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9/2/01, day 171. 14.7m. Bald Brook Leanto Woke up, bummed around, had a splendid breakfast, bummed around, napped, then developed the necessary mojo to get my ass moving. The day was uneventful. I'm not excited about getting to Katahdin, the Holy Land, and I don't quite know why. 9/3/01, day 172. 22m. Shaw's Boarding House in Monson, ME Did the usual walkin'. I wanted to pull a long day to Monson so I could have a relaxing zero before hitting the Wilderness. Pretty easy walkin', as it goes, and I spent the day reflecting on my trip. It's hard to believe how long I've been out here. It's hard to believe I existed before Springer. Soon it will come to an abrupt end. Weird. Turtle and Wicked should be done by now - and extremely strange and frightening concept as it slams home the reality that it will all be over in a few days. I'm in Monson tonight, the last Trail town, the last outpost before the 100m wilderness, which is pretty much the approach trail to Katahdin, the Holy Land. Fuck. 9/4/01, day 173. 0m. Shaw's in Monson, ME. Today was a zero, and an absolutely splendid zero. I spent the day loungin' about and meeting people. Much to my delight, many of my friends pulled extra zeros or extra miles, and I was able to hang with folk I thought I would never see again. Normally when you lose somebody, you figure you'll pick them up somewhere along the way, when they take time off or speed up, etc. But now when you get out of phase with somebody they're just gone, swallowed up by civilization. So it was swell seeing everybody, and now I'm essentially guaranteed to have some good friends on Katahdin with me (maybe too many good friends). Although you can't have your cake and eat it too, 'cuz it's quite apparent that Norway and Noggin and others are too far behind. Very frustrating, that I can't even say goodbye. The day was good, although the animosity between the owners of the two hostels here really sucks, so if I wanted to hang with friends staying at Pie Lady's we had to hang at the general store (the DMZ of Monson) or sneak into the Pie Lady's without being seen. Odd shit. 9/5/01, day 174. ~14.5m. Camping at Long Pond Stream I'm in the Wilderness, friends. I spent the day alternately bitching about my pack weight and reflecting on the time gone by. North Carolina was so freakin' long ago; it almost doesn't seem like the same hike. It was a different person back there. I guess I have so many memories compressed into a relatively short amount of time, making it seem longer than a mere six months. It is, of course, going to be a bittersweet moment when I touch that sign on Special K day (just a few days away!). I've developed a new identity, a new set of friends, a completely different way of life. In a lot of ways the AT life is just right for me - nomadic and unpredictable, yet still part of a community. I am glad, though, that the end is in sight. If it has to end, it might as well end now, 'cuz my feet hurt. I'm quite excited about the prospect of going whole days without falling down, wearing cotton, and not being in constant pain. Otherwise, we shall see what the other side brings. 9/6/01, day 175. ~15m. Camping at West Branch of Pleasant River Walked alone for most of the day, until everybody and their dog showed up and we crowded in this little nothing campsite. We had a fire and a damn lot of laughs. 3-4 days before the end, Cy got himself a trailname: Booger. 9/7/01, day 176. 16.5m. East Branch Leanto Climbed bullshit mountains today, but had a great time hangin' with the gang on top of White Cap, where we got our first view of Katahdin, the Holy Land (although we spent a good amount of time discussing which of the peaks was big K). 9/8/01, day 177. 8.1m. Cooper Brook Falls Leanto My trek on the AT, it seems, can be characterized by several different phases, each with their own people, mood, and daily mileage (dependent mostly on people and mood). The first would be up until Hot Springs, when the WOE was together, when I barely knew Turtle, when I didn't know Wicked at all, when I thought I would quit the Trail in NH and look for a job (tee-hee), when I was wildly infatuated with the newness of Trail life, when I was still Charlie Nokes, when I thought you could almost literally walk forever and still be no closer to Maine. 12 miles was a good day, 15 big, 18 quite bragable, 20+ almost out of the question. Phase II involved getting to know and hiking with Turtle and Wicked from Hot Springs to Northern VA. This section probably has the highest concentration of pleasant memories, mostly because those two are insane. 