Date: 2005-11-29
From: what you get when you can't sleep at 3am...

To: the saga continues...
Miles today: 0.0

So, how exactly did the entire Pod (read -- Free, Serenity, Poet, Freedom, Thatch, and yours truly) come to be sitting around in the 100-Mile Wilderness, at a logging road, the fate of our Summit Day hinged upon the flip of a coin? As w/ all Pod-related stories, it is an entertaining tale, one that takes times to unfold. (At least, one that takes me time to unfold and, as I¢m currently the one telling it, you¢ll just have to bear w/ me.) But before I dive in, I need to take a little detour, provide a little background info, heighten the suspense, drag you to the edge of your seats, build up to the climactic moment, and every other overly-dramatic, cliched ploy designed to capture your attention. Basically, I need to take another (brief) detour, and explain precisely how we all came to be there, together, simultaneously, all 6 members of the Pod, in the same place, at the same time, on a random road in Maine.B/c, in inverse proportion to how closely-knit the bonds b/t us, conversely to how long we¢d known each other on the trail, contrary to the logical assumption -- in actuality, the cohesive quality of our little group could be said to be¢¦ absent¢¦ from time to time. Such as, well, I guess you could say, every single bloody time we manage to reunite. It¢s not that we don¢t love each other to pieces; it¢s not that we don¢t want to stay together. It¢s just that we can¢t. It¢s as if there is some critical mass (usually 4, although on a few, notable (and rare) occasions we had an attendance of 5), above which some anti-Pod force conspires to propel us apart. Far apart. We simply can¢t keep track of each other. And, on the off-chance that all 6 of us actually do manage to unite, it never lasts for a consecutive 24-hour period. And when I say ¢never¢, it¢s not an exaggeration. ¢Never¢ means never. Not once. Not one, single, solitary time. Despite the fact that we had all met each other by or in Hot Springs, NC (North-friggin¢-Carolina, for crying out loud!); despite the fact that we had known each other for SIX MONTHS; despite the fact that we had suffered together through blizzards and heat waves and Lyme Disease and knee pains; despite the fact that we were known as The Pod up and down the trail; despite all of this, we had never once managed to collectively spend an entire day together. The Pod had never, all 6 of us, started from the same campsite or shelter or hotel room or wherever we happened to be sleeping, and ended up at the same campsite or shelter or hotel room or wherever. Never. Our inability to cohere, if it wasn¢t so pathetic, would actually be quite funny. Not ha-ha funny, but ironic-funny... No, I take that back. Actually, it is funny. Ha ha.Anyway, it was at some point in the Whites (for some reason, the Presidentials come to mind¢¦), when Poet and I were hiking along, that we came to this realization. And, it floored us. I mean, we literally stopped¢¦ in our tracks. Came to a standstill. Couldn¢t take another step. Our immediate reaction was to say, ¢Nah. Can¢t be. Of course we have.¢ And then, as we resumed walking, there was a pause, as we both mulled it over. ¢We have, haven¢t we?¢Another pause.¢We have to have. Right?¢Silence.A pregnant pause, you could say, as we feverishly wracked our brains, searching for evidence to disprove this outrageous notion.One or the other of us would give a little start, and begin, ¢What about the time when¢¦¢, and then trickle off into silence, as we realized that so-and-so wasn¢t there. We each had several of these ¢Aha!¢ moments, convinced we¢d stumbled across confirmation, joyously exclaiming, ¢Yes!¢ And then disappointingly deflating¢¦ ¢Oh. Wait.¢(¢The day we left Harpers Ferry!¢¢No, wait, Freedom and Thatch were in their aborted Tri-State Challenge attempt. They left the next day¢¦¢¢The day of the Half-Gallon Challenge!¢¢No, wait¢¦ you went home for a few days¢¦¢¢Oh. Right.¢¢¦and so forth¢¦)The closest example we could conjure up was the day we crossed the CT-MA border. (A noteworthy achievement in its own right that we all managed to do so on the same day.) We all started from the same shelter, and we actually all spent the night in Great Barrington. However, I was off by myself in a hotel room, experiencing the onset of my mystery illness, while the rest of the Pod was stealth-camping behind the supermarket. Close. Very close. But, just not quite a shining example of Pod unity.As this pattern of jubilation and disappointment continued longer and longer, Poet and I became more frantic in our quest to disprove this preposterous notion. Failing in our shot-in-the-dark attempt, we began methodically processing the trail, state-by-state, town-by-town. (¢Leaving Hot Springs? We had the big cook-out just outside of town.¢ ¢Nope, we didn¢t all leave the same day.¢ and ¢Post-Trail Days?¢ ¢No, that was during your trial separation, Poet.¢ ¢¦and so forth¢¦) We came to the same unpalatable but inevitable conclusion -- the Pod had never spent a day together.