Date: 2013-07-17
From: stealth camp at stream, mi 1,883.4

To: Trident Col Campsite, mi 1,894.5
Miles today: 11.1
Weather: light rain

I hiked a fast, relatively smooth descent past Rattle River Shelter to the unpaved parking area off US2 by 8am. I could've waited patiently in the parking area, hoping for a ride, but decided to start hiking the approximate 3.5 miles into Gorham. It was a narrow shoulder highway, traveled frequently my large trucks, which made it dangerous for hitching. On my hike down the highway, as semis sped by, I passed a large KOA-type camp facility, a parking lot of RVs, with a central pool, and laundry. It was definitely a contrast to camping on the AT, but not terribly different. I recollected campsites along the way where I could hear traffic, or pitched a tent next to a busy road, or under a transmission tower. I ended up hiking the entire distance into town. In town, I found a restaurant to have breakfast around mid morning. It was dark and windowless with many empty tables in the center of a large common room. I ordered an omelette with orange juice and coffee. I made my way to an outfitter a few doors down, where I re-filled my alcohol. By late morning, I committed to finding a ride to the Walmart about 3 more miles further down the 16. I approached a man leaving his RV behind McDonalds and asked him if he was heading towards Walmart. He vacillated then declined. As I turned away, he changed his mind and offered me a ride about another three miles to the super-Walmart in Berlin. I was sitting in a living room drifting down the highway within minutes. During the drive, I shared a bit about my hike and wrote down my blog address so they could follow me. They dropped me off at Walmart, and I thanked them immensely. I spent a few hours here, packaging food, blogging, and charging my phone, before making an effort around 2:00 to hitch back to the trailhead. It didn't take long to realize that I was going to need a prop other than the trusted thumb to hitch a ride out of Berlin, about 6 miles back to the trailhead. I walked across a strip of lawn through a car lot, feeling more vulnerable than being on a high ridge in a lightning storm. I was being watched no doubt, like a hawk, only from a group of sharks, waiting to pray on the next victim that crossed through their lot. One thing I had going for me is my stench and tattered clothing. I looked just like a homeless person. I walked inside the dealership to a floor person's desk and requested to borrow a Sharpie. I had carried my folded Tyvek tarp for my tent with me. It was white so would be a perfect contrast with large black letters. In large lettering on one side, I wrote "AT THRU HIKER- TO TRAILHEAD". On the other side, I wrote "AT THRU HIKER- TO TOWN". I thanked them for the use of their marker and headed back out to the entrance of the parking lot with confidence that I'd win the sympathy of someone heading out of the parking lot. About a half hour passed, before a local gentleman stopped to offer me a ride. He insisted that the AT crossed the Androscoggin River at a large steel truss bridge in downtown, however, AWOL's guide did not show the AT following US2 into town. I was fairly certain that the AT crossed the highway directly across from the trailhead I exited at early in the morning, crossing the Androscoggin River east of Gorham. After driving back and forth on US2 a couple of times, I requested that he drive me the 3.5 miles east of town to where I started in the early morning. The driver gladly acquiesced. After about a mile of hiking road, I made it to the trailhead on the other side of the river, which climbed moderately up a rocky ridge into the precursory terrain of the Mahoosucs. Despite the darkening skies from cloud cover and diminish sun light, I hiked with speed and excitement with the prospects of entering not only my last state, but discovering for myself what all the rumors about Maine being the toughest state in terrain. After a good couple of hours, I arrived at the Trident Col Campsite by dark. The skies were thick with black clouds so heavy they fell upon the ridge. I quickly searched the area for an ideal site. beneath a canopy of trees, in proximity to the privy, were a couple of muddy tent pads. I decided to hike back up the small hill above the privy to a open grassy patch that I had passed on the way in. I set up the tent in a couple of minutes. Not more than a few seconds, literally, large rain drops fell heavily upon my head, followed by the familiar flicker and loud crackling rumble of lightning and thunder. I quickly crawled into the tent for shelter. I lied flat on my stomach, listening to the thunder directly overhead. The lightning flashes were so bright, it felt as if the single walking pole holding up my tent could become a filament in a split second. I moved away from the pole, flat, face down with my eyes closed tightly, just hoping that someone from forensics wouldn't have to be the one to unwrap my charred body from melted nylon. I contemplated running for the privy, then thought, that the likelihood of getting struck en route was greater than if I just played dead and waited the storm out. If I did make it to the privy, it would be my luck to die inside, a single bolt electrifying the whole dampened structure, cooking me over a pile of shit. It was no way to die. It didn't take long to realize that the storm was not dissipating any time soon. Oddly, it clung to the ridge top I was camped on for seemingly hours, as the walls of my tent were illuminated by jagged fingers of lightning directly above me. I closed my eyes and tried to forget about the moment. Tension throughout my body succumbed to total exhaustion and I passed out. Some time in the early morning, I was woken by a strange WWII-like siren coming likely from Gorham. I later thought perhaps Gorham's neighboring Berlin was really in Germany.