Date: 2003-09-19
To: The Day After - Baxter Peak, Katahdin
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: overcast clouds

So here I was, climbing Katahdin a second time, back in Baxter State Park. Trooper was eager to show The Mountain to his 20-year-old son Joe. In fact, Trooper had hardly seen it himself, upon finishing his AT trek back in '97. "You could hardly see your hand in front of your face, it was so foggy," he'd said. Against all odds, Hurricane Isabelle was holding out. The dire forecast for showers was pushed back to this evening. It was another Class 1 Day! Trooper was finally going to see Katahdin.I was eager to climb this fantastic rockpile again, but also very weary. I could feel the cost of yesterday's exertion in my glycogen-depleted muscles. New areas of my body hurt. Wasn't feeling very fast today.Before the climb, I ran into Old Gazelle's wife, who had driven up to meet him. She was just as nice as he was. She told me Gazelle was already on the way up. Good! I would see him. She was going to spend the day scouting for moose. I gave her my map of Katahdin and surrounding area. TJ had marked "moosey spot" on it, so perhaps that would bear fruit.Trooper and Joe scrambled up the rocks like mountain goats, leaving me in their dust. Ha! I'm really tired of all these "townies" kicking my butt up mountains - 2200 miles has got to count for something! They would then take pictures and wait patiently for me to catch up. The climbing did seem easier today though. Guess I knew where all the handholds were. Or resigned to extreme hand-over-hand.At Thoreau Spring on the Tableland, we ran into Old Gazelle and Sidekick coming down from Baxter Peak. They were smiling broadly. I gave Gazelle a big hug and congratulated him. He'd spent 20 years waiting for this mountain. Now it was his.I told Trooper and Joe to scamper on ahead, and I took my time up the pink granite "stairway." At the top, I checked my watch - I'd shaved 20 minutes off yesterday's ascent time. Trooper & son were taking pictures of each other at The Sign and admiring the vistas.The view, I must say, was no less compelling than last time.I heard my name being called: there were Tadpole and Hover. Hover was just getting ready to do the picture thing with The Sign, and hung upside down from it. Another good hiker infected with Summit Silliness. I cheered and egged her on.Breezier up here today, and rather hazy. Clouds were gathering on the far horizon. I took Trooper over the side to see the fabulous Knife Edge which, in the '97 fog, he had even not known existed.I saw him staring thoughtfully at that precarious, blue blazed trail. After a lunch of smoked salmon and crackers among the sheltering rocks, he popped the question: Did I want to walk the Knife Edge?Well, I did and I didn't. The Knife Edge is a steep, narrow ridge or "arete", at times only a few feet wide. The sides are extremely steep, hence the name. The "hiker" must negotiate boulder outcrops and unstable footing with thousand foot drops awaiting a misstep.One guidebook said: "The route has many known accidents - some fatal- so take the weather seriously before ascending!" It, too, is listed as "strenuous." An understatement! There are no ropes or climbing aids a mile in the sky.It was a trail I'd always wanted to try. I was as fit and rock-wise now as I would ever be. Plus fearless Trooper would be the ideal climbing companion. On the other hand, the wind and clouds were picking up on this ultra-exposed ridge, my head was foggy from a week of poor sleep (damn Maine mice and peeled pine pole flooring!) and I knew my muscles were done in, mush, played out.I opted out this trip. I knew the next question was coming:"Would you mind if I did? It's calling my name."We worked out a plan. Trooper and son Joe decided to tackle the Knife Edge, then take the trail down to Roaring Brook campground on the backside of the mountain. I would go down the way I came, get the car and drive around the base of the mountain on the park's dirt roads to get them.I bid them adieu and godspeed. As I descended, I could watch their progress toward Pamola. The wind was picking up on The Tableland, and I hoped the gusts weren't too bad on the Knife Edge. Then, once again, I became absorbed in the mountain, giving each boulder my full attention. This was no Knife Edge, but it was still a challenge for me.At the bottom, I signed out for the last time. Two Class 1 days in a row were more than anybody had a right to. I felt so fortunate.I got the car, after warning some thruhikers behind me that "I haven't driven in awhile," then set off on the long drive to collect my friends. I found them walking up the road to stay warm.We went out for pizza to celebrate. They told me The Knife Edge was pretty hairy in spots, and relentless, one challenge after another. Son Joe had frozen at one place, exhausted, clinging to the mountain's side, but managed to keep on keeping on. I was very impressed. His father had climbed a mountain or two, but this was young Joe's first time on the high rocks. And what rocks! I told him he'd earned a Trail name for knocking off The Knife Edge on the first ascent; I christened him The Blade.So ends this story. I chilled a bit, then took a train south to Southern Pines, NC. Reentry is already, um, interesting, shall we say? I mean to write a gear review, acknowledgements, and set down a couple of other thoughts I'd had.Many of you had urged me to write a book. My answer was always the same: "First I have to walk the thing!" Well, the thing is now walked. I have two questions: why would someone buy something (since that's the bottom line of the publishing game) they've already read? Second, I have no idea how one goes from draft to publication. If anyone has some practical contacts, send me a note via the guestbook and I will reply privately.And isn't Trailjournals.com a fabulous site? I know the journals of last year helped me prepare, as well as inspired me. I drew enormous support and chher from the Guestbook on my personal journal. Lief and ZipDrive maintain the site out of pocket! It's a labor of love, and it takes alot of time. If you've gotten pleasure out of it, consider sending them a few bucks. Hit the "Support Us" button. This is NOT their day job. Thanks, guys!One HUGE acknowledgement before I cut out here: my transcriber Suz Buchanan and Ken Wescott, my Photo Support Guy have just been amazing. They are the reason these scribbles and photos appeared at all on this forum Trailjournals.com, much less as fast as they did. On their own, both of them did behind-the-scenes work that made me look like a million bucks - literate and photo-savvy. The things they did went above and beyond my expectations. I have been deeply touched by this enthusiasm, effort and generosity. It is the finest, most sincere form of support, and I drew upon it during hard times. I am very grateful, and very blessed, to have friends such as these. And I thank you all for reading along.