Date: 2007-10-08
To: Bigelow Preserve
Miles today: 0.0

It was even better than I thought it would be. V8 had planned a two night hike for us up in the Bigelow Preserve, which would be only a second full backpack experience in recent years for me. I was festering about my knees, my relative lack of fitness, etc., etc., ahead of time in that quiet, understated, personal kind of way some of us do. We sallied forth on Friday the 5th, with the additional presence of none other than Uncle Tom, who was in desperate need of a detox protocal. The poor guy had been all off kilter since returning home, so we felt it was our duty to the hiking community to return him to the trail for a more measured withdrawal experience. We instituted a program of shorter miles, slower pace and completely new people to chat with, as a way to titrate him down from the mega-doses of Megatex. He tolerated the treatment well, and appears to be gaining ground in his recovery as we speak. Will he return to the agony of his former cravings? Unclear at present.I had started my kit with a 2# pack, a GG Vapor Ki, and an assortment of the usual items weighing in at under 20# total. I was ecstatic. I felt the difference within the first half mile: the pack carried well and I felt far less burdened than with the 35# of yore. The day was bright and clear in that sharp, ultra colorful way that a New England fall generates. We had spotted one car about 5 or 6 miles away, and then began our trek into the Safford Brook tentsite. Located below Avery Peak, it hovered midpoint in a vast ravine full of deciduous trees and the blazing color of early October. I was loving the crunch underfoot and the waves of earthy leaf mold smells interspersed with balsam and pine along the way. The trail was a gradual ascent, but even so, V8 stopped regularly for me to catch my breath, which I felt more as an elevated heart rate. She would stop just before I was feeling it, and the brief standing breaks really kept me going. Tom had been sent on ahead to throw down his gear at the tent site and head up to Avery peak and back. He had a lot of pent up energy to burn, and needed to be alone up high for reflection and the work of integration.That first evening we set up on a tent platform in the last tenting area near a "house sized" boulder that slanted over a flat area. Smoke from many fires had blackened a path upward along the rock face, and we could imagine the campfires that had taken place there over the years. I shared the double Rainbow tent with my sister, and with our heads at opposite ends, had enough room for our stuff and to move around without needlessly disturbing the other. The Rainbow can be set up with hiking poles to make it freestanding, but it takes a knowledgeable guide to figure out how to do it. Uncle Tom showed us how to do that, and he set up his one man tent on a site below us. Lying back on the platform before it got dark, we watched the leaves loosen and then begin to fall from the maples high above us. In an almost unnatural cadence, each one would "tick" and then release itself, swinging slowly through the air currents on its way to ground. V8 said that it looked like a computer game called, "Zen Garden". I got a little zoned out there as I watched the show, sensing the detail and pressure of daily life being drawn out by the vastness around me.While cleaning up after supper, we noticed a light coming through the woods, and a tall, lean fellow named Tony asked us where the water was. In the dusky light with leaves covering everything, the trail was totally obscured. The blazes there were a faded blue that were almost undetectable by then. As these things tend to go, however, Tony found his water and set up under the protective wall of the firepit area, while he, a triple crowner, and Uncle Tom reminisced about trail life.I bumbled my way awkwardly through inflating an air mat and stuffing it into my sleeping bag sleeve: it's cush to sleep on, but embarrassing to set up! I was glad there were no sleeping bodies to either side of me during that wrestling match. We all experienced very strong winds roaring through the ravine during the night, and thought about what the place would be like in the winter. On Saturday morning we saddled up and started back onto the AT toward Little Bigelow Lean-to. That trail edges along some panoramic views of Flagstaff lake and a variety of mountain peaks. It was warmer than usual, in the high 60's and just perfect hiking weather. We caught Uncle Tom on a reflective coffee break overlooking the valleys, waiting for us as we chugged along behind him. It was good to see him enjoying his leisure. At lunch we spread out on a rocky precipice right at the 2000 mile marker, which had been carefully arranged in little stones on the ground at the trail 's turn. I could only imagine the feelings of the people passing through there this year, many of whose journals I had been reading all along.Little Bigelow Lean-to was quiet when we arrived mid afternoon. By 7pm we grew to a group of 12. V8 and I tented on a sandy flat spot behind the shelter, and Tom tucked in to get a dose of shelter life for the night. College hikers from Orono, ME made a warm bright fire in the rocky fireplace, and we talked about the Penobscot River watershed and its ecological issues for awhile. In the night the rain began, growing heavy at times. The Rainbow was a little trooper, as I had a dry pack and boots in the morning, items that had resided under the vestibule, and no leakage onto my bag or clothing from the net sides either. I was happy as heck about that. We were the first folks out in the morning, as we were looking forward to breakfast at the diner in Madison. The trail down to the second car was a total delight, with uncharacteristically few roots or rocks in the path. This brief hike was one of the best trips I have been on, as I built a little more confidence in my body and equipment, and felt very stongly how influential life in the outdoors can be for me.