Last Legs

I must admit, I have generally been dreading and putting off this blog for some time. Perhaps because I know it will take me so long to compile all the goings-on or to sort out all the swirling thoughts and emotions of my cracked brain into some kind of coherence. Or maybe because it's the last little bit of the AT I can still cling to. And I know I just ended that last statement with a preposition, and it kills me. But I digress. Whatever the reasons for my hesitance, I now suck it up and give you the end days of my hike.

I suppose the last time you heard from me on trail, I had put my tail between my legs and retreated back to Monson after a soaking, spirit-killing day in the 100 Mile Wilderness. At the suggestion of our friend, Nest, we did indeed consult a Maine atlas and were pleased (I was more overjoyed) to find a couple of wonderful logging roads that would slice of miles and days from our final trek. After drying and recuperating for one more night in Monson, we set out once again, on a bright day with bright spirits, equipped with interim hiking poles thanks to the lovely ladies at the hostel, and knowing our hiking days would soon be finished. We stood on Main St. and stuck out our thumbs, and it was none too long before we were on our way up to Greenville, where we would hit our road back into the wilderness. We were dropped off in front of an outfitters and had planned on simply walking down the road 'til we hit the trail, but the good Lord smiled on us yet again, and no sooner had we unloaded our packs from one car than we were throwing them in the back of another. In fact, the car belonged to none other than Jim Soandso, Democratic candidate for the Maine state legislature, and since Voodoo was so eager to learn all about his political ideals, he decided to drive us all the way up to the gate, leaving us only 2 miles of nice flat gravel road to walk back to the trailhead. And as if the day wasn't already shaping up beautifully, we had only walked about half a mile before we turned a corner to find a big bull moose standing in the middle of the road, staring right at us. We kept our distance, obviously, and waited for the big guy to move on before we went any further, but it was just one more of those random occurrences that seem to signal we're going in the right direction, wherever we are. We didn't go too much further before an AMC employee pulled his pick-up over for us to hop in, and in two shakes of a walrus' mustache we were back on the trail.

The first thing to greet us on our second wilderness inauguration was, of course, a river ford. But, huzzah! - it wasn't raining and the water levels had subsided, so crossing was as easy as throwing on some flip flops and wading to the other side. Voodoo even got a leech on his toe! Woohoo! Then a fairly easy five miles to the shelter for the night. An excellent restart. The next day's weather wasn't as gorgeous, but not demoralizing. The temperature dropped a little, and a general drizzle of rain pervaded. We had to cross the last couple of mountains between us and Katahdin, including Whitecap, where there was allegedly a wonderful view of the Big K. However, when we arrived there was only fog and rain and cold, so we didn't tarry. When we stopped for lunch at the next shelter, my hands were so cold you would have thought it was the dead of winter. Once we moved on, though, and descended some more the air warmed dramatically. We found our destination shelter that night to be spacious and new - a welcome sight. The word on tomorrow's weather was rain all day. Let me say, I had had more than enough of rain. Words can't even describe. Luckily, with all our shortcutting around, Voodoo and I both had more than enough food to make it to the end, so we opted on the side of dryness and spent the whole next day sitting in the shelter, being lazy and ridiculous, but definitely not wet.

Day 3 of the wilderness included one last stream fording (it took some maneuvering, but was hardly terrible), a quick and easy 12 miles of trail, and then one last logging road blue-blaze. The weather called for clouds, but no rain, and for once it seemed that we had not been lied to. It was still cold, though. Even when we broke for lunch I could hardly stop moving or I would be overcome with chills. A shelter thermometer told us it was about 46 degrees at noon. Jeez. After lunch, we sped down the last four miles to the road, eager to start shortcutting, and the closer we got, the more it rained. It started with a mere misting, which turned into a steady drizzle, and by the time we finally reached the road there were in fact rain drops. Luckily, there was a flat little cove of pine needles nearby, and we threw up the party tarp one last time right before the dripping gave way to real rain. This was not a boost to my already dwindling morale. The forecast for the next several days had called for more of the same. So huddled against the elements once again, we began to consider all of our options. The road before us (physically and metaphorically) had two directions - go left, back to the trail, and see out the last 2-3 days of the trail as originally planned, or go right, out of the wilderness to the highway and into Millinocket, and wait to return for the Big K summit. I have to admit that this little rainstorm was probably the last nail in the coffin of my hike. But then I have always been quick to side with ease and comfort. Basically I turn into a whiny pansy. I didn't want this to affect Voodoo's decision, because it's his trail experience, too, and I know that usually I'm being hasty and irrational. If he wanted to continue I would put on my big girl panties, suck it up, and walk on. Lucky for me, he chose town. We took a right, initially planning to walk a few miles to a campground for the night, but for one last time things worked out better than planned, as they always seem to do on the AT. After a few miles walking, a car pulled up alongside us, drove us all the way down the road to the entry/exit gate, and dropped us off with beer, iced tea, trail mix, tabouli, and lots of chips. We proceeded to inquire with the nice old lady at the checkpoint station which was the way into Millinocket and were informed that the chances of a hitch were probably slim to none. However, another lady, who frequently shuttles in and out of the wilderness, had stopped to chat, was about to leave, and offered to take us the rest of the way to town for a small fee. Once more, I became confident that this was the path we were meant to take. Everything would fall in its right place. In Millinocket, we opted to set ourselves up for a night of stylish relaxation at the Econo Lodge in celebration of the end of our journey.

Thus concludes the hiking part of this story. It has taken me a ridiculously long time to relate just this fraction of it, because my attention span is shorter now than it has ever been. Therefore, I think I shall pause and regroup at another time to continue the tale, for there is so much more to tell! And you thought this blog would end with my hike. Fooled again! Next time - forbidden mountains, road trips, and sorghum...