suit yourself, Zachary! By the time we hit the trail, it had stopped raining almost completely and most of the fog had dissipated.

We hiked for several hours up and over Pleasant Pond Mountain. A light drizzle came and went throughout the day, and as we gained elevation the wind picked up and temperature dropped. At the peak fo Pleasant Pond Mountain, the fog returned and we had low visibility beyond the rocky summit. We kept our raincoats on for the first rainy day in a while due to the chilly temperatures. During one particularly cold snack break, Meadow decided to stand to eat her snacks because all of the sitting surfaces (mossy rocks and downed trees) were soaking wet and very cold. I plopped down on a rock anyway, and we munched our snacks for a few minutes in silence. I was eating peanut butter crackers for what felt like the millionth time, and I started laughing quietly to myself about how revolting they were becoming. Meadow asked me why I was laughing, which only made me laugh more, and before long both of us were cackling hysterically with our raincoat hoods up in a cold drizzle. We decided that the main food groups for Thru-Hikers are as follows: orange squares (Cheez-its and the orange square peanut butter crackers), brown rounds (round peanut butter crackers, oatmeal cream pies, Oreos, etc.), brown squares (all protein bars, pop-tarts, etc.), pills (multivitamins, Vitamin I/ibuprofen, other life-saving prescriptions, etc.), hot mush (all hot breakfast and dinner foods), and candy (self-explanatory). By this point we were definitely getting tired of eating foods that came out of plastic bags or wrappers, and pretending to be excited about eating our millionth peanut butter cracker was funnier than perhaps it should have been. After a while we pulled ourselves together and finished our snacks before hiking on.

As we hiked on through the afternoon, we approached Lake Moxie and heard the watery laugh of two loons just before we could actually see the lake. We hiked ong the lake for a short time, then had to cross the river inlet. Meadow hopes across a few rocks and was able to keep one foot relatively dry. My shoes have consistently had less traction on rocks, and these were rounded, smooth, and covered with algae. I began slipping off the first stepping stone boulder and was able to just save myself from falling my jamming my trekking poles deep into the riverbed. However, the slipping risk seemed to great, so I stepped into the water and just forded across planted firmly on the ground. My feet were already pretty wet from the rain and mid puddles, so it didn’t make much difference to me! We arrived at the Bald Mountain Brook Lean-To shelter around 6pm, and changed into our camp shoes immediately. I wrung my socks out, perturbed at how bad they smelled even though they were laundered one day ago, and set them at the edge of the shelter to not dry. I collected a few liters of water while Meadow hung the bear rope, and we set up our sleeping kits in the dry shelter. We decided to have a Thru-Hiker staple for dinner for the first time: the Ramen Bomb. A ramen bomb is simply a ramen packet with instant mashed potatoes mixed in, and we decided to splurge on a packet of chicken to add. I’m ashamed to say it was actually delicious, although it’s possible that its appeal was based on its newness as something we haven’t had hundreds of times yet. Two other hikers joined us at the shelter, Cheese Foot and Wizard Spoon, and we shared a pleasant evening listening to the rain on the shelter roof and Cheese Foot playing his bear up guitar and singing. Cheese Foot is so named because he once used Doritos bags as shoe liners to keep his socks dry, and Wizard Spoon earned his name by mispronouncing Reese “Witherspoon” when telling a story of how he met the celebrity’s personal shopper at REI. Cheese Foot’s guitar had been with him for almost the whole AT (he bought it in Hot Springs for $20), and listening to him play and sing in the evening was a lovely way to end the day. It gre dark just after 8pm, and I fell asleep to the sounds of the rain growing heavy on the shelter roof, a few peals of thunder, and Cheese Foot practicing his guitar in his tent about forty feet away.

Day 160, Saturday August 26: After the storms during the previous night, we woke up a bit late in the shelter to partly cloudy skies and some sunshine. We packed up our stuff and ate breakfast while chatting with Wizard Spoon and Cheese Foot. It took us longer than usual to leave because they were so friendly; we didn’t hit the trail until almost 8:30am. We hiked the two miles up to Moxie Bald Mountain, which was totally fogged in but still beautiful. The sun tried its hardest to fight through the clouds, and we were able to enjoy some views of the foggy summit that were also oddly sunny.

On the way down the northern side of Moxie Bald Mountain, we were granted some spectacular views of the surrounding mountain valley. We quickly realized that our full focus was needed on the rocky trail, as the boulders and rock faces seemed to become smoother and more rounded the further north we traveled. I almost slipped several times, and began hiking through he mud rather than trying to balance on the rocks protruding from it.

We spent most of the rest of the hiking day in the Green Tunnel. Eventually the clouds broke up slightly to reveal a few small patches of blue sky, bit the threat of rain remained. In the afternoon we reached the Piscataquis River and had to ford it. We had passed two southbound hikers who had told us that the river was waist-deep and the current was pretty strong. Meadow and I hoisted our packs up as high as we could on our shoulders, and tentatively entered the river on the rocky southern bank. The water was inky black with tannins, and the riverbed was covered with rounded and very slippery rocks. Meadow made it across the first section and waited to make sure I would make it as well. As the water rose I began to get a little nervous, but knew that standing in the middle of the river forever was not a good plan. The water in the middle of the river was indeed moving pretty quickly, and maintaining three points of contact at all times between feet and trekking poles was necessary to keep from falling backwards into the current. The water came up to my waistline in the front, and just lapped at the bottom of my backpack in the back. After making it to the deepest part of the river, I was relieved when the water became shallower and walking the rest of the way out of the stream became easier. We had made it!

