Date: 2015-08-13
From: Rainbow Stream Lean-to

To: Katahdin, Northern terminus of the AT
Miles today: 30.1
Weather: broken clouds

It is done. We have no more hiking to do... no more! We woke up particularly early this morning and left the shelter before 6 AM. The elevation profile shows a flat stretch of land right up to Katahdin, though it obviously omits any warning about the upcoming bogs, roots and rocks. My gait is odd; I do not walk, I awkwardly stretch my legs over obstacles while attempting to move my body in a horizontal plane. My motor cortex is now wired to this type of movements as evidenced by my numerous incidences of tripping when walking along a short, smooth section.We hiked energetically and, after 15 miles, exited the 100 mile Wilderness and arrived at Abol Bridge. We hiked across and saw Katahdin, the imposing mountain who sits alone overlooking the rugged wilderness and surrounding lakes. The name is a translation from the Abenaki word "the Greatest Mountain". Also, according to Penobscot folklore, the mountain is a holy place inhabited by Pamola, a powerful deity who would strike down any man who ventured too close. I suppose most may not be deterred by the ancient taboo but it is easy to see how Katahdin can instill awe and fear in anyone. From the bridge, the mile-high mountain seems so calm and large white clouds cover its peak, but the clouds can turn into angry storms so quickly. Shrugs and I were amazed by the sight of Katahdin - so close - and we were nervous about the prospect of hiking up it.Since it was early in the afternoon, we stopped at the Abol campstore and restaurant to eat a late lunch and decide what to do. We only had 15 miles left to this journey: 10 to reach the base plus 5 for the peak. As I discussed in yesterday's journal entry, the Birches lean-to and campsite, located at Katahdin's base, can only hold up to 12 hikers and rumors have been spreading that the sign-up sheet fills up by early morning. The sign-up sheet is set up at Baxter State Park's entrance - if it is full, you don't have anywhere to "legally" stay the night as stealth camping is strictly prohibited. We walked up to the park's boundary and found the sign up sheet. As expected, it was full (half of the names were unknown to us, a single group of section hikers). We were toying with the idea of stealth camping anyway when we met the AT steward who right away demanded what our intentions were as the campsites were full. We asked if there were any prohibitions concerning night hiking. We explained that we wouldn't stealth camp and that we only wanted to reach Katahdin, our final destination. Otherwise, we would have to either wait an extra day for a spot in the Birches or stay at a campsite near Abol and arriving at Kathadin later in the day after hiking 10 miles. Also, the weather was supposed to be excellent Friday while there were threats of thunderstorms Saturday. The steward agreed with our proposition but was somewhat reluctant for the obvious safety concerns. We decided to compromise and said that we would reach the base of Katahdin around sunrise to avoid a difficult ascent in the dark. So we retuned back to the Abol Pines campground. We ate and talked with other hikers during the rest of the afternoon. We paid for a camp spot that we shared with another couple, Tigerlily and Two and set out our mats and sleeping bags. We knew very well that we wouldn't sleep as we were leaving again in only a few hours.We watched the dusk settle over the lake and darkness fall. Slowly, stars began appearing in the velvety black sky, followed by more stars and even more. In the city, the night sky looks like a dark hardwood surface with small specks of dust tarnishing its clean finish. Now, I could not even recognize the few constellations I routinely see as they were lost amid new stellar formations. The sky was foreign to me, a splatter of white on a deep blue background, a discolored streak ripping through it - the Milky Way. I had never seen the Milky Way before. Short bursts of light periodically zipped through, temporary white dashes. I had forgotten about the meteor shower! We packed up our stuff around 10:30 PM and left after gazing at the sky one last time before entering the cover of the trees.It was past 11 PM. We hiked guided by the light of our headlamps. The terrain was flat and merciful (although there were always the unavoidable, always-present rocks and roots). The White blazes shone fluorescently as the light from our lamps hit them. The eerie atmosphere, the tall shadows, the unfamiliar sounds, the cold air, the solitude: I enjoy night hiking.We had been hearing water rushing near us and eventually