Point of clarification: I began my hike from Monson, ME, headed north to Katahdin, through the 100 Mile Wilderness. After I climbed Katahdin, I returned to Monson, and headed southward.

Tuesday, May 27, 1997—Shaw's Boarding House.
Last Minute Thoughts... What am I going to do? What the hell am I going to do? Ah!!! Now that my receding hair line has receded even more, maybe I can explain. After leaving my job, visiting my sister, brother-in-law and niece in Florida, spending almost a week in Damascus, VA for Trail Daze, and then hiking a loop north of Damascus between the AT and the Iron Mountain Trail (which included my third best day so far on the Trail [Grayson Highlands], I returned to Damascus to find out that there was a lot of snow in Maine. I called up Baxter State Park, and was told that the park is open for camping, but that the Big K was closed for the foreseeable future. I freaked. A major panic attack held me in its grip. I acted like a freshly decapitated chicken, except that my nervous system was still connected, so I was able to curse repeatedly. Since I was at "The Place", a hostel run by the Methodist Church in Damascus, I added yet another reason to a very long list of reasons for my eternal damnation. Oh Well, as the proverb says, "Shit Happens." Three beers at Dot's, and a 4:20 later, I finally calmed down enough to be able to use my brain, even with a slight buzz. At first I only saw two options: 1) hike north from Damascus and then flipflop after reaching Katahdin, 2) find somewhere to hangout till Katahdin opens up. Neither option really appealed to me: 1) a flipflop hike isn't part of my definition of a "pure" hike (not that I'm a purist), 2) I'm ready to start hiking NOW! So I decided to go north from Damascus. But wait, I overheard someone talking about maildrops, which reminded me that I had Campmor send a replacement pack to Monson, now what was I going to do? (I said earlier that I was able to use my brain with a buzz, I didn't say that I could use it effectively!) so after a brief moments panic, I decided to call up the Shaw’s in Monson, to get a second opinion. I talked with Mrs. Shaw (such a sweet voice) and she confirmed that Katahdin was closed, but added that six hikers had already made it through the wilderness. I quickly decided to head for Maine, and that I'll start my hike from Shaw’s. (My Buzz was gone, so was the panic, which helped me to think clearly). So now I'm going to be a flipflopper; my dreams of an end-to-end hike just crashed and burned. But who could complain about starting from Shaw's. Being overfed, sleeping in an actual bed, showering in a real shower with tons of hot water pressure, and being treated with kindness and respect from such a nice family as the Shaw’s. I'd really like to thank the Shaw’s for their wonderful hospitality. I'd like to thank Mike A., a manager from Campmor for going out of his way to help an AT hiker.

Wednesday, May 28—Wilson Valley Lean-To.
In the beginning....no, that's not right. A long, long time ago, in a Galaxy far, far away....not! Call me, Ishmael....OK, enough fooling around. Today was a hard hiking day, which started at noon from Maine Highway 15 outside of Monson. It all began this morning with breakfast at Shaw's. Mr. Shaw was waiting for me, when I came downstairs earlier than I had told him I would the night before. Blueberry pancakes, home fries, bacon, OJ & coffee. There would have been eggs too, but I don't have a thru-hiker appetite,....yet. I can't say enough nice things about the Shaw family. They treated me great! I was a bit nervous, as Mr. Shaw drove me to the trail head. Black flies, and Stream Crossings and Fugitives. Oh My! This will be the longest I have hiked, without resupplying, but once I was on my way down the white-blazed trail, heading towards Katahdin, I forgot my fears. I didn't notice any bugs until I stopped at Leeman Brook Lean-to for a break, and they weren't that bothersome, so I decided to forgo the Bug suit. But their numbers increased throughout the day, and my Bug Suit was near the bottom of my pack, so it stayed there. Won't make the same mistake tomorrow. The most eventful part of the day was fording Big Wilson Stream. This is my first ford, ever, of a wide stream. I was a bit apprehensive about it. I stripped off my boots, Thorlos' & gaiters, but kept on my liner socks, and put on my Teva's. With my waist, and chest straps unbuckled, I headed into the stream. Boy was it COLD! But there was no time to dwell on it, because all I wanted was to get the hell on dry ground, and turning back just wasn't an option. About a quarter of the way across, I slipped and as I tried to catch myself with my trekking poles, they slid, but then they stuck and so did my right Teva. What a close call! I was leaning to my right with my upper body almost parallel to the stream. The rest of the ford was fairly slip-free. The deepest the water got, was up to and splashing on my private parts, which then decided to play "Turtle." I finally arrived at Wilson Valley Lean-To by 7:30, the latest that I've ever hiked in a day (not including night hikes.) It's 10pm, do you know where your children are?

Thursday, May 29—Cloud Pond Lean-To.
Hard Day's hike. Woke up, got out of bed. Dragged a comb across my head. But it took me two hours to hit the trail. At about the same time I was ready, so were the BUGS! Wore the Bug Suit. It SUCKS! Too hot, limited visibility, but it keeps those damned bugs off of me. Around noon, I took a break, and the bugs seemed less menacing, so I took, and kept off the bug hat. That made hiking a little more pleasant. I came to a stream crossing, and I was able to ford it with my boots on, and I didn't get any water in them. Ha! That was easy. I thought that this had been Long Pond Stream, the last ford of the day. However, it turned out to be Vaughn Stream, and when I finally did reach it, I was going to do it with my boots on. I went upstream, aways from the AT, and started my journey. Nearly halfway across, just before attempting to jump from submerged rock to submerged rock, where I tried to put my hiking sticks into the water, and they were swept downstream by the strong current, I realized that my hip and chest belts were still buckled. Unbuckling them, and then jumping, I didn't fall. Only 10 feet away from the shore, I paused for a moment, and was quickly trying to maintain my balance, but my un-buckled pack made me even more unstable than I usually am, (stop laughing!) and in went my right leg. When I finally made it to the other side, I had to pour the water out of that boot. The climb up Barren Mountain was hard, but cool. Especially cool, when a mile from the summit, there was intermittent snow on the trail. I tried as much as I could to walk on the granular, frozen water, but I'm no miracle worker, and I would post hole, occasionally. Two feet deep one leg would plunge, and under the snow there would be water, and sometimes mud. I'll tell you this, getting out of a post-hole is a hell of a lot harder than getting into one. Cloud Pond Lean-To was also surrounded with deep snow, but with temps during the day near 70°, and at night around 40°, who cares about a little snow?

