As quickly as we began the Mahoosuc Notch, it started to rain.

We checked out one another with grim dedication, and did our greatest to stuff our layers into our waterproof luggage, pack liners – anyplace the place we thought our insulating layers and sleeping luggage can be secure. I shoved my puffy right into a dry bag and sealed it tight in my liner, pulled on my rain jacket and pants, buried my digital camera to guard it from the rain (sorry, no footage!) and clipped on my pack.

As we proceeded into the toughest mile of the AT, we descended right into a rocky jungle health club. The notch – an area chiseled between two mountains too slim and too steep to be known as a valley – was shielded from what little solar may filter by means of the storm clouds by sheer partitions of vertical rock. As we dropped into slim caves between boulders, the temperature dropped about 10-15 levels, and our breath fogged and swirled round our faces.

As I stared down at my ft to evaluate a boulder’s slipperiness earlier than trying to leap throughout a crevasse, I observed one thing. The raindrops falling in a gradual drizzle had been now… floating.

“Y’all,” I known as out. “I’m glad we received an airbnb on the town… it’s snowing… or sleeting… both means, it’s going to get colder.”

Groans of dismay rose up from among the many car- and house-sized boulders, and we pushed on quicker, eager to outpace hypothermia. All of our “waterproof” layers had been soaked by means of, and we had been all chilled to the bone.

I used to be trying ahead to the troublesome climbs up the Mahoosuc Arm and Outdated Spec, as a result of that might get my coronary heart racing once more and convey up my physique temperature.

A Nicely-Deserved Zero

It took us 2.5 hours to traverse the well-known “hardest mile of the AT”, and we did slightly below 10 miles that day to get into Bethel. Fortunately for us, we’d been climbing with an area and part hiker, who we dubbed “Kind 2,” since she gave the impression to be having fun with Southern Maine, and she or he had a automotive ready at Grafton Notch. All of us climbed inside her automotive and turned the warmth on full blast, then took turns turning into our dry-ish garments. We had been all displaying indicators of hypothermia at that time. She took us to our Airbnb, and we took turns taking scalding showers. By the point I received into the bathe, it had been slightly below an hour since I climbed into Kind 2’s automotive. As I showered, my toes and fingers stung as they defrosted. That was the closest I ever got here to being hypothermic – on path, or ever.

It was a simple resolution to zero the following day, because the depressing rain continued. Blossom and I cooked breakfast, and I made a tragic gumbo with the few components I may discover on the town.

Once I returned to the path, the skies had been principally clear. The uncovered rock on Baldplate Mountain was nonetheless slick, which made the ascent sluggish. I used to be sluggish over the following couple days, bruised and sore from the Mahoosuc Notch and mentally + bodily exhausted from New Hampshire. I spotted that no quantity of sleep was going to treatment my exhaustion – solely reaching the tip of the path would. So I pushed on.

I did an in-and-out resupply on the subsequent city, and had a string of nights by ponds. I loved paddling out to the middle of the ponds, halfheartedly hoping I might see a moose alongside the financial institution. I didn’t see any, however I wasn’t too disillusioned – I’d take a bear encounter over a moose encounter any day.

I began averaging 15 miles a day once more, however I didn’t really feel robust like I had earlier than the Whites. I felt utterly wiped, and sore each morning. However I knew that every step, regardless of how sluggish, was taking me to Katahdin.

Making it to 2,000 Miles

Saddleback Mountain, The Horn, and Saddleback Jr. had been a few of my favourite views on path, second solely to the Franconia Ridge. Clear skies and open views prevailed till the day I made it to the two,000 mile marker.

For me, reaching this milestone felt extra like an accomplishment than making it to Maine. I sat subsequent to that marker – which somebody had embellished with a crown of fallen birch leaves – and took a break to soak all of it in. Most individuals took an image and stored climbing, and I couldn’t blame them, because it was chilly and dreary. However as I sat there within the leaves, within the mist and the rain, the enormity of what I had simply achieved broke over me. 2,000 miles. I had walked 2,000 miles. There was lower than 200 miles to Katahdin. The tip was really in sight.

