Date: 2004-09-30
From: Logan Brook Lean-to, Maine

To: Slower Pace For a Change
Miles today: 15.2

I slept poorly in the lean-to because the temperatures dropped into the twenties, which is lower than the rating of my sleeping bag.The dog which had curled up to sleep on the person lying beside me had changed its position. When I woke up at dawn, it was lying on the floor on the other side of the person.In this cold weather, it takes extra motivation to unzip a sleeping bag and get up. It is helpful to quickly put on extra outerwear clothes and prepare a hot breakfast. But for me, this process took longer than I would prefer. I did not want to make noise and wake up my fellow hikers. I unzipped my sleeping bag slowly. I let the air out of my sleeping pad gradually. I quietly gathered up my gear and moved it outside of the lean-to, placing it on the ground off to the side. At that location, I prepared hot oatmeal and loaded my backpack without disturbing anyone.The other hikers and dogs got up while I was eating breakfast. The black dog approached my foodstuffs that were stored in zip lock bags and spread across the ground. The dog was hungry and intended to chomp into the bags. I shooed it away.Someone started a campfire in front of the lean-to. The warmth of the flames attracted everyone around the fire. There was Bramble and Boo Boo who had arrived during the night and had slept outside the lean-to. There was K-Less, Sun Pig, Alabama, Dutch, and a section hiker whose name I forgot. There was Pop Up and Regular Brian who had showed up just after the fire had been kindled. In all, there were nine men in their twenties, myself, and two dogs huddled around the fire. The spirits were soaring within this gathering¢or this brotherhood¢of thru hikers. We had seen Mount Katahdin yesterday. We were just a few days of hiking away from Baxter State Park.The walking was less difficult today. For a while, the trail followed some woods roads. It is always a pleasure hiking on woods roads because they are usually flat and have few obstacles like rocks and roots to step around. On a woods road, a hiker can build up momentum.At several locations, narrow streams of water gushed across one of these woods roads. The waters appeared exceedingly clear and pure. One stream flowed out from a hole at the bottom of a slope. I wondered if these waters originated from springs. The elevations were low and there had been hardly any rain lately.I followed a spur trail which led me to a sandy beach at Crawford Pond, one of those scenic bodies of water in Maine that appear more like a lake. I stripped off my clothes and waded into the water. My intention was to dunk under the water and give myself a bath. The water was way too cold for my liking. I walked into the pond until the water rose up to my hips. I never submerged my upper body. What a wimp!I put back on my clothes, sat on a log, and ate lunch. Somewhere across the pond, a loon emitted its haunting call.During the middle of the afternoon, I was hiking along a stretch of trail that ran adjacent to a large brook. My feet were becoming sore, but they still were still doing okay. I spied a flat and spacious area beside the brook. On the spur of the moment, I decided to stop hiking and make camp at the spot. My impulsive decision to stop hiking that early was impractical. If I had continued walking for a few more hours, the miles I gained would have ensured that I could reach the outskirts of Baxter State Park in two days. This decision to stop early may alter that projection.I suppose my decision to make an early camp is a result of the tug of war that has been happening in my mind. A practical desire to hike long hours through the 100 Mile Wilderness has been at odds with an aesthetic yearning to slow down and enjoy the beauty and solitude of this area. This afternoon my aesthetic yearning tugged harder than my practical desire.My usual chores were performed. I strung up my tarp near the brook. I tossed over a high branch the line for my food bag. Later the bag would be hoisted up and out of the reach of bears. A clothes line was strung out to air out hiking clothes and shoes.With those tasks accomplished, I gathered some wood and started a campfire.As I relaxed beside the fire, the rays of the sun beamed through the forest and illuminated the fast moving current of water on Cooper Brook. They created a glow on the tarp. It felt great to enjoy a campsite with daylight to spare.I heard a faint rumbling of logging trucks. They were moving along the Joe-Mary Road, a wide gravel road that is a conduit for those vehicles traveling to and from logging sites and paper mills. The 100 Mile Wilderness is not an actual wilderness. There are logging operations in the region. Sometimes the distant buzz of saws and related machinery can be heard while I hike. Still, the character of this region seems more wild than any other place on The Appalachian Trail. Regular Brian stopped by. We talked about hostels we had visited. Lately a common topic of conversation between hikers has been recollections of past experiences on The Appalachian Trail. This nostalgia is being shared because we are nearing the ends to our long journeys.This camping spot is situated at a low elevation. The weather is not as harsh as it gets at higher places, like the 2,485 foot elevation of the lean-to I slept in last night. But there is a trade off. There were mosquitoes harassing me at this campsite. I suppose that insects survive longer into the autumn in low areas like this. I got bitten on the thigh. Perhaps that will be the final insect bite of this journey.I headed to my tarp and sleeping bag when it became dark out. I am not using the hammock any more due to the cold weather. To improve my odds of being warm during the night, I strung up my tarp close to the ground with the foot end lower than the head end. I opened my umbrella and placed it on the ground at the head end, or entrance. The umbrella will reduce the influx of cool air into my shelter.As I relax in my sleeping bag, the sound of gushing water from Cooper Brook is lulling me to sleep.