Date: 2003-08-30
From: ME 17

To: ME 4 , Rangeley
Miles today: 13.1
Weather: overcast clouds

(MORE photos up, they tell me, including a photo of Suz, my transcriber, doing awful things to me)Labor Day weekend. Workers of the world, unite! It's our last morning in The Cabin. I stumble down, stunned, and pour a cup of coffee. Another wonderful breakfast and I eat to the point of pain.Bear asked Medicine Man how he heard about the hostel. He tells Bear that Chief and I had been babbling about how one never left The Cabin's table hungry. "And they were right," said Medicine Man. "I'm not a bit hungry. In fact, I'm going into a food coma."Thus have we been fattened and strengthened for the final three weeks of the Appalachian Trail. We've been here five nights, ten meals. Alas, it is now time to pick up our packs and return to a showerless, noodle-filled existence. Ah, the lure of the open road...It's hard to believe that in three weeks this journey will come to an end, at least in the physical sense. The internal journey never ends, of course; the momentum will continue. It will be interesting to get some perspective and observe the fruits of that process.Honey drives us to the Trailhead, and we hug goodbye with promises to visit again. Maine is casting its spell on me. I strongly suspect I will be back.The Finches are already there, huddled against the grey gloom and gusts. Ma Finch relieves us of our packs, and hands us an orange daypack. Chief makes me carry his water. I just want that on record.Grey, windy day. Finch's friend Ed from NH walks with us. We pass several remote ponds. There are a couple of small cabins on the far shores of Sabbath Day Pond, but Milt the maintainer/overseer tells us these cabins can only be walked to - there are no roads.Over Sabbath Pond, Finch points out a loon on the wing. The wings are set back unusually far on its body. It looks like a flying stick.We stop in at the Lean-To and meet two Florida guys there. They've made a roaring fire, and I warm myself by it. The wood smoke in the chilly air smells fine.We spot lots more moose droppings today, and some monster sized prints. The breeding season, or fall "rut," is approaching. It's a bit early, but the moose are already getting restless and are moving around more than during the hot days when they keep to the deep woods. They are also more irritable, at least the bulls. We've been warned to duck behind a tree if charged in future weeks. Ha! Hard to believe I'll be home a month from now. A visit to my dad is the first thing on my agenda.About halfway in, Judy (MaFinch) joins us. She's driven around to the end we are coming out in and has hiked in to meet us. She's kicking our thruhiker butts on the uphills.We exit the woods and into the car. Judy takes us to resupply, and then takes us to their lovely post-and-beam "cabin" on the lake, their retirement dream house. They feed us sweet corn and turkey and, at long last, we get double helpings of that coveted strawberry shortcake.I must add a medical note here. Regarding the clinical trials being conducted (by me) on the efficacy of anti-fungals on the endemic "butt pimples" to which all honest thruhikers confess: trials are being suspended for humanitarian reasons. If you recall, I was treating one cheek with Lotrim, the other remained "bare" as it were, as a control. But the evidence is unmistakable - the treated cheek is as smooth and clean as a baby's bottom. The other, red-bumped cheek deserves equal treatment. Thus, results will NOT be published in the Journal of American Medicine for peer review.Remember, you read it here first.