End of the Road

I guess I never did write about the 100 mile wilderness. I thought I was going to be hiking the 100 mile by myself, much to my chagrin. But......while I was staying at the infamous Shaw's hostel in Monson (my last hostel of the trail), Pa Bert came strolling in during the early evening. I can't tell you how happy I was to see him! Here I was, all this time writing notes to Taco in the registers telling him where I was going to be and teasing him to catch up, having no idea that Pa Bert was so close behind. I was ecstatic. He's such a sweet sweet man and has more stamina at age 62 than I think I will ever have. He informed me that a few days prior, he was doing upper 20 miles with Taco to catch up with me. The man is amazing.

So, I didn't have to do the wilderness alone, and thank God, because I think I would have been miserable. One of many things I have learned to appreciate on the trail is friendship and how important community and human relationships are. The importance of fellowship that we have been emphasizing over the last few years at church was only enhanced by this trip. We need people. NEED. It may be a humbling thought, but it's true.

So anyway, we started out the next morning. I'm sure it must have rained that day, because it felt like it rained every day. The mosquitoes were relentless, and I spent several nights burning up in my 10 degree sleeping bag to protect my flesh from ravaging mad bugs. I guess I sort of got used to the bugs after a while, but they were still horrid, and I used close to an entire bottle of DEET in probably a period of a week. It'll probably give me cancer or something someday, but if you had told me that when the mosquitoes were attacking me, I don't think I would have batted an eye before I soaked my skin with it. That's how bad they were.

And the hundred mile wilderness not only offers hungry bugs, but also unyielding roots and rocks that slow your pace to a crawl. Most of the time, these rocks and roots were wet as well, which means lots of slips. And even beyond the rocks and roots, there is the Maine mud. Yes, these are things I will remember about Maine. Rocks, roots, bugs, and mud. Hmmf. Don't get me wrong, Maine is BEAUTIFUL, but you usually miss most of the beauty because you are too busy staring at the ground trying not to trip or else swatting at the mosquitoes that have bitten you on your triceps and the very top and back of your legs. They know where the hard to reach places are. Smart boogers.

But beyond all that, the 100 miles was fun, mostly because Pa Bert was there. And then.....2 days later....Taco strolled into a shelter close to dark. I screamed of course, and we hugged, and then Taco convinced me to go jump in the river in front of the shelter with him. I couldn't resist. It was so cold it took my breath away, but at the same time, it felt wonderful because I had spent the last hour steaming in my sleeping bag to keep the bugs away.

So the three amigos plodded on. We were quite a gang. We were convinced that we were going to summit Katahdin on June 30th. We hiked the easy 13 miles into Baxter State Park, only to find that the weather was supposed to turn sour, so we decided to hitch into Millinocket and stay the night at the hostel there, leaving the last 5.2 miles to be finished at another time. You can imagine the disappointment, but we were also happy to think about getting into clean clothes and out of the rain and bugs. It took us over 2 hours to get a hitch. Taco was so mad.....he moped behind as Pa Bert and I walked and chatted away, sticking out our thumb for the lone car that would come about every half hour. I tried to make Taco feel better. I gave him a dried pineapple to throw, and Pa Bert offered a Nutrageous Bar for eating. That made him happy for a few minutes at least.

To make a long story short, we stayed at the hostel that night and got a cab the next morning back to the park to hike our final 5.2 miles. Because the AT goes up the mountain and ends there, most hikers come back down the same trail (you have to get down somehow), and so this means you don't have to take your big pack up with you. So, instead of carrying my normal approx. 40lbs of equipment, I probably had 8 lbs. And let me tell you, this makes a world of difference. I felt like a feather going up that mountain. It was still tough at times (a large section of rock climbing boulders took me quite a while), but it was so much easier than it would have been with my pack.

I thought that I would be silent and weep at the top, but instead, Taco and I were letting out victory whoops and hugging and cheering and all that. Pa Bert was a little more subdued....I might have seen a tear or two from him. It was a great feeling. We did it. We finished. It's over. Wow. I can't explain that to you.

On the way down, the fog and clouds that had enveloped us the entire way up cleared out and we could see for miles. It was a lovely ending.

And so, once back into town, we had to celebrate, so we all walked down the street and smoked a cigar. Yes, I smoked for the first time ever, and probably the last time ever, while walking the streets of Millinocket. I had to ask Pa Bert which end to light, and then he and Taco had to show me how to smoke it. It was pretty comical. I kept making sour faces when I got a big puff. Ewww. But it was fun, and it must have been a hilarious sight to see three very different hikers, 2 with packs on at the time, walking down the sidewalk smoking cigars. *laugh* What a crew.

And the rest is history. All the families came in to visit and celebrate, and then I spent the next week touring New England with Mom, Lace, and Dad. And now, I'm home.

I'm home. :)