Date: 2013-07-26
From: Pierce Pond Lean-To

To: Bald Mountain Brook Lean-To
Miles today: 18.7

Today, the benchmark Kennebec River of southern Maine would be crossed. The Kennebec, a name that every AT through hiker probably remembers out of the hundreds of names given to gaps and peaks along the way, because it is the one river too big to ford¢¦well, at least ford wisely. It may be considered Russian roulette to cross the 100 yard-wide stream even when it's at its lowest level because release of significant volumes of water from the hydroelectric facility up stream can come without warning ending your journey abruptly. I was the first to arrive at Harrison's Pierce Pond Camps, a few tenths of a mile from the Pierce Pond Lean-to. Harrison's is a remote resort nestled on a ridge slope above the Pierce Pond Stream, fed by the overflow of Pierce Pond near the Lean-to. By about 6:30 am, I had hiked across what appeared to be a beaver dam on along the pond outlet, to a short segment of the AT leading to the Harrison spur which crossed the stream. The bridge crossing the stream was constructed of un-milled timbers, including the decking, which seemed like a accident waiting to happen, with its many missing planks. The center portion of the bridge lacked a foundation, cantilevered from one side, and unstable. I took a self portrait, setting the camera on timer and supported by a tripod constructed of timbers lying on the ground. The Harrison lodge above the stream looked just as rustic as the bridge. Across the bridge, the path continued up decking constructed of many small-diameter limbs with 1-2-foot gaps. As I approached the lodge, Mr. Harrison was starting up the generator on the back porch. I walked around to the front, where a truck was parked on the gravel driveway. The kitchen was visible through the glass pained door. The first thing I thought of was getting my phone charged, with the lodge generator running. My phone had been dead for several days due to a thorough soaking from the storm that occurred the day I crossed the Crockers. I figured I had killed my phone after attempting to charge it had dried. I discovered the phone had revived itself miraculously the previous night, noticing a flash of the red battery icon, before it shut down again. There was hope, and I was about to test that hypothesis by charging the phone once again. Immediately outside the kitchen was a large common area, with several tables along the windows overlooking the Pierce Pond Stream. A large table on the opposite side of the room contained numerous books, pamphlets, and tourist items, including caps. A petition on the table captured my attention. It pertained to the exploitation of Maine's wilderness for wind energy. I had recalled seeing a ridge line capped by these monstrosities a few days back. The scene was reminiscent of the growing sea of windmills rising on the ridges of the Tehachapis of souther California. The difference in Maine, was the impact to the forest and topography of the ridge. The southern Tahachapis were arid and mostly devoid of vegetation and the access required seemingly lesser mutilation of the land. In Maine, access roads lead to large excavations similar to those prepared for oil wells. This land was being exploited to send power south of Maine, to the growing megapolis' along the east coast. According to Mr. Harrison, the battle was lost, and my signature wouldn't make a difference.By 7:15 am, everyone at the Pierce Pond Lean-to that was heading north, had arrived, including Gummy Bear and Berenstein Bear. We sat down at a common table, enjoying our coffee while Mr. Harrison finished cooking everyone's breakfast. It was impressive that one man could manage to cook up 48 pancakes (12 per hiker), not excluding scrambled eggs and sausage. He apparently was the resort chef, manager, maintenance person, and maid. By 8 am, we began to pack up for our short hike to the Kennebec and beyond. I had hiked ahead, and reached the Kennebec first. The Ferry Man, who replaced the previous person who served hikers for decades. His name was Dave. He waited on the north banks of the wide torpid river. Compared to others, it seemed benign, but deceptive because its waters were laden with brown silt, the channel bottom invisible. Without warning, the hydroelectric facility upstream, could release a large volume of water from its gates, causing the river to swell rapidly, and flow velocity to increase significantly. When I arrived, the waters were relatively low. Dave signaled me to wait for him to cross. When he arrived, he directed me to a more favorable notch along the river bank. I put on my life vest and handed him my pack. In moments, we were drifting effortlessly across the channel, some 250-feet to the opposite shore. I signed his log book with trail name, and hiked parallel to US 201 a short distance west, in the opposite direction of Caratunk, ME. When I reached the highway, I began hiking towards Caratunk. I hiked with my hitching thumb out, but had no success getting a ride. According to AWOL's guide, it was a short 0.3 miles. I hiked to The Sterling Inn, within 20 minutes, and was guided by the owner, a man perhaps in his late 60's, to a small supply room behind his office. The room was small, but the supplies were surprisingly adequate. The Pierce Pond Cabins, which at one time were under a common ownership with The Sterling Inn, contained a list of all the items the Inn carried. I wondered why Harrison didn't provide a one-stop-shop for through hikers-providing the supplies at his cabin. My guess was that the profit margin was too slim to justify. I grabbed two Ben and Jerry's from the freezer box in the back room, in addition to more Oreo cookies, tortillas, peanut butter, tuna, and Snickers. I sat at the table in the dining area, where an older man who was section hiking, was working on a lap top, and spread the items that I I was planning to purchase on the table for repackaging. An hour had passed, and the dark skies had given in to steady precipitation. The owner generously offered to drive me back to the trailhead, sparing me from getting drenched until I began my hike over Pleasant Pond Mountain some 6-miles from the trailhead. The ascent was gradual at first, ascending steep, slippery slate north of the Pleasant Pond Lean-to. As I scrambled my way up the slippery rock, I crossed paths with a south bounder, whom I recall went by the name of Rooster, evident by his day-glow red socks that covered his calves. He felt that he was doing me a favor by informing me of slippery rock I had ahead of me. I had noticed an overwhelming amount of south bounders. bitter from the trail conditions endured through the state of Maine. It is always entertaining to hear such comments coming from individuals who have less than 10 percent of trail. I wished him a good hike and continued onward in the rain to flat terrain along Moxie Pond, fording a couple of streams, I made it to the Bald Mountain Brook Lean-To by dusk. Gummy Bear and Berenstein Bear were resting in the Lean-to.