Date: 2017-08-22
From: West Carry Pond shelter

To: Bald Mountain Brook Lean-To
Miles today: 28.7

Today is a good day. I'm up and out early and I make excellent time over good, almost flat terrain towards the Kennebec River. The first few miles follow Benedict Arnold's portage trail in his bid to take Quebec. The terrain is good for Maine, but not so good I'd want to carry a bateau over it. I pause at a beach on East Carry Pond. The water looks very inviting and is even warm. But I'm afraid to lose time to drying off. I regret the decision to move on almost immediately.Ten miles in the first three hours brings me to Harrison's Pierce Pond Camps, one of about 30 remaining of what used to be hundreds of hunting and fishing camps in Maine. Tim the owner is cleaning up from the massive pancake breakfast he serves daily. He offers me coffee and a tour. There's a large dining room and a rustic lodge gathering room with pool table, cribbage board made out of a log, and huge leather chairs. Outside there are cabins and a children's playhouse. Tim's been running this for 40 years. He loves meeting nice people, and tells me everyone who comes up here is nice. He's afraid the increasing popularity of the AT may bring too many people. In spring the fishermen come. In summer there are families and couples looking for nature getaways with canoeing, swimming, and hiking. Pierce Pond, stream, and falls surround the preserved area. A gravel road leads in 20 miles from the nearest town. It looks very peaceful.I don't mind the detour as I'm ahead of schedule. I reach the west bank of the Kennebec River around 11:30 and wait for the ferry. The ATC doesn't want anyone to ford this 400 foot wide unpredictable river. The undercurrent can be powerful, the channel is up to 15 feet deep today, and when water is released upstream it can rise rapidly. The official white blaze is on the canoe so no one can doubt this is the AT. I sign a release, put on a life jacket, and the ferryman - middle name "Bird" - takes me across. He's been busy all morning with 16 northbounders and a few southbounders who were waiting at 9am. Only two can ride at a time. Note for SOBOs: bring a milkshake from the Caratunk B&B if you want to make his day. A pulled pork sandwich would probably work too.At any rate they work for me. Caratunk is the last town the AT goes through. The Caratunk B&B is busy serving milkshakes and pulled pork sandwiches to a couple dozen hikers. Some are staying the night. I know many of them. Falls who I met in Unionville is here, also Old Soul, a girl from Lancaster I keep bumping into in towns. There's Yoda, who I met the first morning out of Hanover, and later in North Woodstock. Both times I thought I'd never see him again, and he told me the same. He hiked slow, his knees hurt, he was older, shorter, seemed less in a hurry. Yet here he is, actually ahead of me! People will surprise you. They are not always what they seem.Matt the vet is here. He did hike much farther than me yesterday but he must be taking it slow this morning. He still sounds eager to be done and talks about hiking right past Monson into the 100 Mile Wilderness.At this stage of the hike most northbounders are preoccupied with plans to meet family or friends at Katahdin or planning their trip home. They all have different target dates and different levels of urgency. Pretty Boy was rushing to meet family and relax with them for a couple days before he summits. Matt is rushing to meet his mom. Lazarus is trying to figure out how to get out of the backwoods and home to Jersey. Yoda has no sense of urgency at all. He'll get there when he gets there. It seems like it's every man for himself, at least as far as hiking plans. No one is going to adjust their schedule at this point to keep hiking with someone.I hang out for over two hours and have yet another wonderful milkshake, as well as stock up on some lunches and snacks from their resupply store. By the time I leave I feel under the gun to make good time. 15 miles to go to the shelter and it's already after 2. It's supposed to rain this evening. I want to get to the shelter before dark, before I get wet, and before the shelter fills up. And, oh, there's a mountain in the way.Pleasant Pond mountain is only 2400 feet high but it's a solid 1100 foot climb that brings back some of southern Maine. But it's on a half-size scale, like a trial for southbounders before throwing the full fury at them in the Bigelows and Crockers. Still, the four and a half mile descent is frustrating as it roller coasters up and down. I feel like I've climbed the mountain twice when it finally reaches the creek valley. In my frustration I trip and fall into an uphill section. My trekking pole pierces my hiking pants. That could have been much worse! I try to place every step with care, but when I'm tired my feet don't lift as high as I tell them to and hit rocks and roots. Despite tripping I practically fly the entire way to the shelter, motivated to beat the rain and darkness. Even with the steep climb and exhausting descent I average over three miles an hour. I'm drenched in sweat as I enter the tenting area and find out the shelter is once again empty. Almost 29 miles for the day, my longest distance since Vermont.So, dry, with plenty of light, and with an entire shelter to myself I eat my fancy tuna foil packet dinner. I get water from the stagnant creek, using my scoop for the first time ever. Then I change and get ready to sleep as the rain begins bouncing on the shelter's metal roof.