Date: 2013-10-06
From: AT Lodge, Millinocket, ME, Katahdin Stream Campgro

To: AT Lodge, Millinocket, ME
Miles today: 5.1

I'm not sure there's a hiker on the trail that sleeps well the night before summit day. I know I certainly didn't. I was awake before our alarm went off at 4:30. We got up and got dressed. I wrapped my big toe. I'd popped a blister on the bottom of it the night before, and it was still tender this morning. Dirty Dave (a hiker I'd met a long time before, but neither of us could figure out where we'd met) was catching a ride with us. We headed for McDonald's (the only place open in town) to get some breakfast sandwiches. The irony wasn't lost on me. In the ten years before I started this hike, I'd boycotted McDonald's, and yet twice in the last 6 1/2 months I've eaten there. One of those times being the morning of my summit, this momentous day, I start with a sausage, egg & cheese biscuit. Oh well. Tom thought it was hilarious.We drove in the darkness. It felt a little silly to be trying to get to a state park as soon as it opened to get a parking spot. It was just starting to get light when we pulled up. It was 5:45 a.m., and there was a long line of cars ahead of us, all waiting to get in. The evening before we'd called to see if we could reserve a spot. The automated messaged told us there were 10 spots left availible. Tom put the car in park, and I hopped out to go count the vehicles in front of us. My stomach sank as I got closer to the park gates. Fifteen. There were fifteen cars ahead of us. At least a half dozen cars, if not more, were now lined up behind us. When have you ever heard of cars lined up at 5:45 in the morning to get into a state park? As I got back to the car, the line started to move forward. My heart thumped. Luckily everyone seemed to be going to different places. We got through the gate, no problem. We slowly wound our way down the one and only dirt road. The morning light broke through the darkness. The surfaces of the ponds and lakes shone silver. The golden leaves looked orange and then yellow. We pulled into the parking lot, and the sky was rose with electric pink outlined clouds. Katahdin stood as a giant indigo triangle flanked on either side by bright yellow trees. What a day to finish!We walked to the ranger station, and I signed the register. Tom found a day pack. I didn't realize it, but Tom gutted my pack leaving me with only water and a pair of his gloves. He took he rest- the food, extra clothes, first aid, etc. He spoils me.We signed our names to the official register at the trail head. It was 7:00 a.m. on the dot. The temperature read 36 F. My stomach was doing flips. This was it. I'd walked all the way from Georgia to climb this mountain.The first mile was really easy, dare I say the easiest mile on the entire trail. It practically walked itself. We stopped to put on our gloves because our fingers were starting to go numb. The trail followed alongside Katahdin Stream and passed over a large, sturdy log bridge that traversed Katahdin Falls. The water was so clear it looked almost gel-like. A privy was set back a hundred feet or so, and a sign on a near-by tree read: "Last Outhouse on the Trail: What to do when there's no outhouse around" And then it went on to give instructions on how to poop in the woods. I didn't bother to read the rest. My days of pooping in the woods were over. For now....The trail continued up through an evergreen forest, growing ever steeper. There were some man-made stone steps and some naturally made ones, as well. Occasionally the trees behind us would open up giving way to a view of the fall colors, blue-crested mountains and a crisp blue sky streaked with wispy clouds. I'd hear gasps and "Oh WOW!" behind me. I'd turn to see Tom staring out at the vista. I'd forgotten that this was his first "real" climb. Since he'd joined me, the elevation profile had been virtually flat. So while he'd seen plenty of forest, plenty of ponds, a few marshes and a few vistas, he hadn't really been up above any of it. His fresh eyes and enthusiasm were an unexpected gift. Quite honestly, if I had done this final climb without him, very well might have spent much of the time cursing under my breath; not really appreciating the way the sharp peaks cast dark morning shadows over their equally sharp neighbors. I wouldn't have looked as affectionately at the giant rock shards sliding down