Appalachian Trail Journal: Entering Maine

I still had a few rough miles of New Hampshire to hike through when I left Gorham, particularly the Wildcat Mountain peaks. Wildcat Mountain is home to a ski area and a gondola brings tourists and hikers up during the summer. They say you can see the Atlantic Ocean on a clear day, just like on Mount Washington. However, just like Mount Washington, all I saw was the inside of a cloud.

I was focused on Maine, but it took almost two days to get there. It was a major feeling of satisfaction when I arrived at the Maine border. I was under the mistaken notion that Maine would be easier than New Hampshire (and it is overall), but the first 100 miles of Maine contain some rough terrain, including the worst (or most fun, depending your perspective) single mile of the trail. It's called the Mahoosuc Notch, and it is a mile-long gorge of enormous boulders, taking about three to four hours to navigate through.

As soon as I entered Mahoosuc Notch I felt the temperature almost instantly drop about 15 degrees. The only other time I had experienced such a rapid temperature drop was when I walked down into a swollen stream one night in Virginia, but I didn't hear any water. I soon found out why the temperature had dropped, though. As I aimed my headlamp (I was hiking at night) down between the voids in the boulders I could see large amounts of ice and hard-packed snow. I was not expecting that since it was mid-July and I was only at about 2,500 feet in elevation. The steepness of the gorge and the below-grade voids slowed the melting process considerably. I imagine that some of it never melts.

Climbing through the boulders was a challenge. At times I had to take my pack off and push it through first because the route was not big enough for me and my pack to fit through at the same time. Some of the boulders were as big as houses, and at times I was completely under them, almost as if in a cave. I spent about four hours in the Notch, cooking dinner halfway through. All in all, it was fun.

Only 281.4 miles to go from this point.

After camping for the night, I made my way up Mahoosuc Arm, a notoriously difficult uphill climb that leads to Mt. Speck. It was just as rough as anything in New Hampshire, and it often required both hands and both feet. My trekking poles were stored away for that section.

On Friday night, July 22nd, I stayed at the Pine Ellis Hostel in Andover, Maine. It was eight miles from the trail, but a nice elderly lady stopped and gave me a ride for the last four miles. I ran into some people at the hostel that I had seen before, and met a few others that I hadn't. They included a recently retired Army helicopter pilot who will be attending culinary school when he finishes the trail. I also met a friendly Berliner, whose English skills weren't as good as other Germans I had met. He explained that he was raised in East Germany and had been required to learn Russian all through school. The Berlin Wall didn't fall until he was in his early 20's. The hostel was run by a couple of kind elderly ladies and it was a nice night away from the trail.

The next few days were a little easier, but still time-consuming. The numerous rocks and exposed roots prevented any sort of rhythmic stride. The scenery was beautiful though and I passed by many lakes and ponds. I was looking forward to arriving in Rangely, Maine since my final pair of trail runners were waiting for me at the Post office there. My third pair was falling apart and I already had to patch them in several spots.

A sample of a Maine pond.

And a sample of a Maine view.

I arrived at the trailhead outside of Rangely on Sunday morning, after walking through rain most of the previous day. It was a nine mile walk to town, but after walking a half mile with my thumb out I was picked up by a young, vacationing couple from Arlington, VA. They had just spent one night backpacking in the mountains and were fascinated to hear what it's like to spend months on the trail.

Rangely is a nice town surrounded by lakes and mountains. It's a little on the tourist side, but not overwhelmingly so. I ate at a local restaurant and stopped by the local outfitter for a few supplies. It being Sunday I couldn't pick up my new shoes at the Post Office yet, so I headed to the Farmhouse Inn hostel, located a mile outside of town. It had been highly recommended by some southbounders who I had met in Andover.

The Farmhouse Inn was just that, an old 18th century farmhouse. It was run by a couple who had four polite young children, two of their own and two adopted from overseas. I ran into three or four people who I had met previously and met some new southbounders. One was a preacher from Texas who felt "called" to the trail. There was also a hippy couple who lived in a modified old "short bus" when they weren't on the trail. It was parked outside. I also met a Scottish guy from the Isle of Skye who started the trail three weeks after finding out about it.

I took a zero day in Rangely, picked up my shoes from the post office, and bought some shoe "Goop" in town to reinforce the known weak areas before I started wearing them. I let them dry overnight and wore them on the trail today. So far, so good. The trail went back over 4,000 feet to the top of Saddleback Mountain and a few other nearby peaks. The rest of the country might be suffering a heat wave, but I had on a jacket and gloves on this morning while facing stuff winds on top of those peaks.