Date: 2015-08-03
From: Horns Pond Lean-to

To: West Carry Pond Lean-to
Miles today: 17.9
Weather: scattered clouds

The sky was clear this morning and the sun's rays were hitting the tree tops. It was going to be a nice day.We left the campsite and headed out towards the Bigelows, the final significant mountains of our trip before Katahdin. We began with the South Horn, a short and steep peak; a prelude to the other Bigelows. We climbed up the West Peak first, then headed to the Avery Peak. It was a steep ascent over rocks. We left the cover of the trees and entered a narrow pathway wedged between two sharp precipices, a vertigo-inducing path. The wind was violently blowing and my movements were unsteady. The rocks were dry and there were no rock slides so I was unperturbed, although I would not recommend this particular section to anyone suffering from a fear of heights. I enjoyed the views: the azure sky complemented perfectly the vibrantly luxurious green color of the mountains which were spotted with irregular, deeply blue shapes, the ponds. It's an intense feeling to be alone on top of a giant rock, where the ground around you drops off suddenly and you are higher than everything around you. Your line of sight stretches for miles and miles and the wind thrashing in your ears is all you can hear. The surrounding mountains seem so small; it's as close as we can get to flying. We did not stay long though as the wind was going to blow away my cap. As we were hiking towards the safety of the trees, I noticed some dark-eyed juncos, those gray little birds, flying head first into the wind. I love these little guys as they are the first birds I learned about way back in Georgia. I have seen many more in the Whites, they seem to be acclimatized to the harsh alpine weather (other species I am sure I have seen high in the mountains include the always angry spruce grouse and the white-throated sparrow). It was amazing to see the bad boy juncos skillfully darting from small shrub to the next while Shrugs and I wobbled on rocks, completely off-balance because of the strong winds.The climb down was long. It was steep. However, once we were done, we had a small break: the climb up Little Bigelow was very gradual and smooth (since when did a climb up a mountain become a welcome break?) We hiked along the rocky ridgeline and had a few hand-over-hand climbs to perform. As we headed back down, the Trail turned into a continuous rock sidewalk and, while my toes were crushed against the front of my boot at the end, the surface was dry so it was manageable. Wet rock slides are my Trail nemesis. My sympathetic nervous system gets worked into overdrive and I get very nervous navigating up or down said slides as I have fallen numerous times. It's a vicious circle.We arrived at the shelter for a break and to fill up our water bottles. While we were filtering water, we saw a large group of teens (some type of camp/youth group) from Qu©bec. There have been many in Maine, I guess it's a popular destination. Maine is supposedly "Vacationland".The elevation profile shows a sudden flattening of the terrain following the Bigelows; the horizontal terrain is maintained except for a few bumps here and there until the end. I had had my eye on this for a while. We zipped through the Trail. Sure, it was still covered in rocks and roots but there were no mountains to climb. We made good time. The sky had become overcast and a deep rumbling echoed. The thunder persisted, in a continuous stream of loud crashing noises. It was strange as we only received a few spurts of rain broken up by brief periods of sunshine. The clouds continued their booming laments and everything grew dark. Finally, the storm was unleashed. Shrugs and I continued hiking when we felt sharp stings on the back of our necks and arms. Oh, hail. The icy pellets bounced and danced off the ground as if they had been thrown onto a sizzling hot frying pan. In an instant, we were soaked. Lightning crashed above our heads.Lightning storms are great when you are inside. I have a particular random memory: it is very late in the evening and I am waken up by a lightning storm. I am in bed and I heard the rain drops plummeting with excessive force against the window. A flash of light briefly illuminates my dark room and the sound of thunder rips through the sky. It's a violent display, but from my bed, it is paradoxically soothing, like a hardcore lullaby. There is nothing soothing or relaxing about hiking in a hail storm with lightning. It is terrifying. We hiked as fast as we could. The whole forest was dark and the Trail was completely flooded so all the rocks and roots were submerged in black pools. I have no idea how we moved so fast without tripping over anything.We made it to the shelter in about an hour. Everyone had taken cover but they all made some room for Shrugs and me (though our designated spot was under the area where the roof leaked...) However, we saw AJ, a woman whom we met in the Shenandoahs. She was section hiking at the time and is back now in Maine to do another section. She recognized us and we talked for a bit. It was such a random encounter and it did make me feel better after hiking in the storm.The lightning and thunder never abated; the storm persisted with the same intensity throughout the night. It was as if there was a large queue of clouds waiting to dump their load of rain and lightning on us, one at a time.- Axon