Date: 2003-08-24
From: Gentian Pond Shelter

To: Full Goose Shelter
Miles today: 9.6
Weather: clear sky

Today, we walked to Maine! MAINE!I've been writing "GA-ME '03" in the registers, and this morning that became a fact - I have walked to Maine from Springer Mountain, Georgia. I could fall down and bust my butt tomorrow, but I have walked to Maine. Thank you feet! The unsung heroes. Turnbill shows up at the shelter this morning with Katahdin brand coffee. Perfect! It's fresh ground, and he is going to make it for us on this surprisingly cold morning. Nell shows up with a rock. I love fresh coffee (and rocks are okay too). I can hike strongly after a good cuppa. It's just a rare thing.On Trail, I usually just do without. Every bag, granule and system I've tried has been a disappointment. (Kismet's friend Spock just told me about Turkish coffee. "Just grind coffee to a powder in your spice grinder and toss it in boiling water," he said. I'll try. Hope springs eternal.)So, this is a real treat.While rummaging around for my powdered milk, which I haven't used in awhile, I found my orange spoon! I have NO recollection of storing it with the milk (... the MILK?). It is a continual amazement to me how things can get lost within a small pack, sometimes for days.Turnbill makes the coffee in a little filter basket. He pours it in my cookpot, which still smells a little wine-y from last night's cabernet sauvignon, despite a rinse out. I wrap my hands around the pot to warm them. It's chilly enough to hurt the knuckles this morning. The coffee is hot and good. I toss Nell's rock, and some sticks. She's relentless. Yesterday, she brought us someone's big old hiking stick to toss.We set off into the sunny chill about 7:30 am. No one wants to venture into the sharp wind any earlier than that. There is a Canadian high pressure system moving in, they say, and the cold front bends the treetops during gusts. We can see our breath.Turnbill hikes out with us. He will cut out on a side trail later in the day. Nell trots along with us, leaping up rocks as easily as a mountain goat, looking down on us, tongue lolling, with a Rin Tin Tin grin. Her eyes sparkle with enthusiasm, telegraphing one intense thought: "Come ON!"She's a fantastic hiking dog, Nell. I observed her climbing savvy. She waits for Turnbill to climb, then either follows him or chooses her own route. I have watched her study a high, cliffy rock, make a judgment on a route, then scramble up safely. Very intelligent girl.The rock climbing is tough today and, I must confess, exciting! The more technical and difficult it is, the more I am loving it. We are well aware that our climbing pleasure stems from DRY ROCK. Many times we have commented how grateful we are that it hasn't rained since the day we started up Franconia Notch.The weather is expected to hold, Gazer says. A dry high pressure system, northwest wind, is sitting on us until maybe Tuesday. Gazer has fallen in with us today. He had a bad spill on that same windy Mt. Madison descent, and it had spooked him. He has been extra careful on the downs, and seems to enjoy our company.The four of us climbed up Mt. Success. Very windy up here, is this what Katahdin on a good day will feel like? The wind pushed us around on top of Mt. Success. "Crazy-ass weather," says Chief. Turnbill's thermometer reads 41 degrees at 9:30 am.We reach the Maine border mid-morning. Yes! MAINE! We stand by the sign - "Maine - The Way Life Should Be" - and high-five. Turnbill snaps our pictures and pulls out a surprise treat- smoked salmon and stone ground wheat crackers at the border! Whoa! Ostrich joins us at the border and shares in the treat.So, we're in Maine. We go UP after the border (surprised?), followed by a hair-raising down, with deep crevasses and drops longer than I am tall. I worked with full concentration. It would be an awful place to fall, with much ensuing damage.Ostrich, me, Bill and Nell, Chief and Gazer negotiate the huge-bouldered, deeply clefted drops. Turnbill must boost Nell down in several places, and at one hairy cleft, he hands her down to me.She is indignant, almost embarrassed to be helped, but submits. We waited until everyone was down safely. We celebrate by lunching atop Mt. Carlo, in an open, sunny spot but out of the raw wind.We can look up and ahead to cliffy Goose Eye Mountain from the open bogs at the base. We see Ostrich top out on the first peak. We shout and wave: "OSTRIIIICH!" but the words are snatched away in the wind. He sees us anyway and waves back. Ahead on the cliff wall, we can see a steep, wooden ladder. How will we get Nell up that? This I have to see.Five minutes later, we are there. Turnbill and Nell crawl up the cliff at the base of the ladder. Then, with a word, Bill motions Nell up. She starts climbing the very steep steps, and Turnbill follows, boosting her from behind when her confidence falters right near the top. She's up and over, tail wagging, laughing down at us. Fantastic! What a dog.We top out on Goose Eye and Turnbill points out the mountains we will be climbing in the days ahead: Old Speck tomorrow, the Baldpates after, and way out there, the Bigelows and the pointy peak of Sugarloaf in the week ahead.Before he departs on a windy side trail, Turnbill pulls out one more bit of trail magic: maple sugar candy! Then he and Nell march down off the mountain to their car. It has been a fun day hiking with them. Perhaps, being Mainers, they will come out and hike with us again.We summit the two other peaks of Goose Eye. The wind is picking up, so gusty it's knocking us sideways. It hits us broadside, blowing me off the track and into the blueberries. One gust actually tips Gazer over. Later, we learn Ostrich got knocked down as well.We have to tack diagonally against the gale just to hold our course, no mean feat on a narrow path. The alpine zone is fragile, as things grow excruciatingly slow here.We descend from the Goose Eyes on some handy wooden ramps down tilted slabs, then cross an open high ridgeline with bogs along it. An unexpected broadside gust knocks me off the bog bridge, and I do "the bog dance," Chief says, to recover my footing.The sun glares down through all this. We've had our first taste of fall today. I haven't worn my hat and gloves since April.The rocks are very beautiful. All day flakes of mica have flashed like mirrors in the sun, blinding us. I am surprised at how much I am enjoying rock climbing. I thought I would be more tentative. But as long as it's dry, I am pretty handy on them, I'm discovering. Who knew? Must be that long apprenticeship on WET rock this year...We see another ladder, climb up it, and see Full Goose shelter. We are in position to do the infamous Mahoosuc Notch tomorrow. Southbounders have been scaring us about it for days.Ostrich is already here, and a surprise - Papa Roach from Virginia, on a flip-flop. Cobra and Splash turn up, as well as Rosie, a friendly young SOBO. A Tufts orientation group does their own, quiet thing on a tent platform.Rosie and her buddy put up a tarp against the wind, which is still sharp, and blowing in. I put on every stitch of clothing, which leaves my spare socks and a raincoat for a pillow. I still have my 40 degree bag, and it will get below that. But my secret weapon - a fleece neck warmer - does its job so well I remove it in the night.Tomorrow, The Notch!