came upon the Nesowadnehunk Stream. There was a sign indicating a by-pass trail to take in case of high waters. Since it hadn't been raining too much, we decided we could ford the stream easily. Bad idea. The current was powerful and the black waters obscured the bottom. Shrugs managed to hop over the few exposed rocks he could see. I tried to imitate him. I leaped on a round, slippery rock and lost my balance. I fell in the thankfully shallow stream and was completely soaked. The stream branched off into two forks so we had another fording a mile away. Since I was already wet, it was much easier to wade through the water that second time. We took little to no breaks. I was jittery, full of nervous energy and my stomach was unsettled. Trepidation and anxiety; completely irrational. We arrived at the Birches campsite at 3 AM. It took quite a while to actually find the lean-to where the hikers are setup. We rearranged our packs and I left mine at the lean-to. Shrugs only carried snacks and water. It is the tradition (and the much safer and enjoyable option) to leave your pack at the bottom of Katahdin. Besides, you don't need your tent up there. We signed the trail register at 4:00 AM and started up Katahdin. Only 5.2 miles left.The first mile was a breeze. Gradual incline, neatly marked trail, smooth. Then, series of rock stairs were introduced followed by a few rock sidewalks. Then, steep, steep hauls over larger rocks and roots. The night was fading away and the sky was becoming paler. I could see the sky and I always thought we were just about to pass the treeline, but no. It went on and on.The trees finally did become scarce and eventually disappeared. The surrounding mountains seemed sleepy. Soft lumps of clouds hung over them and a pink glow colored the scene as the sun was slowly rising. Far away, isolated patches were illuminated by the sun while others were still darkened by the mountains' shadows. The climb became much more difficult. We had to naviguate over rock walls and house-sized boulders. A few rebars were bolted in strategic places though they offered little help. It was dizzying to look up and see the mountain still going upward, seemingly stretching out beyond this world. We packed up our hiking poles and continued climbing. I pulled myself up and over boulders and inched across rocky ledges. Shrugs needed to pull me up a few times or set himself below me to give me a boost. My hands seemed bruised and my fingers were stiff and sore from having gripped rocky corners slightly too hard. (Side note: I am writing this entry the following day and my body is so sore; even if I was hiking fit, Katahdin really took it out of me). We continued along the ridgeline and advanced towards a thick, damp fog that was englobing the peak, the single dark cloud in an otherwise perfect sky. The rocks were cold and slick and the crying wind blew harshly. I was exhausted and distressed by the difficulty and my anxiety was mounting as the weather seemed to be getting progressively more violent. The air was saturated with moisture and the winds were angry. It is such a challenging climb. Katahdin encompasses the Trail's hardest parts that run through Maine and the Whites: flashbacks of boulder fields and complicated rock navigation  la Mahoosuc Notch, ridiculously vertical climbs like the Arm, a teasing summit, one that never appears as it did with Kinsman in the Whites, a path flooded with rain among a rock field during terrible weather that I had also witnessed on Mt Washington.We finally finished with the vertical ascent and crossed the Tablelands, a high plateau on the mountain, right before the peak. Notwithstanding the rocks set on the Trail, I ran. I thought we would never reach the summit so, leaping over rocks as best I could, I ran as if the summit would evade me somehow, vanish in the fog.In the distance, we saw the shadowy outline through the fog of the plaque indicating Katahdin's summit, the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail. I collapsed on the plaque, my body exhausted from the climb, from the sleepless night, from all the stress and hardship and pain that I have lived through these past months. Tears welled in my eyes and flowed down silently, small streams, an ode to all the rain we have received. Shrugs and I were speechless so we just hugged it out. We were alone, the summit was ours; only the mountain and a solitary junco (how did he get there??) witnessed our delirious joy, our surreal triumph. We are done. We thru-hiked the AT. 5 months and 10 days, remaining as purist as possible. It is certainly nothing extraordinary in terms of time. An modest, imperfect thru-hike, though it's