TRAIL + 1

A few months back, I met with Matthewski, a veteran AT hiker I spent time with in Virginia. He warned me that the year anniversary would be a heady one. Well, here it is. Hard to believe it was a whole year ago since I walked onto the Approach Trail, headed up Springer Mountain. Even harder to believe that it took the better part of this past year to then walk to Mount Katahdin. I finally visited the AT a month or so ago, when Elizabeth and I met up with Zen at a cabin in Maryland that the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club rents out. We climbed up the ridge behind the cabin on a blue blaze trail, with me following behind Zen, staring at his pack and boots as I had done for so many months. At the top we saw the first white blaze any of us had seen since last October. Lots of emotions, but I think the dominant one was happiness that the AT is still there. That's the most amazing thing about it really: that it actually does exist, this little footpath that runs through our collective backyard, available for anyone who needs an escape. A month ago I received an email from a friend of a friend of Elizabeth's, who was planning his own thru-hike starting in March. Very glad to know the cycle continues. Lots has passed since leaving the trail. I rebuilt my kitchen (almost done!) and planted a small garden out back. Elizabeth and I have been preparing for our wedding in May. I returned to work in November, but was laid off two weeks ago, and am now trying my hand at freelance work. But I still think about last year's adventure at least once a day. In celebration of today's anniversary, I'm taking the train to Harrisburg. I will cab to the spot I skipped last July, when I came home to Philly early and surprised Elizabeth for Independence Day. It will be nice to see my other home once again.

TRAIL SUMMARY VIDEO

I took over 5000 photos while on the trail - thats over 2 pics per mile. Took me over three and a half months to go through them, sort them into folders, and then pick my 80 favorites for this 5-minute video. But it shows some of the majesty out there. Hope you enjoy...

THREE MONTHS

Hi all. Three months since summitting, a pretty odd feeling to go from counting the time past summit in days, then weeks, and now months. Talked to a buddy, Matthewski, a few weeks ago who warned, "wait until its been as long as the time you spent on the Trail." That will be weird, but perhaps not as scary as the anniversary of my start date on March 30. Also got to see Snack, who with her friend Snap, are a great pair of great trail buddies. Orion and I only spent a week with them, in central VA, but it was memorable, and seeing her again last week was fun.

I am also finally turning in my 2000-Miler Application, the form the ATC uses to record thru-hikes. I will be official! The form asks the usual questions of dates, ages, etc., but also asks for a trail summary. Some hikers were able to complete theirs soon after summitting, but I could not, preferring to let the experience sit around for a while. But its done now, and I thought you might appreciate what I wrote:

MY TRAIL SUMMARY

For six and a half months I hiked the Appalachian Trail, from Springer Mountain in Georgia to Katahdin in Maine. The details of my experience are now fading, but what I am left with is how fully human the Trail allowed me to be.

The scale of the Trail and the time needed to thru-hike it perfectly interrupts the normal egotism of civilized life. I climbed the bare bones of ancient continents that humans never walked on. I felt tiny and timeless under the same moon and stars as our ancestors once stared at. I lived every day surrounded by the uninterested cycle of life, watching sprouts inch out of the humus, grow full and green, and slowly drain away in the cold leaving a final show of color. I woke to songbirds, walked with woodpeckers, slept with owls at night. I huddled through storms and slacked through heat and bent into winds and shivered in cold. Almost daily, I was reminded of my powerlessness and unimportance.

Through walking, I was given a perspective that is uniquely pedestrian, and therefore human. I know what a mile, a yard, a foot is. I know how they relate to my body. And consider my body – after the first month or two, I realized the Trail started doing more than exercising my body. It was bringing out the ancient homo sapiens frame buried deep within, the body given to us through two million years of walking and surviving and mating, the body that exists for most people as a memory buried under softened muscles and accumulated fat, a mere prop for hands and eyes. I used it as it was meant to be used, upright in motion, horizontal when resting, with the ability and need to consume all the fats and protein I could get my hands on.

