Date: 2004-08-23
From: Birches Campsite

To: Mt. Katahdin - SUMMIT DAY!
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: few clouds

After a chilly night at the "Birches Campsite", I wake to find "Troop 3" (Southern Boy, Forester, & Hoss) talking around the rekindled fire as the "Old Bulls" (Tank,. Bonespur, Wild Cat, & Easy Does It) pack up. Its just before 6:00am and cold as can be with clear skies. As I get out of my tent and start to pack, Bonespur and Tank take off to meet Bev (Bonespur's wife) who plans to summit with us. Packing quickly in an effort to warm up, I'm off to the ranger station shortly after they leave. The ranger station allows thr-hikers the use of daypacks and a safe place to store our regular packs during our summit bid. Inside the covered porch sits a 3D replica of the mountain I've been dreaming of climbing for five months. Five months of excitement, thrills, pain, lonelyness, and exaughsting (yet rewarding) physical work have finally gotten me to this point. I'm about to end this journey today by climbing 4,177 feet in 5.2 miles up to Baxter Peak, a.k.a. Mt Katahdin. While the journey wasn't just about getting to the end, standing on top has been the driving force through rough times on the trail. As I begin to reflect on my experience and remember the people I've met, the lessons of this trip prove to be plentiful and continually emerging. And like a gift that keeps on giving, I learn more about myself and the complex, beautiful diveristy of the human race. This trip will soon be only a memory but its impacts on my life will stay with me to my dieing day. Commiting myself to this journey may just be one of the best decisions I've made. Dropping my pack at the ranger station, I head over to the picnic tables at Katahdin Stream Campground where Bonespur has found his wife and in-laws. Tank, Easy-Does-It, Rocket, and Wildcat are also there. I'm offered a delicious homemade muffin that was absolutely delicious! (My breakfast so far that morning had consisted of three Poptarts covered in Peanut Butter and Chocolate Frosting.) In my daypack, I'm carrying sunscreen, cell phone, epi-pens, fleece, raincoat, snacks, victory cigar, two liters of water, and a gallon of extra water. The extra water, combined with the tequila and some strawberry lemonade mix will make up our margaritas on the summit. Thinking the wieght of the extra water is going to kill, I'm surprised to find that I barely notice it. Duh... I've only hiked 2170-some miles with a 30-40 pound pack! This wieght feels like nothing in comparison. Heading towards the trailhead, I sign in at 6:55 and am off on the final section of my journey.This is my first "slackpack", meaning I'm not taking my full backpack to my destination. There are many points on the trail (usually at hostels) that hikers can arrange to hike with a daypack and be picked up further up the trail. This allows a hiker to progress on the trail with less effort and enjoy the services of a hostel for a longer period of time. Up to this point, I've been somewhat of a purist in that if I am passing white blazes, my full pack hangs on my shoulders. I decided at the beginning of my trip that I would not slackpack, even take my pack to the top of Katahdin. The A.T.C. recognizes a thru-hike whether the hiker slackpacks or not, but in order to make this trip feel more like backpacking trip, I opted for the purist method. I don't think today's hike could be considered a slackpack anyways because I'm returning to the ranger station, not progressing further down the trail. And besides, mountaineers don't carry unnecessary gear on a summit bid. There is not point for me to either!Hardly noticing the ridiculous amount of water on my back and fueled by "the pull of Katahdin", I soon pass the group of other thru-hikers who started ahead of me. I had planned on hanging back and hiking with them for a while, but as usual, they let me pass. Once out in front, my excitement does not allow me to slow down. The only hiker left in front of me is Rocket. The first couple miles of the accent is a gentle, low-grade, and well maintained trail. The path follows Katahdin Stream for a short while before veering off just North of Katahdin Stream Falls. At a bridge crossing, I pause to appreciate how clean and clear the stream is. It has been uncharacteristic for the streams to look this way in New England because the streams are fed mainly by ponds. I've also heard that the water is browned by a natural chemical in acorns. Looking down into the rushing water, I recalled being unable to soak my feet in this ice-cold stream for more than five minutes. I soon approach treeline at about 3400 feet where the terrain gets steeper and more technical. I'm using my poles less as the rock command my hands for scrambling up steep faces. Popping above treeline, I'm taken back by the views. The rocky ridgeline rises steeply in front of me. To my left lies sharp peaked mountains with ribbons of dead trees flowing around their bases. One particular peak above the gully that feeds Katahdin Stream looks like some great rock climbing territory. Behind me, distant mountains stand tall over giant lakes. I'm almost sure that I can see the lake I had visited only a couple days ago for the famous one pound burger at White House Landing. Climbing further, more views spring up and my excitement grows. I've always been pumped up by vast views. Noticing a backpack disappear behind a boulder about 150 yards ahead, I quicken my pace, figuring I can catch up with Rocket. Soon, I crest Hunt Spur and on to Katahdin's Tableland. The terrain falls off into the valley below and is a great place for a quick break. To the Northeast, two peaks stand out in the sky. The distant peak I guess is Katahdin. Cacthing up to Rocket and as we approach the first peak a half mile later, I realize my guess was wrong. In an optical illusion, the second peak had looked taller than the one we were approaching. Rounding the top, Rocket and I see the Katahdin sign. Approaching the sign at 9:15am, I see a lone, two inch by six inch white blaze on a rock under the sign. For 2174.1 miles, I've used these blazes as a guide though a maze of trees, rivers, lakes, and mountains. They have even marked the offical route through trail towns. If I had missed a blaze or gotten of the trail, I retraced my steps to make sure I hiked that section of the trail. I had often passed trees that had been blown down years ago and bear a faded white blaze. During the length of the A.T., I passed tens of thousands of these blazes. Some looked like a sloppy blob while others looked as though they had been made with a stencil. Looking beyond this single blaze under Katahdin's summit sign, I saw that no more marked a path into the distance as I had been accustomed to seeing. To my right, blue blazes marked the Knife Edge Trail, and to my left, nothing. Behind me, numerous white blazes disappeared into the distance on the path I had just accended. This one blaze captured my attention more than the Katahdin summit sign that I had seen in so many past thru-hiker's summit pictures. Then it hit me like a freight train... the only place left to go on the Appalachian Trail was south. This last blaze marked the end of my 2174.1mile, five-month journey. I kissed my fingertips and touched the blaze, in a show of gratitude for having made it. Then I did the same to the Katahdin summit sign. Then I hugged the sign. To a day-hiker this probably looked like strange behavior, but I couldn't have cared less if the whole world was watching!Rocket and I shot a few summit photos followed by full roll of film of summit shots as the rest of our group arrived. In total, I spent three hours on top of my victory peak. As our group came up, I mixed together a gallon of margaritas for the 12 of us. With my favorite drink in one hand and a cigar in the other, we celebrated the hike¢s end.