Date: 2011-08-10
From: (125) Horseshoe Canyon Lean-to

To: (126) Monson ME
Miles today: 8.7
Weather: scattered clouds

Today every single person in the shelter woke up at 5:30am and started packing or cooking, like some kind of collective hive formed of individuals but containing the same thoughts and drive. It is very rare that all of the inhabitants of a shelter will wake like this (Especially so early), and I was happy to be going with the flow instead of tip toeing around while everyone else sleeps, which is what usually happens.Barely into it, the ever charitable skies of Maine opened up and blessed me with rain, so that by the time I reached the road into Monson I was completely soaked. Despite my resemblance to a drowned rat, I hitched into Monson pretty quickly and was dropped off at the local Lakeside Hostel (An easy find, the majority of the town existed along a single road lined with American Flags), where I stashed my pack for safe keeping. My plan was to do my chores, such as purchasing food, and then hike out in the evening. But of course, plans tend to fall through, especially when better opportunities are revealed (And Rain¢¦ mostly the rain). I ran into Shepherd and Burly on the hostel porch (I was sitting on a hard wood bench watching the rain fall by the gallons while wishing that it would follow my example and ¢Go take a hike¢). Both of my friends were surprised to see that I had not finished the trail, so I told them how I had had lyme disease twice. I learned from them that Spoon, Estereo, and Malarkey were also at the hostel, all of whom I had been hiking with in PA and Jersey before getting off in New York at Bud Heavy¢s house and later getting sick. I realized, with content, that after my 3 zero weeks I had caught up to the same hiker bubble that I had left, and only a hundred some miles from the finish!The rain never stopped, and I walked through it wearing just my fleece to the Monson General Store (I don¢t even bother trying to stay dry anymore, it¢s an uphill battle). I resupplied, buying only 3 days worth of food to make it through the hundred mile wilderness. There is no room for failure, either I hike 100 miles in three days, or I starve. Back at the hostel I combined all of my laundry (two pairs of crusty socks) with a hiker named Kodiak to save money. The washing machine had a post-it note on it informing me that ¢If you get shorted a quarter, lightly punch the machine above the dispenser (No, I¢m not kidding!)¢. While my socks were slowly returning to their original color, I hung out on the porch some more with Hand-Me-Down, Tridub, Twigg, River Rat, and Whiskey Slim, all of whom were taking it easy in town while the rain continued to fall. Eventually the public library across the street opened up, and I went inside to use the internet. Unfortunately the network was down, so I sat and read for a good three hours while all of my electronics charged. By the time I left the library it was getting late, and of course, the rain was still coming down, so I decided to stay in town for the night and not hike out until the morning. Besides, it was meal time! But where to eat in such a small town?Every Wednesday Monson has an 8 dollar community center supper where locals make lots of cover dishes and everyone can come and eat. Needless to say that word travels fast, and every thru hiker in town was there to join in on the feast (I remember walking down the sidewalk towards the community center and seeing diverging groups of thru hikers ahead and behind me all doing the same, like ants swarming a fallen Caterpillar ). The community center was packed with what I assumed was the entire town, and all of us hikers were given a side room of our own (They told us the reason was so that we could be together, but we knew it was because of the smell), where we filled two long tables elbow to elbow and feasted like kings (The desert table never saw us coming). We were one of the largest groups of thru hikers the community had ever had at one time during their Wednesday dinners, and in a way I felt bad because we ate so very, very much of their food.Back at the hostel I sat on the porch yet again, shivering and watching the rain. A middle aged man was sitting with me, and he told me that he was doing a ¢flip flop¢ hike, meaning that he had hiked half the trail, and then flew to the other end in Maine to hike the second half southbound. He told me that he had to do a flip flop because he had gotten off trail and would have been too far behind to make it to the end before Baxter State Park closed (Oct 15th is the deadline for Nobos). I asked him why he had gotten off trail and he said, without blinking an eye, that his ¢Balls had swollen up to the size of grapefruit¢. I erupted with laughter, but then stopped when I saw he was being serious. Then I caught another hiker¢s eye who had heard but was trying not to smile, and I started cracking up again (Shamelessly), because hey, it was funny! (And besides, his testicles would have shrunk anyway once it got cold out). The Hostel, not meant to house so many hikers at one time, turned out to be very cramped inside. The owners were hardly around, and a South Bounder who had been doing work-for-stay for over a week was running the place (He was waiting for his injured dog to heal). I was going to pay to sleep on the floor, when I was invited to stay with Twigg, Hand-Me-Down and River Rat, who had been given a place to stay for free by the nice owner of the Monson General Store. It turned out to be a fully furnished and uninhabited apartment above the general store, complete with television, couches, beds, bathroom and kitchen! It was a home to ourselves, and we spent the night watching movies before sleeping (in my case on the floor) for free. We were dry, warm, and out of the rain!