I experienced a social humanity I was once certain did not exist. We moved from individuals and couples to become small tribes, as our ancestors once lived, banding together as support groups, unified by our common purpose. Get through the tough physicalities of the South, mental trial of Virginia, distractions of the mid-Atlantic, and cold emptiness of Maine. And I’ll never forget that magical milk of humanity: the so many friends, family, and strangers who ported us, fed us, housed us, and cheered us on. The innocence that surrounds such unrequited kindness is beautiful.

For six and a half months I enjoyed freedom of thought; what could be more human? Most uninitiated people are afraid of that idea, equating it with intimidating boredom. But without media distractions, without jobs that impose on your thoughts, without the material goals of life to concentrate on, minds will widen. We spent every day as gods, sitting atop mountains, observing society thousands of feet below us.

With a campfire to rest our eyes on, our minds and ears were free to converse, and not simply talk at each other. We shared stories, that most ancient and human way of conveying information. What’s more, people had the patience to participate as listeners. Our conversations grew wider and more intimate as the Trail wound on. Fears, joys, deaths, loves, nothing was too sacred. I grew as close to fellow hikers, people I might have known for two days, as I have with anyone, ever.

There is no meaning in hiking the Trail, despite all the searching for one that some people, myself included, do. It simply exists, and amazingly so. It is a conveyance, a catalyst, a tool for any of us to explore our own humanity, our instincts, our raw abilities. It’s a human construct, intertwined through nature, in whose service we may connect intimately to something as large as life itself.

SUMMIT

Lookie what I has - summit photos!

The last stretch to the top

Celebration!

Not quite lonely at the top

SUMMIT PHOTOS !!

67 Thru-Hikers!

My NH Buds: Me, Zen, The Thinker

The Rap Pose

Ouchie

The Naturalist

SUMMIT PHOTOS !!!

My 100MileWild Crew (cw from top left): ZeroZero, me, NoAmp, Zen, Spidey, CookieMonster

The Flamboyant

The Standard - a fave

Say goodbye No longer a thru-hiker

2 MONTHS OUT

WAY TOO LONG BETWEEN POSTS. My apologees, but been busy with the holidays and work, etc. Excuses, excuses. At any rate, its been 2 months since summitting Katahdin, and its interesting to note what aspects of the trip linger on. I have finally lost the "old man" walk when getting up after a long time seated or laying - though my knees and ankles did feel stiff well into late November. My weight has increased only slightly, but I can feel the muscles I had so wonderfully gained starting to atrophy into fat. Yum. The holidays are here indeed. The biggest physical remnant of the trail are the calluses on the sides of my toes and balls of my feet. Still large and knarly as of mid-December. Mentally, its been tougher. I expected to have a time rejoining this world, but I had no idea it would be this tough. I've forgotten so much, especially things at work - my account number for the carshare, how to use such-and-such a program, where these files exist on the network, how to fill out the TPS reports. Its very telling the things trail life completely eradicated or suppressed. I also find that I'm very easily stressed out - had to use a new program under deadline yesterday at work and could feel my heart pounding and breath shortening under the stress. Eight months ago, this was not a problem at all. My theory is that six months in the woods so completely destresses a person, that afterwards, anything slightly stressful becomes a major obstacle. Destressed life is amazing really. Simple pleasentries like good conversation and time with family are real joys. Fun things like cooking can be truly amazing. Of course there are some things in life like bills and grocery shopping that are torturous but simply unavoidable. But there are whole categories of things in life that seem so unnecessary, so painfully wastes of time. These I simply PREFER NOT TO DO. Not sure I've ever understood Bartleby the Scrivener as well as I do now.

