Date: 2013-09-20
From: Crocker Cirque campsite

To: The Stratton Motel, ME 27
Miles today: 7.7

I slept pretty well last night, but I was hot. I ended up shedding most of my clothes. Which was fine until I woke up at 5:30 in the morning with the dire need to go to the bathroom. The campsite had a privy that was halfway between the AT and the campsite. I scrambled to put on my clothes, grab my headlamp, grab my toilet paper, jam my feet into my crocs and hobbled (I always hobble in the mornings as does just about every other hiker. It's called the "Hiker Hobble.") in the direction of the privy. I knew it was a ways away, so I gave myself a pep-talk. I could make it. I stumbled over rocks and roots and down inclines and over a stream. Jesus, where was this privy? I came to another stream crossing and I got a bad feeling. I was all the way back out on the AT. Oh shit. Literally. Oh shit. I'd overshot it in the dark. I snatched my pants down as I hobbled as quickly as I could as far as way for the trail and the stream as I could. The power and demands of Mother Nature are not to be left waiting. Afterwards I dug a hole and tired to urge the droppings down into the hole. They weren't very cooperative. So I found a big rock and placed it on top. What else could I do? I walked back to the campsite, and I still never saw the privy. Surely I hadn't imagined it? It wasn't until I was hiking back out that I saw it sitting farther back off the trail than I had remember. The bastard had been hiding from me.Back at camp I got packed up, and I told Hobo I would wait for he and Walking Stick back at the AT. I wanted a few minutes of peace and quiet with the morning. I set my pack down in a stealth spot, and I laid back on the ground. I looked up at the canopy of yellow birch leaves quivering on their silvery stems. The sky was blue, blue. It smelled of fall. I felt so at peace and yet so anxious. Tom would be on a plane headed to Watertown today. I wanted so badly to be there to meet him. And if I couldn't be there, I at least wanted to be moving in a direction to meet him. At around 7:20 Hobo arrived, he said that Walking Stick wasn't far behind. Sigh. I was ready to get moving. We'd heard that the climb up Crocker Cirque was tough, and it certainly looked that way on paper, but in fact it wasn't too bad. It as dirt with a few rock steps so we cruised to the top with ease. I got to the top first, and I headed out to the vista. I turned on my phone to call my dentist office to tell them that I wasn't going to make next Tuesday's dental appointment. I thought back to 7 months ago when I'd made the appointment, and it seemed impossible that I wouldn't be done with the AT and back to my normal life by then. The AT certainly teaches you how to let go of expectations. Once Hobo and Walking Stick arrived, I set off down the trail towards North Crocker Mountain. The trail was in the process of being maintained, and it was in awesome shape. Black dirt and new stone steps and freshly dug drainage channels. I passed a trail maintainer. She was younger than I, probably in her 20s with a hard hat and work gloves. I thanked her for her work on the trail. A little while later I passed two more trail maintainers, also women in their early 20s with Americorp patches on their shirt. Rock on! I felt proud for them.I shot up to the top of North Crocker and took off my pack. I sat at the summit sign and waited for Hobo and Walking Stick to arrive. They were going to take a snack break, but they gave me their blessing to head on without them. We'd meet at the motel in Stratton. I set off with a light heart. I was grateful to my hiking buddies and friends for their understanding.I headed down the mountain, and I'd been going for about five minutes when I heard a big stick break off to my left. I stopped dead in my tracks. There was silence. I listened closer and looked towards the sound. About 75 feet away I heard the trees rustling and I saw a large dark form moving through the thick vegetation. A moose! I didn't get a good look at it, so I'm not sure if it was a bull or cow, but it was definitely a moose! I continued down the 5.2 mile downhill. I felt great, and my pack felt pretty light since I'd eaten most of my food. I made great time, and I was happy to be alone with nature. I listened to the crunching of the leaves and their rustle as they fell from the branches. I looked a the yellow light under the canopy of yellowing birch leaves. I looked a the peeling birch bark. It reminded me of peeling labels off of glass bottles. I just felt happy. I looked at the moose prints mushed into the mud, and I wondered where those moose were. I was tromping along a smoothish dirt path, and suddenly I saw movement out of my left eye. I looked over, and not 30 feet away, a moose cow stood up in a little grass clearing. She looked at me, and I looked at her. I stood perfectly still as she raised her head to smell in my direction. Finally, I eased out my camera and took some photos. Two moose in one morning! It pays to hike early, and it pays to move quietly. I felt a little guilty for racking up all these moose sightings, but what can you do? Finally, she started to wander off into the woods, stopping to munch on a few leaves here and there. I smiled and walked on as well.I cruised down the mountain, determined to get to Stratton before lunch. I made it down to the road and munched on a Snickers bar while I tried to score a hitch. I saw a guy walking up the road in the opposite direction, and at first it made me a little nervous. It was somewhere near here that Inchworm disappeared. As the guy got closer, I heard him whistle towards me and holler, I've got a truck in the parking lot. I recognized his voice from our campsite. Neema and Odie camp out of the woods, and they threw their packs in his truck as well. He gave us a lift into Stratton and deposited me at the hotel. I walked to the door of the hotel and there was a sign that read: 1-Rebecca & Hobo, 2- Rebecca & Hikers, 4- James, Please make yourselves at home. Hobo's sister, Becca had made our reservations, so I assumed that Room 2 was for Walking Stick and I. The place was pretty deserted, so I walked down to Room 2. The door was open and the key was laying on the bedside table. Casual. I like it. I headed for the shower, but for the life of me, I couldn't get anything but ice water to flow from the faucets. I knew there was no one at reception, so it would do no good to try to complain. I took a deep breath and coaxed myself through an incredibly cold shower. Not what I'd envisioned at all, but it would have to do for now. Hobo and Walking Stick showed up soon after. We headed for the White Wolf Cafe for some lunch and beers. The food was incredible. I had fried fiddlehead ferns, poutin and the BEST seafood chowder with GIANT chunks of lobster. It was still a little too premature to start celebration with a lobster dinner, but I figured that seafood chowder was okay.I got a few trail journals updated, and I went across the street to buy a six pack of beers. I visited with the other hikers, Stratton was PACKED with hikers. It was a great reunion. Hobo's sister, Becca, arrived and we headed back to the White Wolf for all you can eat fried fish. And there were more beers. I was so full of beer and food, but I was so happy. Still no word from Tom...