Date: 2005-10-08
From: Rainbow Stream Lean-To 

To: Katahdin Stream Campground
Miles today: 25.0
Weather: moderate rain

It was a good idea to stay in the shelter last night; we woke to constant rain. I was up at 5 am (again) ready to see my mom. But when it is raining it is still really dark at 5...and 5:15, and 5:20, and 5:25. At 5:30 I gave up trying to wait and started packing in the dark. After doing this almost every morning for 7 months, I don't need to see to pack up. The others in the shelter were okay with getting up early. I made sure to check with everyone last night. We are all excited to get to Baxter. But still, Rawhide and I were the first to roll out at 6:30. Any earlier and we would have had to use our headlamps. I really think that at this point all of my rainwear is just a joke. It blocks wind and probably bird poop, but I wouldn't bet on even the last one. But for some reason I still put on my Precip to walk in the rain. With all of the water falling from the sky, the trail was a stream. No, really, in some places I wasn't sure if I was still on the trail or I had turned off and was following an actual stream. Turns out it was usually still just the trail. But once you soak your shoes, it speeds up the process because you can just splash right through everything else. So everyone says that the last part of the 100-mile wilderness is the easiest. Better than southern Maine? Yes. Easy? No. At the sobo sign for the Hundred Mile Wilderness I ate my last Granola bar and ran for the road. Sure enough, my mom was waiting right there. She didn't even see us coming because she didn't think we would do the 15 miles by noon. We hit the road at ten after! I was sooo hungry and my mom had filled her trunk for trail magic. Lunch was good indeed.After much debate, Rawhide and I decide to do the last 10 miles to the Katahdin Stream Campground. As much as I wanted to go to a nice warm and dry hotel room, I wanted to be able to get those miles out of the way. At the entrance to Baxter State Park, a ridge runner greeted us and asked if we were staying at the Birches. Nope, I'm sleeping in a real bed. (I don't know who these people are that go home and end up forsaking their mattress for the floor. I will have no problems sleeping in a bed.) He also told us that a bridge was out on one of the streams. Someone had put some logs across but the ridge runner told us not to use them. To ford it we should go up stream. Because we were already wet, we didn't mind one last ford. Since we were thru hikers he told us we would be fine.We were cruising along the mildly flat trail with no packs when the trail dead-ended at a raging river. It took about 10 minutes of backtracking and footprint finding for us to decide that yes, the trail really does go across the river. We saw the logs the ridge runner said not to use and headed up stream. And up stream. Nowhere looked like a great crossing so we picked the least worst spot and stepped into the rushing water. We both made it about half way across and paused behind a big rock that was tempering the onslaught of water for us. I decided to brave the last few feet to shore and eased away from the shelter of the rock. The almost waist deep water violently pushed against my poles and my legs. And slowly my feet refused to stay down. As I floated to my back I searched for a rock or tree to grab on to but the rocks were too round and smooth. The cold water that had found its way under my jacket took my breath away. Luckily that was all that was taken away. Rawhide grabbed me in plenty of time and pulled me back to the calmer middle. Then we did something only thru hikers would do. We stood in the middle of the water talking about what we should do next. After several minutes we realized the first step should be to get out of the river. Rawhide checked to see if he could get across there before we headed back but he had no luck either. You couldn't cross downstream because about 50 yards after the logs it joined with another raging river to form a large mass that you do not want to be floating in. We decided to give the logs a try before turning back. Forget what the Ridge runner said, the logs were our best chance. Crawling over the water was scary, but ultimately the only way. The warm and dry hotel was all that I had hoped.By doing so many miles in so few days I got the chance to see friends that I hadn't seen in a long time. The last time we saw Chubster was in VA and LoJack passed us while we were on vacation. I even got to meet a few new people. Momma Toes had seen Scholar in town the night before. It felt wonderful to be able to do a little trail magic of my own in the form of beer for our companions of the last few weeks - Yukon Jack, Captain Morgan, and Reality Check.