Date: 2017-05-28
From: Mars Hill

To: Blue Moose Restaurant
Miles today: 21.0
Weather: light rain

I am so excited. I am waking up in the spot where the sunlight first strikes the USA.Fog. Socked in. Can't see 200 feet.I guess it doesn¢t sound impressive to say I woke in the spot where muddled-by-fog light first hit. Later this summer, August 21, we plan to travel from wherever we are on the AT to see the total solar eclipse. Rolling Thunder has done this multiple times during his lifetime. RT: ¢I¢m an eclipse junkie.¢ He¢s traveled to some of the most exotic places, to far away mountain summits. He¢ll tell you all this, but his punch line, the one I dread and hope to break, is, ¢I¢m also an eclipse jinx.¢ Rolling Thunder finds clouds, finds fog like this morning on Mars Hill. Noooo, this will probably be my only chance to see a total solar eclipse. I want to see the stars come out. I want to see birds go to sleep. We¢ll likely have to drive five hours from the AT to see it. It¢s time for RT to throw off his curse. Maybe if I secretly put a string of garlic around his neck.I am so excited. (Do I get excited that easily?) We¢re walking off Mars Hill, leaving the 24-tower wind farm, giant blades whirring, driving us crazy, and we¢re plunging down a Double Black Diamond following the Mars Hill ski lift. But what awaits us two miles from the base is the village of Mars Hills and more important, Al¢s Diner. Breakfast. I am already salivating for hash browns, the greasier the better, well-done bacon and maybe waffles?  Or French toast? Anything that will serve as a platform for slathered butter. But it¢s even better than that. Taking our order the waitress at Al¢s casually says: ¢Would you like your hash browns grilled or deep fried?¢ I wasn¢t even aware that you could deep fry hash browns. Aaahhhhh.Breakfast: Don¢t get me wrong, yesterday was some hard hiking. Walking that straight-as-an-arrow border swath meant straight-lining it up hill and down valley, no switchbacks. And I¢ll admit to being stiff and sore, parts not bending, like the Tin Man before Dorothy used the oil can.All hail ¢Rails to Trails.¢ Except for the two miles downhill off Mars Hill, the IAT follows an old railroad bed. We hiked twenty miles on a multi-use ATV, bike and hiking trail. Where the Bangor&Aroostock trains once belched smoke, we now recreate. This means the gentlest of curves, a raised bed so incredibly well drained I almost forgot yesterday¢s bogs, and the grade is level as a pool-table.Rail spike on Maine rails to trails: We finished our 23 miles by 5:30 and I¢m writing this in what the IAT guidebook says is a .1 mile detour to the ¢famous Blue Moose restaurant."That's it. I¢ve just raised the white flag. I am defeated. I might just keel over if I tried to finish this huge plate of tender pot roast, stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy and coleslaw. Rolling Thunder sits across from me routed, fleeing in ignominious defeat. His plate of lasagna victorious. Two thru-hikers slain by food. We hang our heads in shame.We set up our tents on the broad, fresh-cut grass lawn behind the Blue Moose. Vanquished by food, the balls of my feet scream at me like shrill whistles from one of the Bangor&Aroostock steam engines. I am ready to turn out the headlamp. Good night Guy on a Buffalo. Good night Princesses. Goodnight Trail Tribe. Good night to the old lady whispering, ¢Hush.¢ Good night all.My tent at the Blue Moose:Eye candy for you: