I took a double Zero at the Maine Roadhouse to avoid a terrible day of rain, visit with Mizman whom I haven’t seen in 2 years, but mostly, because the beds were heavenly. I don’t mind sleeping on the ground, but the value of a soft bed, in AC, rises faster than porcelain when you spend a long time in the woods.
Mizman and I took a shuttle to Rangely for the first Zero. I did a bit of shopping, we had a nice lunch, walked around town a bit, and found a bar with a view. Rangely was already on my list of areas in Maine to investigate as a place to settle. Its ranking grew even higher today. I’m afraid with Saddleback Ski Area reopening, it’s going to be pushed out of my price range.
Day 1, 7/17, Crocker Cirque Campsite, 7.3
I had a hard time convincing myself to get going again. I could have easily vortexed at the Roadhouse. Because I had vented so much on Mizman, the mean voice inside me decided to take the day off and just let me walk. It still took me a while to get into it (3,000’ climbs out of town tend to put a damper on my enthusiasm for the day).
I still don’t have any cardio—at least not enough cardio to tackle these big climbs without multiple stops. The first person I saw was Flamingo, another SOBO. I’ve been running intou her at most town stops. She was slack-packing north today. She was excited because she saw a moose just off trail in the saddle between the Crockers (and got video evidence).
We were both a little apprehensive of crossing the Carrabassett River which I was supposed to do today. While we were talking she got a message from a NOBO friend of hers that they had just successfully crossed the river. She gave me their names so I could interrogate them when they passed me.
I had a stretch goal of 13 miles today. I already knew that wasn’t going to happen. I hadn’t started hiking until 10. It was already after 1 and I hadn’t made the first Crocker (another 4K peak…2-4Ks today before dropping to the river crossing).
The trail provides. Today, it provided me with several examples to be thankful for my life. I’ve been in a funk/depression since my dad died. I was looking for any excuse to take my time today. This was when I met Daniel.
I have heard of Daniel before but didn’t realize who I was talking to until after nearly an half hour of chatting. Daniel has a rare form of leukemia which doesn’t allow his white blood cell count to drop after an infection. He is literally out here as part of his bucket list. His time is limited.
Because of his leukemia, he has to isolate himself at all times. We talked for almost an hour. This was a very happy man enjoying the last of his life. Today was a good day, physically, for him. Once I realized who he was, I threw my daily expectations out the window. When we did finally move on, he thanked me profusely for the conversation we had. The only person he has been able to talk to is his wife and even then they have to be isolated.
When I finally made it to the summit of North Crocker, I ran into Nero who had crossed the Carrabassett this morning. From his description, I decided to give it another night to drop a bit more.
Our conversation kept jumping around until we got onto politics. Just as we broached that subject, another female day hiker popped up at the summit. She was dressed for the weather (very hot) so exposed stomach. She had surgical scars. She, too, was suffering from cancer and had lost a kidney recently. Nero also revealed he had recently lost his wife to breast cancer.
My petty problems seem so inconsequential. I’m having a rough patch…waa, waa, waa. I’ve met 2 people dealing with end of life concerns and one person who just dealt with it through loss of a partner. The trail was giving me the kick in the ass to remind me how good of a life I have.
It was already 4 by the time I reached the summit of South Crocker. I’d already made up my mind I wasn’t crossing the river today. I saw a campsite about half way down that was next to a glacial cirque. The description said moose were in the area, but, more importantly, so was a privy. It was only a mile from the river which will still be there in the morning.
Day 2, 7/18, Sluice Brook Logging Rd, 11.4
I got to the river by 8. I was nervous from what Nero told me. It sounded worse than anything I’ve crossed so far. I wanted to lay eyes on it before I made my decision to cross or not.
When I got to the river, it was flowing strong and fast, but I thought I saw a route a few feet upriver from the normal crossing. I decided to drop my pack on the bank and head out with just my poles. My thinking was if I get washed downriver, I have some nice new gear that any thru-hiker would like.
It was waist deep, but only about a 5’ section in the middle came close to knocking me off my feet. On the way back, I found a large boulder to provide an additional barrier to the river’s force. I was shaking a bit after 2 crossings so I headed into the woods, leaving my gear on the bank, for a minute to calm down.
I heard voices down below. I wasn’t ready to give my gear away just yet. I got down in time to see one guy get across further up from where I crossed and another guy cross just lower. The second guy was visibly shaken. I was just happy someone else was in the area. I grabbed my pack and headed across for the 3rd time. No problem.
