My Thru Hike

Katahdin is a behemoth of a mountain.  You get several glimpses of it along the trail, but it is not until the AT crosses Abol Bridge that you see it in all its glory.  Rather than being buried in the middle of a mountain range, this tower of granite rises right out of the flatland.

Mount Katahdin is actually composed of several peaks, the tallest being Baxter Peak, at 5,267 feet elevation. This is the tallest mountain in Maine and also serves as the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail.  We owe the wild, unspoiled state of the mountain to a man named Percival Baxter.  Percival was apparently not a fan of the auto road and hamburger stand on top of New Hampshire’s Mount Washington.  When he deeded the 9-square mile land parcel containing Mount Katahdin to the State of Maine, he stipulated that the land “shall forever be used for public park and recreational purposes, shall be forever left in the natural wild state, shall forever be kept as a sanctuary for wild beasts and birds, that no road or ways for motor vehicles shall hereafter ever be constructed thereon or therein.”  Amen to that.  Distrustful of government management, Baxter fought to keep the land out of the hands of the feds (as a national park) as well as Maine’s Department of Conservation that administrates the other state parks in Maine.  Today, the mountain is the centerpiece of Baxter State Park which is managed independently by the Baxter State Park Authority.

The Baxter State Park Authority completely runs the show in the park.  A few years back, thru hikers were getting out of hand on Katahdin, for example, carting alcohol to the summit and having “celebrations”.  The Park Authority has since made it clear to the thru hiker community and the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, that thru hikers need to clean up their act and respect the mountain, (considered to be sacred ground by Native Americans,) or they can find a new terminus for the AT.  In nearly every hostel and other hiker venue up and down the trail, there are posters reminding thru hikers to be respectful on Katahdin.  I consider it a privilege to hike this mountain, so I take no issue with the Park Authority’s stance.  I found the park rangers in Baxter to be extremely courteous and helpful.

The final hurdle before reaching Katahdin is Maine’s 100-Mile Wilderness.  This section of trail is a relatively remote section of the AT with limited resupply options.  It is possible to pay someone to do a food drop, but I elected to push straight through in five days.  It was a little intimidating to arrive at this warning sign, with only five days’ worth of food in my pack.

Looking in hindsight, I did underestimate the difficulty to complete this section.  As a north-bounder,  the narrative you hear is that the Wilderness is relatively flat with only two mountains, Chairback Mountain and White Cap Mountain.  Furthermore, you are told that these mountains are “not that tough” and that the southbounders are only complaining about them because they don’t yet have their trail legs.  It turns out that Chairback and White Cap are just two of a total of the nine peaks that the AT crosses in the Wilderness’s Central Longfellow Mountain Range.  While the elevations were lower (less than 3700 feet), these mountains had some steep, technical climbs.  I successfully pushed through in five days, but it was a long slog.  I started every day early and, on three out of the five days, finished my day’s hike using my headlamp.

After the first fifty miles of the 100-Mile Wilderness, the remainder really is flat, featuring an abundance of streams, swamps, ponds, and lakes.  Some of the flat sections were gloriously smooth and a dream to hike.  Other parts had lots of rocks and roots, so I was never sure which I was going to get.

In most of the flat areas of the 100-Mile Wilderness, the trail runs parallel to some water feature.  Here is a small sample of the lakes and streams I encountered, the names of which I have mostly forgotten.

One of the swamps I passed, called Fourth Mountain Bog, contains some unusual and endangered plants.  One of these is the carnivorous Purple Pitcher Plant which gets some of its nutrients by capturing insects within its “pitchers”.

Most of the rivers and streams in the Wilderness do not have bridges.  Where it was not possible to cross by “rock-hopping”, it was necessary to ford.  In order to maintain dry feet, my technique was to remove my shoes and socks, then cross wearing my crocs.  Fortunately, the water levels were low and I never had to ford any water more than knee-depth.