shortcomings add a certain flair of romanticism, in a way. Touching the terminus plaque on top of Katadhin was cathartic. For five months, I have lived as Axon the hopeful Thru-hiker, suspended in a time bubble, removed from reality. My concerns, needs and hopes were all constructed in this parallel world and made little sense outside this frame of reference. By touching the terminus plaque, Axon was expunged from my being: I have witnessed within these past months the birth of a thru-hiker. We took the requisite pictures (because there was no one, we could only do a selfie) and headed back down. I was pleased that both our Springer and Katahdin selfies were done in the rainy fog: it gave me a certain sense of completeness.I had anticipated being frustrated at going back down the same strenuous route but I was instead filled with relief that transitioned into a blissful sense of peace and calm, my mind voided of any thought. The fog cloud also dissipated. Thin whisps of cloud lingered then vanished, revealing the amazing scenery. We hiked down and we could see the whole exposed ridge we had just crossed. The hike down was subsequently amazing, a gift from Katahdin who bestowed upon us a beautiful sight after we had proven that we were worthy. About half an hour into the descent, we met the first wave of NoBos charging up, followed by a continual trickle of day hikers. It was so crowded, but also great to see our fellow hikers as they completed their last miles. Many were suprised to see us and all congratulated us warmly (and high fived us when we said we night-hiked here). Shrugs and I are almost always the first to rise and the last to arrive at the shelter, so it was an incredibly satisfying feeling to know that we were the first of the day to summit. We hiked down (or butt-blazed down may be more  propos in my case) as NoBo hikers cheered us on and we cheered back as they too were almost done. I have legitimately never been more excited or happy for someone else's accomplishement as I am with my fellow hikers' completed thru-hike. We saw Loon and her Dad, Young Blood, Mary, Green Tortuga, Salty Dog as well as Cujo and Banana Boat, two hikers we had met down South and hadn't seen since! It was so cool.Back down, we picked up our stuff, signed the register and found Loon and her Dad who kindly offered us a ride to Bangor where we could get a bus back home. Our last Trail magic!We stayed the night in Bangor (we needed a shower... imagine how our fellow bus riders would have hated us if we had not!) I bought deodorant. It was weird to do so. I plan on writing a few post-hike entries about all the technical aspects of a thru-hike (gear, food, etc) as well as some other topics like about hiking as a couple. Until then, I want to end this novel of an entry with a huge thank you. Thank you to our family and friends who know us in real life and who supported us materially, emotionally and sometimes financially notwithstanding that I declined university admission offers, suspended my life to take a full gap year to leave for 5+ months to go hike is a crazy endeavour, ESPECIALLY since we are NOT outdoorsy people. Thank you to all those who have helped us with trail magic or rides as well as to our fellow hikers: you all make up what is so unique and amazing about the AT, that is a community centered on generosity and shared experiences. Thank you to all the readers of this journal, this journal has been a constant part of my AT journey. Some individual shout outs (in no particular order): Victor, pour ton appui et tes mots d'encouragements depuis le d©but; Not Yet, for the fun we had hiking with you in the beginning as well as the constant help and support we received when you were ahead of us; Fitz, my AT penpal, whom I hope to read one day about his own thru-hike; Brian from Nyack of the guestbook for always writing interesting information or corrections when I don't know something; Vicki for the memorable half-way point celebration; Loon and her Dad for the ride to Bangor; Fresh Ground, for whom words cannot express my thanks. Some of the best memories we have were at the Leapfrog Caf©: food and good people, it's the distilled essence of the AT experience.Of course thanks to Shrugs without whom I could never, ever have done anything even remotely ressembling a thru-hike. His patience and understanding know no bounds. His naturally calm and soothing temperament helped me through difficult times; happy moments were made more joyous by his presence and we always laugh together. - Axon, for the last timeAlso: pictures below!  Sunrise  Sunrise going up Katahdin  Ridge along Katahdin (and it's not even the summit)  View from Katahdin