After emerging safely from the Piscataquis River, the trail followed along its northern bank for several miles until we reached our shelter for the evening. Charmer and Gravity were already there, and we were excited to spend the evening with them. A black and red tent was also set up by the shelter, but nobody had seen ots occupant yet. Gravity had a little citronella candle that she burned, which did nothing to repel the horde of mosquitoes but smelled good anyway and reminded me how much I miss candles. They tried to light a fire on the fire ring, but all the wood was too wet and they gave up after a few minutes. It started drizzling once again, and after a few distant rolls of thunder Meadow and I fist-bumped to celebrate being out of the elements. We cooked dinner and were ready for an early bedtime. Around 7pm, a woman emerged from the tent that had been set up by the shelter and came to talk to us. Her name was Linda (trail name Castaway), and she had a VERY interesting story. She had a light lilac purple puffy coat on and a dark purple wool hat, blue leggings and little camp shoes. She told us that she was 68 years old, and she wore bright blue-rimmed glasses and had short blond hair peeking out from under hat. She said she’s going SOBO But hit a major setback early in her hike: she got lost in the 100-Mile Wilderness for nine days. She at first got lost from the trail and set up her tent to regroup, then when she went to go get some water she got lost from her tent and all of her gear except her water filter. She said “I couldn’t believe that I couldn’t find the trail, and after that I couldn’t believe that I couldn’t find my tent. It was like I turned around to filter some water, and just like that my celery-green tent had been sucked into the forest like a bad Stephen King book.” With nothing but her water filter and the clothes she was carrying, she headed northeast and wandered around for 9 days; she ate a few blueberries that she found and didn’t sleep at night. After a few days of following a forest logging road she found two women who had been kayaking sleeping in their car; they drove Linda to the hospital where she was treated for malnourishment and dehydration and had blood work done…as soon as they released her, she came back to the trail against the advice of the police, purchasing an entire complement of new gear and a new phone. She said that if she went home after that, she would regret it for the rest of her life. She pulled out an emergency mylar blanket from her pocket, saying “Everyone should carry one of these. I keep this with me literally all the time now, so I will always have it even if I lose everything else.” I assured her I actually do carry one at all times, and that we had to use it once and I would also never go without again. As Linda told her story, I could feel myself staring at her with wide eyes and an open mouth, but I couldn’t do anything to compose myself. Linda was lucky to be alive, and the fact that she didn’t hesitate to return to the trail was both baffling and impressive. Linda asked the four of us about our hikes so far, but I think we all felt that her story has already set the tone for the conversation and we kept on asking her questions. After a while Linda said she was returning to her tent and wishes us well on the rest of our hikes. “And if you happen to stumble across a brand new green tent and a whole set of gear in the 100-Mile Wilderness, you can keep everything except I’d love to have my phone back.” And then she went back to her tent. I thought about her story until I fell asleep, reminding myself to take the trail seriously and make sure that Meadow and I kept a decent charge on her emergency GPS. The rain continued into the evening, bringing an early dusk, and we went to sleep just after 8pm.

Day 161, Sunday August 27: I had set my alarm for 5am, and when it went off the sky was still dark. I laid in my sleeping bag for another fifteen minutes before starting to pack up my gear, feeling around in the dark for the familiar stuff sack and air mattress bag. I grabbed my headlamp to head to the privy, and saw two of the biggest wolf spiders I had ever seen inside the privy. The enormous spiders were large enough to filet and taxidermy, which was gross and terrifying. We hit the trail around 6:30am, saying a temporary goodbye to Charmer and Gravity, as we would be seeing them around at Shaw’s hostel. We had a distance of nine miles to cover to reach the road crossing for Monson, Maine. The miles sees to pass slowly through the Green Tunnel, although we reached the road crossing by about 11am. We passed through the Piscataquis River again, this crossing a little shallower and therefore less scary than the ford crossing the previous day. We passed by the western edge of Lake Hebron, which extends the whole way over to Monson on its eastern edge. Eventually, we reached the road crossing in the late morning. Shaw’s shuttle drives to the trailhead starting at noon every day, so we knew we would be picked up in an hour. We attempted to hitchhike for about ten minutes and then gave up, changing into our camp shoes and laying our socks on the large parking lot rocks to dry. After about twenty minutes a large white suburban pulled into the parking lot, and who should step out of the driver’s seat but Jenn from Maine Road House! She was shuttling a few of her hikers back to a trailhead to slackpack them, and we said hello and had a jovial reunion. She asked us if we were going into town, and said “I have to drive right by there to go home, so why don’t you hop in?” We effusively thanked her and hopped in, and twenty minutes later we were standing outside Shaw’s Boarding House hostel. Shaw’s has been around for a long time, and currently has a reputation for being one of the best hostels on the AT. Meadow and I first heard about Shaw’s from Brian the Trail Angel outside of Pearisburg, Virginia. We had been looking forward to staying at Shaw’s for over 1,200 miles, and we were finally here! We dropped our stuff off on our bunks, and did the usual hostel arrival chores: laundry, shower, review the resupply, etc. We had planned on taking a zero day, and so would have the whole next day to purchase supplies and establish logistics for the rest of the hike. Around 5pm, Nick arrived! We ate some doughnuts, carrots and hummus, and a few other snacks that Nick brought. We spent the evening catching up and hanging out, and went to sleep at a relatively responsible hour.

Well folks, we are getting closer and closer to the end. We are holding strong in the space of loving every moment, while also acknowledging that we are ready to finish. We still have a long way to go, and it’s one of the most remote and beautiful sections of the trail: the 100-Mile Wilderness. I’ve been looking forward to this section since the beginning, and there’s only one way to go: Onward!