Date: 2013-09-15
From: Boardwalk B&B, South Arm Rd

To: Rustic Cabin on a lake near Oquossuc, ME, ME 17
Miles today: 13.2

I slept so well last night. It felt like a sin not to spend more time at this awesome B&B. I got to talk to Tom. He sounded stir-crazy. We found our way back to South Arm Rd. Anita let us out and she said she¢d find us a place to stay tonight. There was a steady climb up Old Blue Mountain. We stopped to shed a few layers. It was pretty wet and muddy out. Maine certainly has its fair share of rocks and bogs. A could of local day hikers came up behind us and chatted away as we made it to the summit. The trees were stunted, and I could see all the way back to Mt Washington (or at least I think it was Mt Washington). It looked so far away. Had we really come that far on foot? Crazy. We had a snack and then trudged through some more mud, over rocks (some the size of coffee tables, some the size of a wall). We went up and down, up and down all day. I think we all expected to cover the distance at a much faster pace, especially without the burden of our heavy packs, but the trail held us up. We passed through quiet spruce forests and over boardwalks with spongy maroon and green moss and clear water I was convinced a moose was just around each and every corner But all we saw were moose prints and moose scat. We stopped at a bench with a vista. Walking Stick looked down and realized that the sole of his boot had completely pulled away from the body of his boot. Dang. He¢ll need new boots ASAP. We stopped for another snack break a little while later and realized that our goal to be done by 5:30 was overly optimistic. The trail with its rocks, roots, mud and obstacles was taking us for all we were worth. We looked across the way, and impossibly far away wesaw the road we were headed for. Our hearts sank. There was at least a one mile down and one mile up and a river to ford, not to mention all the miles before we got to the down and up. It was getting late, so we moved on. When we finally got to the final down, it was already 6:30. It was steep and required a large amount of booty scooting. On paper, the descent looked quite harmless, but you just never know until you get your boots on the trail and your butt on the rock.The fording was easy. In fact, it was little more than a rock hop with a few feet submersions. As we started the climb back up, the darkness set in. Hobo pulled out his headlamp. My eyes adjusted pretty well, but with some of "scary" hidden away, I was actually able to move along much, much faster than I normally would. Plus, without the added pack weight, I felt much more sure footed. We got up to the road after dark. The moon shone bright in the sky. It highlighted the huge lake with its floating islands. Anita was waiting on us. We were whipped, cold and hungry.On our way to find a place to eat, Walking Stick yelled from the backseat, "MOOSE!" And sure enough, there was a big cow standing broadside in the middle of the road. That brings my moose count up to 3; ironically 2 of those have been spotted from a car AFTER we got off the trail. The first restaurant we stopped at was closed. So we drove into Rangeley and had dinner at the Red Onion. The least happy waitress I think I've ever had the pleasure of meeting served our table. We couldn't help but laugh. I had two glasses of wine and the most over-cooked piece of salmon I think I've ever had in my life, but I still cleaned my plate. Anita took us back to the charming rustic cabin she had found for us. I layed on the unfinished wooden floor boards and absorbed the warmth of the wood-burning stove. I tried not to fall asleep. It was tough. Those 13 miles had kicked my butt. There were loons out on the lake in front of our cabin, and they called into the night. Oh, I wish we could stay forever.