morvasaaty/AppalachianTrail-LD-Hikers-Blogs-and-Weather-20-years huggingface dataset:
Date: 2007-09-02
From: Full Goose Shelter

To: Baldpate Lean-to
Miles today: 12.0
Weather: clear sky

Snack Break, you ain¢t seen nothing yet.Mahoosuc Notch is known as the toughest mile on the trail, and I have even more blacks and blues and purples and greens all over my legs to prove it. Boulders the size of small cars, crevices not much bigger than my body, gaps wider than my leg span all have to be negotiated with the greatest of care, with an extra 35 pounds on my back remember. One wrong step and a hiker could easily end up like the rotting moose carcass in the middle of the trail, which Rebel almost stepped on before the stench reached his nose. I admit I am glad he¢s still with me, for his reaction of near vomit and definitive disgust had me laughing for hours.I was definitely not laughing on my way down to Mahoosuc Notch, for, not only had I thought I lost the trail, but I thought I lost Rebel as well. The Appalachian Trail is, for the most part, pretty well-marked, with those inspiring white blazes to guide us on our merry way. This particular downhill section, however, must have been too steep to encourage the task of painting blazes. Yes, there was a trail, leading straight down, a never-ending, tediously tiring descent, but I wondered if I was still on the AT, the only trail I care about at this point. My options were: A.) go back up and look for blazes to see where I made a wrong turn.   No thanks, I think I¢d rather be lost than go back up what I just came down. B.) sit in the middle of the trail for a while, get really upset, and hope to God that Rebel would come looking for me. Didn¢t work either; Rebel seems to enjoy my company, but not enough to go back up such a steep hill to find me. C.) stop and study my map every 5 seconds to try and determine my location and where this stupid trail would bring me out, but continue downward, because what the heck, I was already halfway to the bottom anyways.   Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. And there¢s Rebel at the bottom, calmly waiting for me and wondering what took me so long. Sorry, I had some anxiety issues to deal with on my way down.I still wasn¢t laughing as we made our way into and through Mahoosuc Notch. It took us two hours and every single body part imaginable to negotiate the most difficult mile on the trail, some belly crawling under rocks, butt sliding down, hands and knees and elbows as supports, tossing trekking poles javelin style because I needed my hands to hold on for dear life, full mental concentration required. Twelve miles may not seem like a long day at this point in our journey, but I sure am tired. With my body bruised and bleeding, I have earned my new trail name of ¢Beat the Hell Up.¢ I am in complete agreement that Mahoosuc Notch is the most difficult mile on the trail, but it may also be the most fun. Now that it¢s behind me, I couldn¢t be happier. Hikers shouldn¢t be so intimidated by the Whites of New Hampshire, for what they should really fear is southern Maine. It may just be the best part of the AT.miles remaining 264.5
Date: 2007-09-03
From: Baldpate Lean-to

To: South Arm Road, Black Brook
Miles today: 18.1

There¢s a reason hikers hate the word notch, which in New England has a very distinct definition, ¢a deep, narrow opening or pass between mountains.¢ ¢Tortuous descent into hell¢ is more like it. These are not like the gaps of the south, with more gently sloping ups and downs leading you in and out. Oh no honey, these are as steep as they get, pure torture on the knees, with the only redeeming factor you get to go back up the other side. More often than not, there is a road located smack in the middle of the gap or notch, if you¢re lucky a parking lot even, from where thru-hikers begging for food and drink can descend on unsuspecting tourists or day hikers. I can¢t tell you how many car trunks I have eaten out of, more like devoured the contents from within, during the past few days. At least it gave me something to look forward to. Free food is always such a welcome surprise. The unsuspecting tourists or day hikers, Rebel too, are always surprised by the quantity of food I can devour without even coming up for air.My buddy Bear Spray, the one who donated a trekking pole to the cause about a week back, left me another welcome surprise in the shelter today. I had already lost the basket, the plastic part at the bottom to keep the pole from getting stuck in places it doesn¢t belong, on the trekking pole he gave me. Not a huge deal, but in the muddy bogs of Maine, without the basket, the trekking pole sometimes submerges deep in the icky goo, or gets stuck in between rocks in our path. Like I said, not a problem that would prevent me from hiking, just a little annoyance. There in the shelter was a note from Bear Spray, with the basket he took off his own Walmart trekking pole to give to me. It is yet another demonstration of how the trail community looks out for its own. Out here, the kindness knows no end.miles remaining 246.4
Date: 2007-09-05
From: Sabbath Day Pond Lean-to