I stood up, swung my pack over my again, and headed all the way down to the street. When nobody appeared on the parking space, I began climbing into city with my thumb out, resigned to including one other 3 or 4 miles to an already lengthy day. Finally, a pair locals did pull over. From there, hitching round city after which again to path was simple – and hitching all through the remainder of my journey was a easy job. While you’re on the aspect of a street in Maine along with your thumb out, individuals appear to know precisely what you’re doing – possibly they really feel the urgency of Katahdin one way or the other, too.

I nero’d out of city the following day right into a windstorm. As a lot as I cherished my hammock, the one draw back was attempting to sleep in a windstorm, as you bobbed within the air and the bushes you had been strung up between swayed. I didn’t sleep very effectively that night time because the temperature dropped and cruel wind ripped at my shelter.

By means of the Concern

I woke as much as shiny daylight, howling wind, and bone-chilling chilly. I made breakfast in my hammock, since I used to be suspended over an empty tent platform at a principally empty campsite. When it was time to go, I set out in my base layers and ran up the Bigelows.

The chilly tore at my lungs, and I felt wanting breath. I put my buff over my mouth and nostril to hopefully heat the air a bit, and slowed down. However as I slowed down, the howling wind – which was shifting moss on the base of bushes because it tried to tear them up by their roots – blew straight by means of me. I felt panic rising larger as I hiked to the uncovered summit, the place the wind actually knocked me off my ft, and my left ankle buckled as I hit the bottom, arduous. I sat on the boulder-strewn floor, surprised and bruised and scared and chilly, shivering uncontrollably.

One thing like a snarl escaped my drained lungs. “You walked 2,000 miles,” I urged myself by means of gritted tooth. “You survived the Whites, you survived the warmth wave, you probably did every thing, gave up every thing to get right here. There’s nothing this mountain can throw at you that you simply haven’t seen earlier than. Rise up.”

I checked my ankle – twisted barely, however not sprained, I hoped – then stood in a low crouch to maintain the wind from catching me off-balance once more. I noticed pink as I hiked up and over the Bigelows whereas the wind threatened to pull me off the rocky backbone of the summits, and hiked with a vengeance, pissed at how shortly a twisted ankle may finish my hike, offended with the wind and the chilly and myself for not being quicker so I may’ve averted this climate altogether. I didn’t even attempt to search for Katahdin on the horizon, which I knew I may see from the summit.

By the point I reached the shelter space, my ankle was throbbing and I used to be exhausted. I ate a freeze-dried meal, which I reserve for dangerous days on path, and clocked out earlier than the solar had absolutely set.

Harrison’s Pierce Pond Camp

The following morning was nonetheless, chilly, and quiet – like the nippiness and howling wind of yesterday had by no means existed. I flexed my ankle, and there was no ache. I swung my legs out of my hammock round 5:30, and received going at 6 with my headlamp lighting the best way.

It was my finest day on path. The path flattened out and wove by means of pine forests and alongside lakeshores. I completed climbing by 2pm with 18 miles behind me – the primary day past 15 miles that I’d had because the Whites. I made it to Harrison’s Pierce Pond Camp, an off-grid cabin run by caretaker Tim, who makes breakfast for thru-hikers for those who’re among the many fortunate few to enroll in it the day earlier than.

A gaggle of men from Massachusetts had been on the camp, staying in a couple of of the cabins, and had been in the course of a lobster boil. They known as me over, and extra of my pals as they caught up, and we proceeded to have one of the best path magic expertise on path. Lobster, salmon, clam chowder, and beer – plenty of beer, they usually urged us to drink extra together with Peach, a 2018 thru-hiker who was there to do path magic as effectively. After hanging out inside the primary home, which was full of oddities and lovely pure gentle, we stumbled up path to camp.