Friday, May 30—Chairback Gap Lean-To.
No Rain, No Maine. That's right, it's raining now, but I'm snug & cozy in a shelter. Hopefully, it's raining on Katahdin, which I think I saw today. The sun was shining on it, (it was a mostly overcast day) and it was filthy with snow. Today was the sum of: snow, water, mud, the Moose Shit Trail & where am I?? The snow fields were scattered, but a definite pain especially when I post-holed my left leg into two feet of snow, and my right knee buckled sideways, and made a snapping noise. Momentarily painful, and scary, the knee managed to keep on working. I hiked much more cautiously after that. I also cut up my right knee, trying to get out of yet another post-hole. Water and mud were everywhere: under the snow, before & after the snow, going uphill and downhill. Needless to say that my feet looked like prunes. The Moose Shit Trail is a quarter mile stretch, where you are ankle deep in it, and there's no getting around it. PU! If Howard Stern saw all of this shit, he would think twice before drinking any more Poland Spring. Where exactly this trail is, I'm not sure, cuz this was a lousy day for me to try and figure out where I was. For all I know, I could have been abducted by space aliens, and they implanted the memory of hiking to cover up my abduction. I'm going to have to sleep with my radio headphones on, otherwise, I'll never get to sleep listening to the rain beat down on this tin roof.

Saturday, May 31—Carl A. Newhall Lean-To.
The Birds. When I summitted Chairback Mountain at 8am, clouds covered parts of the surrounding mountains, and a mournful yet peaceful sound filled the air. Whistling birds in concert and I had the best and only seat in the house. Eventually I pulled myself away, and immediately came upon an incredible downhill of boulders that was lots of fun. By the time I got to the crossing of the West Branch of the Pleasant River, my boots were beyond soaked, and there wasn't a good place to sit and change into my tevas, so I just barreled on across. On the other side there were a couple of downed trees to sit on, thanks to an overly ambitious beaver. Next Stop, the Gulf Hagas Rim Trail, or at least part of it. For the first mile, or so, there is nothing but trees, mud, and minor ups and downs. I was wondering what in the "world" am I doing here? (Replace "world" with the suitable curse word of your choice.) My first view of the gorge was spectacular. After this, the trail made a lot of steep, but short ups and downs, and they were kicking my ass. About halfway through, I took a cut-off trail which brings you to the road that takes you back to the AT. It must be pretty new, because it is marked with blue ribbons, and the trail itself looked freshly cut. On the way to the shelter, I found a Slumberjack sleeping bag lying on the trail, and I brought it with me to the shelter. Just when I was thinking that I have learned all I need about camping, I start making a concoction made up of Lipton Noodles and Sauce with more water than the directions call for, and then add instant Mash Potatoes until thick. Pretty decent, as trail food goes. A smoky fire is my night's companion. It's driving away the mosquitoes and maybe drying my boots. At this rate, they may be dry by the start of the next millenium.

Monday, June 2—Logan Brook Lean-To.
What a day! But before I start into today maybe I should explain what happened on Sunday 6/1. I woke up Sunday morning, and I didn't feel like doing nothing, so I didn't. Actually, I built a fire, took a dump, and cooked, but that's about it. Freedom is wonderful! Near dusk, I was joined by a thru-hiker from Tennessee, Russ, I think. I'm terrible with names, that's another reason why my trailname is so close to my real name, cuz I would probably forget anything else. Another reason for my trail name being very close to my real name is that I don't want an alias showing up on my rap sheet. Cool dude, not me, Russ. We were up past 10 BS-ing and watching the fire. He said that he would pack the sleeping bag out to Monson, and then I replied that he is a better man than I am. That's about it for Sunday, except that I saw a big bunny rabbit. So let's move on to the events of today. The sun was high in the sky by the time I started the day's hike. I had four mountains to climb and the last one, White Cap, every southbounder that I met, did nothing, but bitch and complain about it. Gulf Hagas & West Mountain were relatively easy. Only intermittent deep snow, so my feelings of impending doom lessened. Hay Mountain was next up to the plate, I was starting to wonder if it really had a summit. It was real slow going, walking on top of 2 to 3 feet of icy snow made rough hiking, especially when you fall through every minute or so. When there wasn't snow, there was moose dung. Lots and lots of it. Finally I found the top of the mountain and there was a small campsite, so I stopped and took off my boots & socks, and hung them on a tree to dry, while I ate lunch. (Which reminds me, I accomplished one other task yesterday. I forced my boots dry.) Trying to dry out the boots & socks today was a fool's paradise, cuz once I was hiking again towards White Cap, snow pretty much covered the entire trail leading up to the summit. Hiking in snow, in shorts and tee-shirt was weird. Should have worn long pants. The snow was the consistency of crushed ice, so every posthole I had to get out of scraped up my legs. It was a very long ascent up White Cap, but I never broke a sweat, I was going so slow. The very top of White Cap was snowless and what a view! Worth the admission price, that's for sure. So now I sit or more correctly, lay, at Logan Brook Lean-to. Surrounded by mountains on three sides and there are patches of snow to get to water and the privy. I forgot to mention that I saw Katahdin today, and was it ever covered in snow. They may open it by the time the northbounders show up enmass. Oh well!

