Rangeley to Monson

Penultimate musings

Day 151

My parents and I went out for breakfast before dropping me back at the trailhead. I had barely hiked an hour when I happened upon trail magic! This couple hiked in from the closest access road and were doing a full cookout at the shelter. Since I passed on the moose burgers, I had a tomato and cheese sandwich and relived my Girl Scout days roasting fantastic golden marshmallows.

The patience pays off - not a fan of burnt marshmallows myself

I saw ANOTHER moose on trail, this time a flash of movement as the startled moose ran further away into the underbrush. This occurred within 100 yards of the appropriately named Moose and Deer Creek, which made the perfect lunch spot. There used to be an Instagram hashtag called "outside pizza" where people would tag photos eating pizza in scenic outdoor places. I would recommend anyone to try carrying leftover pizza on their next adventure.

Gallon bags of leftover pizza are the move

The big feature today was hiking Saddleback Ridge. I skied here earlier this winter, and from the trail you would have no idea that this is one of the largest ski areas in Maine. I had great weather to cross the exposed alpine ridge and pick some blueberries along the way. Saddleback was not crazy difficult on the ascent, though it's hard to compare things like that after hiking so far, but it was still a bit slow going. The summit featured beautiful 360 degree views including many of the lakes Maine is known for.

Astute observers might see Rangeley Lake, the one with the island, over my shoulder

The descent down Saddleback was a bit trickier. Another hiker lingo term for you: knee-bombing is when the terrain on a descent is not conducive to using trekking poles, so all of the shock of those large steps/drops is absorbed by your knees. This descent wasn't that way for long, at least.

Doing it for the views

I stayed in Poplar Ridge shelter tonight, despite the bugs, because another rainstorm was forecasted. It was filled with equal parts NOBO and SOBO hikers, so we all swapped intel on upcoming trail sections. Turns out two of the hikers had camped out for an entire day waiting for the Carabasset River to become passable again after the most recent storm. At least my next day will only involve a moderate creek crossing.

The caretaker of Poplar Ridge shelter wrote a fascinating Q&A - 17 pages long - about the history of the trail and the shelter in this specific area as well as trail maintenance and Maine hiking more generally. He has maintained this section for 60 years, since he was a teenager.

Day 152

In my trail name story, I After a decent search in the 4 most likely places on this blog to contain my trail name story, I couldn't find it. At the risk of repeating myself, here we go.

Last year, my uncle (trail name Spiderman) thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail. When he was in Massachusetts at Mount Greylock, I joined him for a weekend. It was super cool to talk to thru-hikers in their element in the middle of their journeys. I already knew I would be hiking this season, so I figured I would be asking a lot of questions. My gesture of good faith was bringing chocolate chip cookies. It turns out "Hi, do you want a cookie?" is an excellent ice breaker, and giving out cookies is a great way to make new friends. Someone suggested the trail name Cookie. Since the origin of my name is more interesting than simply eating a lot of cookies, I kept it.

Spiderman returned the favor by visiting me on trail this year. Unfortunately, his travel and hiking journey to Maine was rather perilous and a bit delayed, so I had plenty of time to hang around the shelter this morning reading a book and catching up on journaling.

Hiking together again, but roles reversed

Spiderman and I ate lunch together and descended the rest of Saddleback Ridge. It was rather steep and included fording a stream at the bottom. Combined with his hike up Saddleback with wet rocks from overnight rain, it was not exactly the gentlest reintroduction to Maine. After consulting additional maps, Spiderman decided to change his itinerary so he could loop back to the trailhead, rather than an out-and-back, so we parted ways before dinnertime.

The smashed rowboat serves as a reminder of the power of water

My afternoon climb up the next ridge was thankfully less steep and rocky. Once on the ridge, however, the wind picked up and made it chilly if you stopped moving for long. The shelter and camp had a decent group, maybe 10 of us total, that included both thru and section hikers. We talked gear and swapped trail stories.

Day 153

The plaque commemorates the Civilian Conservation Corps who built the last section linking the AT together near this spot in 1937.

