Date: 2011-09-14
From: Abol Bridge

To: Day 125
Miles today: 10.0

The night turned out to be frigid cold and relentlessly wet, so the guys made a good choice by deciding to stay in the shelter. The night finally melted in to a cool and foggy morning, complete with a fantastic sunrise over the flooded banks of the Penobscot. Zen and Mt. Dew, still wanting to finish big, decided to hike straight to the top of Katahdin and then back down to the state park at the base, making it a 20-mile day. I was not all about doing another long day. So I bid them farewell, ate a mean breakfast sandwich from the general store, and took my time packing up, still not feeling 100%. I also took my time hiking the 10 flat miles to Baxter State Park. I ran into Stardust and her husband Wanabe out there, whom I remember made a big scene back at Shaw's about how dangerous and scary the flood was. They had skipped the entire 100-mile and were still scared to death by the handfull of fords that we had to do today. I navigated my way right through both flooded forks of the Nesowadenhunk River without even thinking twice. Stardust and Wanabe thought that I was being reckless and decided to blue-blaze their way up to Baxter instead. In all honesty I'm not being reckless out here, I've just become immune to the terrors and dangers of the northern Maine wilderness. Half of the danger out here comes from people psyching themselves out about how dangerous it is out here.   It was a very surreal experience to finally enter Baxter State Park. This park has always seemed like such an unattainable mythical place, something that I would only ever read about. I wasn't sure what kind of emotions to expect because I never really expected to make it here. And when I finally got to outskirts of the park and registered to stay at The Birches I felt something that I couldn't have expected: numbness. Like I was operating on auto-pilot. Everything today, from walking through swamps and fording rivers to getting to the trail head and registering as a thru-hiker, seemed almost ritualistic. Like I was completing a mission or something. No joy. No sorrow. Just focus. Nothing but my mission and the task at hand.   When I hit the Katahdin Stream Campground, the place was alive with hikers who had just summited, who were about to summit, celebrations, and family reunions. A pretty electric atmosphere. I smoked a bowl, drank a beer, and ate a hot dog with Walking Home and his dad. Then I went and swung in my blackbird for the rest of the afternoon and reminisced about the last 4 months of my life. I found out that Reptar the rain cloud is gonna shit storm on the park tomorrow. Decided that I did not walk all this way to get a bad day on Katahdin so,instead, I'll head into town and wait until the perfect day to summit. Eventually, Zen and Mt. Dew triumphantly descended from the summit. I congratulated them and planned on going into town with them to celebrate in proper fashion. But my plans were ruined my the dick of a park ranger who wouldn't let me ride in his car without a seat belt on. So I gave the hitch to the guys because they actually climbed the mountain today and I stayed behind. Out of protest, I am refusing to pay the $10 fee to stay in The Birches and,instead, am stealth-camping right off of the road in a secluded little patch of birch trees. I win.