Date: 2014-07-21
From: Stratton

To: Gorham
Miles today: 110.0

Hello! Because I've been without access to internet for so long, this is the second part of a large update. If you haven't caught up on the time between Monson and Stratton, it should be the entry right before this one. I apologize for any spelling errors and such, as I've exhaustively typed all of this out on my phone. Also, it's rather difficult to keep track of exact mileage and such. I'd just ignore that part of the entry, up to the right. (I'm at 298.2 here in Gorham). 7/9: The night between the 8th and 9th is in the running for the absolute hottest night of my life, with humidity settling in in full force. Crocker Mountain was ahead, and with my stomach still rebelling against the rest of my body, the relatively gentle climb was ruinous. I had to stop at a campsite on the other side, only 7.4 miles from the road, simply in hopes of some relief from the gastro-torment.7/10: I woke up in the morning, hardly rested from the discomfort of the night, and knew there was no way I was walking that day. I decided to take an impromptu zero day, with lots of sleep and resting. Not much to say about this day, to be honest; it was slow, relaxing, slow and slow. The highlight of the day was when a large camp of day-hiking kids came in, ages 10 or so. I answered some questions about the trail, such as how long it is, what a bear hang was, and it's actual name ("are you hiking the interstate trail?").7/11: Feeling a bit better, I decided I could make it the 14.2 miles over Sugarloaf and Spaulding in hopes I might catch up with my hiking 'group', only to find they had continued on to the shelter on the other side of the Saddlebacks. 22.2 miles seemed a bit much in my condition, so I stayed at the shelter. That night, figuring out logistics, I realized I screwed up; I'd be arriving at Rangely the next day, a Saturday night. I had a mail drop with food and a phone waiting at the post office. Thus, I was forced to take yet another zero in Rangely, waiting to get my mail. I soothed my frustration at this with the fact that I would be able to watch the World Cup finals. On my hike that day, I also ran into a familiar couple: Rock and Roll, the day hikers from Bigelow! We caught up briefly, then continued on our separate ways.7/12: Over the Saddlebacks and into Rangely was the plan, hoping to let my group know that I was safe. The Saddlebacks was the best hiking of the trail yet; 3 miles above alpine, with conditions clear enough to see back to Katahdin and forward to Washington. Up at the summit, of course, I yet again ran into Rock and Roll, and took a picture for them. Surprisingly, I also ran into a group from Outward Bound, a wilderness therapy program. I talked to them briefly, but it was pretty obviously they didn't really want to talk about the experience; embarrassment and such. Upon getting to the road, hitching to Farmhouse Hostel and getting a ride into downtown, I found Brew, Boone and Shayna again. Together we all got ice cream and Brew, living up to his trail name, got us all a six pack of a local beer. With the rain of the 4th, Rangely delayed their firework show until that night, so we sat on the beach and enjoyed a quintessential summer night.7/13: My zero in Rangely went by quickly, as I essentially was just waiting around until 3 for the World Cup. A NoBo named RocDoc and I went to the local sports bar, shared a pizza and watched the hopes and dreams of Argentina be crushed. Nothing much else to say as I recooperated, except that hummus is good. Like, really good.7/14: At 9:30 on the dot I showed up at the post office to pick up my mail drop, with food (jolly ranchers! WHOOHOO!) and a phone. Hitched a ride back to the trailhead. At first I was rather nervous, as I didn't start hiking until about 11, yet I hammered out the 10 miles in about 4.5 hours. Of course, halfway down the trail I yet again run into Rock and Roll, hiking back to the road. We exchanged please triesAt the shelter (which had a beach; neat!) I met two girls who were actresses from New York, and shared stories and jolly ranchers with them.7/15: The forecast called for rain at 7, so I did a shelter hop and spent the day reading. At around 4 in the afternoon, about the time I would've been summiting Old Blue, the clouds burst, and a torrential downpour punished the land and anyone outside. I finished my book, Fast Food Nation, and strangely I had never craved McDonalds more than I did at that moment. The hiker mentality is rather strange.7/16: The rain didn't let off until about 2 in the afternoon, so over Old Blue and the intimidating Sawyer Notch the trail was little more than a creek. The descents were absolutely treacherous, as steep granite becomes tremendously slippery when it's wet. More than once, my footing would fail and I would have to completely support myself with my trekking poles. I was relatively relieved to know the rain probably wouldn't last long, what with the Mahoosuc range approaching quickly.7/17: At this point I knew that I was officially in 'Southern Maine', often touted as the second most difficult part of the trail. And yet, with all of its reputation, I pulled off a 