It was a chilly start to a beautiful day. The primary peaks today were the Crockers. There was a lot of day hiker traffic today, and it's sometimes hard to answer simple questions like "how's the trail ahead?" Backpackers appreciate intel on water sources. Thru hikers have different definitions of "not far" than most day hikers, and questions of difficulty, steepness, mud, rocks, roots, etc. depend on the baseline for comparison. Once someone asked me where the nearest bar was. We were on Franconia Ridge, miles into the trail - I'm not sure what exactly he was expecting to find on a mountaintop (and not even remotely close to any of the developed ski resort peaks).

The loose rock wasn't fun to walk on, but the views were great

My crossing of the Carabasset River was thankfully uneventful. There were enough large boulders and a very convenient plank of wood for me to cross with dry feet. This plank is actually attached via small steel cable to one of the boulders, and a previous commenter in FarOut said that he volunteered as tribute, so to speak, and jumped into the river to reset the plank after the recent rains.

Smiles and summits

At the parking lot, I got trail magic while I was waiting for the hostel shuttle! A local section hiker who is also the police chief was handing out donuts, beers, and sodas. I stayed at the Maine Roadhouse, the last of the hostels I visited for both skiing and on the AT. This hostel is often cited as a thru-hiker favorite. As an example, their bunks appeared to be custom-built carpentry. Thru hikers are among the adults best versed in bunkbeds, I think. These wood ones were very sturdy so they don't squeak or shake when the top occupant climbs up. Each bed had a reading light, outlet, and privacy curtains. I wore exceptionally soft Yoda pajama pants that deserved their own shout-out. For me, hiker hunger appears to be a myth as I got a pizza and only could eat 3 slices.

I think 3 mosquitoes bit me while taking this photo

Day 154

Now on the wall of fame at the Maine Roadhouse. Hostels often have a collection of thank-you's sent after hikers complete the trail, in addition to any signatures or photos collected from guests

The Bigelows are the last 4000-ft peaks until Katahdin and are often used as the divider between super tough southern Maine and "easy" or at least less climb-y northern Maine. True, the climbing wasn't as steep or as technical as the Mahoosuc Range. Given the choice, I'm not on the first shuttle out of the hostel in the morning. This and a slow ascent worked out in my favor as I was perfectly positioned to wait out a pop-up thunderstorm in a shelter midday today.

Alpine ponds are pretty frequent around here

At the shelter, I talked with the on-site caretaker (the farthest north of the managed, fee-based campsites) and another hiker. I've met this guy several times but can only remember the name of his mini Australian shepherd - she is Kebo. Honestly this problem is not new for me. I had a neighbor in Rhode Island for 3 years whose name I never learned, though her elderly pug was named Gus.

Watching the rain and eating second lunch

Luckily, the skies cleared up, so by the time I got to the summit I had fantastic 360-degree views. Plus some great blueberries along the top of the ridge.

Fantastic views from the west peak of the Bigelows

I have a minor confession to make, though to another thru-hiker it's honestly surprising that I don't do this more. I was scrambling to finish dinner and set up camp as another rainstorm passed through right as darkness fell, so I opted to sleep with my food rather than hang it properly. Unluckily for me, the wooden tent platform I was on (since Maine is full of rocks and not flat ground) appeared to have a nest of critters (mice most likely) underneath that harassed me all night long. I could hear them rustling in and around my gear. Because of the way my tent is shaped, the mesh door is right behind my head. So when a critter crawls up the mesh wall, it crawls on my head. This led to a stressful night of interrupted sleep where I was hearing and feeling things crawl around me and fearing for holes chewed into my tent and even sleeping bag, as I decided to literally HUG my food to protect it. No sir-ee, I will hang my food, thank you very much. There are enough trees around to at least do a low-quality hang, even if it takes 20 minutes and a lot of embarrassing failed throws.

A reference wooden tent platform. These can be sized large enough to fit multiple tents.

Day 155

A rare sighting - easy walking in Maine

One of the most exciting things to happen today was to find normal TRAIL in Maine. No rocks, no roots, no mud pits, and level ground. It's quite the unicorn and didn't last long. There was one peak in the morning but otherwise after descending from the Bigelows I got "easy northern Maine" trail. The rocks and roots came back quickly after the photo above, but since it was still relatively flat, I kept a marginally faster pace. This morning I saw a couple of people I knew slackpacking the Bigelows out of the Maine Roadhouse hostel: Granny Gear and PW, as well as Peroni, who was part of my original trail family and who I haven't seen since Harpers Ferry.

