Date: 2009-08-26
From: Horns Pond Lean-tos

To: Pierce Pond Leanto
Miles today: 27.5
Weather: overcast clouds

Tmax fot Topofgothics... Unfortunately there were no views over the Bigelows but the day improved as it went on. Big mileage will continue as David hopes to get to Katahdin by the end of next week.****Today we face the last of the big boys before Baxter. As I was departing, Chance was milling about in his hammock and mentioned that he also thought a big day was on the agenda. Shortly after packing up the tent and leaving camp, I passed a side trail. Two minutes later a break in the trees showed that the trail passed went to North Horn. Topo mentioned that North Horn was a New England hundred highest, and it WAS right there. Leaving the pack behind I retreated and six minutes later we touched it¢s summit. Bigelow was next, and true to form this journey, the cloud cover was all but totally encompassing. To add to that, the wind picked up and threatened to blow even the sturdiest and stoutest of souls off the mountain. At least we did not have to waste time enjoying the vistas (sarcasm). The next peak up was Avery, named for the man most responsible for the reality of the Appalachian Trail. Myron Avery, whose motto was ¢failure should never be repeated¢, was the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club¢s first president, and held that position unopposed from 1927 to 1940. Nobody worked harder to make the AT a reality. As I descended, the clouds let up some, but not much. The day wore on and the feet kept up a good pace. The Pierce Pond Lean-to was my goal, a 27.5 mile day. Just up the trail from there was a lodge that offered breakfast, so when I found a signal I called and made reservations for the next morning. Everything was going well enough, even if the shortening days were providing less and less light. It did not help that I was progressively moving east, so sunset was getting earlier and earlier. Near dark, I still had a few miles to make, but I was doing all right. I could see where my feet had to go and my balance stayed in tact. There was only a mile left, and I decided to get out and use my headlamp just to be on the safe side. My batteries were not the greatest, but they were good enough for camp and any non¢problematic areas. As soon as the light began to glow I began to bumble and stumble. There were other batteries inside my pack, but that felt like too much of a hassle. For a short while the trail softened and all was well again. Then a diversion from the old tote road back into the woods was the beginning of my doom. The terrain started to sprout gnarly routes and tricky boulders that grabbed up at me and leapt from here to there trying to trip me up. I knew that I had to be close to the shelter, so I pressed on with the dim light that I had. At one point I stumbled, and with some weird contortion, impaled my thigh just above my left knee with my hiking pole. The vision in front of my eyes turned red, with vulgarity and profanity springing from my mouth in incessant rapid succession. The battle was on. In the dark, time slowed and the world became much larger. Soon I could smell the faint odor of fire, yet the trail was leading seemingly nowhere. Pierce Pond could be seen off to my left, though no sounds were heard nor lights glimpsed. When a blue blaze was noticed on a tree I followed it. Minutes later a small sign reading ¢brook water¢ was noticed on a tree and I was befuddled. On I went for a bit, before turning back and becoming utterly confused. Giving in, I took off my pack, ransacked through my things, first having to find my small spare light (so I could change the batteries), and finally changing the batteries (the spares that I kept in tow for my radio (the now useless one without any headphones at this time)) a new world was open to me. I could see! I still did not know where the hell I was, but now I had a fighting chance. I backtracked until I found a white blaze, and then started again. After walking out on boards along the water¢s edge, descending what could only be too far, and finally stopping in hopes of developing some Zen like qualities (there¢s that damn patience thing Terri keeps telling me about), I gave up and retreated. After at least a half-hour of scouring about for the shelter, I finally noticed a small sign, smaller than normal (no more than two inches by eight inches), attached to a tree and indicating the way. It was shortly after nine and everyone was fast asleep. The only place easily detectable to camp kinda sucked, and when the tent was erected, my head lay between two large rocks. Fitting I would say. I washed, ate, and decompressed. The hike was hectic, but I was here. Around ten-thirty I heard a crashing nearby. There was a steep twenty-foot drop just before the camp area, with no discernable trail. I was reading, and thought that I might finally get my opportunity to see a moose in the wild. A minute later I heard a familiar voice. ¢Gothics?¢ It was Chance. He had trouble finding the trail also, so in our collective misery, I felt better. He said he had a big day planned, and he ended up attaining his objective. We were still on a roll.