A big incentive to complete the 100-Mile Wilderness was that my brother, Rich, and his wife, Deb were meeting me at the end at Abol Bridge.  Rich and Deb had rented a cabin near Baxter State Park, so I would be done camping in the woods.  While Deb described the cabin as “rustic”, it sat right on the shore of a lake, and I could not have asked for anything nicer.

The next day, with Deb serving as our shuttle service, Rich and I hiked the level 10-mile section from Abol Bridge to the foot of Mount Katahdin in Baxter State Park.  While enjoying perfect hiking weather, we passed more rivers and ponds, and got to observe some waterfowl.

The day had finally arrived to climb Mount Katahdin.  This would be the end of my thru hike.  I had persuaded Rich to join me for my final climb.  Ten years my senior and without his trail legs, Rich was somewhat reluctant, but I told him, “No worries.  You’ll be fine.”  We got up early and were at the trailhead shortly after sunrise.  The weather forecast was good, meaning no chance of storms on the mountain.

The climb up Katahdin is strenuous, with 4,000 feet of elevation gain.  The trail to the top covers five miles, but most of the elevation gain occurs over the middle three miles.  We had the good fortune that the mountain was fogged in during our ascent, so we didn’t have to climb with the sun beating down on us.  After the gradual first mile of the trail, up we went.  By about the twentieth rock scramble or cliff climb, Rich was crying foul, alternately badmouthing the Native Americans who named the mountain, and me for talking him into this endeavor.  In truth, my brother did great, although he did say that if the mountain was one foot taller he was not sure he would have made it to the top.

After over five hours of climbing, we reached the summit.  By that time, the clouds were breaking up so we were able to enjoy some views down the mountain.

After resting and taking some photos, it was time to head down the mountain.  My thru hike was over.  All that was left was to get safely down the mountain and back to the car.  Fortunately, with gravity on our side, getting down was much easier than climbing up.  I confess that Rich and I would not have gotten a lot of style points for the many times we slid down rock faces on our butts.  While the “butt-slide” might not look graceful, it is the safest way by far, and I always follow the W.W.N.D. (What Would Nancy Do) principle on the trail.

Above the tree line, beautiful alpine plants were starting to show early signs of Fall.

Other flora and fauna…

My Thru Hike by the Numbers

164 – Total days to complete the trail (5 months and 11 days)
103 – Nights spent in my tent
22 – Nights spent in a shelter
18 – Nights spent in a hostel
13 – Nights spent in a hotel
7 – Nights stayed with family
20 – Most nights in a row sleeping in my tent
32 – Number of nights I “stealth camped”
12 – Number of “zeros” (days off)
13.4 – Average miles hiked per day
14.4 – Average miles hiked per day, excluding days off
464,500 – Total elevation gain for entire trail
3,056 – Average elevation gain per day,  excluding days off
3 – Number of pairs of hiking shoes
3 – Number of pairs of socks used (still no holes!)
1 – Number of Bic lighters used
26 – Pounds of weight I lost on the trail (I left home at 177 lbs and returned home at 151 lbs)
23 – New birds to add to Randy’s lifetime list

My Thru Hike Q & A

Since finishing my hike, I have been asked many questions.  Here are some of the most common questions with my answers.

Q.  Will leaving the trail and getting back to regular life be a big adjustment?
A.  I don’t think it will be a huge adjustment.  At least, I hope not.  I had a good life before leaving on the trail and I am happy to get back to it.  Probably the biggest change will be going from my single-minded focus on the trail to having lots of irons in the fire.  I think I will have to reacquire some patience for all life’s little annoyances, of which I felt almost none on the trail.  As an example, I find myself getting antsy waiting in line the post office or a restaurant.  On the trail, I never waited on anyone or anything.  Physically, I think that gaining the weight back in a healthy way is going to be a long process.  I thought that getting back into running might be easy with my slimmer body.  What I am finding is that running is difficult since it uses different muscles and that I have lost a lot of muscle mass.