26.2m into Damascus when only a few thru-hikers had attempted 20+, wild hitching into Troutville and a twilight hike with our rapidly acquired friend, One Night Stand (prob. My favorite day on the whole Trail), making fun of each other, our dinner party in Pearisburg, etc. The list certainly goes on. Miles were unimportant, 'cuz VA was so huge a 20 got you no closer, it seemed, than a 12 to Harper's Ferry. Nevertheless it was during this period that I reached peak shape and realized that I could do 15-20 every day, 20+ whenever the mood hit me. Phase III was after my separation from T and W, hiking from Harpers Ferry to Deleware Water Gap. It was during this time that I realized that I had been hiking almost solely to goof off with T and W. I had a few hard days over rocks with nothing interesting, trying to figure out what the Hell I was out here for. I largely hung with RicePaddy, Sky, Camen, Cy, Ed and Cheryl, Ken, Thor, Cookie and Burn, who provided appreciated (perhaps crucial) entertainment. Hiked the section very slowly, 'cuz I was sometimes pissed off but also to let T and W catch up. The section I had missed in Northern VA was really nagging on me at this time, making me feel like a non-thru-hiker. Phase IV was no doubt the weirdest period on the Trail. I let one buffer go (it turns out for good), the one with the Phase III people in it. The T and W buffer caught up as I was going back and forth from DWG to Palmerton for the eye contacts. Got to hang in DWHG with the new buffer before I decided to take a bus to Mexico. Went to Boston and zeroed with the fam, then the adventures with Lejla, my car, who also BTW put on 2,000 miles this trip. Got the VA section done with large miles. Had catching up to the T and W buffer on my mind, but was put a week behind by the insanity. Phase V was NJ and NY, when I met Norway, Noggin, and the rest of that buffer. Had a lot of fun doing NJ with Norway and Lejla, pretty much doing anything but going in a straight line. In this section I started to give up on the T and W buffer, mostly 'cuz I was making good friends in the new one. The Trail started to piss me off around here, and I almost quit a few times. Phase VI was CT and MA, when I realized that I was actually going to finish this thing. Also, the WOD joined the buffer, making me feel less like a wuss, as she started on the same day as me. Phase VII was VT, where Smittee, Norway, Noggin, Grace, etc. decided to take it as slow as possible, not once passing up the opportunity for a good time. If a game of mini-golf was suggested, then hell, it was a 3m day. I remember a lot of swimming and water-skiing. The 150m probably took 2 weeks+. Phase VIII was NH, when I knew I was going to finish, when I slacked at my Dad's and just itched to get to ME. I didn't hike huge miles, but I constantly had ME on the mind. Phase IX was the ME border up to the wilderness, with farily sparse people, as I pulled ahead of a lot of friends. I stopped in every single town in ME, but it was a steady drive to the K. I started to pull a few big days again. Phase X is the wilderness, where I am now. Obviously, the mind is almost entirely consumed with thoughts of Katahdin, the Holy Land, but also with trepidation about the other side, regrets about not summiting with T and W, and reflections/memories of the trip (like I'm doing right now). Anyway, today was a very easy walk, but I didn't feel like going anywhere much. Also, I kind of wanted to let the huge crowd I was with thunder by, although they are great people and I'm pleased to be summiting with them. I'll catch up in the next day or three. Only 60 to the summit of Momma K. Hello? 8/9/01, day 178. 21.5m. Wadleigh Stream Leanto Okay, so as things are winding down here I should try, at least, to explain what the Appalachian Trail is. Perhaps I should be a negative Nerbert and begin by stating what it is not. It is not a long backpacking trip; it is not a wilderness experience. It is not, as often quoted "remote for detachment." I recall a few conversations Norway and I had, many of them with backpacks on, about how we miss backpacking. It must have been an odd sight. I haven't spent one day on the Trail without seeing humans, often large numbers of them. What the AT is is a society, a subculture. We are jargonized. We are sobriqued. WE have our own particular way of existing. The AT is an existence, separated and distinct from the other side. On the other side, people return to their homes every single night. Every morning waking up in the same place, with the same stuff on the walls. The AT give you the perspective to realize how crazy that is. Here's something else: you don't need stuff. You don't. You don't need more than a few items of clothes. You don't need a bed, more than one pot, old books, penny jars, knicknacks, etc. I can't think of a single time on the AT when I missed my stuff. Going back to the backpacking point, in order to better explain: backpacking is something people do as a vacation, to get out and experience something beautiful. Thru-hikers, quite literally, put their homes on their backs and live a nomadic life. Most people out here don't have an address, a permanent home. That's the other thing: you don't need a home at all, expect for the fact that all land is owned by something or someone, so you need a home only to be guaranteed a place to sleep. So in a few days I'll be back on the other side, no doubt frustrated at first because I'll be doing a whole lot of things I know I don't really have to do, like showering, changing clothes every day (which is really a silly thing to do), etc. The AT is not a physical challenge akin to Marathons, etc. The AT is freedom, the kind that makes you realize that you never knew the meaning of the word before. It has, quite certainly, changed my life. The AT is an obsession, an addiction, an entrapment. The AT is plenty of time to think and not much to think about. Today was uneventful. Easy terrain, ass chafing. 8/10/01, day 179. 