Date: 2003-09-24
From: Long Pond Stream

To: Hwy. 15
Miles today: 0.0

start Long Pond Stream dest. Hwy 15 Someone knocked on our door early this morning announcing chowtime! It didn't take us long to get dressed and head over to the main house where the meals are served.Fried potatoes,eggs anyway you want,bacon,ham,sausage,french toast.Yum yum. There were several familiar faces around the table this morning. Hiker friends we haven't seen in months. Some of them we had done trail magic for way back down south,and some just yesterday. The talk was lively ,as lively as could be expected at 6:30 in the morning. Between cups of piping hot coffee and tea,lots of tales,some true,some not so true and some questionable flowed across the tables. Before long it was time to load up and hit the trail. Some of the hikers are hiking out today. There is a group of us that are slack packing a 15 mile section today,the be back here tonight. Keith Jr. takes me up to where I am leaving the car today. Then against my better judgement,but having no choice in the matter,I jump into the back of the truck with the other hikers and down the road we go. We turn onto an old logging road and follow it through axle deep water. He finally stops and says this is as far as he goes. Any farther and water would be up to his doors. We are still a mile and a half from the trail. Off we go tiptoeing around the puddles,weaving our way from one side of the road to the other. It occurs to me that I am finally hiking in Maine. After so many months of saying it,and so many miles,I can now say I am hiking in Maine. I stop and wait for Mudbutt to share this profound thought with her. She gets big old tears in her eyes and says,"Do you want to make m! e cry right here?" Of course,then I tear up and start to sniffle. There are plenty of other people who have walked lots more miles to get here,but I don't think anyone has worked harder to be here than Mudbutt. I know of no one who has faced the obstacles that she has faced,and still she keeps hiking. We doa short rendition of the Dance of the Real Woman, and head down the trail. I feel so light on my feet,no cumbersome pack to weigh me down,just a day pack with water,power bars ,water and my headlamp. The trail seems no different than other states I have been in. Up hill climbs,down hill slides,hardwood trees bursting with colors,ferns already turning brown with the cool nights. The new slant to the trail is fording. Not the step from rock to rock across the stream,but the take your shoes off and wade across the water fording. I donot care for this. I don't like to put my feet in anything colder than 75 degrees. It doesn't take long to get tired of the many streams on the ! trail. The first one doens't go too bad. I managed to get from rock to rock without even taking my shoes off. I get bolder at the next stream. But this one definately calls for shoes off. So before I cross,I decide to answer the call of the wild,and find a tree to water. I lay my poles down,climb the bank and take off my gloves. Finished I head back down to the water. I take off my shoes,tie them together and hang them over my neck. After the intial shock of the cold wears off and my feet are numb,I make it across with out a spill. I sit down on the bank,pleased with myself,but somewhat miffed with the southbound hiker who told us we wouldn't even get our feet wet today. He either had a plane or went a different way! I dry my feet off with my socks,put them and my boots on and start down the trail. But something doeen't feel right. I am missing my gloves. The gloves that Ann gave me backat Pinkham Notch. The gloves that keep me from getting blisters in thepalms of my hands. The gloves that are on the other side of the stream,right where I left! them. I debated leaving them there and hoping someone behind me would see them and pick them up. I also debated waiting for someone to come up and I could ask them to bring them over. But I was feeling confident and cocky with myself. I also saw how the hiker had stayed dry when he crossed the stream. I should have taken my boots off right then and there. But I didn't. I saw the rocks forming a nice path across the stream,with a good size tree wedged between two boulders for another step. Off I go,stepping from rock to rock. I had almost made it all the way across. I came to the tree,put my foot down on it and then my weight. I didn't know the other end wasn't wedged in. The opposite end flies up,you can guess where I fly. Like what happens when someone gets off of a teeter totter without tellingthe other person. Imanaged to some how twirl around so that I land front first into the water,straddling two rocks. Besides my feet,there are other parts of my body that are just ! not meant to experience the ice cold waters of a Maine mountain stream in September. That feeling caused me to react and come up out of the water like I had been shot from a cannon! I was on the bank in a heartbeat. I grabbed my gloves,and stomped back across the stream,spraying water as I went. Once on the other side,I sat down,took my boots off and wrang water out of my socks. I repeated this several more times as I hiked along. I stopped for a lunch break and waited for Mudbutt. It was pretty obvious by then that we were in for some night hiking,and we had all afternoon to dread it and get all worked up over it. I hiked along until just before dark,then sat down and waited for Mudbutt. I had goten a glimpse of the sharp steep descent we had,and I was just on the verge of being scared out of my wits. I also knew we had three miles of hking to do before we got to the road. I sit down on the trail and bundle up in my rain jacket with my head on my knees. I could just barely make ot the shapes of the trees there in the dark. I put my head down ! to rest or maybe to pray,when I heard Mudbutt's steps crunching along the trail.Then they stopped. I looked up expecting to see her headlamp,but everything was dark. I just happened to look the other way and there not ten feet from me was the biggest mose I have ever seen. It was too dark to see much more than the outline,but what an outline it was! I slowly eased my hand into my pocket and pulled out my camera.I had no idea if a picture would turn out or not,but I was going to give it a shot.The eyes reflected the flash as I clicked the button,but the animal didn't even flinch. I could not see any sign of antlers,which was good. The rutting reason is just starting and I sure didn't want to anger a moody male out searching for a woman! It was the most awesome sight.