Q.  What was the hardest section of the trail?
A.  In terms of pure physical exertion, New Hampshire was the most difficult.  However, every section of the trail had its own challenges, whether it be hot weather, cold weather, rain, insects, monotony, scarcity of water, rocks, roots, mud – you name it.  Some of my hardest days were in Pennsylvania where the terrain was flat.

Q.  What was my favorite state?
A.  Maine.  Incredible scenery.  Good trail conditions.  Cool towns.  Nice people.

Q.  What did I learn out on the trail?
A.  Well, probably not as much as I should have.  You know what they say about teaching an old dog new tricks.  For me, there were no life-changing revelations.  Probably my biggest take-away from the trail is that there is a certain satisfaction to living simply and that having more “stuff” does not make you happier.  I think I already knew this, but the trail really drives this home.  I did not have many “luxury items” on the trail.  As examples, I drank my coffee black instead of carrying creamer and I used my clothing bag in lieu of an inflatable pillow.  The items in my pack were carefully selected for their utility and reliability.  Anything that was not getting regular use (except first aid items) was a burden and an annoyance, so it got sent home or discarded.  Returning home, I am resolved to reduce the clutter and own less things, keeping only those carefully-selected possessions that bring me joy.  Also, I can now say that I am an experienced backpacker.  As I headed out for the AT, I had not backpacked but once or twice since high school.  Today, if I was getting ready to take a backpacking trip, I would know exactly what to take and could be packed in an hour or two.

Q.  Did I make new friends while on the trail?
A.  I learned the trail names and became familiar with many folks on the trail, but I did not make any new lifelong friends.  Early on the trail, 95% of the people I would meet I would never see again simply because we were hiking at a different pace.  This gradually changed as I got further north.  By New England, I was still meeting new people, but would keeping running into a familiar cast of characters who were hiking at a similar pace.  Since other hikers would sometimes chose different rest days, I might not see someone for a week or two, then they would pop up again in my “bubble”.  On the day I climbed Katahdin, I knew the names of the majority of the other 20 or so thru hikers that summitted that day.  Lifelong friendships typically happen on the trail when people band together to hike in groups for long parts of the trail.  Members of these “groups” typically don’t hike together during the day, but will camp together and congregate in the evenings.  I would say that while the majority of thru hikers start solo, most will join up with a group for at least part of the trail.  I did not join a group for two reasons.  First, the list of people with which I want to spend every day is pretty short.  In fact, Nancy is the only one on that list.  Secondly, on the trail, I was looking for the freedom that comes with making all my own decisions, (when to take a day off, where to resupply, where to camp, and so forth,) and to own the outcomes of those decisions.  I would save the team-building and teamwork for when I got back to work.

Q.  What were my biggest surprises about the trail?
A.  One surprise was how cold it was in the South.  I almost didn’t pack my puffy coat, which I would end up using all the way up the trail.  Because the trail starts in Georgia, I was expecting the weather to be mild when I started in April.  I found out that it can get pretty cold in early April in the Georgia Mountains.  There were several mornings that it dropped into the twenties.  Another surprise was that I would be pretty busy on the trail.  I never liked knocking off from hiking until at least 5:30 or 6:00 PM in order to get in as many miles as possible.   By the time I would pitch my tent, fetch/filter water, cook, eat dinner, and brush my teeth, it was usually 8 PM or later.  Then I would be in my tent for the night.  While most hikers start their days early, they try to get lots of sleep.  In the evenings, they are likely to be in their tents by about 8 PM, usually reading or on their phones for a time before turning off their headlamps.   On the trail, 9 PM has the nickname “hiker midnight”.

Q.  Did I ever get homesick on the trail?
A.  Although I missed my family, I was not often homesick.  The fact that I was always “busy” helped in this regard.  The times when I missed home the most were on holidays (Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day) when I would be sitting on the side of a mountain somewhere and thinking about how my friends and family must be having some kind of get-together.

