Date: 2013-07-18
From: Trident Col Campsite, mi 1,894.5

To: Full Goose Shelter, mi 1,909.0
Miles today: 14.5
Weather: scattered clouds

I woke up to a beautiful morning, wondering how I managed to survive the fierce lightning while camped in an opening at the Trident Col Campsite the night before. I was under 10 miles from reaching a major milestone, my final state, Maine. Up until now, I've heard only negative comments from south bounders I had passed by. I knew, however, that these negative perspectives could be mostly attributed to the inclement weather experienced throughout June. The vast amounts of rain that Maine received lead to swollen rivers and bogs. The boardwalks were not above water for those who hiked south bound in June, 2013. I recalled the stories told by earlier through hikers at the start of the Whites, who said they had waded through waist high waters along these board walks. They warned the north bounders to avoid the natural reaction of sticking your walking poles into the bogs if you lost your balance on a wayward plank. This would lead to the inevitable full body plunge. I hoped, that the waters had subsided, now a month later. I was not worried about getting wet so much as doubling or tripling my hiking time crossing swamp. Much of my hike north of the Trident Col Campsite traversed rough terrain of roots and rocks in forests of conifers. I passed the Gentian Pond Shelter in the early morning and grabbed a snack before making the steep ascent of Mt. Success. I took a photo of the monumental NH-ME border mileage sign, which was quite weathered. Making it to Maine seemed to provide mental reassurance that I was closing in on my goal, that it was now feasible to complete what I had set out to accomplish on April 14 back at Springer Mountain, GA. I still had 281 miles to hike with what many perceive to be the toughest terrain of the entire AT. I was hiking the Mahoosucs, which were followed by the Saddlebacks north of Rangeley, the Bigelows north of Stratton, and the rugged mountains of the southern portion of the 100-mile Wilderness, before my final climb up Katahdin. I arrived at the Full Goose Shelter in the rain around 3pm. The Shelter was constructed on an isolated narrow ridge. A young group of south bounders were holing up in the shelter, including a man in his early 30s who had served as a medic in the Gulf War, named Danny. The other couple were on their way further south and preparing to leave shortly. Another couple had set up their tent on the raised decking constructed behind the shelter. Before the couple in the shelter left, they shared a somewhat humorous entry in the shelter log book made by a hiker named Lobster, titled "Welcome to Maine". Lobster Man was clearly jaded by brushing into too many negative north bounders. It was clear by the tone of the two page diatribe, that Lobster Man intended to return all this bad Juju to the north bounder, essentially cursing them with everything perceived negative about Maine. The irony is, that by Maine, the north bounder has endured over 2,000 miles of hiking, which included plenty of terrain to give Maine a run for its money. Did Lobster Man seriously think that his letter would even be taken seriously? Statistically, the south bounder, although typically starting two to three months after the north bound hiker, has the same chance of finishing the AT- though some may disagree. The greatest challenges perceived for the south bounder is likely the mental game, given that a very small number embark SOBO each year, making it highly probable that one could spend weeks alone on the trail. Lobster Man's diatribe declared that Maine's 281-miles subjected the hiker to far greater challenges than the 2,000 miles to the south. I had a good laugh with the couple that shared the essay with me. It had taken me about 3 months to arrive to Maine. Certainly, there was NO challenge too great to over come, even If I had to crawl the last 100 miles, I was going to do it! I figured two weeks to hike 281 miles, and would savor every last mile. I actually looked forward to what was ahead. The letter from Lobster Man merely got me amped up for what was ahead...straight down plunges into canyons, colossal streams to ford, bogs to cross in waste high waters (with deadly eels swimming about), and endless roots and rocks. I ended up sharing the shelter with Danny, a war veteran, handicapped in numerous ways, with a positive attitude. I learned that he had considerable physical encumbrances from being shot at while rescuing troops as a medic in the Gulf War. There was no such thing as luck, when day after day, he selflessly put his life on the line to save his comrades. It was his job. His heart relied on something similar to a pace maker and external battery good for only 3 days. His head had also been partly crushed by a Humvee. He had undergone numerous reconstructive surgeries and had dentures. One of his legs was partly paralyzed and relied on special orthopedics. With all of these burdens, he had an amazing energy about him. A positive outlook regardless of the miles ahead of him. He offered me a couple military meals packaged in brown plastic. I gladly accepted. He explained to me his reliance on medical marijuana due to perpetual pain, as he lit his third joint in the shelter. The couple camping on the platform behind the shelter had asked me if I could relay their request for him to stop. I explained to them that he relied on this for medicinal purposes, not recreational. I'm not sure if they bought into that reason, but they did not approach Danny directly.I enjoyed dinner and Danny's company as the rain fell into darkness.