Date: 2003-07-31
From: ? 

To: Phish
Miles today: 0.0

My Phish Adventure- Day OneFlavius, the absolutely amazing angel that gave us the tickets in the first place, did us the also-amazing favor of taking us to Caratunk, a trail town that was roughly a third of the way to Limestone. We arrived there in the evening of the 30th, found the AT, and hiked south just barely out of town and camped by the Kennebec river, which will be crossing a few weeks from now when I hike there. It was a lovely spot: a wide, shallow, rocky river, with banks on either side. It was so lovely and everything has been going so perfectly that I half expected a moose to wade out across the water. I left a note for all of the friends that I won't hike with again pinned to a pole, in a ziploc bag, saying bye, and that I'd miss them.In the morning, we were up early, packed, and had our thumbs out by seven-thirty. Of course, there weren't so may cars on the road at that time, and it took an hour for us to get our first hitch. And the first one took us only a mile down the road, but it was to a better spot, where we could get traffic coming out of Caratunk. The second pulled over in minutes. Both of these hitches were deadheads: one wearing a bear shirt and another with mexicali blues on the tapedeck. Had breakfast at a gas station cafe.The next guy was a dad and a sawyer, and lived next to an old hippy commune. Told us about hiking, his old hitching days, and diferent kinds of wood. His dad and brother had organic garlic farms. He took us to Skowhegan, where I got cash, Cliffsdweller got tobacco, and the we hit a thrift shop, hoping for comfy sandals for the weekend. No luck, but a lady their offered us a hitch to Massachusetts. Too bad; wrong direction.At the shoe repair place, Cliffdweller asked the guy if he had any deals on mens' size 11 sandals. It was a long shot, so weren't we surprised when he pulls out these used leather tevas. And then even more surprised when he gave them to us for free. We didn't even put our thumbs out for the next ride. He pulls over and tells us to hop in the truck. We notice fly-fishing stickers in his back windows, and Cliffdweller, who just bought a backpacking fly rod, asks him, when we stop, about his reel. The guy gives him two of his best flies, as long as Cliffdweller promises to throw most of the catches back. The next guy was in a hurry, but took us as far as I-95, and it should have been easy from there.Had a shake at Burger King, and whipped out the cardboard sign. Sat there a while. Modified the sign. And then this guy calls us over to the BK parking lot, asks us where we're going. He lives only twenty miles from Limestone, in Presque Isle, and will take us there. Score. A two-hundred mile hitch.But it was a wierd one. He was a used-car salesman. And I got the feeling that he didn't really like hitch hikers or Phishheads. He was clean. And talked about money a lot. Just not a typical hitch, but, hey, he took us a long, long way.He even stopped at a scenic rest area, where we could get a view of Katahdin filling up the sky. It as huge. Wow.He dropped us in Presque Isle and told us about a state park just outside of town where we could spend the night, since concert camping didn't open up until the next morning. We ate at a wicked vegan restaurant--so good, I didn't even know it was vegan. The owner wouldn't let us pay until we had eaten and were completely satisfied with our meal. Called Jo after dinner, and it was great to talk to her. I was dying for either her or my fried Todd to share in my excitement. They are my two Phish phriends. While talking, Cliffdweller snags us a ride to the park with the restaurant owner, and shortly, we are there. Walking into the park, a car pulls over and invites us up to ther site later. The place was packed with concert-goers. I am just amazed at the immense amount of good fortune and kindness we have experienced these past days. There are so many people being nice to us!Our site is by a lake, and we meet some vendors also camped there, as well as others going to the show. I swim in the lake, trade the car funk for lake funk. Cliffdweller tries out the fly-rod. People play frisbee, and the evening sky is pink and blue. After dark, we mosey up the hill to the other sites and find the carload that we had met earlier. Share some beer, pop some jiffy pop on the fire, talk a bunch before tripping back down the hill to our campsite. What a day.