BACK TO WORK

Well, the savings account is finally running out and so it is finally time to head back to work. I started at my former job last week, but am only doing 3-4 days a week there, since our billable workload is not all that great right now. (While I was in the woods all summer, it seems the world economy has collapsed...) Part-time is really fine with me - gives me a little more time to finish the kitchen project and can better concentrate on my teaching gig at Penn too. Plus, I’ve become convinced (it wasn’t hard) that we Americans work way too much. Compared to the rest of the developed world, we get the least amount of vacation time and work the longest hours. As a result, we suffer the worst amounts of stress and sickness. I’m not against hard work – I’m all for it actually – but I want to have a life between bouts of intense work. My real complaint is that work takes up way too much time. Not just the 8-10 hours at the job every day, but the hour or two getting ready, and the hour or two afterwards it takes to unwind. And lets be realistic – its hardly necessary. Those of us in office jobs are lucky to get 4 or 5 productive hours each day, with the rest of the time spent distracted by the internet, phone and email interruptions, snack breaks, and conversations amongst the cubes. We even decorate our cubes as a result, trying to bring our lives into the space where we spend most of it. All this time spent at work hasn’t really earned us much either. Thirty years ago, when working-aged women often stayed home, a single salary could buy a house, one or two cars, three or four kids, and a vacation. You are fortunate if you can do that with both parents working today. And technology doesn’t help – despite all that has been invented to make our jobs more productive, the “curse of work” remains unrelieved, despite the promises of its inventers. If anything, new technology just promotes work-creep, as people are spend nights and weekends emailing and laptoping work. A friend of mine once worked for a huge accounting firm that favored this kind of over-work, promoting only those employees who fully gave their lives over to the company. How sad. The worst is that this overwork then ruins your “free” time too. You get home each night, you’re exhausted, and you zombie out in front of the TV. The weekend (all two days and one night) is spent mostly on ignored chores, and if there is time, squeezing in the sleeping, family time, exercise, cooking, dating, sunbathing, learning, drinking, sex, hiking, reading, volunteering, hobbies, worshiping, thinking, doing nothing, and everything else that makes life wonderful. Family time is minimal, and time with extended family is squeezed into the whirlwind holiday tours which are often more stressful than pleasurable. Once or twice a year (when you can fit it in to your work schedule), you squeeze in a vacation, and often these are spent doing some hyper-active travel, sightseeing, and sped-up relaxation. What goes missing is Play. Play is the anti-Work. Play isn’t video games or movies or sitting on your butt. Play can be hard work, but play is never Work. I consider myself an expert on Play, having spent the better part of 7 months at Play this year. I will write more about Play next.

THE IMPORTANCE OF NARRATIVES

Story-telling is a lost art. Out on the Trail, with no distractions around and only a campfire to stare at (we called it “Hippy TV”), hikers depended on stories and good conversation for entertainment. The best thing about story-telling is that it really requires two people – the person telling the story is important of course – but the listener is just as important. It’s in the listener’s head, fueled by imagination, that any story comes alive. The storyteller can supply just the thinnest of details, but within the listener’s head, the faces of characters and look of the settings become realized. It’s too bad that in regular life, people are too often content to simply be talked at for entertainment. Television especially ruins the story experience – you sit down on the couch and are talked to and shown all the action and there is rarely any participation required from the viewer. Just sit and absorb the simplistic tales, clichéd characters, and of course 30% advertising. How often will you sit and watch two hours of TV and then not remember anything of what you just watched? In trail life, even mundane tales and bad story-telling become memorable. This is important too – because stories are how we learn about the world, pass on our traditions, and explore ourselves. Everyone can remember the short tales of our youth and the lessons that were either obvious. (I once spent a whole evening with other hikers recalling Aesop’s Fables and their little summary lessons for fun.) But it works for adults too. Since humans started using language millions of years ago, we told stories to each other: about the animals we followed for food, the constellations that mark the seasons, the examples of famous heroes and heroines, and even stories about the world’s creation. Stories are still meaningful today, despite (and perhaps due to) the distractions of modern life. One of the reasons Obama was such a compelling candidate and McCain was not, was because Obama consistently portrayed his would-be presidency as continuing the story of America. That story – our founding break from tyrrany and our ever-upward motion towards equality and freedom and opportunity, a country that always has the power to reinvent itself in the name of progress – is a very compelling narrative. It is baked into every American’s sense of self, and that view of our history has always had appeal across the globe. As a result, Obama’s election was very emotional for so many people. It was an amazing experience to ride across North Philly after watching the returns at a friend’s house and see hundreds of people pouring into the streets to celebrate. The next day, it was like another Phillies victory - the whole city felt proud to be re-born Americans. (As my friend Frank pointed out, I got back in time for Red October and Blue November – too bad for us Iggles fans it’s not looking like a Green December.) Pretty electrifying, but since narratives are so memorable, it sets up some pretty high expectations for the new President.

