Date: 2020-10-02
From: Moxie Bald Mountain Lean-To

To: Route 15 (Monson)
Miles today: 17.9

Early in the morning I heard footsteps approaching the shelter. Expecting to see an early-bird hiker coming in for water I peeked my head out from under the quilt. But it wasn't a hiker - it was a bull moose! He was slowly treading past the firepit, just five yards from my feet. He didn't acknowledge my presence, and was gone before I could recover from shock and grab my camera. I could hardly have been more surprised if a T-Rex had walked by.A light rain started tapping on the shelter roof around 7:30. I headed out an hour later, stopping to gaze over the pond first on the chance I might see the moose again.  The trail was more Maine Easy, meaning it had no large, steep, technical climbs. But I still had to work for almost every step. There are no gimme miles in Maine. Roots, rocks, twists and turns, small ups and downs. And everything covered in leaves. Oh, and everything thoroughly wet. One rash step and my leg would slide out from underneath me. This is terrain where two trekking poles would have come in handy, but I have only one now.I passed only one other hiker, a thirtyish bearded southbounder who looked ultralight. Strange to be seeing hikers starting out this late in the year. No dayhikers in this stretch.I had to ford the Piscataquis River and its branches three times, soaking my shoes. Thanks to multiple footpaths I went the wrong way after one crossing. The rain, which ebbed in and out through the morning, gained strength and became steady in the afternoon. The temperature dropped. I felt a chill that was only held at bay by continued hiking. The cold and wet began to wear on me and my mood soured. I just wanted to reach Monson now. I called from the last hill to arrange a pickup from Shaw's hostel. Other than there I haven't had service since the Bigelows, and I wouldn't have service at the road or in Monson. I reached route 15 and stood under a tree in the hiker parking lot as the rain intensified, trying to keep warm. The rain was as strong as ever. My rainjacket had long ago wet through, my pants were wet, and my body was starting to chill. My fingers were too numb to work the clasps on my backpack. Captain, an AT hiker turned hostel helper, arrived from Shaw's hostel to give me a thankfully heated ride in. First order of business was a hot shower, then some hot food - a grilled reuben, haddock chowder, and hot tea. I felt my body temperature normalize.There are more hikers here than I've seen anywhere else. By a lot. But apparently I just missed a bubble that set out yesterday. Of the 15 or 20 hikers milling about most have been here a day or two or more and have been slackpacking into the 100 Mile Wilderness. Two even shuttled back from Abol Bridge at the far end of the Wilderness because all the camping in Baxter State Park is full. A bubble of thruhikers is finishing in the next day or two and taking all the spaces in the Birches, Baxter's thruhiker shelter.Among the many hikers here is Barefoot, who I met between Hot Springs and Erwin 1700 miles ago. He now goes by Snorlax, a Pokemon character, due to his habit of taking naps right on the trail. Also here is Water Queen, who I last saw near Woods Hole hostel south of Pearisburg, Virginia. Having followed each other's hikes on Instagram for the last three months we feel like old pals.A few of the other names I caught were Crunch, Tarzan, Sunset, and Colonel Clothesline but I missed many others.Two long-haired, clean-shaven section hikers coming off their hike picked up guitars and played duets of country songs while we all caught up. This is the social scene that I've been missing for 2000 miles. Grateful to get a little taste, even if it's near the end.