Date: 2011-08-30
From: The Birches Campsite, Baxter State Park

To: Mt. Katahdin
Miles today: 5.2
Weather: scattered clouds

(In which this grand adventure comes to a close)I wake up at 3am, having checked with the ranger the day before that it's OK to start hiking at first light, which the ranger guesses to be around 4:30 or 5. I plan on pushing this by half an hour or so and hiking by headlamp to summit while the sun is still as low on the horizon as possible. I wake up groggily, quietly pack my things and then give Balance and Y-Knot their requested wake up call by stopping by their tent before I leave and wishing them good luck.I walk by headlamp down to the trail, and when I pass the Katahdin Stream campground I can see the stars shining brilliantly in the perfectly clear sky. When I reach the trail head at 4am I find it blocked by a small barricade declaring that all trails to Katahdin are closed. This makes sense with yesterday's trail closure, but I am wary of simply stepping around it and signing out in the logbook anyway, having heard stories of Baxter's notorious lack of leniency toward indiscretions. I read all of the signs on the trailhead placard, looking for a loophole to squeeze through. I read that hikers who leave before the weather condition is decided at 7am are allowed to use their own judgement, except when the previous day was a class IV, mandatory closure of all trails to the summit, which yesterday was.I brush my teeth and eat breakfast at the barricade while I decide what to do. I am sorely tempted to use my registration with the ranger from yesterday and his advice as justification to continue. But I eventually decide not to risk the park freaking out because a hiker started night hiking up to the summit when all trails were closed, and I head back to the ranger station hoping to run into a live ranger before 7.I sit on the steps of the dark building waiting, but after waking up so early, a minute of inactivity is enough to make me feel sickly tired. I get up and walk around every few minutes to stave off collapse and hope that rangers wake up as early as hikers. The sky grows lighter and on my walks I watch the mountain silhouetted against a dark blue starry sky and then a pale blue, starless one.At 5:30 I hear the crackle of radio from inside the ranger station and can just make out something about hikers heading somewhere, but the conversation is too garbled with static for me to make any sense of it. Half an hour later I see a white Prius drive up, and inside are Cimmeron and Bearbag, ready to tackle the summit. Cimmeron had to leave the Whites when they closed because of the hurricane and is using the time to get Katahdin out of the way. Bearbag says that the ranger at the gate assured them that Katahdin was open today and wished them luck. This isn't first hand information but it's good enough for me and I set back out to the trail.I sign the self-registration sheet at 0600 and start heading up the mountain. The beginning of the trail is gently graded but has a stream flowing down it and I hop from rock to rock to keep my feet dry. A couple of miles of trail river brings me to the middle section of trail, 1.0 miles that gain 1700 feet of elevation. It's by far the steepest mile of the entire trail and is said to be like a vertical version of the Mahoosuc Notch. Fortunately this section is dry, and though it requires plenty of scrambling and arm strength it seems safer and a lot more fun than the Notch, every rock climb gaining several more feet of vertical progress.The steep section takes me to the Tableland, the nearly flat, wide ridge leading gently up to the summit. The Tableland is more than a mile long and also soaked, but for the first time it feels like all the difficult sections between me and Katahdin are finished and my excitement begins to build. I can see two peaks from the Tableland and assume that I'm heading to the second, seemingly higher one, until I crest a hill and see the side of a distinctive sawhorse sign just a couple hundred yards ahead.I actually gasp, hardly believing it's true until I can read the text I've seen in so many pictures. Katahdin. Northern Terminus of the Appalachian Trail. From the sign I turn to see a majestic, sweeping panorama that seems to include all of Maine and maybe more. Soon other hikers will arrive and there will be jubilant celebration. But for now it's just me and the sign, and I could hardly imagine a better way to celebrate my journey than with a clear day and the best view on the trail.Sometime later I will leave the summit, though by which trail or down which side of the mountain I don't yet know. Which trail. How strange, to suddenly have to choose. I will bask in the sun and the glow of success, celebrate with friends and then head down the mountain toward some new and unknown adventure.