Email Journal

10/06/04. Katahdin

Dear family and friends,

I summited Katahdin on October 2, ending a unique and wonderful phase of my life. I got home late last night and am beginning my reintegration into civilization. Here's the last chapter of my story.

The morning we left Shaw's in Monson I had another lumberjack breakfast: 5 huge blueberry pancakes, 8 strips of bacon, home fries and coffee. However Shivers amazed us all by devouring a "4 by": 4 pancakes, 4 eggs, 4 strips of bacon, 4 pieces of ham, 4 sausages, and a pile of home fries. The last couple of pancakes were tough but he did it. I already miss the guilt-free gluttony of the trail. Multiple thru-hiker Loon advised us to cut food consumption back to ordinary levels immediately upon finishing or face a ballooning waistline when calories-out no longer match calories-in. This is hard to do judging from the profiles of many trail angels that had hiked the trail in previous years.

The section after Monson is called the 100 Mile Wilderness. This term originated not because it is a trackless wasteland - in fact lumber roads cross the trail from time to time. It was called a wilderness because there was no place to buy food, again showing thru-hiker priorities. Large signs at each end of the "wilderness" warn hikers not to underestimate the difficulty of this section and to carry at least 10 days of food. However food and lodging are now available at White House Landing 69 trail miles from Monson. It's a good thing White House Landing is there because my small lightweight backpack can hold at most 5 days of food. So reaching White House Landing in 5 days was the plan.

On our first day out from Monson, Doc, Shivers, Southern Man, Alaska and I walked 15 miles over rough terrain - no mountains, but lots of rocks, roots, and small granite rills aligned with the flow of the last ice sheet. The highlight was the ford of Big Wilson Stream which got almost knee deep with a swift current. The 100 miles contains a number of fords, but fortunately water levels were moderate due to the recent dry spell.

Several hikers had told us that the 100 miles has no major mountains so we were expecting a fairly easy walk through the woods, similar to the section just before Monson. However these hopes were dashed on the second day when we trudged along a long ridge with many ups and downs, including Barren Ledges, Barren Mountain, Fourth Mountain, Third Mountain, Columbus Mountain, and Chairback Mountain, ending with a boulder field descent from Chairback. It was like a mini version of the Bigelows. Took us 11 hours to go 15 miles. The Fall color was really beginning to develop, especially on the north slopes, with many fine views from these peaks.

I've noticed that hikers tend to give wildly inaccurate reports on sections they have hiked. Memory is selective, and often people just remember the last or most memorable part of a section and describe the whole section that way. One notorious example that we heard again and again early in the hike was "Virginia is flat". It is true that Shenandoah National Park is mostly an easy walk, but that is only 100 miles of 550 in Virginia and near the end. Most of the rest is up and down ridges, with many 1000 and 2000 foot climbs. The problem is expectation. If your expectation is a cakewalk then those 1500 foot climbs are much more difficult. The Whites were the toughest part of the trail but we all expected that. We spent a lot of time joking about "no major mountains in the 100 miles" and "Virginia is flat".

The next day, Sep. 26, started with a ford of the West Branch of the Pleasant River. A southbounder had told us two days earlier that all remaining rivers to Katahdin could be crossed without getting our feet wet, so we were dumbfounded to see a 100 foot wide river in front of us. After some discussion we concluded that either 1) the sobo could walk on water, or 2) he had crossed by walking on his hands.

After the river Doc, Shivers, and I did part of a side trail part way up the Gulf Hagas Rim Trail, billed in the guidebook as the Grand Canyon of the East. Thru-hikers abhor unnecessary walking so side trips are a rarity, but we were lured by the glowing description. Unfortunately the first 1.5 miles of the "rim trail" proved to be a green tunnel like most of the A.T. with no views of anything except leaves. We gave up and retreated, cursing the unknown marketing genius that came up with "Grand Canyon of the East". Maybe it got better further up the 5 mile trail.

Later that day we ascended another ridge with Gulf Hagas Mountain, West Peak, Hay Mountain, and White Cap. Although we had been catching glimpses of Katahdin for some days it was always nearly obscured by White Cap. Now that we were standing on White Cap, Katahdin was revealed at last and much closer as well. The air was exceptionally clear and Fall color was nearing the peak. Katahdin was an awesome sight, a looming massif ringed by cirques, massive, solitary, reaching far above the tree line, our destination in sight at last on this long long trail.

It took two more days of easy walking to reach White House Landing. This section was heavenly - the trail wound between sparkling lakes and ponds unsullied by cabins, jet skies, or boats. It truly felt like a wilderness, a precious thing which I hope is preserved for the future. The weather continued to be perfect with warm sunny days and cool nights. Doc, Shivers, and I walked together for the whole 100-mile section. Southern Man walked ahead but we saw him in the evenings. Alaska walked behind and we saw him several times each day.

Both Alaska and Southern Man saw moose but the three of us did not, perhaps because we made too much noise walking as a group. A young bull moose came crashing out of the woods in front of Alaska, perhaps hoping he was a cow. It was the moose rutting season, called the "crazy time" in Maine. Alaska is a seasoned outdoorsman with plenty of moose experience from his home state, so he made sure the young bull knew he wasn't a cow by waving his arms and shouting, not cow-like behavior. The bull watched for a bit then wandered off, disappointed.