To: Rangeley, ME - Gull Pond Lodge
Miles today: 9.4
Weather: clear sky

I love the trail, the people around me, the lifestyle of adventure and following a dream. I love ending the day by sitting around a campfire with friends before crawling into my sleeping bag for a good night¢s sleep. I love the fact that I have everything I need or want crammed into a single backpack which I have carried with me for nearly 2000 miles. I love the simplicity of my current life, the escape from materialism and consumerism, the soul-searching odyssey to find out what I am really made of. I love that my biggest decisions each day are where to find water, how many miles to hike, when to take a break. I love the feeling of freedom and independence unlike any I¢ve ever before experienced. Life should always be so good.Talking around the campfire last night, six of us looking up at the stars which seem to burn brighter in the middle of the woods, we admired our chosen path, remarked how glad we were that we decided to hike the Appalachian Trail, happy that we didn¢t give up and were still out there after nearly six months on the trail. It hasn¢t been easy, but we wouldn¢t trade this experience for anything in the world. Yet we are all ready to be finished with the hike, for our bodies are worn down and weary, beat up and bruised, aching and annoyed.Eager as we are to be done with it, talk of the end is always tinged with sadness, for it also means the end of a journey, a lifestyle to which we have become accustomed, the freedom we have come to know as an essential part of our being. It will be difficult to give all of this up as we head back to the real world, an existence that has now become as foreign to us as the idea of spending six months in the woods is to most people.On the trail, we talk a lot about what is ¢real.¢ My version is likely distinct from what most people outside the trail community would consider the real world. I suspect I am going to struggle with this when I am no longer hiking. How do I leave the ¢real¢ real world and re-enter what to me is now nothing more than a parallel yet wholly divergent universe, go back to the facade of people who are pretending to be something they are not, buildings made of concrete and steel, roads instead of trail, and all of life at a pace that we were not designed to travel physically, emotionally, or spiritually. And people call that the ¢real world?¢ I beg to differ.miles remaining 220
Date: 2007-09-06
From: Rangeley, ME - Gull Pond Lodge

To: Spaulding Mountain Lean-to
Miles today: 18.7

No matter in which world I find myself, I will always have great stories to tell about the trail, specifically about the kindness of strangers we met along the way. Take Raydene, possibly the craziest, but kindest woman I have ever met. Or Mrs. Focus, wife of a hiker named Focus, who became our trail mother all through Maine.Yesterday we decided on a short day into Rangeley, Maine, a tiny town filled with the biggest of hearts. There at the trailhead was Mrs. Focus waiting for us in her unmistakable Westphalia camper van, foldable camping chairs set up in front around food of every variety. She figured exactly the time and place we¢d be coming out of the woods and sat there waiting to give us food, a ride into town, whatever we needed. I was always so happy to see the Westphalia for I knew a remarkable woman would be close by. As we walked down the sidewalk in Rangeley, another woman screeched to a halt and literally jumped out of her truck and nearly accosted us in the streets of this quiet little town. ¢Are you a hiker?¢ ¢Want to go back to the trailhead?¢ ¢Do you need a ride anywhere?¢ ¢Want some dried bananas?¢ ¢Is there anything I can do for you?¢ ¢Want to come back to my house?¢Frankly, I was a little scared of this woman. But after leaving his jacket behind at one of the many lake houses in Vermont ¢ who needed a jacket when staying in heated bedrooms every night? ¢ and knowing we still had many cold nights to face as we headed further north, Rebel did need something to keep him warm. So we obliged Raydene and asked her if she knew of a place where we could find a jacket.¢Of course, I have a few that I found at the dump. Come back to my house and I¢ll show them to you.¢ Meanwhile, Rebel and I sought an escape route. Perfect, the library was just around the corner and we both had to update our journals ¢ ha, there¢s a good one ¢ but we couldn¢t delay for surely the place wouldn¢t be open that much longer. Whew, that was close.Thirty minutes later when the library closed, Raydene was waiting for us out front with three jackets from which Rebel could choose. Even though it probably weighed five pounds and was likely bullet proof, he couldn¢t refuse the LL Bean Baxter State Parka jacket, easily a $200 jacket new, breathable and waterproof, described by LL Bean as ¢our warmest parka for winter¢s worst.¢ Plus, it was precisely where we were headed. Sometimes answers to prayer come in the most unlikely of packages.This morning Raydene turned out to be yet another blessing in disguise, as we were unable to hitch a ride back to the trailhead from the front of the local grocery store as expected. All that was needed to solve the problem was a phone call to Raydene, who arrived in five minutes flat, delivering us quickly and safely back to the trail, dried bananas in hand. miles remaining 201.3
Date: 2007-09-07
From: Spaulding Mountain Lean-to