A TIME FOR CHANGE

One of the joys of the Appalachian Trail was spending six months living on mountain tops. Being that high up, for that length of time, allows hikers to escape the flatland and exist in a raised dimension. We enjoyed a perspective usually reserved for gods, and were able to experience and process and think about the world in a scale beyond what daily life affords. Getting into that philosophical mindset wasn't immediate - we had to learn to think about space and time from such a scale. It took several months to get the daily routine and physical requirements of hiking to a comfortable background state, and several more to fully cleanse the mind of long-held belief systems, influences of mass media, taught educations, and the daily distractions of normal life. I was lucky enough to share that vantage point with several other hikers who were open to thinking about our world and interested in its future. As we went along, it became clear to us that the problems now facing humanity are of a level never experienced before. I don't intend to spend time here lecturing about how we are disrupting the earth's natural systems to an extent that endangers life itself, or losing the resources that future humans will depend upon, or how so many of us are living lives without meaning while polluting our bodies and minds out of distraction or desperation. There's plenty of other places to learn about the bad news. Most of the time, we hikers didn't like to dwell on the bad things either. It should suffice to say that life as we live it, especially here in America, is simply unsustainable. The time for change is coming, but whether it will be a catastrophic change brought upon us, or a renaissance of thought and action that we create ourselves is our choice. What we hikers discovered this summer is the possibility for this renaissance. Americans have often led the way when it comes to revolutionary thinking - the AT itself is but one example of our capacity. It was fantastic to meet so many others this summer, who are already involved in this renaissance - people from every walk of life looking at improving life for others, for themselves, for the future. People who long for real community, for simplicity in living, for places and activities that support good lives, for a holistic approach to problem-solving and solutions that don't create more problems than they solve. It's a very encouraging sign that so many people like this exist, and were taking a summer to spend time thinking and discovering. Obviously, this post is timed with tomorrow's election in mind - it is one of the few times we Americans can directly influence events at a large scale. I'm not going to plug any of the candidates, but instead urge my readers to go into the booth tomorrow with wide minds, thinking about the world from the vantage of mountaintops, concerned with the global scale instead of the personal, looking for candidates who will put our future ahead of any selfish present, choosing leaders who will help us move towards a more sustainable world.

PHILLY IS GOING CRAZY

Maybe it really was the Curse of Billy Penn. The city's founder was apparently not happy about losing his statue's "tallest thing in town" status to some skyscrapers in the late 80s, and cursed Philadelphia to never win a championship in any major sport, despite our perennially great teams. (Last year, a miniature statuette of Penn was added to the latest and highest scraper as a CYA). But maybe it really required me not being here to see any games this summer. (I'm not being ego-centric, ALL phans here blame themselves for the teams' record). Either way, I can't tell you what a pleasure it's been to come home and watch the Phils make their way through the playoffs and win the World Series here at home. For a city that lives and dies via its sports, the mood here has been ecstatic this past week and the town is red with old and new baseball fans. I'm very lucky to have left the trail for a place like Philadelphia, and I'm constantly reminded why I love living here. It really is a rare place - a big city with all the entertainment and activity that entails - but also one with individual neighborhoods like Fishtown, where if I don't ever leave its boundaries (or leave the house in 3 weeks) I can pretend I live in a small town of 25,000. I feel for the folks who left the trail and went to live with parents or are stuck in cars in the suburban traffic lifestyle - believe it or not, that would be a harder transition than coming back to this metropolis was. To be sure, there's been a lot of change over the six months in town and some of it is disconcerting, like the best wig shop on Chestnut becoming another upscale coffee house. But the essential Philly-ness remains: less than 2 hours after winning Game 5, a guy came down my street pushing a shopping cart full of "official" World Championship merchandise for sale. So with civic pride, I'm heading downtown after this post to check out the big parade for the team, which will easily be the biggest gathering of people I've seen since walking through the July 4th festival when I stopped home this summer. At that point, I was halfway through the Trail and was wonderfully surprised by a cop who gave me an extra hoagie he had. (See above photo). Hopefully I can score a trail-magic pretzel today, but I fear I don't look so desparate without the beard. Why did I cut it off so soon?!

