Date: 2003-09-16
From: Rainbow Stream Leanto

To: Abol Bridge (Millinocket)
Miles today: 11.2
Weather: light rain

The rain just pours down, the water is streaming down my wrists into my arms, down my legs, into my shoes, my feet and socks are soaked. My bangs are streaming water into my eyes, I can't see and suddenly, I can only laugh and laugh...It's virtually my last day on the AT, and the Trail is throwing as many experiences at me as she can.It started off with the worst sleep in a shelter yet. Those durn bag-diving, track-and-field mice kept me hyper-alert until I made some toilet paper earplugs (necessity is the mother of invention!) and pulled my head deep into my sleeping bag. I dreamt a little near dawn, but otherwise, it was a crazy, sleepless night. I won't miss those mice!In the morning, dehydrated, I broke down and treated some of the pond runoff from the stream outside, wading through the frogs to do it. I won't miss sketchy water sources either!The day started off partly cloudy and clouds up fast. Rain is predicted, so I'm not surprised. I'm only 30 miles from the end. I can take a little rain. I've been pretty blessed in the Dry-Day Department since Franconia Ridge, way back in the Whites.I plan to walk the 15 miles to Abol Bridge. Homeless, Unemployed and Dig have a car there, and are planning to bail into town if it gets really rainy. They offer me a ride into town, and I accept gratefully. I have no idea how I will get back from Millinocket to Abol Bridge, but no mater. Tomorrow is another day. It will sort itself out.I walk maybe a mile, following Rainbow "Stream" to, yes, sure enough, a pond. Reflexively, I scan the pond for moose. Dig, H&U are up ahead, stopped, and they motion me to be quiet. I tiptoe up to them and - oh, yes! A cow moose feeding and, what's that? Her calf off to the side! Most excellent!We snap a twig or two in our crowding to peer through the branches. Mom lifts her head from the water, water dripping, and stops chewing. She's outed us! But she doesn't flee, permits our presence. I suppose she figures she has the advantage there in the water. In fact, she actually approached closer to reach a tasty bit of swamp grass.We whip out our cameras and start snapping away. My photos seems so disappointingly far away, and she is right there! We can hear her chewing and lip-flapping.Homeless and I sit down to watch to our hearts content. We see Junior stretch out and... start to pee in the water, the pond runoff we so recently put in our water bottles. "Always filter your water," intones Dig. Pollywog creek, indeedAfter a good 45 minute visit, I finally move on. The guys have already left, John and Jason have joined us. As I walk on, fallen leaves scuff underfoot. At first it was just the yellowed leaves of birches and aspen. Now the red maples are starting to speckle the foot path. When I look up in the hills, I see reds mixed in with the yellows and greens.That moose-watching interlude, it turned out, was our only dry weather for the day. Shortly after, it began to rain. Drips at first, then steady, then harder.I hike up the interesting Rainbow Ledges, with its supposedly fantastic view of Katahdin. Of course, there is nothing to see. I had planned to lunch here, but it's too wet and exposed. I walk on to Hurd Brook Leanto, basically the last shelter of the Trail.Jason is there, and we both take a notion to make coffee. I rip open my last packet to find ... trash inside! A fooler! I had already used it up! Was I ever disappointed! If coffee is ever needed, it's on a grey, rainy day afternoon lunch.Jason to the rescue. He offers me a tablespoon or two of his ground coffee, and I make a very tasty cowboy coffee, adding the last of my milk. I trade him the rest of my Real Bacon bits. We agree, it's a satisfying trade on both ends. The AT version of stone soup.Homeless, Unemployed and Dig join us, and then we four walk on to Abol Bridge. I must admit, now with the rain, I am ready to be done with this. I am slipping and sliding again on Maine's abundant roots and rocks. I slosh through puddles with wet feet. My reluctance to leave the woods was based on the fabulous siren song of Maine's Indian summer days.We hear logging trucks grumbling in the distance. Then, suddenly, we are on the road, walking toward Abol Bridge and the store. Out of the 100 Mile Wilderness.I haven't felt very emotional about reaching Maine or even finishing, but walking up to that bridge, it hit me. A wham of recognition. My god! Only 15 more miles! I have virtually WALKED THE APPALACHIAN TRAIL!!!I started whooping and punching the sky. The other three, past thruhikers, just smile; they remember.Twenty miles into town, and I am dropped, drenching wet, at the hostel. I do the usual chores, get clean, produce dry clothes, eat. When I finally collect my pocketmail, there is an e-mail from Notes.He speaks of the dreaded "reentry:" "I feel like a man strapped to the prow of his ship: I can see where I am going but I have little control of how I get there. When I reached that last blaze I realized I am beginning another trip, without blazes to guide me. I hope I walk it well."Well put Notes!But enough about reentry. Tomorrow, I have to figure out how to get back to the Trail. It is now farther away (20 miles) than I have left to walk (15 miles).And, maybe, I'll even see another moose! Stranger things have happened.