To: Stratton, ME - White Wolf Hotel
Miles today: 13.5
Weather: few clouds

Maine is stunning, arguably the best part of the Appalachian Trail, but so many thru-hikers don¢t make it this far. And those that do are likely too tired to really enjoy the beauty of our surroundings. Granted we know it¢s beautiful, but if we had more energy, we would likely enjoy it even more. I hope we¢re not too tired to realize how fortunate we are.Maine is 280 miles of the most rugged, wild and untouched terrain we have seen, full of lakes and bogs and moose and loons. According to the thru-hiker¢s guide book published by the ATC, ¢it is a mystical, magical place to begin or end your AT journey.¢ I couldn¢t agree more. Too bad it¢s starting to get cold, or I would be enjoying swimming in pristine mountain lakes on a daily basis. Next time I hike the AT ¢ ha, there¢s another good one ¢ I will plan to arrive to Maine during warmer weather. Or maybe I¢ll plan to arrive a few weeks later to enjoy the fall foliage at its best. Or maybe ¢ seriously now ¢ I¢ll come back again someday to enjoy the scenery when I¢m not so dang tired. Maine is definitely worth it.The ascents and descents in southern Maine have been tough. I hear the state is one-third up, one-third down, and one-third flat. Well, duh. If the first third of the state falls primarily into the first two categories, then by my mathematical analysis, we have some cruising terrain ahead. Thank God, because I need some.I wonder why Maine, the only state to require fording its water crossings, doesn¢t build bridges over its many rivers. Trail expert and ¢Maine-tainer¢ for 60 years, Dave Field, provides amusing and informative answers to such questions in the log book at Poplar Ridge Shelter. His response to why there are no bridges and so many fords in Maine is, in part, to maintain the rugged wilderness of the state. But more importantly, as the snows melt and the waters rise each spring, a distinct probability in Maine found nowhere else along the Appalachian Trail, the bridges would wash out anyways. It¢s too expensive a proposition to rebuild bridges each year.Fortunately for us, the water is at its lowest during this time of year, so many of our supposed fords have been simple rock jumping. That is fine by me, because I don¢t particularly care to hike with wet feet, or be swept away by current, or drown during the final miles of the AT. I¢m sure I¢ll have more opportunity up ahead. miles remaining 187.8
Date: 2007-09-08
From: Stratton, ME - White Wolf Hotel

