Date: 2011-08-15
From: Sabbath Day Pond Lean-To

To: Piazza Rock Lean-To
Miles today: 11.2
Weather: moderate rain

(In which I hitch into and out of Rangeley)I wake up to find that a twelfth hiker has arrived overnight, sleeping on the shelter bench under the overhang of the roof. His name is Zero and he looks out of place in his fleece blanket and cotton sweatshirt. When he leaves to go to the bathroom a section hiker who had remained silent since I arrived finally speaks, telling us of the disappearances of money and gear that have followed Zero on the trail. Cheshire also pipes up, telling us how Zero was caught rummaging through another hiker's pack at a shelter in the Whites, and that we should watch our gear closely.Zero is one of a small handful of other problem hikers that I've heard of. They usually stand out even in a crowd of low-budget hikers with their inappropriate gear and unpredictable movements, sometimes spending a week or more at a shelter, bumming food and cigarettes, before hiking or hitchhiking ahead. Threats to the safety of one's gear, usually a non-issue, is enough to get many hikers riled up, but an even larger concern is the bad name that a handful of people can give to all hikers when they pass through towns.The trail to the Rangeley hitch is flatter than I've come to expect from Maine, and while it's filled with mud and roots, these are still far better than slick steep rocks. Halfway down the trail it starts to rain, but having had at least some rain every day so far in Maine, this is simply par for the course. I hike with Trashcan, Doc Boom and the others having left earlier, and when we get to the road we worry that the rain will hurt our chances of a hitch. We needn't worry, however, as the first car traveling toward town stops to give us a ride.Trashcan and I hit the post office for some tasty mail drops (thanks Socks's mom!), grab a quick snack at the bagel shop and then head out in search of other hikers. We try the library, but with it being closed on Mondays we don't find anybody there. Walking down the street turns up Doc Boom, Jessie and Amanda, and we wander around town before deciding that there's not much to do and hitch up the road to the IGA. Again we get an easy hitch, and when Trashcan realizes that he left his trekking poles in town, our ride takes Trashcan back to town to get his poles and then back again to the IGA. While I'm waiting for Trashcan and Doc Boom to finish shopping I meet Sk'rabbit, who thru-hiked last year and waits for us so that she can drive us back to the trail. Guinea Pig shows up and needs a ride to town, so we all decide to hit town again for more food instead.When we get another easy hitch back to the trail -- my fourth hitch for the day -- I decide that Rangeley definitely wins the award for best hitching in the north. The first shelter out of Rangeley is less than two miles away, and by evening Guinea Pig, Cheshire, Cheese, Owl, and Amanda and Jessie have joined Doc Boom, Trashcan and me in the shelter. Doc and Guinea Pig packed out some wine, crackers and Camembert cheese, and they share it with the shelter. "All we need now is some candles and music," Guinea Pig says, and though I can't help with the candles, I do put on some music with the help of my trusty Walmart speaker.The shelter gains the carefree, communal feeling that I like so much about the AT. It's the feeling that I remember from the night after my first real day hiking the AT, hanging out with Oompa and Trilobite around the campfire. I lost touch with it during the first two months when I was hiking past new faces every day, but with the help of Buffalo and the slow train I found it again for the second half of my trip, and it's the part of the trail that I know I will miss and remember longer than anything else. I can find hikes and views wherever I go, but to be a part of a group of happy thru-hikers for an evening is a rarer and more exclusive treat. I will miss this community when I finish, and like most former hikers, it will become a part of my identity forever after. "Hi, I'm Portrait, nobo 2011," I can imagine introducing myself to bearded strangers years from now, and then smiling that far off smile that former hikers get when all of the memories come rushing back.