Date: 2013-10-05
From: Abol Bridge Campground

To: AT Lodge, Millinocket, ME, Katahdin Stream Campgro
Miles today: 10.0

The stars flected off the water as we slept. I slept a little better but still not as well as I would have liked. Regardless, it was nice to wake up next to Tom. This was the first night for him in our tent. We got up around 6:30 and packed up. We headed to the campsite store with a garbage bag full of stuff. We'd decided that we could slack pack the next ten miles. When Tom came, he brought our car and parked it at the AT Lodge in Millinocket. Our plan was the slack pack to Baxter State Park and the Katahdin Stream Campground, hitch a ride into Millinocket, get our car and drive back to Abol Bridge to pick up our stuff. It involved a bit of driving, but it sure beat carrying full packs, especially given how heavy Tom's was. We'd load my pack with water, snacks, and a first aid kit. We'd leave Tom's pack and the remaining contents of my pack in a garbage bag at the Abol Bridge Campstore. An hour of round-trip driving seemed like a welcome trade-off for the 100 lbs of gear that we wouldn't have to carry. We got to the campstore and hoped to grab a couple of breakfast sandwiches, but the sandwich maker didn't arrive until 8:30. There was a hiker stretched out on the floor eating a huge cinnamon roll. I didn't recognize him, nor he I. I asked him a few questions, and initially he blew me off. He thought I was a mere curious tourist. But when he found out I was a fellow thru-hiker his attitude immediately switched. It struck me that for the dirty vagrants that we are, thru-hikers can become pretty snobbish and elitist. He told us how he had just hiked 30 miles through the night and was considering going farther. Not to detrack from his feat, it sounded a little miserable to me. LOL.Tom and I grabbed a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll each. They were as big as two fists held together. They were so fresh and soft, I forgot how much I had wanted a hot breakfast sandwich. It was tempting to grab a second one, but we were only hiking 10 miles today. And I know I need to start working on portion control again. The "real" world is not far away. We said good-bye to the clerk who seemed completely unphased by the hikers filling his store and sprawling on the floor. I'm sure he's seen it all to this point. I headed outside and put on my hiking boots. I watched as big truck and after big truck pulled up. Their passengers unloaded and all seemed to be wearing the same thing: camouflage, bright hunter's orange and pink. Here I am in Maine, and if I were only to see the people and not hear their accents, I could just as easily guess that I was back home in east Texas. My feet went into my boots with little protest. The area on the side of my right foot just seems to have given up. I could feel the fluid in the blister on the bottom of my big toe rolling around, but it wasn't painful; it's just a weird sensation. I left the rest of the toes to fend for themselves. We headed down the road, and Tom decided to run to the top of a big sand mound to get a view of Katahdin. Some hikers yesterday had recommended it. I watched as he would climb up three feet and slide down two. It made me tired just watching him, but it certainly warmed him up. He came down and started shedding clothes.The trail turned off Golden Road and into the woods. We passed a sign announcing that we were entering Baxter State Park (BSP), the final park on this journey. How many state parks, national forests and what not had I passed through in the last 6 1/2 months? Honestly, I haven't a clue. We crossed over a sturdy bridge, and I stopped to look at the clear water flowing beneath us. I looked at the fall foliage. I looked at Tom and thought for the hundredth time how grateful I am to be able to share this with him. How grateful I am for his unceasing optimism, enthusiasm, support and genuine enjoyment to be sharing this with me.We followed the trail as I looped behind the pond that we'd just camped on. We could see our campsite across the way. The trail was wide, soft and flat. We walked side-by-side and kept up a good pace. We stopped at a small kiosk and signed into BSP. There was a ranger present, and he was writing the forecast for tomorrow: clear, calm, sunny, warm with a 20% chance of afternoon showers. That was a signicant improvement from the forecast we'd seen yesterday. Maybe we'd try to summit tomorrow afterall. Not that we needed it, but now we had even more pep in our step.With little to no weight on our backs (Tom had "little" and I had "no" weight), we cruised down the trail. We followed alongside what I think was the Penabscot River for several miles. There was an occasional dip in the trail, but mostly it was as flat and smooth as a pancake. We made awesome time. We came to a sign that pointed towards a highwater bypass, but we decided to try our luck with a stream fording. The stream was only about 10-12 ft wide, but the water was raging, and it looked pretty deep. There were big rocks above the water, but they were a little too far apart to rock hop. Well, damn. Tom headed upstream towards some logs, and he fearlessly log-walked and rock-hopped to the other side. I've gotten so much braver and confident when it comes to these crossing, but I still despise