One of many ponds

A downside of lowland hiking is the increase in mud. Today it was constant and slick, almost like you are sliding across ice with each step. Mud can have a variety of textures, sometimes it is watery and sometimes it is thick and squelchy and sucks your shoes off of your feet. While I never fully walked through water, my feet were soaked by the end of the day. 

Pictured: a prolific blueberry bush

I think I've said this most every day for the past week, but today was a particularly great day for blueberries that tasted better than other blueberries.

Another of many ponds

The mosquitoes sadly were back at low elevations, too, not at maximum levels but maybe 3 of 5. I haven't felt like swimming in any of these ponds, partly because of logical concerns: all the comments about leeches, clothes just dried out after rain, windy and cool temperatures by the time I get to camp in the evening, and today because I needed to make miles to time the Kennebec River ferry tomorrow. I enjoyed a fantastic sunset, and I'm fairly sure a moose walked right by my camp in the middle of the night. I heard large animal movement sounds including hooves, but I didn't see a need to get out of my warm and comfy bed to go investigate for sure.

Cotton candy clouds

A quick side discussion on log books. In every shelter on the Appalachian Trail, and at some tentsites and other spots both on trail and in town, you will find a log book. These books serve several purposes. Shelter and trail maintainers can learn about issues that need addressing. Log books are a record of your passage, which hopefully never needs to be used to locate a missing person. It's a classic, old-school method of communicating with hikers behind you since even in the modern era, cell phones might not be the most effective on trail. Information about that site (e.g., go left past the first stream to find a better water source) or upcoming trail or town conditions is always welcome. FarOut comments serve this purpose, too, but where log books still win out is for entertainment. More talented artists will include sketches. People share anecdotes and stories. Sometimes scout groups or small children have funny entries. I include trivia facts. Not everyone even signs their name, but the more prolific logbook writers generally have a personal style. It can be fun to read someone's entries over time and then finally meet them. Once the spiral notebook or whatever is full, it generally goes to the trail club or perhaps the individual maintainer. As you hike along reading log books in order, it's a time capsule that will eventually be dispersed.

To save you from squinting, I'll do my best to transcribe verbatim and include [image descriptions].

"Kbo (: stoppin for lunch w/ Music Man. Beautiful day, tired legs + back! Pushing to Rangely tomorrow one way or another. SOBO."

"Log jam [stylized signature] Enjoying the hike, trying to stay dry. [music notes] log jams jam log [music notes]. Fela Kuti - Zombie [editor's note: these could be other names? Unclear]."

"Kikko here for the night! The rain is very wet. Today was hard so I'm rewarding myself with TWO count 'em TWO Snickers bars! XOXO"

"KRAFTY + SECOND CHILD"

"Wild Bay here. Love this trail log. Also lots of rain tonight."

"Reminds me of the northern half of the Long Trail, it has been wet, wet, wet! Smolder SOBO"

"Taking the long route for the views, moving mountains in my way that don't have the power to make me stay. -WW SOBO [the O's are a peace sign and a heart, respectively]"

"Warm & dry in Poplar Lean-to after a long (11 mile) and wet (trail) day. Henny SOBO [the O's are hearts]"

"First day of walking in the rain on the A.T. for me! [umbrella] STITCH [yarn ball with knitting needles] SOBO '23"

Day 156

After about 3 days of wet shoes, and this is not the first occurrence, I start to get new blisters. Considering I am guaranteed to keep wet shoes due to fording streams more days than not in Maine, the best solution I have found is duct tape. This way the adhesive can tolerate being wet. Trench foot is a serious concern for backpackers whose feet are wet for days at a time. There's no way to prevent your shoes from getting wet, but you can apply balms to your feet so that the skin soaks up less water. Hiking shoes need to be comfortable and not cause blisters when wet. Most importantly, whenever possible you let your feet air out. A 20- or 30-minute lunch break often means shoes off, and at camp and especially overnight, you need your feet to dry out as much as possible. Long-distance backpackers these days prefer lightweight trail runners. The shoes make no claims of waterproofing, but they dry out much faster than heavy boots. Waterproof coatings go both ways and slow down the drying process. Some people change shoes for water crossings, but that time adds up, and on rainy days it may be impossible to avoid wet feet.