To: Little Bigelow Lean-to
Miles today: 15.3
Weather: broken clouds

Most hikers who make it this far, my guess would be about 98% or so, are going all the way to Katahdin, come hell or high water. Sure we are tired, but we have come too far to give up now. The miles remaining seem so few compared to what we have already hiked. I have passed the 2000-mile mark. Those who are around me at this point will be the same people I see on Mount Katahdin about two weeks time from now. We will fight with every last ounce of our being to finish this trail. These are the people with whom my journey will come to a close. Or are they?Even having come this far, I still wonder if I have what it takes to go all the way. I am exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. My erector-set ankle is bothering me more each day. My motivation is draining. While I have grown to love this trail, I am ready to be done with it. Will I make it?My own self-doubts are heightened by the awareness that two other strong females, with whom I have formed intense bonds, have decided to leave the trail less than 200 miles from the end. The news hit me like a freight train to my gut. I ran into Signage, sad and alone in her hotel room, in Stratton yesterday, who told me she just couldn¢t do it anymore. I hugged her, fighting back the tears as I said good-bye to a woman who had indeed walked from Georgia to Maine.A letter from Splendora awaited me at the post office, telling me of her decision to leave the trail as well. I didn¢t know if I could handle the emotion of a letter from my best trail friend, knowing that I would not see her again during this journey. Her letter highlighted some of the amazing times we spent together, the memories we would always have, the trail sister we would always remember. I shed a few more tears, tucked her letter in my backpack, and sought the motivation I needed to finish this trail.I¢m still here, but many others I care about are no longer. I came out here, in part, to challenge myself ¢ mentally and physically, deep down in my heart and soul ¢ like I¢ve never been challenged before, for that is how a person continues to grow. But today I came as close as I¢ve ever been to hitting my wall, wondering if I had it in me to finish the day¢s planned miles. I cried and swore at the climbs, laughed and exalted at the views, felt pain in places in my body I never knew existed, witnessed a gorgeous sunset over the mountains, and went to bed feeling as spent as I ever have.Tomorrow¢s a new day. And this one is dedicated to Splendora.miles remaining 172.5
Date: 2007-09-09
From: Little Bigelow Lean-to

To: Pierce Pond Lean-to
Miles today: 17.3
Weather: overcast clouds

The trail, despite the emotional roller coaster it has become, still has a way of providing just what I need, precisely when I need it, in the way that only the trail can. Call it what you will -- karma or serendipity or good fortune or just plain dumb luck. I believe that the Big Guy in the sky is looking out for me. We, on the trail, call it magic. For the best days seem to always follow the worst.I awoke late this morning, around 9 am or so, to a roaring fire and harmonica music compliments of Rebel, without a care in the world, no cause for haste, for, as we like to say on the trail, ¢if I were in a hurry, I wouldn¢t be walking.¢ When we finally did get on our way, walking nearly a whole whopping quarter of a mile to a dirt road crossing, all the concerns of yesterday had been stripped away, and I was again ready to hike. The woman who seemingly emerged from nowhere and came running towards us waving her arms to get our attention had a different, even better, idea.¢Would you like breakfast?¢ is, at this point, a rhetorical question, for there is only one possible correct answer in the thought process of a thru-hiker. Wait a minute ¢ aren¢t we in the middle of the woods? Where did that road come from? And who in their right mind would be out here offering to cook us breakfast? Didn¢t I just eat breakfast? Where am I? Who cares? Let¢s eat.And then there was more food than I¢ve ever seen in the middle of the woods, tables upon tables lined with calories, with four gracious trail angels urging us to eat and eat some more. Would you like an egg McMuffin with Canadian bacon? Allow me to make you three. How about some homemade brownies? All right, and I guess I¢ll take a few for the road. Freshly squeezed orange juice? Ice-cold milk? Six varieties of chips and pretzels? Here, take a bag to go. Cake left over from the festivities last night? If you wait a few hours, we¢ll bring out the lunch spread.Ingesting so many calories within such a short time period probably isn¢t good for my digestive tract. Now my belly hurts. But that¢s OK too, for we¢ll just sit and enjoy the company for a little while longer before heading out to hike a bit further today. Even more welcome than the food is the encouragement of four people who really care about hikers, who set up their tents each year at this time, at this place, to support the thru-hikers who are weary yet so close to accomplishing their goal. I could have remained with them all day. Just one more cookie before I leave.Even the rain that came in this afternoon couldn¢t dampen my heightened spirits, with the easy terrain a much-needed break, a $1 poncho keeping me dry, and the inspiration of strangers, now friends, leaving me feeling better than I¢ve felt in weeks.miles remaining 155.2
Date: 2007-09-10
From: Pierce Pond Lean-to

