Through Maine, Katahdin, and Off the Trail

Since my last update I have experienced incredible highs and lows (yes, I realize this sounds like a promo for ABC’s Wide World of Sports). I am thankful for them all, despite the pain.

To Katahdin

Central, Scar and I headed north from Monson, Maine on August 29. We ran into many of our trail buddies over the days, including Salt and First Light. Scar left us after completing the Longfellow Mountains, the challenging descent of Chairback Mountain, and getting to Katahdin Ironworks Road, as she had hiked the rest of the state – including a summit of Katahdin – in 2024. She was a great trail buddy and was missed.

During one of the days in the Wilderness, I met Shooting Star and Just Susan. These section hikers were completing their hikes after seven and 14 years, respectively. Their joys in their hiking of the AT – and in their accomplishments – were infectious.

Central and I made steady progress through the Wilderness, getting to Jo Mary Road and a food drop, and then completing the Wilderness in six days. Upon arrival at Abol Bridge and the Abol Bridge Campground, we learned that arranging to summit Mount Katahdin was not as challenging as we had assumed.

The first 12 trekkers to sign up on the list posted at 7:00 a.m. at the kiosk at the entry of the AT into Baxter State Park can stay at the Birches Campsite in the park that evening. That positions them well for an early climb of Katahdin the next day. Only hikers that have completed the 1oo-Mile Wilderness without leaving the Trail are eligible. We were at the kiosk at 4:15 in the morning, as we had four in our group but didn’t know how many were camping at the state park and who would want to be among the 12. The answer was seven. Getting to the kiosk early simply gave the earliest arrivees precedence over later arrivees.

The 100-Mile Wilderness was demanding, the duration making it especially tiring. Salt rented a cabin at the Abol Bridge Campground, and Central, First Light and I joined him, providing us the opportunity for a shower. It was one of the most rewarding I’ve had on the Trail (likely because I was particularly rank!).

To the Summit

We hiked up to the Birches Campsite at different times on Saturday, September 6. Rain was forecast to start at 2:00 p.m., so I set off to be there by 1:00. The deluge began around noon.

Most of us were soaked, the rain was continuing, wind had joined the fray, and we had five people jammed into our four-person lean-to. Despite this, it was a joyous occasion – both because of anticipating the summit, and due to First Light’s wife bringing trail magic that one hiker likened to a full-blown charcuterie board. None of us had to fix  dinner that night, and the variety was great (“Care for some more string cheese?”).

Central and I headed out at 6:15 a.m. Sunday morning, September 7, following the Hunt Trail, which is the route of the AT. The trail became steeper and steeper, and then the roots and rocks increased in number and size. When we popped above the treeline I expected a transition to an easier final slog. Yes, there was a transition, but to bouldering over an enormously large pile, down a ridge between the first and second pile, and then ascent to the final plateau via the second pile. It was not easier, just different, requiring the use of arms, legs, and all muscles.

We summited after a four-hour climb. It was one of the most joyous experiences of my life. Many thru-hikers we had hiked and camped with were there, and tears of joy, relief, and emotional exhaustion flowed. I joined them.

Bouncing South

Central and I had an enjoyable night at the Appalachian Trail Hostel in Millinocket, Maine, that evening, and then relied on a kind relative of Central’s to pick us up in Millinocket and drop us off in Caratunk, Maine, where my Subaru was parked, silently awaiting our return. Central dropped me off for a slackpack of nine miles through the area of West Carry Pond, a segment I had missed a few weeks earlier when my feet were proving problematic. I finished the jaunt, Central picked me up, and we were soon en route the Om Dome Hostel, near Andover, Maine, heading south on the AT from this establishment instead of north, which we had done back on August 15.

Visiting Andover and Rumford, Maine

We headed south from South Arm Road, planning on a 15-mile hike, and camping at Frye Notch Lean-to. We got a late start, and then the terrain up and down two mountains made things challenging. I was well behind Central on the Trail, pushing myself in order to make it to the Lean-to before nightfall. It was during this effort that I tripped over a root, slid off the Trail, and slammed the right side of my face into a boulder. Unfortunately, the boulder came out the victor in this interaction.

This led to a self-assessment of my condition, my realization that I needed professional help, and a one and one-half mile hike to East B Hill Road, where I left the AT and flagged down a local gentleman. Mike got me to Fred’s house, and Fred transported me to the Andover Volunteer Fire Department, where Fred put in the call for an ambulance to transport me to the regional hospital in Rumford, Maine. While that vehicle made the trip from Mexico (the town, not the country), I served as a training aid for various Andover Volunteer Fire Department members working on their EMT certifications. I have never had my blood pressure, pulse, respiration, and oxygen saturation checked more times in any one 30-minute period than I had in Andover, Maine at the firehouse that afternoon. I hope they all passed; I felt well cared for.

While my face was bloody from the collision, I was worried about my teeth, as they had gone numb and the right side of my mouth did not want to close. The MRI did not show any problems with my teeth (subsequently confirmed by my local dentist), but it did find four fractures. The emergency room doctor – as well as two nurses, the radiation technician, my wife, and the front desk lady at the Best Western – all thought it was time for me to get off the Trail to heal. I have done so.

Despite a great shiner, I was able to support Central and get him relocated to the Massachusetts – Vermont border, where it was more likely he would find northbound hikers to travel with up to the Mahoosuc Notch. It also gave us a chance to review what we each needed to do, to discuss the fun parts of our joint effort, and to get used to the idea that we were parting ways after seven months hiking together.

Lesson’s from Shaw’s Hostel

Only a week or so earlier, I overheard one of the proprietors of Shaw’s Hiking Hostel in Monson say to a lodger, “The Appalachian Trail doesn’t owe you anything, you owe the Appalachian Trail.” I didn’t know I would be evaluating that comment after almost 1,800 miles of the Trail completed, and when I would be taking a forced respite. But, this is a good time to do so.

The Trail is an inanimate object. Mapped and created by humans, it is a remote, natural place. A linear park, those who hike it and who change – lose weight, gain muscle and confidence, develop resolve for challenging efforts, reflect on the spirituality gained through the process – have greatly grown and positively evolved. If that is the basis for the thanks, then I think it is appropriate. But just as the Trail was merely a stretch of ground when I swore at it when the difficulties of hiking the Trail frustrated me, it is the same when I want to voice thanks. The Trail hasn’t changed, I have. I am thankful, and perhaps the Trail is the best agent to receive those thanks. This is another thing to ponder when I return to the Trail.

Moving On

I will return to the Trail in 2026. I won’t be a thru-hiker, which was my goal. But the Trail is not a competition (even though we Americans think every activity may be a form of competition). So, completing the Trail, and yet not being a thru-hiker, is something I can live with. I guess that means I’ve gained some insights, too.

I plan to write an epilogue when Central finishes the Trail, as a way to close out his journey. I may blog in 2026, too. And I thank you readers. One of the reasons I blogged was to make it more difficult to quit, as I would have to explain my reasons and motives, and that would be challenging. That need went away as I gained confidence and skills. Yes, I am going off the Trail, but that is not because it is too hard, but because I am injured. I now have the insight to see the difference.

Thank you, Central, for your trust, patience, and friendship. And to my wife Jan – who paid the bills, bucked me up when I needed it, and never criticized my spending or other choices – thank you. In this journey I also learned how incredibly lucky I have been to have you in my life.

I have New Hampshire, Vermont, 20 miles of  Maine, and 95 miles of Virginia to finish in 2026. That will keep me busy.

Thank you, all. Hogmaw out.