Date: 2003-09-06
From: Moxie Pond Rd

To: Caratunk
Miles today: 11.8

In the morning, my jammed finger wouldn't wiggle. It's fat as a little sausage, and doesn't bend. But we are slackpacking back to Caratunk today, so it doesn't have a big job to do.Paul cooks up his famed French toast, and we eat eggs and melon with him family style, along with his lovely friends Carol and Scotty, who are visiting. I connect with Carol's energy right away. I have been missing the female, "yin" balance! The "yang" influence has been helpful to me in keeping the engines running, but a balance is nice. I have seen almost no solo female hikers in the last 1500 miles.To help out, Carol and Scotty take over the morning's shuttle. We pass the mist rising off the Kennebec River as we drive; the river is warmer than the morning's air. It is a brilliant day, full of dry air and breezes, a sky so blue you could get lost in it.In short, a spectacular day to hike.Once we turn onto a dirt road about 8 miles long, we run parallel to a long lake called Moxie Pond. The drive alone is pure eye candy. The thin strip of shoreline between the road and the rocky lake is studded with tiny cabins. In the extensive lake are islands with docks and shacks. I wonder what it would cost to buy an island in Maine with a shack on it?We follow the road until the power lines run out, and still there are little cabins, now with no electricity. Chief says they probably use propane for lights and cooking.Often, there is big water on both sides of the road. We spy loons, riding low in the lake.All of a sudden, in an acres-large bog on the right, we see a moose! Moose! Scotty slams on the brakes as Chief and I scramble out with cameras in hand.It's a mature cow, standing mid-belly in water, grazing in the middle of the pond. She watches us but does not run. Her wither ridge is prominent like the bulls' but not as bristly.After deciding we are harmless, she goes back to ripping aquatic plants off the bottom. She plunges her whole head under, ears, nostrils, eyeballs and all - up to the neck. Her muzzle drips as she lifts up. Plants in her mouth stream water. She shakes her head and the dewlap thingie at her throat swings, spraying drops into the pond. Her brown hair is plastered flat to her head.We are close enough to hear her strong jaws chewing. It is an improbable head, all snout and overbite muzzle. You can't help but smile.Chief makes clicking noises to her. She turns to look, then starts moving. Either the bottom is as rocky as the nearby Kennebec, or she is having trouble negotiating. She is raring up at each step. On closer inspection, we see she is lame on the right front leg. My practiced horseman's eye looks for a wound or swelling, but I see nothing.Not a lot of flesh on this old gal. I feel a stab of empathy. It is a hard life she lives, and there is no calling the vet. I believe she is standing in belly-deep water in order to buoy her weight and spare her remaining three legs. Moose hospital, complete with food.Something we do sends her for higher bog ground. I trot down the road and get onto a point of land in front of her. She keeps coming, though she sees me. She remains calm, several times burying her head to pull up feed. She looks at me from this new vantage point, and I am close enough to see the light in her big brown eyes.A wordless understanding passes between us, it seems to me; you won't bother me, I see; I won't bother you either.Enchanted, I watched for quite awhile, until the van people grew impatient. "C'mon Jan," called Chief. I pulled away with reluctance. I could have watched her all day.We set out from Joe's Hole up to Pleasant Pond Mt., our main climb of the day. On top of this slab-topped mountain we could see the whole of Moxie Lake. The sun is fabulous up here, and again, I could have sat here all day. My rhythms are definitely slowing down! I want to stay put and just absorb the sights.You couldn't ask for finer hiking. The trail also smoothes out to practically 3 mph - a veritable track at times! Like the old days.At Pleasant Pond Shelter, I get a surprise when I read the register. My very first thruhiker/mentor Wendy is out here looking for me. "Philosophy" ('00) was my gear guru, and the one who walked into my life shortly after I'd made the decision to walk the AT. She became my mentor and teacher, and took me out on my very first AT backpack. She now lives in home state Maine with Josh ("Web," '01), who she met in Hot Springs as we came in from that first hike. Fate is a funny thing.She was leaving some treats back at the Caratunk House, she said. I was sorry to have missed her! To have seen her in my final leg would have been too perfect.We also ran into Kiwi and Dreamtalker, two of Finch's old hiking partners. Right after them came Cobra and Splash.Back in Caratunk, we ordered a milkshake as we ran into Ken and Marcia, AT thruhikers. They had also done the PCT and the CDT, so they were thundering down to not only the conclusion of their AT hike but their Triple Crown.We found out we had friends in common, Sly from NC, another Triple Crowner. Sly was using their car to position himself for a Long Trail hike. It is a small world in long distance hiking.Their friend AWOL stayed at the Caratunk House for the night, though they moved on. Awol, from Florida, joined us for pizza supper, as did "81," a section hiker who is nearly done with the AT. He does a week a year. This year, it's to Monson. Next year, it's the 100 Mile Wilderness to Katahdin.Finally, I learn that my old hiking buddy Just Do It is on the move again. Remember, Ben broke his hand in PA. He is planning to meet ITCHY at Katahdin, and bring him home! Too perfect!