MAINE AT LAST

Maine. For many months, its been a far-off destination - the answer to the question "where are you hiking to?" that other dayhikers and tourists always ask. And now I'm here at last, and have to answer the question differently, with "Katahdin". I crossed the NH/ME border a few days ago, passing a small sign posted to a tree in the middle of nowhere: Welcome to Maine, the Way Life Should Be. And by that, they must mean life should be exhausting. The transition into Maine from the Whites isn't "seamless" as someone suggested - in fact, it becomes harder. The mountains may not be as grandiose as the Whites, but they are more rugged and the trails are rougher and more unkempt. And as we get further north, the treeline drops and the temps become colder. No more camping on mountain tops! Two days ago, we went through Mahoosic Notch, often billed as the "toughest mile on the AT." For a full mile, the trail goes along the bottom of a big canyon, with steep cliffs on either side, and the bottom is filled with boulders ranging in size from tires to full tractor trailers. There's no real "trail" there, its more of a scramble over, around, and even under the boulders. Lots of scrambling up tilted rocks, jumping from rock edge to rock edge, climbing with hands instead of poles, sliding down rock faces, and even squeezing through holes under large slabs. Last year, a moose died in the notch, having broken his leg in a fall. Supposedly someone shot him before he slowly starved to death. My path took me next to his skeleton right at the beginning, which made for a "oh, what am I getting into?" moment. But I made it through, which is more than the moose can say. It took just about 3 hours to do the mile - a little slower than a more typical average of 2 miles per hour. Obviously its quite a challenge to do the notch with 40+ pounds on your back, but thru-hikers up the anty by challenging each other to NOT remove their packs at any point. Proud to say I kept mine on the whole time, despite having to go backwards through one really tight squeeze. Its only been a few days, but "wild" is exactly how I would describe Maine. The views from the peaks look out on a vast forest, disturbed only by logging roads. Its a rare treat to have such an amount of undeveloped land in the eastern US. Someone once described Alaska as Maine on steroids, but I would describe Maine as more like Alaska's grandfather. Old granite mountains only recently uncovered by ice, mature forests with huge birches and spruces, moss covering everything, and moose scat is everywhere (though I haven't seen one since NH). I am staying at a hostel tonight in Andover (mile 1,930ish), which has maybe nine other buildings - an old logging town with a definite frontier feel. The hostel is a great old wooden building with lots of different rooms upstairs, and when I asked the owner if it was always a hotel, he says he's looked at old pictures and there's always a few ladies in dresses hanging out on the upstairs porch. So yes, always a hotel of sorts. It rained most of the day today, which made for a muddy trail, and I earned a nice bruise on the knee after taking a spill. Nothing serious, but took a nice photo of blood running down my leg with the rainwater. The body is definitely feeling tired - the Whites and Maine are like a totally different trail than the rest of the AT. But nothing will stop me or any other hiker now with less than 300 miles (and perhaps only 3 weeks) left. Still a large stretch of tough going to get through, and then the famous 100-mile Wilderness at the end, but I'm coming for you Katahdin!