White House Landing is reached via a 1.3 mile side trail which brought us to a boat dock. Following posted instructions I blew an air horn. Some time later a boat came across the bay and took us to WHL. WHL bills itself as "an oasis in the 100 mile wilderness", and we supported this description heartily. We enjoyed hot showers, bunks with mattresses, and ample meals that night. WHL is too remote for power lines or telephone lines. They use propane mantle lamps for light in each building.

We walked two more days through beautiful woods lit with Fall color, along cascading streams, past mirror lakes, across rocky ledges. It felt like a period of grace, with so much behind us and only a few days left. We had perfect Fall weather as we walked slowly and savored the last days.

Early afternoon on Sep 30 I was delighted to meet Don "Hikerhead" Hoke coming toward us southbound. Don is a dedicated section hiker from Virginia and one of the three guys I started the trail with way back in Georgia. He had hoped to summit Katahdin with me but the dates didn't quite work out. Nevertheless he drove all the way up here to spend a day with us near the end of the trip.

We walked together to Abol Bridge Campground, the north end of the 100 miles. The view of Katahdin from Abol Bridge is stunning, with the base of the monster a mere five miles away. Doc, Shivers, Southern Man, Alaska, Hikerhead, and I all set up our tents in two shared sites in the campground with Katahdin right in front of us. I was good to have companions at the end. We set up chairs facing Katahdin and each had a beer from the camp store courtesy of Alaska. We spent a couple hours just talking softly and gazing at the Mountain, our goal for so many months and so many miles. That night Hikerhead drove us all into the nearby town of Millinocket for a nice dinner together.

October 1 was another warm and perfectly clear day. Don left for home while the rest of us walked 10 miles through Baxter State Park to the base of the mountain. The trail followed a winding route along rivers, streams, waterfalls, and ponds. Had lunch sitting on granite bedrock in the sun by Little Niagara Falls on Nahmakanta Stream. Easy walking and plenty of time, we walked slowly with many stops to admire the beauty. We reached Katahdin Stream Campground about 2PM and set up camp at The Birches, a site reserved for long distance hikers. The ranger gave us each an application for the Appalachian Trail Conference 2000 Mile Award, a patch available to people who have hiked the entire A.T. over one or more years.

The weather had been so good for so long that we were saying "we will have to pay for this", a reaction I call Michigan weather guilt. Those of us living in Michigan feel we don't deserve much good weather, otherwise we wouldn't be living here. When a long string of good weather does happen we feel unworthy. The mountain is so exposed to wind and weather that it can only be climbed under good conditions. If we had one day the entire trip we could ask for good weather it would be the day we climbed the Big K, and we were afraid we wouldn't get it. Yet Oct 2 dawned clear again and we were set for our ascent of Katahdin.

We left most of our gear at the ranger station and started up the Hunt Trail. The first mile was easy walking through the woods, the next half mile a gradual ascent along Katahdin Stream including a fine waterfall. Then the fun began. The trail quickly got steeper and rockier until we were clambering up a boulder-strewn spine called Hunt Spur. We soon emerged from the trees to sweeping views of nearby peaks and plunging canyons, lakes and woodlands rolling off into the distance, everything mantled in red and gold leaves. Large lakes in the middle distance were blanketed in morning mist.

Hunt Spur kept us working for 2 miles horizontally and 3000 foot vertically until we arrived at The Tableland, a broad almost flat area at the top of Katahdin. Katahdin is by far the highest mountain in Maine at 5267 feet, and more impressive because it is a solitary peak rising over 4000 feet from the surrounding lowlands. Yet it looks like an even larger mountain that had the top cut off leaving a wide flat top, almost like a butte out west. We walked across The Tableland for a mile or so, then up a short ridge and there we were at the summit.

In addition to Doc, Southern Man, Shivers, and I, there were about 6 other thru-hikers that summited that day, young people we had met the night before at the Birches. Most people felt triumphant. Shivers sent out a series of war whoops when he reached the top. There were lots of smiles and pictures with the summit sign, and group photos. Dolphin, a section hiker who hiked with Doc earlier in the trip and returned to summit Katahdin with him, produced a bottle of champagne and we all had a glass.

My own emotions were mixed. I viewed the trail as something to be experienced not conquered, and upon reaching the end I was surprised to feel a little sad. It was very strange to see the last white blaze directly under the Katahdin summit sign. "There are no more white blazes!" I said in mock distress. "My life has no direction!" A few people smiled but obviously didn't feel that way. I could see why some people have actually turned around and started south again after reaching Katahdin.

All too soon we were back at Katahdin Stream Campground and preparing to head our separate ways. Doc left with Dolphin after a round of handshakes. Shivers, Alaska, and I rode with Shiver's Dad Mike to the Big Moose Inn near the park entrance. We shared a cabin courtesy of Mike, and had a pleasant meal at the Inn with another bottle of champagne. Southern Man and girlfriend Gloria stopped by to say goodbye. The next day Mike dropped me off at a motel near Portland airport, and I flew home on the evening of Oct 4, six months to the day after first setting foot on the Appalachian Trail at Springer Mountain Georgia.

I've felt a bit disoriented since coming home. People talk about "reentry", a process of gradually speeding up until you can keep up with the frenetic pace of ordinary life. Doesn't sound too appealing. Think I'll go for a hike instead.

With best wishes,

Raven