To: Caratunk, ME - Northern Outdoors Resort
Miles today: 4.0
Weather: overcast clouds

Amazing that I¢m still in the woods, but yet again this morning, I ate a hot, home-cooked breakfast -- patriotic red, white, and blue pancakes that included whole raspberries, chunks of apples, and entire blueberries compliments of Harrison¢s Camp, somewhere in the middle of the woods, somewhere in Maine.Just what I needed to be bouncing around in my stomach as I approached the Kennebec River, which the ATC cites as ¢the most formidable unbridged water crossing¢ of the entire Appalachian Trail. The Indian name literally means ¢long, quiet water,¢ ironic because in 1985 a thru-hiker drowned, with many other close calls, trying to ford the river. The dangers include submerged rocks, chest high water, strong current, unpredictable and quickly rising water levels due to dam releases upstream. I felt nauseous as I hiked the few miles from our breakfast camp to the river¢s edge. The pancakes in my stomach weren¢t happy either. They definitely tasted better the first time around.The ATC basically lets hikers do what they want out on the trail, for the freedom offered is part of the reason most of us ever consider a thru-hike to begin with. Yet with this river, the ATC strongly urges hikers not to attempt a ford. Some devoutly purist hikers say that fording is the only way to maintain a white-blazed hike. I prefer not to listen to them. It would be stupid and dangerous and put the entire journey in jeopardy. I¢m no longer one of those devoutly purist hikers anyways. Plus, and this is key, I prefer not to drown during my hike.And so I joined the ranks of those who rely on Steve ¢The Ferryman¢ who provides, via contract with the ATC, a free canoe ferry service to all thru-hikers. My feet and belongings remain dry for another day. And yet again, I lived to tell the story.miles remaining 151.2
Date: 2007-09-11
From: Caratunk, ME - Northern Outdoors Resort

To: Moxie Bald Lean-to
Miles today: 18.8
Weather: light rain

Looks like it¢s going to rain today, but if we want to summit in ten days, and give ourselves an extra day or two in the upcoming wilderness, just in case, we best be on our way. There¢s another saying we hear a lot on the trail: ¢No rain, no pain, no Maine.¢ Although many of us try to avoid hiking in the rain, with six months in the woods, it¢s bound to happen. Let¢s face reality: we are going to get wet. Tis better to suck it up one day to have the option of taking a break or reducing mileage in the days ahead. With the proposed bad weather, it may not be an ideal day to go up and over Moxie Bald. Maybe that¢s why trail crews decided to build another blue-blazed trail that skirts around the top of the mountain, bypassing what could become treacherous terrain on a rainy day. Scaling slippery mountains during heavy rain, without even the possibility of a view, may not be the smartest idea I¢ve ever come up with. On a nice day, I hear you can see Katahdin from the top. Maybe the sun will come out for a few brief seconds just for me. Maybe the climb will be worth my efforts. Maybe not.For some unknown reason, I could not justify taking the blue-blazed trail today. Maybe I felt bad about skipping a few miles of the trail back in New Hampshire. Maybe I felt unpure by not even considering the idea of fording the Kennebec. Maybe I had something to prove to myself and my hiking companions. Maybe it will totally suck, but I¢m taking the white-blazed AT today.Stupid me. It was cold and windy on top of the bald. The rocks were wet and slick, causing me to fall a number of times. I couldn¢t see two feet in front of my face, much less the esteemed Katahdin. The mud puddles were at least knee deep. I wasn¢t very happy with my decision when I lost the trail and wandered around aimless on top of a cloud-covered bald, no protection from the elements, with the rain pelting my face. No one else took the white-blazed trail today and were instead waiting for me at the shelter drying themselves around a warm fire. Stupid me.There¢s something else I don¢t understand. If my feet, not to mention all my other body parts, are completely soaked, why do I still try to avoid stepping in puddles? It makes no sense.miles remaining 132.4