Tuesday, June 3—Cooper Brook Falls Lean-To.
After a couple of patches of snow, there was no more. Yea! What great hiking, mostly an easily graded downhill. Stopped at the relatively brand spankin' new shelter, East Branch Shelter for a rest, and to read the register. Saw a few entries from some of my thru-hiker buddies from last year. Skylark/Space girl & Trailerhitches II, III, & IV, Quietman, and Han Solo. There was also an interesting discussion of writing graffiti and/or carving things on shelters. A couple, Hansel & Gretel '96, wrote their names on this new shelter, most register entries denounced them and their vandalism, and then someone attempted to scratch off their names. Then 2 different entries were in defense of this eye-sore. 1) People that are so bored out in the woods, that they have to read graffiti, should get out of the woods, and 2) Everybody writes and/or carves things in shelters, so what's the big deal. Obviously not the best minds that the US public school system has unleashed on our society, but I felt compelled to respond anyway. 1) It only takes a second or two to read the one piece of graffiti on an otherwise unblemished shelter, and surely it takes longer to write it, than read, so those that write graffiti must be even more bored than their audience, so they should get the heck out of the woods, and graffiti their own walls, & 2) Not everybody writes or carves things on shelters. I don't. I'm too friggin' lazy. Enough of my silly moralizing. The East Branch of the Pleasant River awaited, an easy ford. I was almost across, when I came to a four foot jump from rock to rock. The rock that I was on, was lower than the landing rock and the water in-between was about 3 feet deep, too deep to use my sticks as mini-pole vaults. So I javelin-threw them toward the trail and jumped. I knew that I wasn't gonna make it and so did my right knee, cuz it just went through the motion of pushing off. My left foot caught the edge of the rock, but the rest of my body was over, and quickly falling into the water. I got out as fast as I could but that just splashed water all over me and my water-resistant camera holder. It resisted the water, like the Germans resisted Hitler. The bottom of my pack and a portion of my fanny pack, were also momentarily submerged. But instead of assessing the damage, I just picked up my sticks and hiked for an hour non-stop. Nothing really got soaked. A lighter didn't work for a few hours, my camera got a little wet, but dried quickly and my journal is damp. The rest of the hike was a cake walk. Stopped at Crawford Pond's sand beach for a peaceful break. I'm now in the lean-to with 3 male and 1 female southbounders. Nice bunch of kids, just out of college. They told me that the rangers at Baxter State park told them that Katahdin won't be open for another month. Where do I find this Murphy fellow and how do I get his Law repealed?

Wednesday, June 4—Wadleigh Stream Lean-To.
What a LONG, strange trip it's been. My morning hike was a blast. The trail followed an old forest road that was very easily graded. I flew through the woods, and it felt great to hike at a fast pace. There were bogs, but bog bridges covered most of them. As I arrived at Potawadjo Spring shelter (before noon) I met a hiker who was just packing up his tent. I yelled hello, then headed for the shelter to drop off my gear, before heading to the spring. While pumping my water, this guy shows up to gather water for his day's hike. He started complaining about the bugs, so I told him about a little experiment, that I've been conducting. Earlier last week, when I would stop for a break, the bugs would attack me until I lit a cigarette. I also tried smoking a joint to see if it would be better, but in fact, they seemed to like it. When I mentioned the joint, his eyes seemed to light up. He said that he hadn't gotten high in over a year, but that he promised himself that if someone was getting high on the trail, that he would, and then asked if I had more. I said come back to the shelter, and I would twist one up. After smoking, he left, and I started making lunch. About 10 minutes later, I heard voices approaching the shelter, so I quickly hid my stash. Two male hikers came up to the shelter and told me that they had just run into a guy hiking the wrong way on the trail. I laughed a little too loudly, an unconscious attempt to cover up my concern that he might get himself in some sort of trouble. I finally decided to worry less; he's an adult, made his own decision, and should be able to handle the consequences. [Breaking the fourth wall: While many people smoke pot on the trail, probably a higher (no pun) percentage than in the so-called "real world," there is an increased danger of hypothermia. Last year, just south of Blood Mtn. in GA, I started convulsively shivering while getting high in my tent. Luckily, I was laying on top of my sleeping bag, and I got into it when I realized that I was in trouble. So be careful about marijuana, It can kill you if you don't know what you are getting into.] Eventually, I was on my way hiking again when I came across a sign that read: "View of Katahdin" So I followed the short trail to Pemadumcook Lake. When I saw that majestic mountain, I let out a hoot. And as I stood there, I thought, what must it feel like to see this sight after hiking for 2,000 miles. A tear welled up, as I thought about some of my friends, who thru-hiked last year, reaching this spot, with the end in sight, happy, sad, even a bit confused....Good News, Katahdin looks less snow covered, and the two guys that I met at Potawadjo, said that they made it to tree-line, but stopped because of the fine that a Ranger threatened them with. They later found out that it's only $35. Maybe by Sunday, I'll be able to climb it legally. The rest of this afternoon's hike was harder than the profile map could suggest. Roots & rocks, and bogs & bugs. I was so determined to make it here, that I didn't take my usual hourly rest breaks, and the couple that I did take were very short. I rubbed the top of my butt sore, because of not taking my pack off enough and not readjusting my pack regularly. Hard hike, but a good one. Getting to the shelter, I met a guy that kept calling me "Sir". Boy do I feel old. All he talked about was food, sex, beer & guns. I really didn't want to talk about the first three subjects, cuz I wanted them so badly, that to talk about them would be pure torture. So I encouraged a gun discussion. Since I believe that all guns should be banned, (including the governments' guns) I didn't have much to add to the discussion, so I just sat and listened. The chipmunks and squirrels are really ballsy at this shelter, and now a grouse just walked through camp, like it didn't have a care in the world.