PS, finally got a look at my photos. I took a lot. And by "a lot" I mean an insane amount. More to come.

SHAVED MY BEARD

Risked losing my magical trail-given powers by shaving off the majority of my beard to its pre-trail conditions. Very weird to look in the mirror afterwards, even weirder to feel my chin with my hands. Hadn't realized how much weight I lost until that point, and I regretted doing it immediately afterwards. The shaving came out of boredom. I caught a throat cold a few days ago and it's pretty nasty. I think during my time away from civilization, I lost my immunity to your European diseases. The cold has meant no working on the kitchen, since I'm at the point of putting up insulation and it's probably not a good idea to be breathing fiberglass with this throat. So instead, I'm forced to do what I've tried to avoid - lay on the couch and watch endless TV and movies and video games. Add to it the cold rainy weather and the delayed Phils win, and its a very frustrating and somewhat depressing experience. Since we have on-and-off internet at the house, I've ventured out to the local hipster coffee shop at the end of the block to use their wireless connection. I can at least write on the blog, which I've avoided doing since I don't have any photos for you readers to see quite yet. (The photos are on Elizabeth's work computer - I hope to get some up tomorrow.) Novel things still surprise me. As I write this, I got a cell phone call. I feel so connected, perhaps too connected. One of the joys of the trail is communication done on a simpler, slower scale. Friendhips are made after brief conversations, and maintained by sporadic and unplanned run-ins. You'd hike with someone for a day and be great buddies from then on, even if you didn't see them for weeks. Here in the real world, phone calls and scheduled visits are necessary to maintain relationships of any kind. Its not a bad thing, it just means more work and more thought involved.

LIFE AT HOME

I’ve been home a week. It’s been almost two weeks since summiting, but my body is still very much in trail mode. I still have quite an appetite, though it’s nothing like it was during the day-to-day trail life. I will have to start watching what I eat, which is an odd sensation after eating whatever I wanted for six months – one of the biggest joys of the trail, really. My legs and feet are still recovering – I’ve gotten terrible cramps in my calves at night, and walking out of bed in the mornings is humorously old man-ish. Stairs are nearly impossible first thing in the morning. But once I’m up, I have newfound strength. I’m doing a major project in the kitchen which requires standing for long periods of time and holding arms overhead repeatedly – things I had trouble with before the trek, but aren’t a problem now. The kitchen project, which involves tearing down a wall, and installing new ceilings and wallboard, is a terrific way to adjust to homelife. As it progresses, my mood remains upbeat and the daily work keeps me from becoming melancholic about not being outdoors all the time. I did take an afternoon off yesterday to bike through town – I’ve forgotten how big a city Philadelphia is, and how quickly it can change in six months. Its also funny how my mental map of the city – where 3rd and Fairmount is, where such-and-such a store is – has been weakened. Ostensibly, I was looking for lighting stores to get ideas for the kitchen, but the ones I remembered are gone or now only sell high-end designer products. It seems the big box retailers have stolen all the business when it comes to normal consumer goods. I talked to Zen the other night, who has returned home to North Carolina and is in a little shock as he negotiates his return to work. He said it feels so static to remain in one place all the time. I understand what he means, but so far I haven’t felt it, despite (and perhaps because) my hiding out in the kitchen every day. The only truly irksome thing I’ve noticed is I get a lot less sleep here. On the trail, especially in the last month or so as the daytime shrunk, we slept for 10-12 hours every night, mostly in a satisfying and well-earned deep sleep. Here, the TV has you up til 11:30pm and the alarm has you up at 7am. No jumping out of bed in the mornings, excited for the day. So far, I’ve only had one trail dream that I remember – it was winter and I was with some trailmates and we had to cross a frozen lake, but couldn’t determine where the trail picked up on the other side. One final thought – before leaving the AT, we talked about what things back home would give us trail déjà vu. I finally emptied out my food bag yesterday and I can now say that seeing and eating slim jims and poptarts give me major trail déjà vu. Probably because I never ate these foul things before, but downed them regularly then.