Those logs actually formed a fairly wobbly bridge

The Kennebec River is the largest unbridged river crossing on the AT. Its dangerously unpredictable currents are caused by dam releases from multiple upstream operators, so the official trail route includes crossing here by ferry. The ferry is actually a guy with a canoe, and you the hiker are expected to paddle, too.

Kennebec River

After crossing the river, I stopped at the Sterling Inn for a light resupply and some lunch. It took me two days to finish the pizza leftovers from the Maine Roadhouse, so I opted to eat potato chips and a pint of ice cream for lunch rather than more pizza. The real treat was the free shower and laundry.

Much of today was spent paralleling a large stream, which was not good for podcast listening but had some very pretty waterfalls and cascades. It was only a few more miles after the Inn to the next shelter, next to yet another pond, but the mud and the mosquitoes were intense.

Cascading stream

Day 157

I forded two streams and crossed two peaks of note today: Pleasant Pond Mountain and Moxie Bald Mountain. The blueberries and the views were solid, the mosquitoes and the mud were not. When I say that the mosquitoes are bad, I mean that they are actively biting even when I am moving full-speed. If I'm swatting a bug that is actively biting me every minute or two, I am vastly increasing the number of distractions and therefore my chances of tripping and/or stepping in mud. If you hesitate for even a second, then three more seem to land on you. And you better squash them when you swat them or else those bugs will come right back. It's funny, the bugs in Maine like targeting the backs of my knees, but I seem to react less to the bites. Sadly, I don't think the allergy shot exposure therapy route works for bug bites, so I don't have an explanation for why I itch less compared to earlier this summer.

Beautiful day for a walk in the woods

Notably, I'm starting to feel tired and kind of ready to finish. If I didn't cognitively know that the end of the trail was close, I wonder if I would still feel this way. On the injury front, I have been so lucky to avoid both acute and chronic pain, with that one knee injury in Pennsylvania being the stand-out. Most soreness doesn't linger for me. After a decent night sleep and a brief warm-up, in the mornings I am always ready to go. Hiker hobble is the first limping steps in the morning or after sitting for a while, but with some movement the joints and muscles sort themselves out.

Say it with me, more ponds!

I shared a campsite today with a section hiker that is about a week into his final section. Most of my down time was spent darning a hole in my t-shirt. After laundry yesterday, I noticed a small hole that over the past 24 hours has turned into two small holes and one large hole. I have identical tissue thin patches on either side near my kidneys, but since it's above the hip belt and not a direct friction spot, I was a little confused why there. Nevertheless, I spent an hour and most of the remaining thread in my repair kit diligently reinforcing the shirt. This falls under the category of things that should be replaced but are being pushed to last just a bit longer.

Day 158

There's no point in expecting dry feet in Maine when fording four streams and rivers in a day. It's almost not worth rotating and getting both pairs of hiking socks wet as simply the knowledge that I have dry socks makes me feel better. The deepest one today was at the hem of my shorts, though the current wasn't too bad. I did slip on wet rock that I totally saw coming and bruised my hip, but oh well.

Maine Appalachian Trail Club is doing well with the carved wood signs

I made it to Shaw's Hiker Hostel, a legendary place on the edge of the 100 Mile Wilderness that has been serving hikers for several decades. I saw some familiar faces and many dogs and picked up my last food box. This was my opportunity to do a final gear evaluation to see what I could do without for the last week. Things that got tossed: extra Ziploc bags that I no longer needed to keep for the future, stamps (I mailed a final set of postcards), sauce packets carried for weeks without eating, and spare change. There are no superfluous pounds in my pack anymore, so yes these little details were my focus. I spent a while attempting to backflush my filter to improve the flow rate - another thing I could replace or could deal with a bit longer.

Never trust a bog log. These boards could be rotten, slick, or improperly anchored so they sink in the mud and tip up the other end. These specific ones were probably fine, though.

Next up, 100 Mile Wilderness. Happy hiking!