Thursday, June 5—Rainbow Stream Lean-To.
Took most of the morning off to recuperate from yesterday. I watched squirrels play, listened to woodpeckers & grouse drumming away, and had a very relaxing morning. Eventually, there was some hiking to do, but I took it easy. My whole body was one raw nerve, but my slow, steady pace helped to work the kinks out. Hung out at the view near the top of Nesuntabunt mountain for over an hour, and there was a stiff breeze, which tied me back up in knots. Oh well, slow & steady worked going up and it worked going down. Ran into two guys at Crescent Pond, one was fishing, and the other was stuffing his face with a BIG, FAT SANDWICH! Did it look good! I said, "Hello" as drool dripped from the corner of my mouth. I didn't receive much of a response, so I wished them luck fishing and continued on my way, daydreaming about sandwiches. When I reached the part of the trail that follows Rainbow Stream, I felt energized. The trail was just plain fun, and Rainbow Stream was beautiful, cutting through rocks, and the shelter wasn't that much further away. I reached it, unpacked, and was sitting down by 4:20 and I rejoiced. I'm staying with two guys who want to fish everyday that they're on the trail. They caught 3 or 4 small trout and are cooking them up in the firepit.

Friday, June 6—Hurd Brook Lean-To.
I hiked in a daze this morning. The miles went by like a blur. I missed the trail to Rainbow Lake Dam and when I realized this, I was pissed at myself. I had hiked more than I thought I did all day long. It didn't seem to me that I was hiking all that fast. Upon seeing Katahdin up on the Rainbow Ledges, it was so huge and lovely, that I wanted to stay there forever, but the bugs ruled the ledges, and sitting around in a bug hat isn't my idea of enjoying the scenery. So I took my pictures and headed off to the Lean-To. Met two southbounders along the way. Found out Katahdin's still closed, maybe open next week. I'm climbing it Sunday or Monday, come hell or high water, fine or arrest. One of the guys I passed earlier, has retraced his steps back to this shelter, and is giving up his attempt to thru hike. I can empathize. Had I started with the 100 Mile Wilderness with very little backpacking experience last year, I would have been overwhelmed. Starting in Georgia is very hard physically, but there's a lot more people around and it's only a few days to Neel's Gap. But the thought of starting out and having 10 days between you and civilization, can scare the bejesus out of you. The Wilderness has taken it's toll on me too, but I will do it again sometime. During September or late August. Bring on Katahdin!

Saturday, June 7—Katahdin Stream Campground.
I found a hole that has worn through the toe of my right Vasque SuperHiker II's. This makes the second pair that this has happened to. I got around 300 miles with my first pair before they wore through the toe last year. When I called up Vasque's Customer Disservice, I was made to feel like a thief. I only got a quick response, after writing a concerned letter to the head of Vasque. I didn't want a new pair, I just wanted my boots to be repaired, but they sent me a new pair anyway (which are these current boots) I love the feel of these boots, light, comfortable yet very supportive, also in Vasque's favor is the way I hike downhill, is probably different than the way most hiker's do. Instead of walking heal to toe, or flat-footed downhill, I go toe first, then heal. I found after injuring my knee last year, that my boots, feet and ankles take a considerable amount of stress away from my knees. I only had to take Vitamin I (Ibuprofen) two nights in the Wilderness, and that was due to my whole body pain, not cuz of my knee. I was going to have my sister send me my Sundowner's and I'll send my SuperHikers to a cobbler to have Vibram soles put on them I don't need another new pair that will wear out after 200 miles of hiking. (That's about how many miles I have on this pair, not including 1 month of wearing them everyday to work to break them in.) After cursing over my boots for a while, I started hiking toward Abol Bridge. I got there in no time flat, actually about an hour and was treated to a fabulous sight, Katahdin and its reflection in the West Branch of the Penobscot River. I hope this picture turns out. At the Abol Bridge Camp Store, I resupplied for a couple days and had me some colored, carbonated, caffinated, sugar water, Pepsi! I had a big breakfast, so I was buying with my head not with my stomach. A little experience can go a long way sometimes. I met Rambling Dan AT '90 who hiked a bit with Bill Irwin, the blind thru-hiker. Dan is giving a thru-hike to his grandson for a high school graduation gift. That's cool! On the way to Baxter State Park, I met up with the four guys that I shared a Greyhound Bus to Maine with and they told me that the AT up Katahdin won't be open for a week, however the Abol Trail may be opened on Monday. I have other plans. My alarm on my wristwatch is set for 2am and then I'll set out toward Baxter Peak. If I do, and don't get caught, I'm thinking of turning myself in afterwards. Foolish, but I already feel a little guilty. Great view of the Big "K" from Daicey Pond, where I met the nicest ranger. She wanted to get information about the stream crossings coming into the park. She seemed especially concerned about the ford of Katahdin Stream. It was the easiest and lowest of the three. Before fording Katahdin Stream, I thought I was going to cross it on a road, but the road's washed out and now its a ford. And, to me, "FORD" is an obscene, four-letter word. The next two fords should have been easy , but I'm a big stupid klutz, and I fell during both fords. Checking in at Katahdin Stream Campground with another ranger, he told me that the mountain is closed. But before he could read me the "riot act" (which I had already heard a dozen or so times from the different Southbounders that I passed getting here) two fishermen came up to the Ranger to check in too. I would have been suspicious of any hiker that didn't ask any questions at all, about when it would open, but I think that it had exactly the opposite effect on this ranger. I, then, dove into a pool of Katahdin Stream created by a small dam. The temp of the water must have been 33 °F. I screamed my way out as quickly as I could.

