Date: 2004-09-11
From: Monson, ME

To: Long Pond Stream Lean-to
Miles today: 15.1
Weather: clear sky

I woke up this morning feeling sad and nervous. My heart is already broken at the prospect of my journey coming to an end as if tomorrow were the big day. Yet, I have another week of hiking.For a shorter hiking day, it was tough. The sign at the base reads, ¢Please, do not underestimate the difficulty of this trail.¢ I figured they were talking to all those yahoo¢s that head into the Wilderness with a Snickers bar. Not a 2000-miler like me.I assumed the river crossings would be deep but did not expect the currents to be so strong. One false move, a slip on a submerged rock, and you could fall into the water and get swept away. The first river crossing at Little Wilson Stream, is very narrow. A mass of water squeezes its way through a smaller gulley though, creating a high pressure current. The point where we should cross was just a roar of white foam and dark water. I had arrived just as 81 and another hiker finished their ford. Chafe, a northbound thru-hiker, was camped out on the south side waiting for the current to subside. He had been there since noontime the day before. He told us that 81 practically fell in but managed to swim over to an eddy and pull himself out. Jalan Jalan and another hiker had checked out other options further down stream. Everything looked bad.Shortly, Polar, Pilot, and Hotrock showed up. They suggested we link arms and cross as one large group so that we would be more stable. I decided to go with them. We crossed with our packs on our backs--the straps loose so they wouldn¢t drag us under if we did fall. To increase stability, we wore our boots. Hotrock went first, then Pilot, then me, Polar, and Jalan Jalan. Chafe opted to stay behind. At first we tried synchronized stepping, but we soon discovered we were crunching each other¢s toes. Eventually we just stepped one at a time, which made the process very slow. You would feel around blindly trying to place your foot on a rock that didn¢t move. Meanwhile, the current pushed you backwards. I remember standing in the middle of the stream with the full force of the current riding up on my legs and soaking my shorts to the waist while I waited for everyone to get comfortable with their balance. It seemed like an eternity. We all agreed to grab a stronger hold if someone yelped that they were losing it.This was probably the most intense moment of my hike, but I have to say that I was more concerned with getting my stuff wet than drowning. It is amazing the amount of force the river had--not too unlike the wind at the top of Mt. Washington. I always felt that I could be pushed over, especially when I lifted one foot to advance it ahead. Jalan Jalan mentioned earlier that the temperatures that night would go down to 30 degrees and that we should make sure our sleeping bags are protected, especially if made of goose down. Great, something else to worry about.In the end, we all got across Little Wilson safely. High-fives all around. I decided to rest and dry off in the sun while the rest of the gang forged ahead. We still had to cross Big Wilson in another three miles, but we heard that the worst was over.I was the second one to arrive at Big Wilson after Jalan Jalan. He greeted me with ¢It doesn¢t look good.¢ Big Wilson was a lot wider but the current was still strong. Jalan Jalan valiantly scoped out the possibilities by crossing halfway without his pack. When we found a safe spot, we crossed separately, unlinked and about five feet apart. The rest of the crew followed.Unfortunately, Big and Little Wilson were not the only fords for the day as we had hoped. Every small stream raged. There was a dramatic rock hop we had to perform at Vaughn Stream that spiked the adrenaline a bit. By the fourth or fifth crossing, I was getting fed up. At Long Pond Stream, where we had to wear our boots again, I just crossed without thinking too hard about it. I wanted to get to the shelter before nightfall.I¢m in my tent near the shelter. I can still hear the roar of Long Pond Stream below us. Many people are here including Chafe, who managed to get his guts up to cross Little Wilson finally. Another thru-hiker named Slips, who took eighteen days off from the trail to nurse an injury, is here as well. And Bones is hiding in the corner of the shelter relaxing. 81 is nowhere in sight, but Slips assures us he did not get swept away in any current.Tonight I get to sleep with my wet socks in my down bag. They are wrapped in a bandanna. If the temps do drop, I would rather have them warm and wet then frozen. I intend to wear my second pair tomorrow though. It will take this pair a couple of days to dry.