¢But¢¦ We must have. We must have¢¦¢ As if, by the very vehemence of our declarations, we could re-write the past and make it true. But, the past cannot be re-written. (Well, okay, it can be. But, not by us; that's a task left to the historians...) Freedom, Thatch, and I seemed to be the guiltiest parties, probably b/c of our proclivity to dash off and do impulsive things. (Hitchhiking to the beach for a week comes to mind. Or hitching ahead, in order to hike south and surprise folks.) But, regardless of who was absent, the sad fact remained that not once had the sun risen and set w/ all Pod members present and accounted for.Poet and I began a conversation of shocked incredulity: (In the following dialogue, I may have applied some Poet-ic license. (Pun most definitely intended.)):¢This is sad.¢¢Unbelievable.¢¢Pathetic.¢¢Impossible.¢¢A tragedy.¢¢A travesty.¢¢A tragic reality in need of remedy.¢And thus, the Pod Challenge was formed -- the Pod would collectively start from the same place and collectively end at the same place; one day, from dawn to dusk, we¢d share a starting line and a finishing line. Giving ourselves the greatest chance of success, we put no limitations or time-frame on the Challenge. Just that it had to happen before Katahdin. Just one day. That¢s all we asked. And so, the die was cast, the gauntlet thrown. Now, we just had to find the rest of the Pod, to fill them in¢¦A task easier said than done. Free and Serenity were no problem; we brought them on board that night at whichever Hut we were currently staying in. (The four of us Hut-hopped through the Whites, a highly-recommended mode of travel, by the way. Be sure to partake in the $2 Endless Bowl of Soup. Yum!) Freedom and Thatch, however, were another matter entirely. They were behind us. Somewhere. Our last sighting of them was Franconia Notch, at the southern end of the Whites. After that, nothing. We¢d heard a slightly alarming rumor that a female hiker had twisted her back and had to get off the trail, but no one could confirm that it was (or, more importantly, was not) Freedom. And, as trail rumors have a way of becoming significantly exaggerated -- my theory is that the extent of embellishment is in direct proportion to the distance the rumor travels -- we didn¢t place an overwhelming credence in its veracity. Ironically, it turns out that the rumor was about Freedom, and she had twisted her back. But thankfully, it was nothing serious.Anyway, we knew that the duo was somewhere in back of us and we actually half-expected them to just ¢pop up¢ one day. After all, they excel at that. But, the days continued their inexorable progression, and we continued our inexorable progression northwards. Not very rapidly, mind you, as we were hopping along from Hut to Hut. An excellent mode of transportation, as I said, but as the huts are typically only 7 or 8 miles apart, we weren¢t exactly setting any speed records. Our rationale was that, if we maintained a low-mileage pace, it would provide Freedom and Thatch ample opportunity to catch us. (Our reasoning had absolutely nothing to do w/ the sheer joy and convenience of sleeping inside, every night; nor did the amazingly delicious leftovers we received twice a day factor in at all. Food and comfort influencing our decisions? Naw, not us. I mean, geez, you think we were hikers or something?) Unfortunately, this plan was premised on the (erroneous) notion that Freedom and Thatch would be moving at least slightly more rapidly than us. When the catch-ers and the catch-ees share a pace, then it doesn¢t matter how tortoise-like you are; the former will never recover the distance. Not to be disheartened, we left messages in the Hut registers for the pair, detailing our plans, hoping that our scheduled zero day in Gorham, NH would be sufficient time to allow a reunion. Thankfully (albeit somewhat surprisingly), it was.The Great Reunification occurred in the Royalty Inn, on the main drag in Gorham. Free and Serenity, suffering from the early stages of (what was later determined to be) giardia, hitched in from Pinkham Notch and took a couple of extra recuperation days, while Poet and I hiked the Wildcats. We came into town the following afternoon and tracked them down at the Royalty Inn (the on-site hot tub having absolutely no impact on the choice of lodging). Tapping out a sharp ¢rat-a-tat-tat¢ on the door, who should be standing there but Freedom! Joyous squeals and exclamations and hugs abounded. She filled us in on her latest exploits -- she had come into town off of Mt Washington, b/c the unexpectedly cold, windy, and foggy weather conditions up there had rattled her, and she wanted to avoid another 10-mile exposed trek above tree-line. So, here she was. As for Thatch, his whereabouts remained a mystery. He was¢¦ somewhere, equipped w/ strict instructions to call Freedom as soon as he hit town. And so, once again, the Pod was one member short (critical mass and anti-Pod forces and all).Well, Thatch or no Thatch (and actually, I was kinda glad that he hadn¢t appeared, b/c if he had, that would have meant that the Pod Challenge would have been met on a zero day. And there was just something inherently wrong about that. I mean, we were supposed to be hiking¢¦), the 5 female Pod-ites enjoyed a truly luxurious zero day. Hah. Yeah right. Honestly, a zero day is never really a zero day. We, naturally, had errands to run. Poet, Freedom, and I started off the morning in quest of breakfast. Not a ¢Pop-tarts-from-the-pharmacy¢ or ¢bagels-in-the-convenience-store¢ breakfast, but a real, honest-to-goodness, sit-down meal. W/ pancakes. And eggs. And everything. Our first option was Welsh¢s, the rumored local diner-of-choice. Well, maybe, at one time, it was the popular breakfast joint, but all we saw were boarded-up windows. W/ a shrug of the shoulders, we headed off to the nearby caf©. Foiled again, w/ a prominently displayed ¢Closed¢ sign staring us in the face. ¢What is w/ this town?