2178.3 miles.
WE MADE IT!!!!!!!
Monday, August 10, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
August 9: Rainbow Lake, ME
2152.0 miles.
Holy smokes. So close to the end.
I oscillate hourly between feeling thrilled -we're about to accomplish the greatest goal we've ever set for ourselves, and heartbroken -this great journey is coming to an end.
We're camped on the shore of Rainbow Lake, one of the hundreds of pristine, still lakes in the wilderness of Maine. Last night we feel asleep to the haunting call of the loons, we woke up this morning to the sound of absolute quiet.
We pushed ahead the last few days, setting ourselves up to do an unprecedented easy two ten mile days before summiting Katahdin. Alas, in typical T&A fashion, we're now thinking, 'oh, well why not just do one more 20 mile day and summit tomorrow?' That's been our m.o. the whole trip -push ourselves to the limit so we can take a break later, then skip that break later and keep pushing.
There's no right or wrong way to do this trail, and our way got us this far. But, if I were going to do it again, I think I'd take six months instead of five to complete it -more days off, fewer miles each day, more afternoons hanging out by a lake or on a summit or in our tent listening to the rain, more moments to pause and enjoy the beauty along the way.
Though we've had no shortage of beautiful moments. Yesterday a few hours before sunset, we were following a stream uphill and came upon a wide, shallow lake where a moose was feeding. She was in the middle of the bog, head under water for 15 seconds at a time eating huge gobs of whatever grows at the bottom of bogs. She saw us sitting there watching her and kept right on eating undisturbed. What a beautiful sight. A few weeks ago Tom and I came to the top of a hill and into a clearing, and a little fuzzy dog trotted up to our feet. When it heard Tom's voice, it bolted into the grass and disappeared. It was a coyote pup, probably just a few weeks old. Three days ago I watched a bear walking through the woods. It didn't see me and was headed right in my direction. I let it get pretty close -about 30 feet or so from me, then let it know I was there, at which point it wheeled around on its hind legs and barreled back into the woods. I almost wish I had just let it walk by me -but then some people do get eaten by bears here and there, even the shy black ones.
I'm not trying to say that I want to move in with a den of wild animals, live naked and never return to civilization, just that it's beautiful out here. We're surrounded by quiet, simple, breathtaking beauty. And I'll miss it.
Holy smokes. So close to the end.
I oscillate hourly between feeling thrilled -we're about to accomplish the greatest goal we've ever set for ourselves, and heartbroken -this great journey is coming to an end.
We're camped on the shore of Rainbow Lake, one of the hundreds of pristine, still lakes in the wilderness of Maine. Last night we feel asleep to the haunting call of the loons, we woke up this morning to the sound of absolute quiet.
We pushed ahead the last few days, setting ourselves up to do an unprecedented easy two ten mile days before summiting Katahdin. Alas, in typical T&A fashion, we're now thinking, 'oh, well why not just do one more 20 mile day and summit tomorrow?' That's been our m.o. the whole trip -push ourselves to the limit so we can take a break later, then skip that break later and keep pushing.
There's no right or wrong way to do this trail, and our way got us this far. But, if I were going to do it again, I think I'd take six months instead of five to complete it -more days off, fewer miles each day, more afternoons hanging out by a lake or on a summit or in our tent listening to the rain, more moments to pause and enjoy the beauty along the way.
Though we've had no shortage of beautiful moments. Yesterday a few hours before sunset, we were following a stream uphill and came upon a wide, shallow lake where a moose was feeding. She was in the middle of the bog, head under water for 15 seconds at a time eating huge gobs of whatever grows at the bottom of bogs. She saw us sitting there watching her and kept right on eating undisturbed. What a beautiful sight. A few weeks ago Tom and I came to the top of a hill and into a clearing, and a little fuzzy dog trotted up to our feet. When it heard Tom's voice, it bolted into the grass and disappeared. It was a coyote pup, probably just a few weeks old. Three days ago I watched a bear walking through the woods. It didn't see me and was headed right in my direction. I let it get pretty close -about 30 feet or so from me, then let it know I was there, at which point it wheeled around on its hind legs and barreled back into the woods. I almost wish I had just let it walk by me -but then some people do get eaten by bears here and there, even the shy black ones.
I'm not trying to say that I want to move in with a den of wild animals, live naked and never return to civilization, just that it's beautiful out here. We're surrounded by quiet, simple, breathtaking beauty. And I'll miss it.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
August 5: Gulf Hagas Mtn., ME
2100.6 miles.
I am exhausted. I don't think I've ever been so worn out in my life.
