Date: 2021-06-15
To: View Entry
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: clear sky

I feel like I'm throwing this hike together at the last minute. I'm about to climb the toughest mountain on the AT and go off in the wilderness for a week with no access to resupply. But here I am tossing all my gear together this morning, an hour before I need to get to the train station and head for Maine. I pulled all the gear together, cross-checked against my packing list on lighterpack (https://lighterpack.com/r/ja4w9b), and stacked it all nicely in my ULA CDT frameless backpack. Then I weighed it and it came out two pounds more than I expected. Okay, big deal you think, but for a UL hiker that's a 20% error! The pack is built to carry 18 pounds, and I'll be carrying 15 pounds of food and water to start the 100 Mile Wilderness, so when the base weight comes in over 12 pounds instead of under 10 as planned that's a problem. So I hurriedly tore everything apart and weighed things individually to see where the extra weight came from. Some items like the pack, sleeping pad, and tent were heavier than they had been when new. Apparently all that dirt that never scrubbed out weighs something. There were a few false alarms as well. The biggest of which was that I had secured my trekking poles in the middle of the pack to prevent damage. Since I normally carry the poles they aren't part of my baseweight. Accounting for those and a few smaller add-ons I figured out my baseweight had increased maybe a pound. Not happy about it, but I'd rather have these items than not. After the 100 Mile Wilderness resupply will be more frequent and the pack will rarely exceed 18 pounds total.But trekking poles raise another issue I'd put off to the last minute. In flying to Bangor, Maine, I wanted to avoid checking a bag. Both because it could be lost and because of the extra fee. But things like trekking poles, my pocketknife (tiny as it is), tent stakes and even my cathole trowel are prohibited from carry-ons by the TSA. I'd heard of other hikers getting their poles through security. So I figured I'd pack everything and see what happened. Worst case, I'd have to check a bag. Still, I was nervous I would be delayed or somehow lose the poles at security. Checking a bag made sense but I balked at the cost. Distracting myself from the dilemma, I went to check in for the flight online. The site unsurprisingly tried to upsell me to First Class. But instead of the $300 upgrade it would have been, it was now just $47. Apparently American Airline's algorithm had figured out this was the sweet spot to squeeze a little more revenue from their puddle jumper. I took it. It was an easy decision for two reasons. First Class came with free checked bags, and just checking a bag would cost $30. So I could enjoy First Class for effectively a few bucks. The other reason was that this looked like serendipity, a "trail provides" moment, that shouldn't be turned down. Part of an adventure is walking through open doors. You never know where they might lead. Besides, I haven't flown First Class since a trip to India in college when coach class was overbooked and they had nowhere else to seat me and my friend. So it was about time. My daughter drove me to the train station, where after a couple connections I arrived at the Philly airport. The flight to Bangor was little more than an hour. So quick the upgrade hardly seemed worth it! The plane pitched out over the Atlantic for half of it, which I discovered to my surprise when I glanced out looking for landmarks to find no land at all. Leaving the Bangor airport I passed a gazebo where a young guy in a flannel shirt and sandals was playing a guitar. Seemed like a local hipster and I almost thought he was playing for money until he called out and asked if I was thruhiking. Looking closer I saw a large backpack by his feet. He introduced himself as Johnny Appleseed, a 2017 NOBO thruhiker going SOBO this year. He comes from Asheville, North Carolina but grew up in Raleigh. Or, as he put it, left the Yuppies for the Hippies. He's teaching himself the guitar, which he intends to carry the length of the trail after being inspired in 2017 by hiking with four - yes four - guitar-carrying thruhikers.I resupplied at the Hannaford's supermarket nearby, yet another task I left to the last minute. I left the stove behind to save weight and because it's summer. But that makes putting together lightweight meals challenging, especially for seven days. I ended up with a lot of tuna, salmon and chicken packets, tortillas, cheese, salami, and granola bars. I couldn't bring myself to carry a jar of peanut butter yet. The Cyr bus took Johnny and me up I-95 to Medway, where a girl from the AT Lodge was waiting to pick us up. Two other SOBOs, Sully and Daniel, joined us. From North Carolina, they've been hiking the southern mountains for years and came up here to start in unfamiliar terrain. Our host peppered us with questions about our plans. Were we staying two nights to take advantage of their SOBO workshop? Did we need a food drop? If not, did we have 20 pounds of food (10 days worth)? Don't underestimate Katahdin or the Wilderness she warned. I appreciated her caution for first timers. But having done this section three times already, never needing more than six days, it felt a bit condescending. Johnny had the idea of hiking across the Knife Edge to reach Katahdin then hiking out of Baxter the same day. This prompted a lecture from our driver about the difficulty of that hike and the logistical problems. In the end she rhetorically wiped her hands of any guilt by deferring to him "if you know what you're doing". At the hostel are a mix of SOBOs leaving tomorrow, others spending tomorrow prepping, others returning after encountering problems in the first week, and even a NOBO, a young kid called Mighty Mouse, who just finished the trail in 93 days, the fifth NOBO to finish this year. One SOBO was back after tweaking his knee 40 miles in. Another father/son duo were leaving the trail after a week because it was "not what I expected", a common refrain I've heard among new NOBOs as well. Johnny and I pre-loaded carbs at Scootic restaurant across the street, trading barbs with a waitress who begged us to get her fired.  Time to turn in. The sun rises ungodly early here at this time of year. And there are mountains to climb...