¢ We started flagging down pedestrians, interrogating them regarding breakfast options. We got a lot of confused looks, a few hesitant ¢I think there¢s something over that way¢ w/ vague gestures down Main Street, but no definitive responses. A town that doesn¢t serve breakfast? Could it be possible? Resigned to a walk of an unknown distance, but doggedly determined in our quest to find hot, cooked food, we headed off in the direction indicated by the vague gesturers. And walk we did. Over a mile, in fact. By that point, we would have walked to the next town, if need be, b/c we were gonna have ourselves a hot breakfast, dammit. But, eventually, we found it. The sole, solitary breakfast establishment in town. In, of all places, the Hiker¢s Paradise Motel.It ended up being an enjoyable (and highly entertaining) meal. The owner of the motel, an Eastern European (Polish, I believe), had a very dry, very sharp wit. Coffee was brought out in individual thermoses, although when Poet requested decaf, it was w/ disgust that he presented her w/ the insulated container of ¢flavored water¢. And, when Freedom ordered pancakes, he asked whether she wanted ¢real¢ maple syrup or ¢that plastic stuff from the supermarket¢. Despite our offensive eating sensibilities, he brought us what we wanted, grumbling and muttering all the while. Which was a good thing, b/c this truly was the only place to eat in town, and we were weak w/ hunger after our exhaustive quest. Following our consumption of energy-replenishing sustenance, we fulfilled the standard town chores -- resupply at the grocery store, laundry, phone calls home, the obligatory washing-of-the-cooking-pot, etc -- before enjoying a super-special treat, luxuriating and wallowing in the hot tub. And then, late afternoon, (drum-roll please) the Great Reunification was finally realized, as Thatch appeared in the doorway of the hotel room! All 6 of us, together, in the same room, at the same time. Almost unheard of, like a dodo bird sighting or something. No, wait, dodos are extinct, so a dodo bird sighting really is unheard of. More like an ivory-billed woodpecker sighting, ¢cuz they were only thought to be extinct, ¢cuz no one had seen one for decades. So, yeah, the entire Pod, present and accounted for, it¢s like seeing an ivory-billed woodpecker, a rare and glorious event.Beyond being thrilled that we were simply all in the same place together, there was a palpable excitement amongst the Pod for an additional reason. For not only we were all in town together, we would be leaving town together, on the same day, and it seemed possible (dare we think it, even probable) that we could complete the Pod Challenge. Was it so unreasonable? It was, after all, not a big-mile day that we planned, just 11 or so miles. And we were, after all, returning to the trail w/in a few hours of each other. And there was, after all, the added incentive (as if we needed motivation above and beyond fulfilling the Challenge) that we¢d be crossing in to Maine the following day, and wouldn¢t it just be swell if the whole Pod was there for that. So, armed w/ visions of success and a certain misplaced cockiness, Poet, Free, Serenity, and I hit the trail, w/ Freedom and Thatch promising that they¢d be right behind us, once their laundry was done being laundered. However, in our delusions of grandeur, we overlooked one crucial, critical factor -- namely, the anti-Pod/critical mass factor, that intangible, omnipresent force that contrives to keep the Pod fractured. And, like every other day in the preceding 6 months, today was no different. We were, after all, the Pod. The four of us arrived at the designated stopping point. And waited. And waited. No Freedom and Thatch. Not that day. Or the next day. Or the next. Even the ubiquitous Trail Rumor-mill failed us, w/ no reports of their location being conveyed northward. They simply¢¦ vanished.They didn¢t really, of course. As we discovered (much, much later), they ended up zeroing in a oft-not-visited off-the-trail shelter, hence the failure of the rumor-relay. But, their absence meant that, once again, the Pod Challenge remained unfulfilled, dogging our footsteps and plaguing our thoughts like an arch-nemesis. And the days slowly ticked by, one by one. And Katahdin inexorably crept closer and closer¢¦I realize that, although I began this entry w/ the intention of just outlining the Pod Challenge before resuming my tale of Summit Day and resolving that pesky cliffhanger surrounding the coin toss, my ¢brief detour¢ has stretched into the realm of 'lengthy expose'. As Mr Tolkien said -- ¢Short cuts make for long delays.¢ Just one of the hazards of tagging along w/ my random, ambling musings. Sorry, what can I say? Take it or leave it. But, if you bear w/ me (for how long, I cannot say), I will get around to that fateful coin toss. Really. Come back tomorrow for the next installment...