Date: 2003-09-26
From: Crocker Cirque Campsite

To: Stratton, ME.
Miles today: 7.3
Weather: few clouds

Only showers last nite. We wake up and straggle out in order of enthusiasm. The gung-ho sobos leave first, and those with a deadline to keep. I am not the last out this morning, and I can hear the friendly couple giggling in their tent while their dog tells no one in particular that Texas Jack is hiking past. It's only 8 miles to the road and both South Crocker Mtn. and North Crocker are big (over 4,000') but not bad. The AT is in excellent shape. No rock-hopping today!                The scenic views from the top are, as usual, spectacular, and the formations of peaks already traversed and those yet-to-be, wait patiently for our footsteps. By the time I arrive at Hwy. 27, I've been passed by everyone, yet again. God bless 'em. They're young and strong and faster than I am, but Texas Jack is still pickin 'em up and puttin 'em down and I guess that's all that matters.I stand there with my thumb out for 45 minutes before a local pulls off. He's got hiking sticks in the back seat. He did the Trail in '88 and is full of interesting tales. We're still talking when he drops me off in front of White Wolf Inn in Stratton. They are full (this was another of the places recommended by Baltimore Jack and it seems that lots of other folks liked it too.) Baltimore Jack likes to stay at good, clean, modestly priced places that cater to hikers, but when those places are full, I'll be happy with good, clean and will let ME thru the front door. I whip out the credit card and go next door to the Stratton Motel, which charges more, but they have a vacancy and a ride back to the Trail is included in the price.It's early yet, so I walk the 1/2 mile or so down to the local laundrymat and spend a couple of hours washing and drying everything I've got. (Was tired of sticking to the sleeping bag and smelling like moose poop). It's a small community, and it seems that a gaggle of hikers is always in front of the local grocery store and pay phone.I haven't spoken to everyone, but it seems to me that there are more and more hikers stacked up on this end of the Trail. Everyone knows that Baxter State Park has a hiker deadline in October, and will shut the mountain down so they don't have to rescue anyone who might want to climb Mt. Katahdin in bad weather. Lots of hikers, it seems, are yellow-blazing up to this point so they can do Katahdin before the deadline. The Baxter State Park people pretty much treat thru hikers as a nuisance rather than some kind of "special entitlees". They don't care why you are there, 'cause they got rules. Park rangers are even more high-handed than the ATC people and I can testify to that!Lots of hikers regard the "Baxter Rules and Regs" as the nuisance, and thumb their noses at the regulations while playing hide and seek with authorities on their way up the mountain. If they get caught, or need rescue, the law breakers might as well sell their souls, 'cause the fines and jail time are no laughing matter. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen regularly. The Park rangers don't like to be ignored and they make an example out of the ones they catch.So Stratton is full. So, too, is Shaw's Boarding House ahead in Monson. I call 'em up to see what to expect. Perhaps Grampie and Donna will want to come up from CT. Doesn't hurt to find out. Old Keith Shaw is still alive and Mrs. Shaw sounds as sweet as ever. That's good news, and I call Grampie to tell him best guess of when I will get to Monson. Before I hang up, I promise to call him again from Caratunk and let him know for sure. A hot shower and I'm done for today.