Q.  Did I mind camping by myself?
A.  Although I was not keen to stealth camp by myself for days on end, I did not mind it once in a while.  It could be very peaceful.  Also, I became an expert at sniffing out stealth spots with cell service, so I would be able to call or text with folks at home.  I was not lonely, afraid of the dark, or afraid of bears.  Okay, maybe a little afraid of bears…  My worst nightmare was that some night I would look through the screen of my tent and see a bear looking back at me.

Q.  Was it exciting to finish the trail or did you have mixed emotions?
A.  By the time I reached Katahdin, I was pretty content to finish my hike, so I felt no great remorse.  That said, in some ways, the end of my hike on Katahdin was a little anticlimactic.  An analogy I would make is that it is similar to a wedding or other big event.  You plan the event for months and months, but at the end of the night, all that is left is to do is to pack up your car and go home.  Similarly, after enjoying the view from on top of Katahdin and snapping a few photos, my epic journey was over, and all that was left was to hike down the mountain and head for home.

Q.  What is your next big adventure?
A.  I have nothing planned for now.  It is highly unlikely that I will do another thru hike.  The Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) and the Continental Divide Trail (CDT), the other two long hikes which make up the US “triple crown”, don’t have any particular draw for me.  At some point, I would like to do some easier, medium-length hikes like the Camino de Santiago where Nancy would be able to accompany me.  Also, there are some shorter trails, like the 215-mile John Muir Trail, that I would like to hike some day.

Final Thoughts

Like Bilbo Baggins, I have made it “there, and back again.”   I have returned safely home from my big adventure to my comfortable hobbit hole, hopefully wiser and more confident.  Having completed the trail, I have fulfilled the requirements to be an Appalachian Trail “2,000-miler”.  The Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC) recognizes hikers who have “made an honest effort to walk the entire Trail—as a thru-hiker or in sections, while sequence, direction, length of time, or whether you carried a pack are not considered.”  Different hikers take different approaches.  “Hike your own hike” is the motto.  I took the simplest possible approach.  Each day, I strapped on my pack and hiked north.

I thank everyone who has taken the time to follow my blog.  Writing this blog was a nice diversion for me on the trail.  Nancy and Shelby would often tell me that someone or other was enjoying reading my blog.  These words of encouragement inspired me to strive to take my best pictures and to do my best writing.  I hope you have enjoyed it!

Since the Smoky Mountains, I would frequently run into two brothers thru hiking north.  I found them to be stand up guys in their approach to their hike and I enjoyed their company.  At Harpers Ferry, I was surprised to learn that the younger brother was getting off trail because he was not finding opportunities to “give back”.  I often think what a terribly sad day that must have been for both brothers, one heading home on the Amtrak, the other heading out on the trail alone.  I would later learn that the younger brother was joining the military.

Clearly, if you are looking to give back, a thru hike is not the place.  On the contrary, thru hiking is a relatively selfish endeavor requiring everyone else to make sacrifices for you, especially your family.

Most people are very kind to thru hikers.  I remember one day heading up the trail from Newfound Gap in the Smokies on a cold, rainy day.  A guy coming down the trail said to me, “Do you have everything you need?”  Somewhat taken aback, I answered, “Huh?  Yeah, I’m good.” to which he replied, “If not, I have lots of stuff in my truck down in the parking lot.”  I was just not accustomed to such kindness from a total stranger.  It took me a while to get adjusted to the idea that when people offered help or gifts, they did so out of the goodness of their hearts, and were happy for you to accept their assistance.

All this brings me to the subject of gratitude.  I am most grateful to my family who have supported my endeavor from the get-go.  Not only have they picked up the slack for me at home, they have traveled many miles to visit me and even hike with me on the trail.