Katahdin's sides. I wouldn't have given a second look to the surroundings that comprised my final day on the AT. But with Tom here, I did. What a gift! The funny thing is, he kept thanking me!We climbed higher and higher. The trees grew shorter and sturdier. Soon we were above treeline in the alphine zone. I waved Tom ahead of me because my 'choppy' hiking rhythm kept throwing him off balance behind me. I'd climb one rock and stop suddenly. He fast on my heels, would pop up on the rock behind me. I'd hear, "Whoa! Wupp! Wupp!" then I'd turn to see his eyes wide, arms propelling in circles as he tried to maintain his balance and not fall of the rock backwards. Better he scamper ahead. And scamper he did!He was a cross between a squirrel and a mountain goat. He'd shoot up ahead of me 15-20ft, sometimes rock scrambling, sometimes climbing. Then he'd stop, turn around and smile, his eyes twinkling. He was having a blast. He'd effortlessly and fearlessly leap from rock to rock. He'd climb standing erect. I utilized my regular "full body contact" technique of keeping my center of gravity as low to the ground as possible, which usually meant I was crawling on my hands and knees. He'd climb right up a rock face like Spiderman and then turn around and stand atop its narrow head. Me, I'd crawl 20 ft around it, trying to keep my feet on dirt whenever possible. He would have LOVED Mahoosuc Notch. He kept thanking me and saying how much fun he was having. I was grateful to have such a willing and capable husband. It's not often that someone joins a thru-hiker at the end of their hike and can out hike them. But Tom as literally hiking/climbing circles around me. Honestly, there's no other way I'd have rather had it. The trail followed along a narrow, steep rocky arm. The mountain fell off sharply on either side. For about 1/2-3/4 of a mile we crawled over, around, and up HUGE boulders. Hand-over-hand. Thank goodness it was dry and sunny and still. Perfect conditions. We caught up with and passed a few people, not because of me, but because of Tom's enthusiasm. I was dreading having to climb back down later. I wondered if it was too late to organize a helicopter to come pick us up off the top.Finally we reached the Gateway and the Tableland. We spoke briefly with two day hikers, Maria and Jamie, but then my eyes locked on the top. The end. It was still a mile and a half away, but the end was literally in sight. I got choked up. But there was also disbelief. A hint of sadness. But intereslingly, there was no "relief."Tom motioned me back in front. I picked my way through the rocks, but the trail was pretty walkable. There were plenty of spots to land your feet. I was nervous that I might twist my ankle again, so I kept my eyes on the ground. They kept wandering up towards Baxter Peak. I could start to make out the outline of the "Katahdin" sign. I could see flecks of people. The Hunt Trail (the AT) intersected the Abol Cut-off trail, and the number of hikers doubled. I was the only thru-hiker. I hadn't imagined having so share the summit with so many people, especially when none of them had come from Georgia. I stepped aside to let a couple of hikers pass, and they asked about my hike, my motivations for doing it. I had an audience of 5-6 when I got near the top. And then I saw the sign. Holy Shit. THAT was it! The sign had a couple of people on top of it taking photos, and a few more seemed to be waiting their turns. I broke down into tears. I tried to sit down on a rock a few feet away to wait my turn, but Tom was having no part of it. He urged me up, "Come on! Come on! Come touch the sign. You've earned this." He gently grabbed my arm, and then he straight armed everyone else out of the way, clearing a path for me to get to the sign. So I barged right in the middle of someone else's photo. I put my forehead against the sign, and as a thousand other thru-hikers before me, I started wailing. I'll be honest, it was a bit uncomfortable having an audience of 30-40 people at such an intense, intimate, personal moment. But the tear flowed unceasingly as Katahdin Stream Falls. Tom urged me up onto the sign (cutting in front of numerous others. Sorry!), and I took my "success" photo. I had thought about what pose I might like to strike when I got up there, but I ultimately decided to do whatever came naturally. My arms flew into the air, fists clenched. I wanted to scream, better