THANK YOUS!!!

This is long overdue, but I just wanted to say THANK YOU to everyone who helped out on this grand adventure. It’s really too long a list to name everyone individually, but you know who you are: family members and friends who sent food, money, and words of support, folks who visited me on the trail and provided magic for me and other hikers, my employer for offering work when I return and generously providing postage while away, and anyone who helped support Elizabeth and Camille while I was away. I also want to thank my mom and dad specifically for introducing me to the outdoors at an early age and always encouraging my adventures, and my grandparents for helping install virtues like self-reliance and a love of discovery and travel. And of course, I want to thank Elizabeth for allowing me to go and supporting me without hesitation the entire way – without her this trek would still be an idle dream. I also want to thank anyone who followed this blog and cheered me along. No matter how tough it got, quitting was not possible while so many people were behind me.

View From The Top

Shawn came into the office tonight, pre-happy hour, and we were able to download his trail photos, from about Virginia through to the end. Needless to say, it was a nervous moment when we plugged the camera card into the computer, hoping it wouldn't have somehow gotten erased!! So here are some photos from the summit of Mt Katahdin...

HOME AT LAST

Finally made it home two nights ago. We had aimed for the Gaspe, but nearly to the Canadian border, we learned some of the parks we hoped to visit and mountains we hoped to hike would be closed. Plus, it was getting downright cold, and a trip that far north would've needed a few more days to make the long drives worthwhile. So, another time. Instead, Zen, Elizabeth and I hopped down the Maine coast, visiting Bangor, Acadia National Park, and Portland. The trip was probably the best way to meet re-entry, giving us another adventure and taking our minds off the loss of trail life. The tough thing about leaving the woods is that the hikers who made it that far not only were surviving the experience, they were thriving. Zen and I and the others had really carved out a life on the trail, and it felt every bit as real as life back home. This may be why Elizabeth and I were so nervous upon meeting each other at Katahdin. Its tough on a relatively young relationship to sustain six months apart, and though we knew the end would come and we’d be back together here in Philadelphia, I think both of us had begun adapting to life without each other. The Maine trip gave us a chance to get to know each other again on neutral grounds, and I proved a good idea. In the meantime, the trail is slowly washing off. Everytime a “first” happens – the first time driving, wearing jeans, cooking with multiple burners, riding my bike, etc – its an odd experience, both exciting for the novelty and slightly sad since it means the trip really has ended. Zen and I both found ourselves talking less and less about the trail, and withdrawing away from it to focus on new tasks. Here at home, I’ve begun tearing down a wall in the kitchen and dealing with my overgrown garden. The first day back, I washed and put away my equipment, and made notes about what my final gear list looked like (which I will share later). The oddest thing has to do with seeing old friends and neighbors. I’ve been hiding in the house since getting home, but have seen some neighbors, and each of them has innocently asked, “So, how was it?” as their first question. It’s impossible to answer this question with the succinct answer that people expect in passing conversation. It was six months away from this life, six months without responsibility for work or other people, six months of new adventures every day, six months of exercising my body and mind, six months of trees and birdsongs and stars. “It was great” doesn’t seem a fair answer.

Just a couple of photos

Here are just a couple of the photos from our trip/reunion this past week. This was my first view of Katahdin, taken while driving into Baxter State Park on Wednesday morning... Here's where Keychain signed in for his final hike... (down in the yellow smudge) This is what Katahdin looked like from the closest campground, where I waited with several other families for our thru-hikers to come down. Creeper's dad had binoculars, and we could actually see the a little of the festivities on the top of the mountain. And here was my first view of him coming down off the mountain with some of the 60-something hikers that summited that afternoon... More to come... stay tuned!