Monday, June 9—Katahdin Stream Campground.
I was totally drained yesterday after climbing Katahdin. It all started when.... I couldn't get to sleep Saturday night. The anticipation was killing me. I was also nervous, because there must be some reason why the Hunt Trail (the trail the AT follows up to Baxter Peak) is closed, and every reason, that I could think of was pouring through my "fragile, eggshell mind." I did manage about a half hour of semi-unconsciousness, just before my alarm sounded at 1:30 am. Changed my mind, I wanted to be hiking by 2am. "Ignore it, go to sleep" said the little voice in my head, but Katahdin was also calling and I listened to the mountain, not that little scared voice. It took me the whole half hour to get ready as I didn't want to call attention to myself by using my flashlight. I started walking the road through the campground quietly, but as it approached the trailhead, it became pitch black, so I turned on my flashlight that was strapped to my head, right on someone's tentsite. "Shit" I thought. I found the trail and headed on up. Slow was the keyword of this morning hike. I wasn't out to kill myself, and I was betting that the Rangers were just being extremely over-cautious. Life is a risk, but I was trying to hedge my bet by being careful. Right about the time I reached "The Cave" the stars started disappearing. They went from millions to thousands but there was less tree cover, so I was able to turn off my light. Soon, though, I saw what at first appeared to be a really big, bright rock, but as I moved closer I discovered it was snow. Immediately, my light went back on. There was some deep snow but it seemed like only an eighth of a mile long, but after checking the map, I discovered that between "The Cave" and treeline is only a tenth of a mile. This was child's play compared to the snow I went through on White Cap. The snow ended before the boulder field and climbing the boulders was much harder than the snow, but it was all good fun. By this time, I was physically spent, but I just kept plodding along. When I was about a mile and a half away from my goal, Katahdin's Baxter Peak, the alpha and omega of the AT, the sun rose on the other side of the mountain, so I missed seeing it emerge from the horizon. Life's a bitch, isn't it? ;^) There was a few scattered snow patches up here, but none on the trail until about 100 feet before the summit. It was more like white ice, but with the one hike pole that I brought with me, I was able to negotiate it without a problem. And then, there I was on top of the "Greatest Mountain." Did I shout? Did I scream? Did I lay a fart? Hell no, I sat down, and ate PopTarts. I took my obligatory pictures, and then decided to head back down. With the windchill, it must have been in the high 30's, low 40's and I wanted to get below treeline by 8am, because I felt I would be less likely to get caught. (I decided during my sleepless night not to turn myself in just to ease my guilt. I didn't want to rub my flaunting of the law in the rangers' faces. They're nice folks, so I'll just have to deal with a little guilt). And I made it back down without getting caught, and this is still America, where you're only guilty if you get caught or don't have enough money to buy your way innocent. Cynical, aren't I? Once back at the trail head, I signed in and out so at least I left a clue as to what I had done. The day before I met 9 people in their 20's leaving the Park without climbing Katahdin, and they all could have done it. If I had found the risk to be life-threatening, I would have turned back, but if a 35 year old over-weight (but rapidly slimming) smoker can climb Katahdin in the early morning hours surely those younger, slimmer, non-smokers could have done it during these past beautiful, sunny, 70 degree days. The rest of the day, I was wasted. Not on alcohol or drugs, but on sleep depravation, and physical over-exertion. I slept like the dead last night. That's yesterday , today the Abol Trail opened up so I said, what the hell, let's do it. The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak. I had told myself that this was going to be a day of rest and relaxation, and my body took me seriously. By the time I reached the Avalanche, that they blue-blazed and called the Abol Trail, I knew I wasn't gonna make it, but I kept trudging on uphill, until I found a spot that was fairly bug free; comfortable, and with a great view. I hung out at this spot for most of the afternoon. My body finally got some relaxation and my spirit was one with the mountain. A really cool day. Tomorrow, I'm being picked up by Mr. Shaw, to head back to Monson and then start heading south. It's going to be strange hiking south as about 90% of my previous AT hiking have been in a northerly direction. Hope my trail equilibrium isn't thrown out of whack.

Thursday, June 12—Shaw's Boarding House.
Kurt, have you left Monson yet? Nope! I arrived back at Shaw's on Tuesday afternoon, and did nothing, but hit the PO (not my parole officer, the post office) and received a letter from Skylark, which I immediately read and it made me feel so good. After gorging at Shaw's for dinner, Mr. Shaw took me out to see his eight head of beef. He's named them and he calls them and they come to him. One bull kept following me around. I tried to steer clear of it, (lousy pun intended) because of it's long horns. The bugs were downright nasty in this cow pasture, so I was relieved to leave. Yesterday, I hung out with some other hikers, so I didn't do my town chores, but I got proofed when buying beer. "Really?!" I asked. So I lifted my tee-shirt and said, "You see this large scar across my stomach, this is where they ripped my gall bladder out in my twenties. "You don't know how long I've waited to pull out that line. I could have also pointed out the gray in my beard, or my ever increasing forehead, but I showed my Certificate of Live Birth. Today I'm finally doing my town chores, so I hope to hit the trail again, some time before July.

Saturday, June 14—Horseshoe Canyon Lean-To.
Last night at dinner, Mr. Shaw told everybody that breakfast would be at 6:30. Around 4am, I woke up to take a piss, and on the way back to bed, I smelled potatoes afryin'. At six I awakened to the sound of "BREAKFAST" and then Mr. Shaw walks in the room and yells it again. I was the first one down and was asked "How many and how do you like em?" I ordered 2 eggs, over-easy, 2 blueberry pancakes, and home fries. I washed that down with 3 glasses of OJ. Having not hiked for awhile my appetite is down. I wanted to head out yesterday, but I had a sore throat, headache, runny nose, and it was raining (How's that for rationalizing?) Hitched a ride from a dude named Scott, lived in the area all his life, but didn't know that the AT crossed Highway 15. Today's hike was rather uninteresting, except that I found this little piece of rocky shore on Lake Hebron, that was exposed by a recently fallen tree, and that I had yet another ford. This time it was the East Branch of the Piscataquis River, and it was only a foot to a foot and a half deep, and not very swift. I would have felt like a total ass, had I fallen in this one. Got here just before 2pm and I am now lounging on my therma-rest chair. Drop weight and gain weight = about the same except I'm not carrying 10 days of food. Yea!