We've entered the 100 miles wilderness, less than 80 miles to go to Katahdin, and we're giving it our all. The miracle of it is, tomorrow I'll wake up and my legs will move. I know that even as beat as I am right now, I'll sleep, and in the morning I'll stand up and walk, and enjoy -yes, still, enjoy- hiking through these mountains another day.
I am exhausted. I don't think I've ever been so worn out in my life.
We've entered the 100 miles wilderness, less than 80 miles to go to Katahdin, and we're giving it our all. The miracle of it is, tomorrow I'll wake up and my legs will move. I know that even as beat as I am right now, I'll sleep, and in the morning I'll stand up and walk, and enjoy -yes, still, enjoy- hiking through these mountains another day.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
August 2: Bald Mtn. Brook, ME
2041.6 miles.
Whew! A 19 miles day through the mud of Maine is no easy thing. And we're dragging poor Ben Ranz along through it all. He's come to join us for a few days on the trail going from Stratton to Monson, and he's hanging in there like a champ -actually, I think he's doing a lot better than we are.
With just 130 miles to go we can practically smell the finish line, and we've been pushing ourselves to the max to get there on August 11th -five months from the day we started. Looks like we'll make it, but there will be no breaks for us until we reach Katahdin.
Only nine days left of this great journey. I'm starting to get nostalgic before it's even over. I know how much I'll miss this life, its simplicity and ease, the beauty of the wilderness, and the one enormous challenge before us each day -to keep on walking.
Whew! A 19 miles day through the mud of Maine is no easy thing. And we're dragging poor Ben Ranz along through it all. He's come to join us for a few days on the trail going from Stratton to Monson, and he's hanging in there like a champ -actually, I think he's doing a lot better than we are.
With just 130 miles to go we can practically smell the finish line, and we've been pushing ourselves to the max to get there on August 11th -five months from the day we started. Looks like we'll make it, but there will be no breaks for us until we reach Katahdin.
Only nine days left of this great journey. I'm starting to get nostalgic before it's even over. I know how much I'll miss this life, its simplicity and ease, the beauty of the wilderness, and the one enormous challenge before us each day -to keep on walking.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
August 1: Pierce Pond, ME
2023.1
I met Tom Sullivan eight years ago today and loved him instantly.
He's everything I could ask for in a partner -caring, adventuresome, generous, capable, hardworking, good looking, and fun. I feel at ease when he's in sight. I miss him when he's not. Just want to tell the world how grateful I am to have him in my life.
I met Tom Sullivan eight years ago today and loved him instantly.
He's everything I could ask for in a partner -caring, adventuresome, generous, capable, hardworking, good looking, and fun. I feel at ease when he's in sight. I miss him when he's not. Just want to tell the world how grateful I am to have him in my life.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
July 25: Baldpate Mtn, MAINE!!!!
1915.5 miles.
Well, the first 20 miles of Maine have proven to be just as torturous, maybe even harder than the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Talking to mom the other day I mentioned how much more difficult the trail is up here -really nothing like the rest of the AT. She asked what I meant -how is it hard?
Until we got to this part I couldn't envision why it would be so tough either. Today I thought of a way to visualize it -even better actually, a way to let our friends experience the trail for themselves. So, here it is: a re-creation of the AT in southern Maine during the wettest summer on record. You'll need a staircase, but most of you can do this at home.
First, fill a wheelbarrow with dirt. Get out the garden hose and make that dirt into mud. Pour the mud down the stair case, and fill up a few tubs with mud, too. Place those on the stairs in such a way that you couldn't possibly avoid stepping in them. Next, find some big, cumbersome objects -a dish washer or a copy machine maybe- and place those on the stairs (they may tip over, that's fine). Then grab some canned goods, broom handles, rolling pins, cookie sheets, whatever is on hand in the kitchen. Toss those down the steps. Now bring the hose inside, lay the nozzle at the top of the stairs, and turn it on.
Okay, you've got your own personal Appalachian Trail, and you're ready for hiking. Starting at the bottom, go up the stairs, up and over the cumbersome things, through the mud and running water, around the obstacles. Mind you don't slip or catch your foot on something. When you reach the top, turn around and go back down. Repeat for ten hours.
That's pretty much what we did today.
Well, the first 20 miles of Maine have proven to be just as torturous, maybe even harder than the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Talking to mom the other day I mentioned how much more difficult the trail is up here -really nothing like the rest of the AT. She asked what I meant -how is it hard?