yet, roar. A wave of emotions came over me, and I buried my face in my hands and cried some more. Tom joined me for a few photos. This was it.I climbed down off the sign and scanned the crowd for any other thru-hiker. I saw one guy, sitting off to himself reading a car. A bottle of bourbon sat on the ground beside him. We walked over and sat down near him. His name is Sir Scrooge. I'd heard his name and seen it in registers, but we'd never met. Yet instantly, we had a connection. I was afraid that I'd finish and not have any other thru-hikers around that really "understood." He offered me a swig of his bourbon, which I gladly accepted. We ate lunch and tried to take in the view. But honestly, it was hard to really take in the view when the significant of the moment competed with it. I took a few photos, not as many as I might have from any other mountain. By 11:40, 50 mins after my summit, we were headed down. We passed several other thru-hikers on their way to the top. We exchanged congratulations, and we took some more photos. I knew I'd regret it if I didn't. I pulled out my hiking poles because my feet and ankles were hurting, and I was hobbling. I've gotten so used to using them that it's hard to balance otherwise.We got to the "scary" down, and it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I scooted down on my booty (I blew the back out of my shorts again), and I used my hands and arms a lot to lower myself down. Full-body hiking. Tom shot down the rock faces, and then he would turn around and wait patiently for me. He gave me a hand when I needed it, and he even got me unstuck when I got wedged between two rocks. But not before he got a photo of me dangling helplessly a few feet above the ground. It's funny, on the way down I realized how much I'd overlooked on the way up- springs, rocks, etc. I guess I've seen so many of them that they all run together after awhile. It took us 4 hrs 15 mins to get back to the bottom. Uncle Buck was at the parking lot waiting on some other hikers. He gave me a big hug and congratulations. As Tom and I headed to the Ranger Station, Orion and Davy Crockett walked up. I hadn't seen Orion since southern Virginia, and I hadn't seen Davy C since southern Pennsylvania. I was thrilled to get to hug them one last time. I checked in with the rangers, and recieved my final thru-hiker number. I'm #677. I started at Amicalola Falls, GA as #411 and now at Harper's Ferry, WV as #789. The Appalachian Trail Thru-hiker Class of 2013 is well represented.We headed back to Millinocket and stopped at a big painted rock to take a few photos back towards Katahdin. We got to the lodge, and I jumped in the shower. As I was getting dressed, I heard a very distinct voice: Pressure-D. I threw back on my dirty clothes, and burst out of the bathroom (it's a shared bathroom for the floor) into the arms of Tough Cookie, Pressure-D, Hobo, and Walking Stick! I also so Hipsy Gypsy & Oak. This is my reward! We drank beers and caught up. It seemed that my leaving Stratton when I did kept me ahead of some ice storms atop some of the mountians. I hadn't realized! Afterwards, I went and dressed in street clothes, the first non-hiker clothes I've worn in almost 7 months. I put on jeans and non-hiking boots. My jeans fit as tightly has they had before the hike. Ho-hum. We headed down to the AT Cafe for dinner. The gang, minus Hipsy & Oak, joined us. It was so nice being with all of them again. Ketchup, Tails & Marathon John (all of whom summited today but had had trouble catching a hitch back out of BSP to Millinocket) came in at 8:15. The owner apologized, but said that the kitchen was closed. There was a wave of shock and disbelief among the diners (all of whom were also thru-hikers, or family/friends of thru-hikers). Could you really turn away a freshly-summitted hiker? It was a Sunday night, and all of the other dining establishments in town were closed. The restaurant patrons started offering up their own food, and the kind owner/manager relented. They stay if they only wanted hamburgers. Whew! I settled for a delicious spinach lasagna- it seemed that the town was fresh out of lobsters I signed the "Class of 2013" ceiling tile. Outside it started to rain.Tom and I walked arm-in-arm back to the AT Lodge. I wonder if I'll sleep any better tonight. I've had a crappy last few nights of sleep. But I had a glorious summit day! Thank you, AT!