Sunday, June 15—Moxie Bald Mountain.
At least I'm enjoying the ride. Met my first northbounder, Trail Trooper. Started sometime in March, how's that for power hiking, but he's wearing boots, must not be a Jardinite. He could only get 3 months off from work and he's ahead of schedule. Two easy fords today, boots barely got wet. Got to Moxie Bald Lean-To before 2 pm and made dinner. It was hard hiking up Moxie with a full belly, but I was motivated to see sunset and sunrise. About 3 tenths of a mile from the summit, I stopped to fill up with water for the night and the morning, 4 liters in all. That made for some slow going. Sunset, Sunrise. Somehow I always get things backwards.

Monday, June 16—Pleasant Pond Lean-To.
Is everybody in? Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin. WAKE UP! There was a bit of a breeze up on Moxie last night, but not bad for an exposed mountain top. This morning, the wind was a-howlin' when I awoke before dawn. Near the northeastern horizon were streaks of red and orange, as I hopped in my sleeping bag, so I could take the first picture of the morning. Sunset was a tad dull, as clouds hid the sun for the last half hour of its descent. On my way up Moxie, I found THE spot to see the sun reappear, and, luckily for me, it was also sheltered from that wicked wind. Sunrise was also obscured by clouds, but the clouds were more diffuse, so sunrise takes the prize. After the morning show, I packed up and headed down the mountain. Steep downhills suck the first thing in the morning. I much prefer uphills in the morning, but it's the price you pay when you sleep on the top of a mountain. Most of my hiking day was spent climbing Pleasant Pond Mountain. It seemed like I would never reach the top, but, thank god (or whichever fairy tale you believe in) that I'm headed south, because the other side was brutal enough descending. If I had to go up that way, I'd still be on the side of that Not-So-Pleasant mountain. Even my good knee hurts from that downhill. Spending the night alone again, for the third night in a row. At least I hope so, seeing that I've already had a visitation from the friendly neighborhood raccoon. The bastard started climbing into the shelter with me staring right at it. We are now holding in Raccoon Defense Warning, which will probably be upgraded into a full Raccoon Defense Alert at sundown. Heading to Caratunk for more food before crossing the Kennebec River tomorrow. I think I have finally convinced myself to take the ferry. We can only wait to see what foolishness tomorrow will bring.

Wednesday, June 18—Pierce Pond Lean-To.
Two days at Pierce Pond Lean-To. I've been fighting a chest cold since Monson. Yesterday, I hiked to Caratunk to pick up a maildrop of food, & to have breakfast (Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough & Pepsi) Took the Ferry (a canoe) across the Kennebec River. The river level and current were pretty low & slow, but no foolishness for me today, thank you. While in Caratunk, I met 3 hikers, they asked me where I started, so I explained, "I started in Monson...blah...blah...blah..., and here I am. "Are you Kurt?" one of them asked. I'm a legend in my own mind. Just getting to the General Store/PO was hard for me, cuz I didn't pay enough attention. I thought it was ON Rt. 201. It's not, but the road it's on is right near where the AT crosses Rt. 201. Almost (on purpose) forgot this little example of my stupidity. After reaching the lean-to, I headed for Harrision's Pierce Pond Camps, to make reservations for breakfast. Tim Harrison, reformed smoker, tried to reform me (cuz of my coughing), but I side-step very well. Started reading "Neanderthal" by John Darton and finished it this morning after waking up. Good book, but similar to "Congo". Then came BREAKFAST! 12 pancakes w/apple slices in them, 3 sausages, 2 cups of coffee & apple juice, all for $5, and worth much more. Simply outrageous! When I asked for some milk (extra, but cheap) Mrs. Harrison told me not to drink so much or I won't be able to finish my breakfast. I can't believe I ate the whole thing! Tim brought up smoking again (my cough is much deeper today), so I said that most fervent non-smokers bring up the second hand smoke issue, but still drive cars, which is much more harmful, especially in this country where a majority of our air pollution is thrown up by motor vehicles. This led to a discussion on pollution and away from smoking. I told you I'm good. I enjoyed my stop at Harrision's, cool family atmosphere, and cool scenery. Went back to the lean-to for a nap, and didn't wake up till one. Felt like crap, so I'm staying another night.

Thursday, June 19—Pierce Pond Lean-To.
Sick....(cough!)....Rest....(Cough!)....Sleep....(COUGH!)

Friday, June 20—West Carry Pond Lean-To.
Happy Birthday, Mom! Feeling better, the congestion in my lungs seems to be breaking up. My strength is up, so a-hiking I will go! Didn't get started till near 11am, but my legs didn't appear to suffer from my little sabbatical. If you factor out rest stops, I was hiking near 3 mph, but the terrain was mild. Lots of bogs and the Arnold Swamp, so there was lots of bugs, especially mosquitoes. I knew there was a bit of an uphill after the swamp, so I planned to slow down and take it easy, but the mosquitoes just chased me up it. Once I arrived here, I thought about making lunch, and then heading for Little Bigelow Lean-to, but I figured that I still couldn't make it to Stratton by 11:30am tomorrow, to pick up my mail, so I might as well take it easy, and get there for breakfast on Monday. I'll run out of food Sunday night, I figure, so I'll be hiking hungry (& fast) on Monday.

