Date: 2004-09-29
From: Full Goose Shelter

To: Speck Pond Shelter
Miles today: 5.1
Weather: clear sky

All things told, it was a rather easy day today. I¢ve been dreading Mahoosuc Notch since I heard about it¢not just dread, really, but a sort of delicious anticipatory dread. Still, I expected it to take me at least three hours. Instead, we did it in two, more or less, putting me right at about average for thru-hikers. It was 1.5 fairly easy miles to the Notch, and then it began, just a crack between two mountains full of tumbled boulders. There was a sign where it began, and for a while we were able to skirt the boulders along a little worn trail in the moss beside the notch: then the trail plunged headlong into the thick of it, and there was no way around. County loved every second of it. It¢s the kind of hiking he loves best, clambering up and over rocks¢hiking that¢s a challenge. It¢s the kind of hiking I love least¢in fact, it¢s difficult for me to consider it hiking. This is bouldering, not hiking. As one early quitter said, ¢It¢s not like they printed in the brochure!¢But I survived. And had fun with most of it, actually. It is a rewarding challenge trying to figure out which way is the best way to go, and every boulder climbed over was satisfying, like a task completed. County would go ahead, climb over the next rock, decide if that was the way I should go, and come back and help me up and over. He could have done the notch, there and back again, in the time that it took me to get through it. He was critical of my ¢four-point¢ methodology. I have difficulty moving one limb unless I have the other three firmly planted. It was fun for about seven-tenths of a mile (the notch is .9), and then it stopped being fun. I think I just got tired. They¢ve determined scientifically that ¢hitting the wall¢ when you¢re running a marathon is just running out of easily accessible carbohydrates in your body, and sometimes I feel like that happens to me hiking. Maybe I need more snacks in easily accessible pouches. We stopped and took a break at the stream right at the end of the notch, and then, surprise all surprises, who should show up but Beatbox and Poptart! I hadn¢t seen Beatbox since Bland, Virginia, when we were both on our way to Trail Days.The trail has a crazy way of doing that. We had lapped him somehow, probably when he spent ten days in Dalton, Massachusetts. I was thrilled to see him. It¢s weird how someone you¢ve only had a casual acquaintance with, only spent a couple of days with, becomes a long-lost friend when you encounter them again along the trail. But we had a nice little chat, shared trail gossip, and decided to try to flip our packs onto our backs from the ground, using nothing but the arm straps. Only County was able to do it successfully, probably because he has an eleven-pound pack. We hiked on together, Beatbox and Poptart ahead, sharing tidbits of trail gossip. They quickly pulled ahead, after telling us that they had been warned not to relax after the notch. ¢Don¢t discount Mahoosuc Arm,¢ some former thru-hiker had told them. Just when you think you¢re through the worst of it, you discover you¢re not.And we weren¢t. I count this climb as one of the hardest, if not the hardest, of the whole hike. Part of it was my feeling of being observed, again, of needing to prove my worth to other thru-hikers. I¢m a thru-hiker who¢s made it to Maine, for Pete¢s sake. I should at least be able to keep up. But I wasn¢t. Maybe it was the three zeroes in Gorham, maybe the continual four-mile days. I didn¢t do so badly, either, which is why I don¢t know why I¢m always so hard on myself. We got to the top of the mountain maybe five minutes after Beatbox and Poptart. Five minutes. And we passed the four section hikers from the morning as if they were standing still. They were standing still, but still, they were awed at our pace. Meanwhile the mountain just stretched up, and up, and up. Climbing up Maine mountains is still generally easier than climbing down, because you¢re able to use pure physical brawn to haul yourself up the rocks, rather than try to avoid killing yourself letting yourself down the rocks. I was exerting myself to the limits of my endurance, and the mountain still stretched up, and up, and up. It was a 1200-foot climb in 1.1 miles, which sounds a lot better than it was. The last half mile was on sheer rock face, at what felt like a 20-percent grade.The whole top of the mountain was sheer granite, but the flora that clung to it had been worn away where the trail was, leaving what looks like an asphalt sidewalk heading straight up into the blue, blue sky. Unfortunately, I had used my last picture in the notch. This was maybe my darkest moment, despite the beauty of the day. I was miserable. And I kept thinking, why? Why? Why am I doing this? I feel like the bear who climbed the top of the mountain to see what he could see. And what did he see? Another mountain. I keep pushing through the misery to discover what I can about myself, do see what there is inside of me, and what do I find? More misery. Misery upon misery upon misery. I got to the top of the mountain, finally, and the Garland Five were there, taking a break with Beatbox and Poptart. We all sunned ourselves for a while, chatting¢or the others chatted. I was in a dark and ferocious mood. County and I split one of the two snacks we had remaining. And we headed back down the mountain.The country was beautiful, and the sky was a perfect blue. I could see the swampy Maine mountaintops laid out before me, and Speck Pond glistening just below. Two of the Garland kids went racing past me, running down the mountain, thrilled to have discovered that the Speck Pond Shelter, their stopping point for the night was only .9 away. I wanted it to be our stopping point, too. I didn¢t care anymore. I just didn¢t care about mileage. I didn¢t care how far we went. I didn¢t care that Beatbox and Poptart were trying for another 4.6 miles before dark to be picked up by Bear of the Andover hostel at Grafton Notch. But I still cared about Katahdin. I don¢t know why that mountain matters so bloody much to me. It¢s become a symbol of everything I want out of this hike. Everything. I somehow feel that when I get to the top of it, when I stand and touch that sign, that everything will become clear. Everything will resolve itself, everything will MEAN something. On bad days I feel like it won¢t mean anything, now that I¢m no longer a purist. That I had to hike past every white blaze in order to have Katahdin mean anything. We¢ll see, I suppose. I still have to get to Katahdin, just to see, even if I do alternate methods of blazing on my way.But as of right now, I¢m just happy to be in my sleeping bag, watching the Garland Five¢s extremely efficient distribution of labor. It¢s a full moon tonight. The shelter¢s beautiful, right by the pond. The Garland son has built a fire, and everything seems right with the world. We¢ll see about tomorrow.