23.1m. Camping at Abol Bridge Spent the entire hiking day alone today, my mind consumed with thoughts of Katahdin, the Holy Land. Caught two views of the mountain today. It loomed overhead; it's hard to think of anything more stunningly magnificent. Obviously, it has meaning as I've kicked my ass for six months to reach it, but the mountain certainly holds some sort of abstract regality to it. Perhaps its because it stands alone. Most mountains are just peaks from a ridge, but Momma K just rises out of the valley. Whatever it is, the views today freaked me out a little bit. It was so close. So anyway I had a few mood swings about the journey's end, etc. I got to Abol bridge, the first sign of civilization since Monson, where I boght some fruit pies and Moxie and such truck. Then I spent a pretty damn near perfect evening with some splendid people, the people I'm going to summit with. I don't know if I'll every find another set of people so comprehensively good as these AT people. If I'm having a hard hike, low on food, or something of the like I almost don't want to say anything, as these people would go to extremes to help me out. Anyway, the real hiking appears to be done. Tomorrow, an easy 10, which puts me smack dab at the base of Katahdin, the Holy Land. Smack my ass and call me Sally. 8/11/01, day 180. 9.5m. Katahdin Stream Campground. Uh, so we woke up and hung out for a spell, as it was to be a short day and there were egg sandwiches to be made. We had a good time throwing sticks at each other and talking of nothing, until we heard the awful news report about some crazy terrorist attack. We live in a dream world out here, many of us (myself included) specifically avoiding the news in towns, but the realities of life sometimes shine through. So the first part of the morning we focused on things that thru-hikers shouldn't be focusing on the penultimate day of their hike, and everything really sucked for awhile. But, as the day progress and Katahdin got larger things started to brighten up. At Daicy Pond Campground we got reservations for this place, filled out 2,000 miler forms, learned that tomorrow's weather is to be good, and moved on. This campground is only 5.3m from the summit of Katahdin, the Holy Land. So when we got here Greenlight, Redneck, Priceless, Phantom, Finn, and Rabbit were celebrating their recent completion of the Trail, and there was a damn lot of celebratin'. I'm feelin' a lot of stuff right now, but I must get to bed, as we are rising at 1:30AM for a sunrise hike. 8/12/01, day 181. 5.3m. Terrace Motel in Millinocket, ME. Today the incessant white blazes came to an abrupt halt. My hike is over, and it just might have been the best/worst day of my hike, and certainly the longest. It started at 1:30 am, when the alarm rang and I pranced about waking people up. My companions were not quite as enthusiastic as I at the start, so I headed off alone for the first half of the mountain. It was a spectacular night, of a kind I'm not sure I've seen before on Trail. I was a little too excited at the start (understandable, right?), but after awhile it dawned on me that I don't have w3hat it takes to run up large mountains, so I slowed down. I came almost to a halt when my flashlight died, but my friends were along in short order and they guided me above treeline, where the moonlight cast each step in a pace radiance, enough to keep me going. It's difficult to describe the mood we were in clambering over huge boulders on the way to the summit. Giddy excitement, of course, but it had an air of...whatever. Suffice it to say that it felt wonderful. When I saw the sign about 300 yd. Away, I stopped dead in my tracks. "ohmygothat'sit. That's it. Ohmygod," was the monsyllable that I uttered to nobody but the mountain itself before I booked it (almost very seriously hurting myself literally within a stone's throw of the summit). At the summit I walked past the sing without looking at it as kind of a joke, but when I did stop and look my heart slid straight up into my throat. Katahdin. Katahdin. That sign, the sign that I've seen in so many pictures, that sign that I've spent six months waling toward. It was very unreal. It couldn't possibly be there, right in front of me. It couldn't' possibly be a tangible item, but it was; I touched it. The WOD, Smittee, and Cy were already up there, and hugged and shouted and teared and it was such a release, I can't even tell you. So we huddled in the extremely cold weather as more arrived: Smiles and Fiddlehead, Longshanks and Blur, Badmoon, Happy and her husband, Noggin, Fender, Jerimiah Johnson. I don't know if I could have been there with a better group of people. I took my Katahdin pictures, some naked (in 40 degree weather with 40 mph winds), and watched the sunrise over one of the most spectacular views of the trip. We hung for a few hours shivering and eating the last few snickers bars, then we debated about going back down the AT or down another Trail. I left the Trail at the summit and walked away from one of the most intense experiences of my life. No, that's not an easy thing to do. The day lasted late, with an ungodly amount of rejoicing, but I suppose this journal needs to end at the "northern terminus of the appalachian trail." So there it ends.
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