Saturday, June 21—Little Bigelow Lean-To.
Two cool sunsets in a row, both over ponds, Pierce & West Carry Ponds. After sunset at West Carry, last night, I couldn't sleep. Bugs, mice & restlessness. Around 10:30, I packed up my things. The moon was bright & full, but low, so with my flashlight strapped to my head, I wandered south. Actually it was more like I "tripped" south. At one point, I fell through a whole between roots, up to my knee. Because of the bugs, I was wearing long nylon pants and a lightweight, longsleeve thermal. Bad mistake, the humidity was high, sweat poured off of me and my glasses fogged up. I pretty much stumbled up Roundtop Mtn. Heading down was a bit easier, it was like a continuous, controlled fall. I reached an old logging road and the clouds now blanketed the sky, which made it easy for me to decide to stop. I woke up with diarrhea cramps, and I scared a young moose in the process of relieving myself. No sooner did I get back to my tent, than another round of cramps hits. When it rains, it pours! I got to the Lean-To by 10:30 am and called it a day. Between last night's tripping, this morning's shitting, bogs & bugs, I really need a bath and some sleep. "The Tub's" are cool or should I say, C-C-Cold! But I almost felt clean, until I put on my dirty clothes. Speaking of clothes, today's nude hiking day. NOT! Unless you include my walk to and from the shelter to the "Tubs" After lunch, the first storm hit, a mild torrential downpour. Mild in comparison to the next storm. Wind and a virtual waterfall of water whipped and drenched. And Thor, Zeus, and God "the Father" were havin' a good ole time. When the hail started to pound the aluminum and fiberglass roof, I wanted to cower under the deck of the shelter. A few more aftershocks of storm came and went and when all was said and done, I was a bit freaked. I mean, if that storm hit when I was on an exposed mountain,....Luckily, I'm high and dry. It was the bugs turn next, so I lit a fire, which wasn't easy. Everything was beyond soaked, so I eventually had to resort to using Coleman fuel to get it going. Don't like doing it that way, but I needed smoke. It wasn't much of a fire, but it smoked the bugs away in between downpours.

Monday, June 23—Stratton Hotel & Hostel.
Yesterday, I woke up to rain beating on the roof, but it ended quickly and I was on my way up Little Bigelow. Good Climb, humidity sucked! Up on top, it was foggy, but some times the strong wind would blow some semi-clear views, but then the wind started to blow in some dark clouds, so I got my ass off the top of that mountain. I never hiked up so many little uphills to descend a mountain. As I neared Safford Notch Campsite, at the base of Bigelow Mountain, I thought I heard some distant thunder. So I set up camp, and rode out a small storm. I say a small storm only in comparison to the "storm" from the day before. The bugs attacked after the storm, so I stayed in my bivy-like tent. The wind picked up and blue skies appeared, but I couldn't decide whether it was a good sign or a bad sign. After a couple of hours of indecision, I felt like a wimp, and that convinced me to pack up and head up Bigelow. Nice hard climb, and when I neared Avery Peak, the wind blew fiercely. Being exhausted, the wind tossed me all over the place. Eventually, I made it to Avery Memorial Campsite. Just as I was taking my supper off the stove it began to drizzle. Ate as fast as I could shovel it in, and then I cocooned. This morning, the sky was many shades of gray, with the overhead clouds blowing by at 50 mph. West Peak was the first climb of the morning and was almost easy. The clouds were beginning to break up with only an occasional cloud blocking the view. On the descent of West, I fell and sprained my left wrist. Until today, I haven't been falling much recently, and I've fallen below my one fall-a-day average, but 5 more falls descending the Horns brings me back up to my average. One fall had me rolling down for a bit, but except for a few bumps & bruises, I was fine. Met my second northbounder, Love To Hike, except he don't seem to like hikin' no mo', because it's too much work. The hitch to Stratton was a bitch, I even tried flashing a ten dollar bill, to no avail. After walking about 3 miles a tiny car pulls over on the opposite side of the road. This nice young couple passed me and felt sorry for me (I tried to look as pitiful as possible ) turned around and they crammed me into an already crammed car. Town. Food. Shower. Beer. Bed. Yea!

Wednesday, June 25—Stratton Hotel & Hostel.
I'm resting up a bit to get the last of my bronchitis out of me, but tomorrow I hike. Been hanging out with some southbounders. I bought the beer for last night's revelry. The hostel here is real nice. TV & VCR has come in handy. Food, glorious food! Talked to my friend, Skylark, yesterday, and we made tentative plans to meet up next month. Can’t wait. More beer, food, & movies planned for tonite. Tomorrow, I hope to get at least to Sugarloaf.

Thursday, June 26—Crocker Cirque Campsite.
Didn’t get to sleep last night ‘til 3:30 am, watching TV, but I knew that I couldn’t get a shuttle back to the trail ‘til noon, at the very earliest. It was after 1 pm, when I actually hit the trail. Hiked a bit with Snafu, but he eventually left me in his dust. The big omelet, that I had for breakfast, felt like an anchor, dragging me down. Climbing Crocker reminded me of Un-Pleasant Mtn. Many false summits, and it went on infinitely. Then the downhill, about a mile of shear agony. I finally got a chance to mail my Superhiker’s to a cobbler, when I picked up my Sundowner’s at Stratton, but they’re not as supportive as my Superhiker’s. Rock hopping sure isn’t as much fun. I thought I had passed the campsite, the downhill seemed so long, but eventually, I stumbled across it, and I set up camp. There were seven southbounders there. My Clip Flashlight tent seems like a mansion, compared to my coffin-like Gossamer.

Friday, June 27—Old Railroad Bed of the Sandy River & Rangely Lakes Railroad.
This mornings hike was tough, especially getting to the shoulder of Sugarloaf. I took it real easy, and with both the temp, & the humidity down, I was able to really enjoy the tough climb. I stopped for lunch at Spaulding Mountain Lean-To, and wasn’t there long before ‘Let It Be’ showed up. This is the third time we’ve met up on the trail since February 29, 1996. Last year, we first met at Springer Mtn. Shelter, and again at Trail Daze. There’s a trail rumor that the first northbounder I met, Trail Trooper, has yellow-blazed a lot, and the rumors are growing. I’m now camped near some real cool falls. Ain’t life grand!

Saturday, June 28—Piazza Rock Lean-To.
Too much happened, and the threat of a lot more to come.