KATAHDIN SUMMIT

Hi all, heres a continuation from yesterday's post: Katahdin had indeed been closed to hikers for 4 days in a row. We heard reports of 50+ people waiting around Millinocket for days, the mood growing melancholy as some people had to leave without summiting. Fortunately for us, Tuesday was a beautifully sunny day with temps in the 50s and no clouds. We figured the snow and ice on top would melt and the mountain would be open for us the next day. (Most of the climb is on exposed boulders that were apparently covered with an inch or so of ice.) And to be frank, Zen and I were determined to make a summit effort on Wednesday regardless of the official rules. We had walked this far under our own effort and had no problem turning back if we reached a point where we felt unsafe. So, we entered the park and what an entrance! The trail at first follows an old road, enabling us to walk two abreast, with triumphal arches of birches lining either side. We passed a small pond with an incredible view of Katahdin, and then followed a calm wide river for a stretch. I couldn’t help but be reflective about all the amazing places I’d walked through, and all the amazing people who I shared those places with. We next ascended a series of waterfalls along Katahdin Stream and ended with beautiful ponds and views of the lesser peaks that surround Katahdin. Walking into the campground, a view of Katahdin’s shoulder let us know the snow was indeed mostly gone and the ranger there said he was sure it would be open tomorrow. We gathered around a fire for one last time, with some hiker friends who hitched out from town, telling our favorite trail stories and savoring our last night in the woods. No one slept well that night – too many Christmas Eve jitters. Upon waking, I could hear the sounds of vans dropping off hikers. The trails to the top were indeed open, and the flood of hikers began. The climb was pleasant until treeline, where it becomes a steep boulder scramble up and up and up. I could look up the ridge and see dozens of hikers ahead, all happy faces and shouting hellos to each other as the festive atmosphere overtook the moutain. I climbed over the false summit onto the flat tableland on top, and could see Baxter Peak and the famous sign about a mile ahead, with a huge crowd at the top. With the temps holding steady in the mid-50s and the wind all but dead, the sun was warm and no one was leaving. It really was the best way to summit – if we were going to have a bunch of people, we might as well have everybody. And what a party it was. The volunteer guide at the top counted 67 thru-hikers as we gathered around the sign, breaking out champagne bottles, passing around toasts and beaming with accomplishment. I knew most of the crowd, but it really wouldn’t be the AT if I wasn’t still meeting new hikers that morning. Everyone gathered for a group photograph, and a toast went up for all those fellow hikers who, for whatever the reason, couldn’t finish the trail. We each took turns getting our individual and small group photos with the “Northern Terminus of the Appalachian Trail” sign. We looked across all of Maine, shining lakes and smaller peaks below us, the gnarly Knife’s Edge trail curving away from us, and the kind blue sky above us. The trip down was fast, and everyone grew silent and lost themselves in thought, no longer thru-hikers. Elizabeth was waiting for me at the campground, all smile, and happy to be starting a new type of trail. We hung around for a while enjoying a beer and then drove into Millinocket to continue the party there. After 9 days, I was ready for a shower. I was the 432nd northbound hiker to register at the trailhead. If the estimates I’d heard earlier of 1300 hikers starting at Springer are correct, this is indeed a year for the record books. Over a third of those who intended to do the whole trail completed it – a huge increase in the completion rate, but still indicative of a tough trail to finish. The trail is a trial of physical and mental endurance, but everyone who sets out expects that. But no one expected it to be as much fun as it was. This will be the lasting character of the experience in my mind, and to repeat a quote I first heard months ago, the AT truly is the most fun I’ve ever had, interrupted by long walks.

THRU AND THROUGH!

