Date: 2016-08-16
From: Millinocket, ME

To: Baxter Peak, Katahdin
Miles today: 5.2

Day 11010.4 miles in 9 hours (but only 5.2 counts toward accumulated AT mileage)Katahdin Stream Ranger Station (2184) to Baxter Peak, Northern Terminus of the Appalachian Trail Weather: Sunny, extremely pleasant, perfect summit weather¢except for some gusty windsDinner: Uncharacteristically, grilled ribeye steak Hikers: Spirit, Rabbit and wife, Beth, Subman and Suds, Tumbleweed and his wife, Forest and his girlfriend, Turtur, Tumbleweed and his family, Bald Whistler, Cruise Director, and bazillions of Baxter Park day hikersAnd this morning, I summited Katahdin. It was clear and sunny, I was with members of my tramily and my husband was by my side. In short, an epic day.Sam and were qued twenty cars deep and hadn't passed through the park gate until 7 a.m. Then there was the matter of obtaining the AT thru-hiker permit which I hadn't been able to procure upon arrival two days earlier. Then the ranger was out of the office posting a trailhead weather report. It wasn't until 7:45 a.m. that we finally on the trail.The 5.2-mile trail was a summary of the past four months¢flat, well-tramped dirt, roots, rocks, boulder scrambling and climbing. It followed a cascading brook, passed through birches, beeches and maples, then pines and Krummholz finally emerging above tree line. As has been our pattern since Gorham, New Hampshire, Spirit arrived first¢and waited for me to show up. I met Cruise Director a few tenths of a mile short of the summit. She told me it was both pretty cold at the top and that Spirit had collapsed at the foot of the iconic terminus sign sobbing. My pace quickened. Since the Whites, after nearly 1300 miles and 110 days of hiking, I¢ve been contemplating that Maine might very well be the end for me. I¢m tired of wearing the same frequently damp clothes, pulling on a wet bra each morning. I resent many parts of the trail¢s foot-bruising and soul-wrenching architecture giving me the distinct impression designers could paint a white blaze on virtually any uneven surface knowing full well hikers will follow them like lemmings¢and like lemmings, the trail has taken us over cliffs. Those blazes lead over some of the most untrail-like trails I've ever seen. And, once I started passing by¢and often swimming¢in the northern lakes, I started to fantasize about my two year-old solo canoe that's been shelved all season, taking my remaining food and heading up to the Boundary Waters for a few weeks yet this fall. I could be in actual wilderness and be on the water vs. concerned with finding and carrying it. And the elevation changes are comparably null. And then there is family. I¢d be home sooner to see that rapidly changing new grandson. And so as I started to pull ahead of Sam, marching up over the littered rocks toward that sign, and searching for Spirit within the crowd, my heart was full of conflict. I expected to burst into tears. I expected an answer to become clear. Instead. Spirit waved to me and gave me a hug that will last a lifetime. We laughed and then I said I had to touch that sign that was still a few yards away. Quite likely, but apologetically, we jumped into line and took summit photos. We ate lunch protected by rocks out of the wind. And then we headed back down. I'm writing this post from the shores of Moosehead Lake, less than fifty miles, but still a few hours drive from Katahdin (because you can't get there from here), and one of the lakes I paddled five years ago. Yesterday, Sam and I hiked up Mt. Kineo with the newlyweds Justine (Miss Daisy) and TK (ATK), who drove up from their homestead about an hour away to spend the day with us. This trip has been remarkable not only in the distance traveled to date, but measured in the relationships amassed over the years and past weeks. From complete strangers who housed me for a weekend; to friends I've known since college who provided the opportunity to slackpack¢and wear great loaner clothes; to friends I've only known for a few years who gave me rides, held parties, massaged my feet, shared cabins, hosted me in their B&B and provided moral support; to friends who even had me witness their wedding; to friends back home who have sent notes, cookies, biscotti and even wine; to new friends, united now by our shared experiences traversing the Appalachian Trail, this trip far surpasses a mere backpacking adventure.Sam and I are taking a week heading back to Harpers Ferry where another of my food drops were left in anticipation of my flip¢hiking to Georgia and the southern terminus. Like this visit to Moosehead Lake, I want to show him some of my hiking highlights or missed opportunities. We¢ll hit Mt. Washington, via (gasp!) the road¢where I can only hope to be judged by odiferous thru-hikers, hit the bakeries I missed in Bennington, Vermont and Salisbury, Connecticut and maybe, if I'm feeling particularly forgiving, pass through some of the quaint towns in Rocksylvania. I still don't know what I'll decide to do and probably won't until I see that first blaze where I departed back in April in Shenandoah National Park. What I do know at this point, there is no wrong answer.