Down Time

Just a quick update on our hiatus, which has been quite hectic and more than a little overwhelming. We rolled into Pancho’s mom’s place near Annapolis in the middle of the night, after a long, stressful drive from Maine. Then came three solid days of shopping. Oy. We were both in need of clothes and supplies for our trip to Amsterdam, especially Pancho, who had no pants that fit anymore. Losing 6 inches in the waist seems to necessitate a trip to the mall. And WOW is the mall a horrible, anxiety-inducing nightmare after four months in the woods. The noise, the light, the ridiculous consumerism were pretty overwhelming for us both.

These boots are no longer made for walking....
 I was just hoping to make it up Katahdin in them.
It's never a good thing when you can see your socks through the top....

Manscaping in process--the mutton chop phase.
Thankfully short-lived.

Fortunately, we survived the mall (actually 3 of them, with which I am now WAY too familiar) and headed off to Amsterdam. Much like Vegas, there is very little that I can reveal about the trip J, just that Pancho really freaked out some of our friends and we still have no answer to the eternal question: how many entrepreneurs does it take to find a brothel in Amsterdam? (More than you might think….) We do have an answer to the question of how comfortable wooden shoes are—not even a little bit. Especially when you’ve been pounding the hell out of your feet for months. Yikes.

Sue rocks the clogs.

Dean, Eric, and their special friend.

On the party boat.

We’ve been delayed a bit this week in our preparations to head back out onto the trail. We’ll be taking off from central Virginia on Sunday, heading south this time. Actually a touch nervous about changing directions—we’re so accustomed to looking at the map and the guidebook in the other orientation. Hopefully, we’ll stay on track the right way—if not, we sure won’t be publishing the fact here! 



Before--in Buenos Aires, right before we started hiking.

And after--4 months, 1400 miles, and 56 pounds later, in Amsterdam.

The Last Stretch (Part 1)

Warning sign at the end of the 100 Mile Wilderness.
Love the ending: this trail is fraught with peril, but "good hiking!"
Oh, those wacky Mainers and their dry sense of humor.

Ahhhh…Maine. What can I say about Maine that would be fit for family consumption? OK—moving on now.

For the moment, we’re on hiatus. A nearly 2 week break, spending some time here in the DC area with the mother of Pancho and a brief jaunt to Amsterdam for EO University.

The slog—and yes, that is the best word I can choose—through the 100 Mile Wilderness was the toughest part of the hike so far. How to describe the trail through Maine?

Wet:  Often, the trail just runs along a streambed, which during heavy rains like there have been in the last few weeks, can be well over ankle-deep.

Muddy:  Hopping from rock to rock through pits of slime. Putting your pole out for balance, then having it sink 2 feet or more into the muck. Tiptoeing across bog-boards (planks or sawn logs, frequently of dubious stability) that become slick as glass when wet. The boards are also all too often submerged, and thus, not so helpful.

Rooty:  There are exposed roots everywhere, so that at times, your feet are nowhere near the ground. And like the bog-boards, the roots are deadly slick when wet.

Unfortunately, we had a bit of a schedule heading into the Wilderness, trying to get to Katahdin right after Labor Day. So we had to push some big mile days through some very nasty weather. Several straight days of rain—non-stop, drenching rain. Everything was soaked. Us. All of our gear. Our tent. Few things are as dismal and miserable, and we had some really tough, long days. We pulled through together, though, which is a pretty big accomplishment :).

We arrived in Millinocket, the town closest to Mount Katahdin on Tuesday evening, unpleasantly moist and terribly ripe. After hot showers, laundry, and a reunion with our friends Swift and Deja, we were ready to summit the next day.

Katahdin, from Abol Bridge.

Our hearty band, ready to summit.

Wednesday morning, the four of us took the long drive back out to the trail at Katahdin. When we set out, we were wearing shorts and tees and the weather looked, well, not so bad by Maine standards. The hike is 5 miles up, with some very rocky, challenging parts in the middle. Naturally, it started to drizzle about halfway. About 2 miles from the summit, the climbing stops and there is a relatively flat tableland. Around that point, the wind kicked in, the visibility dropped to zero, and the temps started to plummet. By the last mile, I had layered on long sleeves, full raingear, hat, and gloves. Still freezing. After a hurried lunch and the requisite photo shoot at the summit sign, we headed back down. Fortunately, the descent was not quite as treacherous as I had anticipated, though there was still much butt-scooting and dangling from trees.

View on the way up Katahdin, while there was still some visibility.

Pancho, Swift, and Deja heading up toward the tableland on Katahdin. 

Pancho on the tableland, approaching the summit.

The standard summit shot, looking a touch chilly.

The (limited) view from the top.

We met up with my folks at the base, who drove up from ATL to meet us and drive us down to Maryland. (Best trail parents EVER. :) ) Now we have to regroup a bit, doing laundry, cleaning up all our gear, shopping for new clothes for Pancho (always traumatic) who has lost well over 50 pounds.

There may be a post from Amsterdam—sort of the anti-AT experience. Otherwise, we head back onto the trail around the 23^rd, to complete the southern leg of our journey. Stick with us—we really appreciate all the support and encouragement y’all give us!

Hurricanes, river crossings, and mooses...oh my!

Here are some belated photos and details of our stay in Caratunk during the hurricane and our hike from there to Monson, the start of the 100 Mile Wilderness.

Loading up the Kennebec Ferry with Hillbilly Dave.

Swift and Deja sport the latest hurricane fashions. 

One of our primary concerns in the post-Irene world was the water level of the streams north of Caratunk, many of which can get dicey in high water conditions. Since we waited in Caratunk an extra day, the levels dropped some, so that we weren’t carrying our packs overhead, while picking our way across a chest-deep channel, as some others did.

We did have an exciting beaver dam crossing, aided by our buddy Who Knows, who happened to encounter the rather hostile beaver, apparently somewhat irritated by the constant flow of hikers.

Who Knows crossing the beaver dam with a pack. 

Pancho on the beaver dam

We also experienced the pristine ponds and rivers of Maine. Dining al fresco takes on a whole new meaning sitting beside a crystal clear pond, listening to the loons.

Bald Mountain Pond.

West Carry Pond.

And I finally got to see a moose, instead of just the copious amounts of poop littering the trail!

Moose!