Date: 2009-09-15
From: Hurd Brooke Shelter

To: The Birches Lean-to
Miles today: 13.4

It was a late wakeup today because it is only 13 miles to The Birches campsite where we will launch our summit attacks from tomorrow morning. It felt so eerie this morning sitting around camp making coffee, wasting time, being the last one out of camp. This is it, everyone--the final countdown.The hike today was solemn and there was no need for speed. In three miles Abol Bridge crosses the incredible Penobscott River that anyone who sails the East Coast has familiarity with. From Abol Bridge, yet another amazing but incomplete view of The Great Mountain that we now are basically in the shadow of. At the north side of the bridge, there is a small store that we all sat outside of for hours eating junkfood and enjoying these last moments of all of our amazing adventures. Joining the crew today is Sawman, L Train, Angry Beaver and Prairie Dog. Even though you may not know them, you have such a foundational similarity right now that brings everyone onto the same page: tomorrow we will be standing at that mystical sign, on top of the world, realizing a dream. From Abol Bridge it is ten miles to The Birches Lean To which is part of Katahdin Stream Campsite, Baxter State Park. Baxter is understandably anal about registering to hike The Mountain. Surely each year a bunch of yahoos try to climb this thing when the conditions are bad and they need to be rescued by people who risk their own lives to go up that crazy mountain in a mess to get them out of trouble. So, you have to sign in and out and lots of paperwork is involved. A great thing about today is that the shelter we are at is only for Northbound Thru Hikers--no section hikers and no Southbounders. Why didn't they come up with this concept a thousand miles ago??About a quarter mile from the Birches a strange thing happened to me which was I realized that this trip is done. Tomorrow is the photograph. Today, I delivered myself for the last time, on time, to the place I needed to be to go where I wanted to go. A lot of times in life you cry because you can't do something and feel limited by your experiences. What a different feeling it is to cry because you know that there isn't anything that you can't do and you just proved that to yourself and why on earth did you doubt that in the first place?   Tomorrow I will carry on my back the weight of the responsibility to use this power--this ability to do anything in the world--up that Mountain. And I will have to carry that weight further into the journey of my life because I owe it to everyone who has been a part of making me who I am today to accomplish amazing things in our world. Not climbing mountains or hiking trails, but things much bigger than even that.There is not a lot of talk tonight. Its a lot of business as everyone prepares for tomorrow. Tomorrow at this time we will all be 2000 milers!!One more trip down memory lane... Three days out of Hanover I ran into Sunday and John and we had a great day of hiking up and over the first two intimidating peaks in the Whites: Mousilauke and Kinsman. The weather was too good to last and my boys Ned the Fed and Waterboy took me out of the rain and huddled with me around the TV watching our White Mountain experience turn into a soggy mess. Two coldfronts caused unstable weather which, upon the ascent to Lakes of the Clouds, finally caught up to Sailor, Sunday, and John in the form of a furious rain squall that knocked out my electronics the day before the most picturesque day of the entire trip. Fortunately, my buddies took lots of pictures of Washington, Clay, Adams, and Monroe, and by Madison at the end of the day, the camera had revived itself. Withdrawal was felt leaving this ultimate ridgeline but there were several opportunities to see it again in the following week. Although Sunday and John pulled ahead while Waterboy and Ned the Fed stayed behind, I ran into my buddies Nature, Juice and Mamalama who I adore spending time with. For the next ten days we experienced the beauty and hardship of Southern Maine together. After a great period of comraderie, the traffic of Labor Day Weekend ultimately separated us as I ran ahead to get away from 'dix ou vingt' French Canadian section hikers. For the rest of Maine it was a Solo Sailor until the night before reaching Monson when I ran into a bunch of guys that I had met earlier in the trip. As luck would have it, they all zeroed in Monson and I set off into the Hundred Mile Wilderness thinking that finishing alone was a possibility. And that brings us up to yesterday when I ran into the back of the group that I am with now who will all share tomorrow as their summit date. What a journey!