Date: 2005-09-06
From: Horn Pond Lean-To

To: Beach at Flagstaff Lake
Miles today: 12.2

Guest Writer:   First off, I have a confession to make. I'm not Red Wing, nor am I Hopeful. My name is Pappa Razzi, and as I understand it, I'm the second in a long line of guest authors for this journal. When first asked to fill in for a day, I was skeptical. Was there some ulterior motive at play? Is this part of some elaborate ruse involving an ex-President, a 1963 BMW roadster and a leprechaun? Of course not. Remember, this is Red Wing and Hopeful we're talking about, and everybody knows that Red Wing has an aversion to leprechauns.   It's been said that "early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise". Thru-hikers go to bed with the sun and also rise with it; it's hard to do either earlier unless you're a misbehaving 10 year old or a farm hand. We're definately healthy, and I'll grant wise out of fear of offending any other hiker. Wealthy is another matter, given that we're on a six month trip, sans income, but I suppose tow out of three ain't bad. Anyway, this is just a long, round about way of stating that all parties were up and moving before seven. After breakfast and bidding adieu to Pipes (an '04 thu-hiker, making up some miles-- hopefully I'm not muddying things up too much by introducing characters not previously mentioned), we set off to face the Bigelows.   The Bigelows are an entirely unnecessary geographical feature of Maine. It's a single mountain range that rises out of nowhere and travels along the sky for a few miles before fading back into the valleys below. However, they offer spectacular views from their rocky peaks and ridges. Today was a perfect day to traverse them; the crystal clear skies allowed outstanding views. Sugarloaf Moutain loomed large to the south, while Katahdin was visible to the north to the keen observer with a sense for geography. Much time was spent absorbing the views and sun.   In the gap between Avery Peak and Little Bigelow we passed Thunder, busy slackpacking south. Other than suffering the slings and arrows concerning the harsh economic realities of slackpacking, he was in excellent spirits. He caught us up to date on the latest trail gossip, and confirmed that Crazy Legs had slipped past us yesterday. (Author's note: Crazy Legs and I hiked together for several hundred miles.) "Operation Stall" had backfired slightly. I would have loved to have seen Crazy Legs again, but it sounds as if he's on a sprint to Katahdin, so it would have been highly unlikely that we would have hiked together anyways. Thunder continued on his way. We may see him again tomorrow, but that will probably be the last time. He's pushing to summit Katahdin on the 16th, his 30th birthday.   About a mile later we found a viewpoint for lunch and were pleasantly surprised to run into Hazy Sonic. He is apparantly on the "hike-til-midnight, leave-at-eleven" plan. He left before us, allowing ourselves to cross the 2,000 mile mark alone, well, as a trio instead of a quartet, on any account. We passed several other milestones today, too. Avery Peak is the last 4,000 footer before Katahdin, and Little Bigelow is the last 3,000 footer until Whitecap Mountain, 98 miles later.   After a surprisingly easy descent (switch backs? In Maine??) we caught up to Hazy Sonic again at Little Bigelow Lean-To. He mentioned he was planning to hike another twenty miles or so. It was three o'clock. In comparison, we planned to hike another two miles or so. After a long, luxurious break, we finally got moving again. Two easy miles later, we reached the gorgeous Flagstaff Lake, and a swimming Hazy Sonic.   Flagstaff Lake is relatively recent. It's a manmade lake in a state with hundreds of natural lakes and ponds. Apparently, they flooded an old village to create the lake. Go figure. We scouted around before settling on a shore front campsite. As we settled in, Hazy waved over to us and went on his way.   I went in for a quick swim. Red Wing also announced his intention to do so and went in up to his knees. For twenty minutes he stood there, deliberating before starting a five minute discourse on his swimming plans. The actual swimming took less time.    So now, after dinner, we are sitting on a tranquil lakeshore. Our only company is the fading sun, joined occasionally by the lonesome call of a loon. The "Welcome to Maine" sign on the trail also reads, "The Way Life Should Be". If this is their idea of how life should be, I couldn't agree more.         --Pappa RazziAbout the author: Pappa Razzi is a free lance adventurer for seven months, once every twenty five years. His AT journey is being chronicled at trailjournals.com/hauver. Watch for Red Wing and Hopeful's guest entry for 9/6. Just don't watch too soon, because although his journal is regularly updated, it runs about a month behind.