Date: 2005-09-28
From: The Birches

To: Katahdin
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: few clouds

This is the LuLu, trying to write about... well, read on...   The happy screams became a distant noise as I had my moment of respect atop Katahdin. So far! So many steps have added up to this moment. It's incredible that I'm actually touching the sign, kissing the sign that so many hikers have touched and kissed, cried over and laughed at all it signifies. Germs? Ach! After these past six months of sharing food and sneezing on each other, I'm not worrying about kissing a sign.    I keep hesitating when it comes to writing about these last few steps. They were sweet and in a strange sense; both emotional and emotionless. My sister and I have walked 2174.9 miles and more to come to this sign, a place signing the end of our thruhike. At the same instant that we really become true thruhikers, we lose the trail. There is a grief in this moment of victory, but enough melancholy, eh?      Soli Gratia; by grace alone. These words meant so much to me as I was hurting, as I worked and wept through the black days. I sang them in grateful praise on the tops of mountains and they were also my muttered grumble through nasty stretches of the trail. Now as I walked away from the sign and looked down across the Knifes Edge of Katahdin, the words were there. Soli Gratia. There's my sister Touk, hugging another hiker in excitement. Tink broke into pieces and wept openly. Soli Gratia. Blue Skies and crisp kind winds. Smeared clouds for artistic compliment. Our clothes are stinky but we look like a bunch of gypsies, all randomly bundled in bright reds and greens against the neutral palette of the stones. Touk and I have argued and not gotten along at all. There were times that buggered my mind but here we are, both so happy to be on top of our last mountain. Soli Gratia.   Knife's Edge is said to be the most difficult trail in New England. In a way, I keep thinking that there's got to be something symbolic in this last leg of our hike. Each time I'd get ahold of some brilliant thread of analogy, I'd look down and promptly forget it. We scrambled along the most appropriatly named trail, looking down the hundreds upon hundreds of vertical drop on either side. I have a crazy life full of blueblazes ahead of me, no use getting too philosophical about it or I'll put myself out of commission. Tink's Mom was waiting at the bottom of the mountain and within a narrow span of hours, we'd be in a Volvo; zoom, zoom zooming down the lonely Maine roads. We'd sorta look at each other and trade shaky grins. Cars go altogether too fast. The miles all stacked up, taking us far away from our beloved footpath. This was no loop trip, we aren't coming back for a long time. The thruhike has been overwhelmingly linear, so much so that it's impending end has seemed startling and, well, I guess we're done now... I suppose all of life is like that too, instead of the repeating patterns of our daily life that we adapt to. Now we are driving toward Bangor, away from the trail and onward and upward to the next chapter of our gypsysisters adventures.Sorry for the rambling thoughts but absolutely no apologies for wandering feet. Hurrah for Katahdin!!!