Date: 2008-09-27
From: The Birches

To: Katahdin, not the summit
Miles today: 6.0
Weather: light rain

Awake, unsure of how much I'd slept. Still the sound of rain. Saw Burrass silhouetted against the greying sky, arms above his head, looking flustered. The rain finally died down a bit, although a mighty wind was still blowing, drizzle falling. Made a quick breakfast and hurried to the ranger's station to get the weather report. No surprises, 100% chance of rain. We headed off, eager to reach the summit. The mood was jovial at first, whooping as we headed down the trail. The air was warm enough that being wet wasn't really uncomfortable, so I didn't bother with rain protection. The trail was nearly flat up to Katahdin Stream Falls, a beautiful jet of tourmaline-coloured water gushing over pink granite boulders worn smooth by the constant liquid caress. Fog heavily obscured any view we might have had. Contrast of the bright red maples, dark pine forests. Grey boulders began to fill the trail, becoming more and more tricky to ascend...quite a bit of technical scrambling. Lee was like Spiderman, easily climbing everything, in spite of his small size. I was struggling quite a bit, but still moving upwards. We broke treeline without warning, coming to the bottom of a huge pile of boulders jutting steeply upwards. There were places where the only way up was to brace yourself between two rock faces and hope that your feet didn't slip...which happened all too often on the wet rocks. I began to get cold, unable to keep my cape around me because I needed my hands for climbing. I was soaking wet and miserable, too cold to drink, which didn't help any. It was getting harder and harder for me to navigate the problems presented by the rock. In one place, there were bits of rebar, slick and wet, which the hikers are obliged to use as hand-and-foot holds on a particularly tricky and featureless rockface. I began crying uncontrollably, frustrated at my unpreparedness and inability to do anything about it. The boulders leveled out for a little ways, and the turning of the trail presented us to the full force of the wind. My hands were numb...then, painted on a rock, I saw the two mile mark, and began to realize that I really couldn't hike two more miles in such conditions. The prospect of turning back was horrifying....I stopped with Slayer in the lee of a rock for an emergency snack break, to put on another shirt...but to no avail...I was just too cold and wet. For awhile, I stood, crying, against a boulder, sickened at the thought of turning back. But common sense finally won out, and I did the unthinkable, heading down the mountain without summiting. Slayer, being the great friend that she is, accompanied me down. I stopped to put on all the dry clothes I had in my daypack. We ran in to Zephyr and Peach and Fuzz and Sparky and Stubby coming up. The sense of defeat was awful, but there was nothing I could do. As soon as we got back down beyond the boulders, sliding on my backside much of the way, it was much warmer, and I almost thought twice about heading to the summit, but down we went, the descent taking so much longer than the climb up had seemed to take. We reached the falls, and stopped to eat a snack and stare at the rushing water. It was almost warm back at the campground, and we sat in one of the picnic pavilions reading and waiting for the others to come back. We found a man willing to drive us in to Millinocket...he was waiting for his friends to come back from their day hike. While we waited, he gave us some chocolate and snacks to munch on. BurrAss arrived first, whooping and hugging me...then Lee, then Oats. They were all jubilant, and rightly so....I couldn't help but feel dejected. I gave Lee the beer I'd been planning to drink on the summit, said farewell to him, then the four of us, plus the three day hikers and all our gear, piled in to the SUV. It was a bit cramped, to say the least. The drive out of the park was long, but we finally reached town and trouped in to the AT Cafe to wait for Joel to come and pick us up. Forge and his British friend were there, and we talked with them awhile before ordering. Drank much coffee. It was very warm inside. Finally, we decided to go over to the hostel to see the other hikers who were in town. Walka and Dingo were there, and Brushstrokes, Serene, Architect. Sat around talking, watching the weather channel, hoping for a break in the rain later in the week. Joel finally arrived, some time after dark, and we drove to Pat's house in Bangor. He'd made us brownies, beef stew with rice, bread. We ate heartily, drank the victory bottle of champagne, took frigid, unpleasant showers. Jim arrived, late. Stayed up watching zombie films.