Date: 2005-09-29
From: Stratton, ME

To: Little Bigelow Lean-to
Miles today: 10.8
Weather: light rain

Admin Note: I'm making a couple of entries on 21 January, some time after returning home. On the particular day, 29 Sept 05, I hiked 10.8 miles from Horns Pond Lean-to to Little Bigelow Lean-to. It was 4 degrees below zero in northern Wisconsin and the I'm starting to remember the trail as a warm, comfortable place.2001.6 down, 172.5 to go. There's so much to write about, so much adventure and excitement in these past few days that there's been neither time or energy to set pen to paper. However, I want to try andcapture some of this before memory dulls some of the feelings of the past few days.   Stratton, Me was so much fun that I failed to heed the weatherman and stayed in town a few hours too long on a warm and wonderful late September. Had I left in the morning I would have crossed the Bigelows when conditions were ideal rather than experiencing what was the scariest and most grueling day on the trail (you've heard that before, haven't you?). But, I just had to have one more town meal...   Leaving town on the 28th was as easy as wrenching yourself away from anything you enjoy can ever be. Not fun at all. It was only a 5mile hike to Horns Pond Lean-to and I settld in at days end with the wind already beginning to whip and a biting chill in the air. It was colder the next morning with the wind already picking up a notch or two.   I started out with an immediate climb up North Horn and by the time I summited, a cold rain had been added to the gusting wind. It seemed like a long day was ahead, but I reasoned that I could handle ten miles of most anything. Eventually it would have to be done anyway. Turning back seemed no more sensible than moving on, so I tightened up my attitude, leaned in to the wind and climbed. Nearing the west peak of Bigelow I had to swing up to a small ledge and begin the real climb. The blowing wind and pelting rain drove me off the ledge. I knew that Iwas continuing ahead, but needed to gather my emotional reserves and formulate some sort of plan before rejoining the fray. While about this business I heard a distinctly feminine voice, high up in the fog, cursing into the wind, "F--k you, godd---it, I'll show you". Soon, from the fog, the rain and the wind, appeared this apparition hiking down from the mountain top, steadily and with certainty, cursing a blue streak. Clearly a young lady, but her beauty was in such sharp contrast to her vocabulary that I laughed despite the conditions. Believing herself to be alone during the tirade caused her serious embarrasment when discovering she wasn't. She apologized unnecessarily, we talked and joked for a moment and she continued down the mountain with her dog, Joe (note to self: Why the hell is it you can rememberthe dogs' name, but not hers?).    Her defiant act emboldened (and embarrased) me. I swung back up on the lege and made my way to the top. Standing up was the worst because the wind gusts had the force to knock me over and I eventually alternated between scampering on all 4's and sort of standing up while bracing myself as best I could with my hiking sticks. It was pretty much like that all day long - eleven hours to do 10 miles. Early on I began to think about hypothermia as a distinct possibility. Realizing that I was hiking alone would require certain precautions. Disorientation is a primary symptom of of this condition, but how could I recognize it in myself? Brilliantly, I developed a fool proof one item questionnaire that I believed would be a true indicator of the onset of the delusional thinking consistent with early hypothermia. At 30 minute intervals I asked myself if I would ever vote for George W. Bush as President. If the answer were in the affirmative I knew I had to immediately find a flat spot to pitch my tent and crawl into my sleeping bag. If the answer was "hell no", I was good to hike for another half hour. Mainly though I just told myselfto keep walking no matter what, there was no real alternative. Truthfully, I also gathered great strengthfrom all the kind people that have supported me on Trail Journals. I did not want anyone to read "Nimblefoot is Dead", sort of like that "Buckwheat is Dead" skit on Saturday Night Live. This thought occured to me as I hiked on through the misery and I recall laughing as the snot ran freely from my nose. So, on I walked, climbed, and walked some more.    There was an ara lower and below the tree line, that the combination of wind and rain was such that the trees were swaying and the root balls were rocking back and forth, up and down. At one point I stopped for a moment by a pine tree and as the root ball pushed up out of the earth, my foot slipped under and the roots settled back and effectively trapped my left foot. Fortunately this was for a slight moment and I was free as soon as the tree swayed again in the opposite direction. Due to the wet softness of the soil, I was uninjured, but talk about a very weird feeling...    So on itwent, the truest test of my energy and tenacity to date. All day long, battering back and forth. I reached Little Bigelow Lean-to just before dark, completely soaked and beginning to shiver. The shelter was inhabited by another thru hiker and6 young people from Outward Bound. They quickly shifted their gear and made room for me. I stripped out of my drenched gear, donned my thermals and crawled into my sleeping bag. Some handed me a cup of hot chocolate which I gratefully drank and gradually, over a few hours, I became almost warm.    The nextday I hiked 18 miles on an absolutely gorgeous day. The Appalachian Trail is like that. Oops one other thing. I hiked my 2000th mile today. A significant accomplishment, but under the conditions I was completely unaware of it.