14 mile day over the Baldpates as if it was just another day. Granted, it was difficult and my feet hurt, but throughout the last 220 miles I had heard horror stories of the mountains of Maine slowing NoBo's down to a mile an hour and such. Upon arrival at the lean-to I met a couple of guys working on their masters, as well as a NoBo who's family came out to do the Baldpates with him (they had no idea what they were in for). My hiker hunger started striking in full force, and I fell asleep that night dreaming about the McDonalds that awaited in Gorham.7/18: 12 miles in hopes of catching up with my fellow SoBo's, yet it promised to be the toughest 12 yet: after a gentle downhill to ME 27, 3.5 miles up Old Speck, a couple mile traverse of Old Speck, then down the Mahoosuc Arm into legendary Mahoosuc Notch, then yet another steep climb up to the shelter. Old Speck proved to not be much of a hassle, then I traversed the rather steep ridge to a campsite just north of the the Arm.At this time, the trail took on a rather surreal atmosphere. NoBo's hovered around the camp, talking about the Notch briefly, giving only a little insight about what the next few miles were to be like. As I approached the Arm, known for being dangerously steep, it was as if I was about to get on a roller coaster in an amusement park. There was to be an experience, yet everything else was still shrouded. Then, suddenly when I looked forward I saw sky and mountains. The trail took a sharp turn right and down a granite slab. A single misstep could lead to a hike ending fall, so I took my time, foliage belaying all the way down in hopes the trees will hold. At the bottom the trail then enters the Mahoosuc Notch.For those who do not know about the Notch, it is often thought of as either the most difficult or entertaining mile along the entire AT. The best way I could describe it is if you were reduced to the size of a beetle, then walked up a dried up creekbed. Technical, stemming, and taking off my pack to fit between rocks were all common. In some places ice still remained, as the sun had difficulty getting into those crevasses. I came out of the southern end after an hour and 40 minutes; a respectable time between the time of slack packing rock climbers (45 minutes - one hour) and the elderly hikers (4+ hours). One more antagonizingly steep climb, and I was at a shelter, triumphantly caught up with my fellow SoBo's and ready for sleep.7/19: An incredibly late start (8:50! What in the world!) to a supposedly easy hike, with something special; halfway through the day, we would be crossing the border into New Hampshire. The hike proved to be over quite challenging terrain, such as even more granite slabs, super deep mud and a 'mini Mahoosuc'. Yet at around 1 that afternoon the four of us gathered at the border sign and each took a shot of this awful desert flavored vodka. We didn't really care though; the sign represented progress, and that somehow through all of that walking we were actually getting somewhere. It represented the end of the second longest state, and debatably the hardest state of the entire AT. Through 5 more miles of New Hampshire we arrived at the shelter.I was bruised, exhausted, blistered. I was motivated, content and proud. I was alive.7/20: for one of the first times in a while, I was able to wake up at a reasonable hour and was out hiking by 7:30. The terrain proved to be laughably easy compared to what we had done, and I covered the 12 miles into Gorham in less than 6 hours. There, a reserved bunk in the White Mountain Lodge, widely regarded by many as the best hostel on the trail, awaited me.Being back in town, I was introduced to the sheer power of the hiker hunger. After some snacks at the hostel, I ate as much as I could at an Asian buffet. 30 minutes later I spied a subway and thought 'yeah, I can do that!' So I added a foot long sub and 16 ounces of chocolate milk to my roster for that night. Not 15 minutes later I got a slushy and some candy at the gas station, and proceeded to devour those as well. In total I must've polished off somewhere over 2500 calories in a few hours.Honestly, it was impressive.7/21: I have now been out on the trail for a month. In that time I've taken 4 zero days (including today), making my average a bit under 9 miles per day (11 or so excluding zeros). This puts me on a pretty normal pace, as Maine is known for its difficulty and my trail legs are still in development. The Whites loom ahead, Washington towering overhead. From the approach they represent difficulty, strife and frustration. They also promise beauty and grit, a challenge that brings out the humanity within. Their duality is breathtaking, both ancient monoliths of earth and the teeth of the mouth that gnashes.People have asked me "how is it so far", "have you had challenges", and other questions. Honestly, I'm not sure now to answer those. The trail simply brings so much varied experience and situations that labeling my time as 'good' or 'bad', as 'fun' or 'frustrating' seems like a disservice. It brings out energy and life, and an appreciation of the primal and the civilized. It is a footpath. I just happen to keep walking. Until next time!