Sunday, June 29—Horsefeather Bed & Breakfast.
Saturday, after breaking camp and a short, but steep downhill, I was faced with the ford of Orbeton Stream, and in I went, when my right knee did it's little trick. Actually, I took a dive, in an attempted to get all the weight off my knee. After flailing around in the stream, I tested out the knee, and it sort of worked, so I headed up to Poplar Ridge and hoped for the best. After Poplar Ridge, the rest of the day was fun, especially when I got to the top of Saddleback and bam, Trail Magic. There were 7 or 8 female day hikers on top and they asked me to take a picture of them, and then they proceeded to unload: two delicious veggie sandwiches, a nectarine, carrots, and a whole packload of candy. Saddleback, the climb was such joy, the trail magic was even better, plus a pretty blonde in a sports bra to top it all off. When I arrived at the Lean-To, there was a group (10?) of French Canadian teen-aged girls hanging out in front of the shelter, so I gave them a thrill, I stripped. (I changed into my long-sleeve cotton tye-died shirt first, which is long enough to almost cover my naughty bits. ) Another southbounder, Beast told me that the rest of the boys went into Rangely and would be back in a little while. Snafu came back with a steak for me (Trail Karma). Then Seagul came back with beer. Biscuit was next, after connecting up with his chick-drop, and brought more beer. Snafu also brought a 5 lb bag of spuds, with aluminum foil and threw them in the coals of the fire, and when they were done, I threw my steak on the barbie. My dinner plate consisted of steak, two baked potatoes, boiled carrots and salad (form Carie, Biscuit's "friend") I can no longer state emphatically the ALL TRAIL FOOD SUCKS! Eventually everyone hit the sack, except Snafu and I, so we took it upon ourselves to kill the rest of the beer, cause there was no way that we were gonna pack out full beers, even it it's only two miles to Carie's car. This morning, Biscuit cooked up home fires for everyone with the leftover baked potatoes. Who said that life on the trail should be hard? After breakfast, we cleaned and packed up and headed for Rt 4. Carie drove Biscuit, Snafu and I to Rangeley, and we lunched at he Roadkill Cafe. where everyone has an attitude. It was like being back in New Jersey. Biscuit asked for some Mayo, so he was taken into the kitchen and they showed him where they kept it. He came back with a 5 gallon jar of Mayo with a big-assed spatula. Lunch was great, then we headed to "Oquasuck" (I cant' say the name right) settle into the B&B, then went out for a lobster dinner. I'm a blimp!

Wednesday, July 2—Horsefeather Bed & Breakfast.
My knee has been bothering me for a few days, but today it felt good enough to slackpack from Rt 4 to Rt 17. Averaged 3 mph over roots, rocks and mud, definitely a good section to slackpack. Mac & Joanne, the owners of the B&B are really nice people. Joanne even apologized to me for making up my bed because I told her not to bother. Plan on slackpacking the Bemis Range tomorrow.

Friday, July 4—Pine Ellis Bed & Breakfast.
Yesterday, when Mac drove me to the trailhead, the weather was miserable so I sez, "You're already shuttlin' my pack to Andover, I think I'll tag along for the ride." What a good decision! Torrential Rain, Thunder & Lightening, Another days rest for my knee and intelligent conversation with Paul & Ilene, the owners of the Pine Ellis. Great folks, the best of the best in Maine. Today, I forded the Bemis Range. Yes, forded. OK, only about a quarter of the trail was under water, some of it almost knee deep. Hiking in clouds reminds me of my hike through Georgia, last year. Weird, but cool. Paul was waiting for me at the end of the section, even though I was ten minutes early. The downhill from Old Blue, really took it's toll on me, and I only was wearing a light daypack. My knee feels like declaring it's independence.

Saturday, July 5—Pine Ellis Bed & Breakfast.
Another day of slackpacking, & one more to go, before I hoist my real pack. Really craved beer on the trail today, so when I got back to Andover, I picked up a four Pack of Guinness. I'm doing another flip-flop tomorrow, hiking from Grafton Notch toward East B Road. This slackpacking has been good for doing miles on a tender knee, but I miss sleeping in the woods. I couldn't slackpack the whole trail, but it does come in handy occasionally. I love the people of Maine, and I've had the chance to meet more than I would than if I wasn't slacking. It will be a bittersweet moment, when I leave Maine, because I've had a blast here, but I'm also looking forward to spending some time in the "Live Free Or Die" state.

Tuesday, July 8—Speck Pond Campsite.
The last few day, I spent at the nicest place in Maine, Pine Ellis. Sunday, I took a day of rest, and it was indeed restful. Paul did me a great favor, and I spent the day cruising Andover on his moped. Monday, I was a northbounder for a day. I slacked from Grafton Notch to East B Road. Baldpate was a cool mountain, but buggy, and the weather was threatening, so I stayed on top as long as I dared. It drizzled, and I heard rolling thunder all afternoon, but I escaped the worst of it. When Paul picked me up, he told me that there was an editor for the AT Companion staying at Pine Ellis. So when we got back, I cornered him, and gave him 2 suggestions of info to add to the Companion: 1) Where the "Good" beer is located in trail towns, & 2) Where & what stations can you pick up the Howard Stern show along the trail. He didn't take me seriously, but I was serious. This morning, I said good-bye to Paul, Ilene, & Roscoe (their dog). I will miss them a bunch, they're a part of my trail family. Heading south & uphill from Grafton Notch, with a full pack, sucked. I took my time, and eventually made it to the top of Old Speck, which had a pretty little clear-cut up top, which another hiker said was for a new helicopter pad. I hope that's not true. The observation deck has 360° views, and I took a few pictures, then headed for camp. Jury-rigged my un-freestanding tent on a wooden tent platform, and sat around bull-shitting with hikers & black flies.

Wednesday, July 9—Full Goose Shelter.
Woke up to rain. Coming down Mahoosuc Arm was very slow going, which made me think about how hard it was going to be in the Notch. Well, speculation turned into reality, but I really enjoyed my time in the Notch, the hardest mile on the AT, despite the pouring rain. It took me almost 3 hours to do one mile! Tomorrow, I leave Maine, boo-hoo.
 

Kurtis Kirsch.
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