Out on the trail, I am most grateful for the gifts of nature which provide continuous inspiration.  A couple of those “gifts” are the squirrels and chipmunks who have provided entertainment all along the trail.

One of my favorite TED Talks, given by a monk, is on the subject of gratefulness.  If interested, you can find the full talk here, but I will try to summarize.  First, he argues that people are happy because they are grateful, and not the other way around.  Secondly, he advises that we should “Stop, Look, and Go.”  Slow down our lives to observe those things for which you are thankful, then take action to improve our lot.

When I watched this talk the other day to see if it still resonated, I found it to be very relevant to the trail.  Two examples of people taking action are the “trail angels” and the folks doing trail maintenance.

Trail angels are people that provide “trail magic” to hikers.  Sometimes they come in the form of organized groups like hiking clubs or church ministries, but often they are one or a handful of individuals.  Occasionally, the trail magic is anonymous, like a cooler of drinks or box of donuts left along the trail.  Motivations to be a trail angel vary.  For some, it is a fun outing with their group.  For others, it is a way to stay connected with the trail community.  The common denominator is that it brings them satisfaction.  Here is just a small sampling of the trail angels and trail magic I have encountered on the trail.

I am also grateful for the countless volunteers that work to maintain and improve the Appalachian Trail.  The maintenance of over 2000 miles of trail is a gargantuan task.  I find it amazing how a  collection of regional hiking clubs, loosely coordinated by the ATC, are getting the job done.  It is an example of how many, many people taking action and doing their part, can make miracles happen.

There is some trail maintenance that is a walk in the park.  Literally.  I met three senior citizen women in Shenandoah with rakes and shovels slung over their shoulders, walking the trail and clearing debris from the water dams.  Much of the trail work, however, is hard physical labor.  For starters, the workers must cart their tools (crowbars, shovels, pickaxes, etc.) miles down the trail to the work location.  The most serious trail work entails digging rocks out of the mountainside, then carrying, levering, or dragging them into position on the trail, sometimes using come-alongs or portable cranes.  One trail worker described the job as “groveling in the mud”.  Based on the appearance of their work clothes, that sounded about right.

If you don’t think trail-building is hard work, have a look at these two guys.  The one on the right is the crew leader, who obviously leads by example.

Many of the volunteer trail workers are senior citizens.  When you talk to them, they usually make some self-deprecating comment like, “It gets me out of the house.” or “It’s an excuse to get out in the woods.”  Here are some other trail workers in action.

I benefitted from the accomplishments of many, many Eagle Scout projects along the trail, for which I am thankful.  These would be identified by plaques in bridges, walkways, and other structures.

The idea of “Stop-Look-Go” also seems applicable to process of thru hiking. Stop – Slow down and don’t become fixated on just “making miles”.  Look – Observe all the wonders of nature along the trail, as well as the experiencing the towns.  Go – Put on your pack and get moving.

On the subject of “getting moving”, I thank my brother-in-law, Phil, for introducing me to a series of books by C. S. Forester known as the Hornblower saga.  The books detail the exploits of a fictional early 19th-century seaman named Horatio Hornblower as he works his way up from midshipmen to fleet admiral.  He succeeds through ingenuity and daring, but also through preparedness and taking action.  If the wind was not blowing, Hornblower would be busy readying his ship to sail.  When the wind blew, he would set sail without delay.  Figuratively speaking, I have tried, (not always successfully), to apply this idea in my personal and work life.  On the trail, when it is rainy, I get packed up and ready to go.  When the rain lets up, I get rolling.

I was not always grateful for the rain and fog, especially in May, which was one of the wettest on record in Virginia.  However, it did provide more plentiful water sources, and those foggy mornings would showcase the spider webs.  Here is my spider web gallery.