Until we got to this part I couldn't envision why it would be so tough either. Today I thought of a way to visualize it -even better actually, a way to let our friends experience the trail for themselves. So, here it is: a re-creation of the AT in southern Maine during the wettest summer on record. You'll need a staircase, but most of you can do this at home.
First, fill a wheelbarrow with dirt. Get out the garden hose and make that dirt into mud. Pour the mud down the stair case, and fill up a few tubs with mud, too. Place those on the stairs in such a way that you couldn't possibly avoid stepping in them. Next, find some big, cumbersome objects -a dish washer or a copy machine maybe- and place those on the stairs (they may tip over, that's fine). Then grab some canned goods, broom handles, rolling pins, cookie sheets, whatever is on hand in the kitchen. Toss those down the steps. Now bring the hose inside, lay the nozzle at the top of the stairs, and turn it on.
Okay, you've got your own personal Appalachian Trail, and you're ready for hiking. Starting at the bottom, go up the stairs, up and over the cumbersome things, through the mud and running water, around the obstacles. Mind you don't slip or catch your foot on something. When you reach the top, turn around and go back down. Repeat for ten hours.
That's pretty much what we did today.
Friday, July 24, 2009
July 24: Cascade Mtn., NH
1887.3 miles.
Took a serious writing haitus there -almost made it through New Hampshire without stopping to reflect. Due in part to losing our book a week ago (got it back yesterday through a small series of miracles and kind people), but mostly it was those big and bad White Mountains that had us spellbound and -day after day- plain freakin exhausted.
What a phenomenal place the Whites are. We dropped our pace to 15 or 10 or sometimes 8 miles a day so we could take it all in, take the side trails to the lonely summits, take our time ascending and descending the long, sheer slabs of stone that stood between us and a reasonably secure place to stop and catch our breath. Everyone said this place would be a hard hike -I had no idea they were serious, that "hard hike" would apply to us, too. We've crossed hundreds of mountains, walked over 1800 miles, and are in the best shape of our lives. I thought, "how hard could it be?"
Hard. Awesomely, agonizingly, beautifully, hard.
And now, the Whites behind us, we'll walk into Maine today. For months people we encountered along the trail and in towns have asked us where we're headed. "Maine," we've always replied -confidence growing in that response with every state line we crossed. I guess we'll have to be a little more specific from here on out.
Took a serious writing haitus there -almost made it through New Hampshire without stopping to reflect. Due in part to losing our book a week ago (got it back yesterday through a small series of miracles and kind people), but mostly it was those big and bad White Mountains that had us spellbound and -day after day- plain freakin exhausted.
What a phenomenal place the Whites are. We dropped our pace to 15 or 10 or sometimes 8 miles a day so we could take it all in, take the side trails to the lonely summits, take our time ascending and descending the long, sheer slabs of stone that stood between us and a reasonably secure place to stop and catch our breath. Everyone said this place would be a hard hike -I had no idea they were serious, that "hard hike" would apply to us, too. We've crossed hundreds of mountains, walked over 1800 miles, and are in the best shape of our lives. I thought, "how hard could it be?"
Hard. Awesomely, agonizingly, beautifully, hard.
And now, the Whites behind us, we'll walk into Maine today. For months people we encountered along the trail and in towns have asked us where we're headed. "Maine," we've always replied -confidence growing in that response with every state line we crossed. I guess we'll have to be a little more specific from here on out.
Monday, July 20, 2009
July 20: Gorham, NH
1859.0 miles
Whoa.
These mountains are HUGE.
We've heard about the White Mountains of New Hampshire since we began this trek. People on the trail talk about them like some mythical beast that's gonna eat you. You hear things along the way like, "oh man, this is the steepest climb on the trail -except for the Whites of course." Or, "dude, the rocks in Pennsylvania are the worst! Except for the rocks in the Whites. Those are actually the worst." Or, "you think this is tough, wait until you get to the Whites."
It's no joke. These hills are bigger than life. And we are right in the middle of them.
Yesterday we summitted Mt. Washington, the second highest peak on the trail, and the location of -as the sign at the base of the mountains puts it- the worst weather in America. Sure enough. It was crazy up there. The peaks here are well above tree line, and there was no refuge from the 80 to 100 mile an hour winds whipping us sideways. One wrong step and you could easily break an ankle, so at times I scrambled across the jagged boulders on all fours. The clouds were so thick we could barely see 20 feet. And that was a nice day up there we hear.
Coming down Washington, we followed the rocky ridge of the Presidential peaks for 15 miles or so, said hello to Mr. Adams, TJ, and James Madison, then ducked back down into the trees, sad to lose the spectacular 360 views, but a little glad to be back on the familiar trails of mud and roots and rocks. That was some tough walking up there.
