Date: 2003-09-04
From: Bigelow Lean-To

To: Pierce Pond Lean-To
Miles today: 17.3
Weather: light rain

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into the trees. The wind will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off..."- John Muir Rain fell hard all night, beating a steady tattoo on the tin roof. I love that sound, and love being dry even more so. Due to this, we slept late - till 7:20 am. Chief got up five minutes before me, and made mention of this several times. He loves it when this happens. I guess he takes the early rising as a sign of industry and clean living.It was still raining during breakfast, and we had a big day planned. Aaargh! Hard to get in 18 miles when you start late. I read a magazine to pass the time.Finally, the downpour slackened. About 8:30, we left the shelter. Lovely slow morning, aaah, the way life should be...We splashed though the puddles and soaking foliage down to Flagstaff Lake, where we spotted a loon on the lake. We are getting north!The Trail was mostly swift enough, back to 2 mph anyway. Only two climbs in the first five miles, the largest only 600 feet.We ran into perhaps the very last southbounder, Crash Test Dummy. He'd done the International Appalachian Trail, which starts in Quebec and comes down through New Brunswick and Maine. He loved the Gaspe peninsula, but said New Brunswick and Maine were mostly roadwalks and railroad beds. He was traveling light - so light he didn't have a raincoat. He asked us whether it was raining above treeline in the Bigelows. I hope he gets something before the Whites besides the trashbag he was carrying!The loons on West Carry pond call to each other, then there is silence. It so absolutely still that one can hear the beating of dragonfly wings when one zips by. I greatly enjoy the rocky shorelines further north. The fir trees drip - spruce are the worst, and will drench you - but the rain seems to have throttled back considerably.We have lunch in this dry Lean-To, about 12:30, then mush on to the Pierce Pond Lean-to ten miles away. This puts us in position to cross the mighty Kennebec river tomorrow. There is a ferry service via canoe, and there are admonishment to "be on time" for the ferry's hours of operations.The trail this afternoon is easy compared to the last month's walking. Though rooty and often studded with slippery, mossy rocks, it still only takes us 9 hours to walk the 17.3 miles here, and that includes lunch and numerous photo and pack-off breaks.It's good to have 2 mph trail back. Finally, we can estimate whether we can make a certain distance! A surprise return visitor is the mosquito. We haven't had to deal with these bleeders since Vermont, or maybe early NH. I thought the chill air would have dispatched them, but noooo... Down in the lower elevations, they prevail.I have just two weeks left on the AT. I have mixed feelings about that. Nothing smells like the north woods - clean, fresh, pure. The scenery is hard to beat. I LOVE eating anything I want and still feeling trim and healthy. I really enjoy the fitness and the travel aspect, but the daily grind is harder and faster than my natural rhythms would prefer to go (to say nothing about shedding that nasty WEIGHT on my back!). My preference would be to travel a bit and then stay at a pretty spot for awhile, but that - over time - is not how one gets to Katahdin. One gets to The Big K via a very simple (not to say "easy") strategy - wake up and put one foot in front of the other almost every day. Step by step, day after day - that's how the big jobs get done.I also miss my family, friends and pets, my "home" routines, gardening, my work, my town. I've got several ideas for new directions and aspects that I want to pursue. I want my own house. I'm ready to get stuff out of storage.But I know I'll miss the smells, the sounds, the movement, the sights. The crispness of the morning air. Okay, so this morning wasn't so crisp - I won't miss sour-smelling shoes and cold, damp shirts in the morning. But will which direction the wind is blowing at night become irrelevant? Will the long silences fill up with useless chatter and activities (shudder...TV?)? And who really cares that these feet - these champion, long-suffering, CAPABLE feet - are now expert navigators of mud, wet rock, and root?It will be an interesting ride.To my delight, the Pierce Pond shelter is nestled right alongside Pierce Pond, maybe the prettiest one yet. A ledge of stone juts into the lake a short way. I sit and soak my poor, tired feet, and they sigh with gratitude. The day's Trail mud is also easily rinsed off my calves. Minnows nibble at my toes. A larger fish jumps offshore.The water is so clear that every bottom rock can be seen. I haven't encountered water this visually clean since the Boundary Waters between Canada and the upper midwest, perhaps the purest wild place I had been on earth until now. If it had been warmer, I might have gone in for a dip. For supper I make a chicken ramen soup and dump in the rest of the pepperoni. To thicken it, I use leftover potato flakes. I haven't named this dish yet either.The loons sound like Chief when he falls on his tailbone or, as he puts it, "my gone-ass." They serenade us all night with their haunting water songs.And there is yet another serenade. Is that a lone wolf howling in the distance? I swear, it's not a coyote, which I heard through the Smokies, NC and Virginia. This part of the world is a wilder place. It could be anything. Haints and shades. Bigfoot, transported. The "Hodag" of Rhinelander, WI.But there are coyotes about. Last night, as the loons practiced their various calls, one rising, three-note call seemed to set them off. The third note, the highest, produced answering yips and yowls, like dogs howling when the fire sirens blow.It woke me and I listened for about a half hour, stars gleaming through the clearing mist, until I fell asleep again. These are the sorts of serendipitous happenings I will miss the most. The woods can be a magical place, where bald reason takes a back seat to the tug of life.