The New Englanders shot off fireworks on the alternative financial institution of Pierce Pond, they usually exploded immediately over the waterfall that Blossom, Candyman, and I had been tenting beside. I watched it for an hour, then rolled over and slept like a rock.

The following morning, Tim despatched us on the the Kennebec River crossing after giving us every an unlimited pile of untamed blueberry pancakes, sausage, eggs, and occasional. The stroll after the Kennebec ferry was scenic – the colours had seemingly modified in a single day. Fall was approaching. And with that, the tip was looming.

The following day was going to be a wet one. I received up at 4am to hike so far as I may earlier than it began. It held out until 7am, however when it began, it didn’t cease. There have been a number of fords that had been made trickier by the relentless rain, however I managed to maintain my socks dry by turning into camp footwear.

Into the 100 Mile

The following morning, all of our gear was nonetheless moist, and we had one objective – get into Monson. Monson, Maine. The final city earlier than Katahdin. It nearly felt like some other city day – the empty, light-weight backpack, the dreaming of city meals and showers and a heat mattress. However as we hiked nearer, the power turned jubilant, but additionally reserved. Prepared for city and all its choices. Fascinated by the final 100 miles that stood between us and our objective, the end line: Katahdin.

After which, pondering of the After. After the hike. After we climb down Katahdin – what subsequent?

I booked a room on the Lakeshore Home, a hostel located above a bar and restaurant, but additionally signed as much as pay for breakfast at Shaw’s the following morning. I needed relaxation, and I felt introspective. Shaw’s was utterly full, and I needed to have a personal second to replicate earlier than beginning the ultimate leg of my journey the following day.

I stayed up too late journaling and reflecting. I finalized some plans with my companion, who was choosing me up from Baxter State Park. At that time, my objective was September twenty seventh. I didn’t assume I may do the 100 Mile Wilderness any quicker than 7 days, and I had organized a resupply drop with my pals Blossom, Treble, Cookie Monster, and Chupacabra. I had 7 days of meals break up between my pack and the drop. I used to be decided to take my time within the 100 Mile Wilderness – to attempt to soak all of it in.

It occurred to me, abruptly, that in a means, I had failed. In these previous few hundred miles, I had didn’t be current – to benefit from the hike. And now the journey was at its finish. There was solely 100 miles left of path, after which I might be abruptly dropped again into the center of the life I’d walked away from six months in the past.

Had I been current sufficient? Had I gotten what I got here for? Have been my questions answered? These unstated questions echoed round me within the empty hostel bed room, because the radiator within the nook clicked and hummed, and different hikers shifted within the rooms round me. I spotted that it didn’t matter if I had completed what I’d got down to do. The hike was at its finish, whether or not I used to be prepared for it or not. All I may do now was take advantage of these final 7 days.

After breakfast, Poet drove us to the trailhead simply exterior of Monson. It had rained all night time, and the tires sloshed within the gravel car parking zone as we pulled up. Via-hikers poured out of the van, pulling on our rain jackets as a gradual drizzle began up once more. We placed on our packs and stood in a free circle.

“Watch out with the fords,” Poet, one of many proprietor’s of Shaw’s hostel, suggested us. “We’ve gotten heavy rain prior to now 24 hours. If the water’s something greater than hip deep, flip again and wait.” We nodded, however I don’t assume a single one in all us had been going to heed that warning. We had been seasoned thru-hikers; we knew higher, however the name of Katahdin was too robust. Poet let his warning sink in, then continued: “Your first good view of Katahdin will likely be from the highest of Whitecap Mountain, if it’s clear. It’ll be nearer than you assume.” He hesitated, then smiled knowingly.

“It’ll be nearer than you’re prepared for.”

I turned my head and seemed into the forest, into the acquainted arch the place path met bushes. What number of instances had I left a street or car parking zone and walked into the inexperienced tunnel? It was all shadows and boring fall colours now, saturated with rain, beckoning us.

“See you up path,” Poet concluded. All of us responded in variety, in reserved murmurs, as he hopped again within the van.

Then we turned, and entered the woods for the final time.