I have gone by the trail name “Bilbo” since the early part of my hike and I feel like it has served me well.  It is relatively easy to remember as most people have heard of The Hobbit.  Most other hikers don’t grasp the symbolism, that is, of Bilbo being the mild mannered, respectable hobbit engaged in a grand adventure, but that’s okay.  Occasionally it will “click” with someone. I met one woman who claimed to have read The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings some 15 times.  She said she would think about Bilbo almost every day when she encountered some challenge on the trail.  One day I introduced myself to another hiker who, back home, was a truck driver from Baltimore.  This guy, who looked anything but the bookish type, said The Hobbit was the first book that he ever read that turned him into a reader.  That, I would say, is high praise indeed for J. R. R. Tolkien.

I have yet to meet him, but there is another thru hiker on the trail going by the trail name “Bombadil”, based on the character Tom Bombadil from Lord of the Rings.  This character was left out of the movie, which some folks were very unhappy about.  From what I have heard, hiker Bombadil complains bitterly about this to anyone who will listen. 

Some flora and fauna from the trail…

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In northern New Hampshire, I ran into a section hiker heading south.  He told me, “Maine is going to be good to you.”  Now having completed the first 166 miles of Maine’s 281 miles of the trail, I can say he was right.  While the trails in southern Maine were strenuous, nowhere on the AT have I had better trails, prettier scenery, friendlier towns, or more favorable weather.

Reaching Maine and hitting the 2000-mile mark were big milestones for me.  I had reached Maine after a long day of hiking.  New Hampshire was relentless to the last mile.  Going into the day, I knew I had to do 5,400 feet of elevation gain in just 14 miles, but I was in “Maine or bust” mode.  By the time I reached the border, I was dog tired.  I was not going to include my picture at the border crossing on the basis that I appeared thin (down to 146 pounds at my last weigh-in) and looked “rode hard and hung up wet”.  My daughter and editor, Shelby, overruled, so for full disclosure, here it is.

During my first day in Maine, I passed through Mahoosuc Notch, which has the reputation of being the “toughest mile of the AT”.  The trail passes through a jumble of large boulders which have tumbled down, over many millennia, from the cliffs overhanging the notch.  I did not find it very difficult, but it was tedious at times, (like crawling on my hands and knees under the boulders, dragging my pack behind.)

After the notch, I hiked up the “Mahoosuc Arm” which is just a long strip of exposed rock path that goes up the mountain.  The arm serves as a reminder that you are really hiking on rock domes covered by only around six to twelve inches of dirt.  One of the reasons that the spruce and fir trees dominate is that they require very little soil to flourish.

Not far past the notch, I came to Baldpate Mountain.  While I had never heard of this mountain before, it would become one of my favorite climbs on the trail.  To reach the summit, one just follows the rock cairns up the rock face.  It is not so steep that you need to worry about falling.  It is just a fun climb with amazing views all the way.

This was the first of many amazing mountains I would climb in Maine which I had never heard of before reaching the state.  This would be a recurring theme.  In Maine, the treeline is only at about 4,000 feet, so there are great 360-degree views from many of the mountaintops.  I took many photos from these mountains, but unfortunately the pictures don’t capture the experience.

The Appalachian Trail passes through the High Peaks region of Maine which contains 8 of 14 of Maine’s official 4,000 footer mountains.  Of these 4k peaks, the AT crests Saddleback Mountain, The Horn, Spaulding Mountain, South Crocker Mountain, and North Crocker Mountain.

Climbing up Saddleback Mountain on a Saturday evening, I couldn’t help thinking about how isolated I was from the rest of the world.  Back home, my friends and family would be eating dinner, tuning into the Reds, watching college football, or doing other such regular activities.  And here I was, like a fly on a piece of rock.

The AT then takes a zig and zag to pick up the Bigelow Mountain range.  I did a lot of climbing in the Bigelows, summitting “The Horns” (North and South Peaks), West Peak, Avery Peak, and Little Bigelow Mountain, but was awarded with amazing views.  While in the Bigelows, I camped at the nicely-maintained Horns Pond Campsite.