I must have passed a dozen NOBOs heading to the river. Could the bubble be arriving? I set a new goal of trying to make it across the next river crossing, the Orbeton Stream which everyone was telling me was quite swollen.
I stopped for lunch in the Spaulding Mountain Lean-to. There were a few NOBOs who were stopping for the day at only 1:30 because of the threat of rain. I couldn’t stop this short again today, so I pushed on. From the lean-to to the stream was just at 6 miles with no significant climbs in between.
I should have listened to them. They told me the rain starts at 2. In that they were wrong. It didn’t start until 3. I put on my pack cover when I felt the first few drops. They were cold, so I also put on my raincoat. I decided to take the next decent spot I could find. That’s when all he’ll broke loose.
Today, the trail was teaching me a new lesson about rain. Nothing lasts forever, even bad shit. It poured hard. After 30 minutes, I gave up on finding a camping spot and just kept trudging on. It rained like hell for almost 2 hours. The trail was flooded worse than the HMW had been. Every stream crossing was now knee deep or deeper. The river running beside me, which I was hoping to cross before the storm hit, was flowing so hard and fast, that there was no way it was happening today.
About 7, I made it to the crossing but it was nothing but white water. The rain let up enough for me to find a somewhat protected spot to set up. I got everything inside after I got water, stripped off my soaked clothes, and got situated for the night. Just then, the rain started again and didn’t stop until after 1 a.
Day 3, 7/19 Piazza Rock Lean-to, 11.7
I slept great. Luckily, I was dehydrated enough that I didn’t have to get out of my tent until 3 when the rain had stopped. I was snug, warm, and dry. I shut off my alarm guessing that there would be no hurry with all the rain. I’ve got enough food to wait the stream out for a day.
When I awoke at 7, the white water was no more. I made my breakfast—oatmeal, which I declared a 5 year moratorium on just 2 years ago. It did not sit well with me…dry heaves and gagging were involved in getting it down.
One problem with distributed wild camping is lack of privies. My last task this morning was digging my first cat-hole of the trip. I contemplated holding on until the next lean-to, but that involved over 2,000’ of climbing in the next 2.5 miles while internal pressures were already exceeding maximum design specs. It’s now or all over everything.
Normally, I’m the Michael Jordon of cat-holes. My aim can best be described as “nothing but net.” Not so today. The pressure was so great that I had a 3’ blast zone. When I turned to check the damage, the oatmeal decided it wanted release which resulted in a 2’ blow zone in front. Leave no trace was put to the test today, but I managed to scrape the area clean.
In spite of the wrecked boat on the rocks in the middle of the falls, this river crossing turned out to be one of the easiest I’ve had. There was a clear demarcation of stepping stones which hikers can use under dryer conditions. I just chose a path a few feet up river to cross. The riverbed was mostly gravel, so even though it was above my knees and flowing well, it was easy. I wouldn’t even include this in my top 5 most difficult crossings on this trip.
Since the crossing was relatively uneventful, the trail must have something else in store for me today. It was sinister. It was climbing. I have a daily limit of 3,000’ of ascent. I didn’t bother to check today out ahead of time, but I knew I was near my limit. Turns out, I was almost 50% above my limit…4300’ up, 4000 down. Unlike yesterday, I saw very few NOBOs.
I had forgotten how beautiful the Saddleback Massif is. It consists of 3 main peaks along the AT—Saddleback Junior coming in at 3600’ (I think it’s wrong to call any mountain Junior or Little—it creates a Napoleonic mentality for the mountain which results in kick ass approaches), The Horn coming in at 4041’, and Saddleback itself which is a triple peak each around 4120’. It took it all from me today.
I made it to the lean-to just before dark at about 8:15. When I got to the lean-to, I was hoping to sleep inside since it’s supposed to fit 8 and my tent was wet from last night. There were already 3 NOBOs spread out including one who set up his tent. I set my tent up and allowed it to dry while I took off my wet shoes and got water. It was almost 10 by the time I got done eating—well past hiker midnight.
Day 4, 7/20, Hiker Hut, Rangely, 1.8
The long day and late night were well worth it. I was left with a very easy Nero of less than 2 miles to Rangely. I slept in until 6:30. It was a perfect night, just cool enough to need my quilt covering me and low enough humidity that my stuff dried out quite a bit (but not completely).
I made it to the Hiker Hut which is an off-grid hostel only 0.3 miles from the trail. I was at the hostel by 9 with everything completely dried out by 10, showered by 10:30, and in town by 11 to do laundry and resupply. I’ll have all afternoon to relax.
EFG
“3 foot blast zone”. You kill me.🤣
I really might have had you been in the zone.