People ask us all the time what our favorite part of the trail has been. This is it. Right here. Rugged, agonizing on the knees, and hard to breathe, you'd have to be crazy to drag yourself up these hills. But I love every beautiful bit of it.
Whoa.
These mountains are HUGE.
We've heard about the White Mountains of New Hampshire since we began this trek. People on the trail talk about them like some mythical beast that's gonna eat you. You hear things along the way like, "oh man, this is the steepest climb on the trail -except for the Whites of course." Or, "dude, the rocks in Pennsylvania are the worst! Except for the rocks in the Whites. Those are actually the worst." Or, "you think this is tough, wait until you get to the Whites."
It's no joke. These hills are bigger than life. And we are right in the middle of them.
Yesterday we summitted Mt. Washington, the second highest peak on the trail, and the location of -as the sign at the base of the mountains puts it- the worst weather in America. Sure enough. It was crazy up there. The peaks here are well above tree line, and there was no refuge from the 80 to 100 mile an hour winds whipping us sideways. One wrong step and you could easily break an ankle, so at times I scrambled across the jagged boulders on all fours. The clouds were so thick we could barely see 20 feet. And that was a nice day up there we hear.
Coming down Washington, we followed the rocky ridge of the Presidential peaks for 15 miles or so, said hello to Mr. Adams, TJ, and James Madison, then ducked back down into the trees, sad to lose the spectacular 360 views, but a little glad to be back on the familiar trails of mud and roots and rocks. That was some tough walking up there.
People ask us all the time what our favorite part of the trail has been. This is it. Right here. Rugged, agonizing on the knees, and hard to breathe, you'd have to be crazy to drag yourself up these hills. But I love every beautiful bit of it.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
500 miles to go!!
With five hundred miles to go it finally feels as if we are approaching an end to this journey. We are now in Vermont only two states left after this one, New Hampshire and Maine, and then back to...more work, play, family and food that is already hydrated. Just a few pictures to document our journey.
Yes! Bears! in a zoo on the AT at Bear Mountain in NY.
Our first swim in a long time.
Boy did it feel good. This was at Upper Goose pond in Massachusetts.
Anna on Upper Goose pond.
Sunfish pond in New Jersey.
Always a helpful sign on the AT.
Always Hungry!
Yes! Bears! in a zoo on the AT at Bear Mountain in NY.
This was on Mombash Mountain in NY, if you look really hard you'll see the NYC skyline. We went to NYC for two days and hung out with our PC Bolivia friends Kates, Evan and Anna O.
Anna O., Anna B and Kates in Brooklyn.
Our first swim in a long time.Boy did it feel good. This was at Upper Goose pond in Massachusetts.Anna on Upper Goose pond.Snack time, PB and whatever it'll go on.
Into Vermont!
Haven't spotted one yet but here's a moose track.
Sometimes we fall down.
Hiking buddy
Another hiking buddy.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
July 4: Story Spring Shelter, VT
1619.5 miles.
Happy Birthday America!
Another messy, muddy, rainy day to celebrate our life of independence.
Sick of the rain and pretty exhausted from hiking 20 some miles a day for over a month, we pinned our hopes on Vermont and the beautiful Green Mountains to cheer us up.
Well, apparently it rains in Vermont, too.
No matter, we're excited to be here, just two more states and 550 miles from our destination. These mountains are beautiful -full of fir trees and lakes, bear and moose tracks everywhere. Sure it's rained 8 inches in the last three days, the trail is a sloppy mud pit, and our tent is growing a few varieties of mold, but Leah is coming up to meet us tomorrow to hike with us for a week, and the radio says there's a chance of sunshine this afternoon!
Rain or shine, onward we march in our pursuit of happiness.
Happy Birthday America!
Another messy, muddy, rainy day to celebrate our life of independence.
Sick of the rain and pretty exhausted from hiking 20 some miles a day for over a month, we pinned our hopes on Vermont and the beautiful Green Mountains to cheer us up.
Well, apparently it rains in Vermont, too.
No matter, we're excited to be here, just two more states and 550 miles from our destination. These mountains are beautiful -full of fir trees and lakes, bear and moose tracks everywhere. Sure it's rained 8 inches in the last three days, the trail is a sloppy mud pit, and our tent is growing a few varieties of mold, but Leah is coming up to meet us tomorrow to hike with us for a week, and the radio says there's a chance of sunshine this afternoon!
Rain or shine, onward we march in our pursuit of happiness.
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