Maine is full of streams and lakes, so availability of drinking water is never an issue.  Because there hasn’t been much rain lately, I been able to cross almost all streams by hopping rock to rock.  Only two times have I had to remove my socks and wade barefoot in my crocs.  At the Kennhebec River, the ATC provides a free ferry service to make the river crossing since it is not safe to wade across.

Many of the campsites in Maine are situated by lakes (or “ponds” as they seem to like to call them in Maine,) which provide opportunities to view sunrises and sunsets.  It is also a chance to see loons.  I have only seen one loon so far, but I hear them every night that I camp near a lake.

One nice thing about New Hampshire and Maine has been the availability of full-service hostels, which have been scarce from New Jersey to Vermont.  The towns up here are very small, so the hostels are probably a welcome addition to their economy.  Also, there are more hikers in the area to support these businesses.

At this point, hikers at the hostels are all business.  The mornings are getting cooler, the days are getting shorter, and there are signs that the leaves are beginning to turn.  All of this creates a sense of urgency to finish our journey.  Hikers spend most of their time resting, reading their guidebooks, figuring out their resupply, and planning the next leg of their hike.  In Gorham, NH, (pop. 2,848) I stayed at a hostel called The Barn Hostel.  It was a pretty rustic setup with all the bunks upstairs and the common area downstairs.

In Maine, the towns got even smaller.  I visited the towns of Andover (pop. 821), Rangeley (pop. 1,168), Caratunk (pop. 69), and Monson (pop. 686).

I hitched into Rangeley to eat some town food and to resupply.  The town is known as a fly fishing mecca.  It is also somewhat of a geographic anomaly.  There is sign in town stating that Rangeley is halfway between the equator and the North Pole.  Also, as I pointed out to several residents, the town is built on an isthmus between Rangeley Lake and Haley Pond.  The locals seemed oblivious to this “fact” and seemed to have no clue as to what is an isthmus.  So maybe it’s really not an isthmus, but it’s close enough for me.

In Caratunk, I stayed at the Caratunk House B&B.  The owner told me that when all his beds are full, the population of the town goes up by a third.  I mailed home some extra gear from the Caratunk Post Office which only is open weekdays from 2-4 PM.  When I mentioned this to Nancy, she pointed out that this would be a good place to work.

Monson is the last town before the 100-mile wilderness, so it is a natural place for hikers to stop to rest and resupply.  I stayed there at a hostel called The Lakeshore House which sits right on the main drag but backs up to Lake Hebron.  The town is extremely picturesque.  Everywhere you look, you see a scene that belongs on a post card or jigsaw puzzle box.

In Monson, you will find the Appalachian Trail Visitor Center.  The people that work at the visitor center were extremely helpful.  They could answer any questions on the trail conditions in the 100-mile wilderness as well as help with the logistics for getting up and down Mount Katahdin.

The trails in Maine are maintained by the Maine Appalachian Trail Club or MATC.  This organization does a great job of keeping the trails in good shape.  Their signage is excellent.  The MATC always places a sign to mark the top of a mountain.  Somehow, I really appreciate seeing the sign after finishing a long climb.  I always get a kick out of the Yankee ingenuity the MATC folks employee for their ladders and bridges.

If I thought myself a mountaineer for having hiked the AT, that notion was quickly dispelled when I met a guy with the license plate “GRIDIOT” handing out trail magic.   He explained how he and other likeminded peak-baggers are into hiking “grids”.  For example, there are 48 4k elevation mountains in New Hampshire.  To complete the grid, you must hike each of these mountains in every month of the year.  There is no time limit.  For the New Hampshire grid, this means 48×12 which multiplies out to 576 summits.  He has completed this feat (along with about 80 other people), hence the reason for the “576” sticker on his truck.

I was able to get some better pictures of the Spruce Grouse, both male and female.  These birds don’t seem very afraid of people, which makes them easy to photograph.

Other flora and fauna…

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