Lots of stuff to post about, but first let me tell everyone that this is one thru-er who is D-U-N, done. I summitted Katahdin just before noon yesterday, October 8, one hundred ninety-two days and 2,176.2 miles after starting up the approach trail to Springer Mountain in Georgia back on March 31. The 100-Mile Wilderness was a great stretch of trail that took us through the beautiful and endless north woods of Maine, but hardly a “wilderness.” More like a 100-Mile No Resupply. It is definitely a remote place, but there is a good amount of day trippers who come in via maintained dirt roads and since most of the area is owned by logging and paper companies, there is always the threat of development as these companies divest themselves of used land. In fact, a proposal now seeking approval from the state would bring a large resort and thousands of houses into the Wilderness area. Happily for those who would like to see this area conserved – it is really the last large undeveloped area in the east - organizations like the Nature Conservancy and the Appalachian Mountain Club (the group that manages the huts and trails in the White Mountains) are also pushing for intelligent land management. (AMC’s Maine Woods Initiative is detailed here: http://www.outdoors.org/conservation/wherewework/maine/index.cfm) For me, the difficulty of the Wilderness was centered on the time we spent without rest from the weather. It rained hard for three of the first four days, and then it was cold both day and night. Every day featured at least one large ford, which, with the rain, meant continuously wet shoes and socks. The treeline is fairly low, so even small mountains had us exposed to the mist, rains, and winds. My fellow hikers and I – Zen, Cookie Monster, No Amp, and Spidey – all prefer tenting, but spent most nights in shelters to share warmth and avoid putting up the tents in the mud. Related to the weather was the difficulty with food. I carried 8 days of food, with portion sizes that would have been perfect for an 8-day carry back in the South. But by this time in the hike, without body fat for insulation or backup energy, I start feeling decidedly weaker after three days of hiking and camp food. The temperature in the Wilderness didn’t break 50 degrees, and the lows were in the 20s and low 30s each night. Someone has told me you will spend an additional 1000 calories just keeping warm in weather like that – on top of the 5000 or so we spend doing the hike. By the fifth night, I was lying in my bag 2 hours after dinner, as hungry as ever and shivering. Very tough not to pig out on the rest of the food bag! To remedy the situation – I did want to actually enjoy my final week – I hit up Whitehouse Landing, a wilderness camp that caters to backwoods fishermen, hunters, snowmobilers, and of course hikers this time of year. Getting there requires leaving the AT and following a mile-long bushwhacked trail to a small dock on a vast lake in the middle of nowhere, sounding an airhorn, and waiting for a boat to show up to ferry you to the camp. There I had the famous one-pound burger and was able to purchase some more snacks and such. However bad the weather was during the Wilderness, it did set up a dramatic ending to this adventure. As we went over Whitecap, a 3600ft peak halfway through the Wilderness, we walked into hail, then sleet, then snow. The wind was strong and windchill was somewhere in the single digits – boy was I missing the gloves in that lost Caratunk maildrop! We began speculating – what would Katahdin be like, at 1600 feet higher? Did it receive snow too? Zen had the answer for us – he had run ahead to spend the night at Whitehouse Landing and took a floatplane ride from there. He got to see Katahdin from the air, covered in snow above treeline. After hearing this, we began mentally preparing for a cold winter climb at the end. However, it was tough to see Katahdin for myself and confirm the snow cover as we made our way towards the mountain. The weather started improving, but still Katahdin hid herself – the top half beneath clouds on Sunday, a little more revealed on Monday, and only the top peak covered on Tuesday. She was being coy! Zen and I camped on Rainbow Ledges Tuesday night – one of the last views of Katahdin – and that night she finally let down her guard and threw off the last clouds after the sun had set, showing us her sexy silhouette. The next morning, she was completely naked and welcoming, and we made our way into Baxter State Park. It was then we learned the trail to the top was closed, for the fourth day in a row. I will stop here and continue later – the check has arrived here at the AT Café in Millinocket, and Zen, Elizabeth, and I have “big miles” to do today as we drive north…

I-95 is lovely this time of year.

Hello from my hotel here in Portland, about 4.5 hours from the trail, and from our favorite hiker. I got a call from Shawn this morning as I was preparing to leave, who reported that the trail to the summit was still closed ... so now there are even more hikers backed up in Abol Bridge waiting to finish! Hopefully tomorrow morning will be an all-clear and he and Zen (and many others) can hike on up. Either way, I'll be at Baxter State Park around 1 or 2 tomorrow, to either wait for him to come down off the mountain, or hang out with him in Millinocket until he can go up it. Hopefully the former, so we can go to Canada! The drive up from Philly was nice and uneventful - excellent leaf peeping along the way, and I was able to get a Connecticut and Massachusetts keychain to complete Shawn's set, courtesy of I-95 and I-90 rest stops along the way. I'll let everyone know tomorrow if the mountain is open or not, so stay tuned ... and keep your fingers crossed!!!! I know they all are anxious to finish. PS... on a total aside, after I picked up the car last night, I stopped by the Old Navy in South Philly, and saw Jay from season 1 of Project Runway. Random.