log-walks. Especially when the logs are slick, rotten and skinny and straddle rushing white-water. But if I trust anyone to coach me across, it's Tom. So with my stomach in my throat, my heart slamming in my chest, my hands white-knuckling my poles and my legs shaking, I set off across this stream. The rock hop was easy. Now for the logs. there were two logs- one skinny, the other skinnier. I walked on the bigger (left) on and braced my poles on the smaller (right) one. I stepped one weary unsure foot in front of the other- pigeon-toed because that seems to be the way my feet turn when they are scared. I got to the end of log, where the water was rushing just inches from the toe of my boot, and then with two quick steps on rocks I was on the other side. Tom flashed me a "Good job!" smile and then darted down the trail. My pipe dreams of hiking circles around him and impressing him with my "skills" wasn't working out. He is the one darting over rocks and roots and rivers like a squirrel. A mile later, we had another stream crossing (the same stream, I believe)- Nesowadnehunk Stream. This time there was a weathered board (rather than logs), and again Tom scampered across without a second thought. I could do little but chuckle and marvel. We got closer to the Katahdin Stream Campground (KSC), and we passed more campers and day hikers. Their deodorant and perfumes lingered in the air and lodged in my nostrils. We missed a turn and ended up at Daicey Pond. Katahdin stood so closely in front of us, and I stared back at its grey face. Tomorrow. Tomorrow we would do the final climb. How is that possible? It made me nervous just thinking about it. We back-tracked and found where the AT turned. We skirted the edge of Daicey Pond, and the trail took us almost entirely back around the lake to where I'd stood before it finally peeling off to the left. We passed a few more day hikers, and suddenly we found ourselves walking into KSC. We passed a few lean-tos and saw a couple thru-hikers sitting at the tables. We headed to the ranger station. I thumbed through the register. So many of my friends had already summitted. It was hard to believe I would never see many of them again, at least not in the context of the trail. For the last six and half months you came to realize that you could easily run into anyone anywhere along the trail, and it was always exciting and yet seemed perfectly normal. But this is it. I was so proud and happy for them all, and yet it made me sad. Plus, it's been pretty quiet on the trail as of late. By hiking to meet up with Tom, I'd hiked out of the bubble that I'd been in. And here at the climax of it all, I missed my friends. Tom picked through the day packs. I would carry my pack, but he'd carry something lighter. The ranger pulled up and advised us where to stand (at the Birches, a lean-to specifically for thru-hikers about a quarter mile away) to catch a hitch, and he gave us some pointers for in the morning (come early if we wanted to get a parking spot- BSP only allows in a limited number of automobiles, and if the parking areas of full you will not be allowed in. Period.). We headed back to the picnic tables and talked with some visitors. Hog Greer, Old Boy & Jake came walking from the trail. They were officially done. They had a calm aura about them. Some was fatigue, some was saddness (?), something else was a calm wisdom (?). What did it feel like?, I wondered. Tom and I walked to the Birches to see about thumbing a ride to Millinocket. Catherine and her son, Linus, so kindly picked us up. We'd passed them earlier on the trail near Daicey Pond. I hadn't realized what a trek it was to get to Baxter State Park. It took an hour of driving; first a half hour on a dirt road, then another half hour on a small, winding two-lane road. Catherine told me all about the park. I hope to one day come back to see more of it. Catherine and Linus dropped us in front of the AT Cafe, and we walked to the AT Lodge. We checked in and dropped our stuff in our room. Then we climbed into our little yellow car to head to Abol Bridge. It felt so weird to be in MY car and yet still be in my "hiker" world. Reality was closing in quickly.We drove to Abol Bridge to collect our stuff. Marathon John told us that Hobo, Pressure-D, Tough Cookie and Walking Stick were still a day back. Damn it. I really want to see them again. We headed down the dirt logging road towards White House Landing to recoop a pair of shorts Tom had left behind. Back at the hostel I had a shower, we washed clothes, got our gear sorted for tomorrow. We headed next door to the Pelletier Logging Family Restaurant to grab some dinner. Tom got some funny looks in his short running shorts and lime-green Crocs. I ate a fried haddock sandwich, and Tom had a reuben sandwich. We watched the reality show "American Loggers" and suddenly realized that the Pelletier family was the main group featured. As it turned out, one of the cast members was in the eatery tonight. I introduced Tom to a "Whoopie Pie," and we ordered a reuben to-go to have ontop of Katahdin tomorrow. We did a quick resupply at a convience store, and then we headed back to try to get some sleep. It's going to be an early morning tomorrow. We have to be at the gates of BSP when they open at 6:00 a.m. to try to get a day parking spot. Tomorrow's the big day.