Week 18- Khatadin
Wednesday- Friday On September 27th, 2017, I made my ascend up Baxter Peak and summited Mount Khatadin. Despite the dreary forecast, the sky was blue and every view was in clear sight. The moments leading up to the summit are a blur. I must have gone into that state of consciousness where you have completely transcended into LaLa land, but can still walk and function (kind of like my graduation walk). I came to and was all of the sudden starring at this big brown plaque of wood with white letters carved into it. I immediately grabbed the sign, gave it a big hug and kiss, and turned around to take my summit photos. Afterward, I walked over to the final Baxter Peak cairon next to the Knife's Edge, a beautiful but treacherously thin blue blazed trail leading away from Baxter Peak, and sat down.
I gazed across the landscape, let out a big sigh and was overcome with a feeling of complete satisfaction with myself. I had made it!
All of the work, all of the money, all of the time and effort had paid off. It took me four months, six days, and 1,700M of crazy adventuring to make it to the top of the world, but I had made it, and the view was incredible. I had just followed my buddy Wolfdog passed the last blaze toward the epic Khatadin sign. He stood in front of it and broke down into tears. This was the end of the road for him. He had been out here since March 19th (almost two months longer than myself) and had seen four seasons come to pass as he traveled the trail. It was a long road, but he was here. The adventure was over.
I was overjoyed when I stood in front of the iconic mile marker, but no tears came. I was in a different mindset. Remember, this is not the end for me. I am attempting a flipflop hike and still have 470M to hike before I finish at Springer in the South. It will be different not hiking with Wolfdog, and there are many challenging climbs still left ahead of me, but after seeing that sign on top of Mount K, I am assured that I can do anything, no matter how hard or impossible the feat seems.
The days leading up to Mount Khatadin were not easy, but they were some of the most beautiful and memorable days I have had on trail. We hit the last town we would be stopping at before reaching the end on Wednesday. Monson, ME was crawling with hikers, apprehensive about the 100 mile wilderness resupply, but eager to reach Khatadin. We stayed at Shaws, a local hostel famous for being everyone's last stay before the end. It was run by a couple named Hippie Chick and Poet. Poet was originally a high school English teacher in Florida before moving to Maine permanently to run the hiker hostel. He recited me a Haiku as a parting gift (apparently a signature move of his) before he dropped me off at the trail head. I can't remember it word for word, but it was something about drinking from the cup of life and getting drunk off of its contents. I recall the puzzled look on his face when I started chucking at the irony of the subject of his poem for me, but didn't bother with explaining the reason I was laughing.
When he dropped me off at the trailhead, it was almost 11AM. This was a terribly late start for a 15M day, but I had to wait in Monson until 9:30 for the post office to open so I could pick up a package before heading into the woods. Wolfdog had headed out earlier that morning and I was to meet him at the shelter that night. Entering the 100 was surreal. I couldn't believe I was there. The colors of Fall across the ridge lines and the many streams and mini waterfalls I passed in those first few miles made the experience absolutely enchanting.
It was hot and humid which is not typical of Maine in late September, and my pack was incredibly heavy with a six-day food resupply in it, but the end being so near kept me energized and in high spirits. The next day was muggy and full of elevation. We climbed over 4,000 ft. by the end of our 17M day, and we're both ravenous and exhausted by the time we hit camp. I scarfed my usual ramen noodle and instant mashed potato dinner down and hit the sleeping bag around 8. Then disaster struck!
I woke up at about 2AM feeling sweaty and nauseous. I got up to go the bathroom once, twice, then a third time. By 3AM, I was throwing up anything that wasn't coming out the other end. The violent vomiting and diarrhea continued until the sun came up, and by the early morning, I was extremely weak and dehydrated. This was NOT good! I was in bad shape, and I couldn't have been in a worse spot to be in that shape. We were about 36M into the Wilderness, no where near any kind of civilization. When Wolfdog came over to check on me, I could barely move. I had fever and chills coming on at this point and was beyond struggling to get up and pack up my stuff. After about twenty minutes into trying to pack, I just plopped down into my tent and started bawling. How was I going to hike today if I could barely bend over to pack my bag without puking? How was I going to get to help? How was I going to keep on schedule with this delay if and when I did get help? I think I was too weak to panic and just sat there shivering and upset instead. Then, like it always does, the trail provided a miracle. A thru hiker named Nugget, who had camped at our campsite with us, had a girlfriend who was slack packing him through the 100. She had driven her car to the nearest road (about .4M away) and stayed with him the night before. Wolfdog asked her if she'd take me to town so I could get help and she said "yes" without hesitation. She had originally planned to drive ahead to Jo-Mary Road to meet up with Nugget again the next day. I offered to buy us a hotel room stay if she would be kind enough to hang tight for a half day and drive back to the 100 with me the following morning. She accepted the offer and drove me out of there. I was saved! One hour and two "pull-over!" episodes later, we made it back to Shaws. They were packed, but we managed to get a private room for two so I could lay down and recover. I managed to get an alka-seltzer and a few sips of Gatorade in my stomach before I laid down. I woke up with cold sweats a few times, but the more I rested, the better I felt. 18 hours later, I was showering and suiting up to go back to the 100. I was still weak, and my stomach was very sensitive, but I could walk, and that meant I could hike. Gazelle (Nugget's girlfriend) and I drove back to the 100 that morning. I had to pay $28 just so she could drive on the very secluded logging road and drop me off at the trailhead. I gave her a hug and thanked her for saving my life, then turned and started to slowly waddle down the trail. I was meeting Wolfdog at a shelter about 8M from the road and made it there around two. I set up my tent and passed out immediately. I was still pretty weak, but felt better after the walk. By the next day I was at about 85%. We did 18.5M over mostly flat terrain and got our first view of the Big K. It was from a 15M vantage point and it just looked magical. By Tuesday, we made it to Abol Bridge, the official end of the 100M wilderness which is 10M from the base of Khatadin.
We camped at Abol Bridge, just outside of Baxter State Park, with a few other thru hikers and got a killer camp spot with a perfect view of the mountain. I remember everyone trying to set up their stuff and just periodically getting caught in a stare at Khatadin. At 5,200 ft., it was towering over us like a giant Appalachian god. We couldn't keep our eyes off its splendor. That evening we grilled a smorgasbord of hotdogs and beanie weenies we bought at the small camp store down the road.
Chef, Warden, Ludo, Fernalicious, Wolfdog and I all ate our last supper together as Big K watched over us. The conversations we had at that picnic table were full of reminiscent stories about the trail behind us and exciting thoughts about the small bit of trail ahead. You could tell everyone was feeling a little bittersweet about the end, both happy and sad to see it go. We sat and waited for the stars to come out and started pointing out all the constellations we all knew. We even saw a shooting star go by and took it as a good omen for our summit day to come. The next morning, we enjoyed a very sparse (by thru hiker standards) ACYE breakfast buffet at the campground clubhouse and headed into Baxter.
The park was beautiful and the trail was flat. I saw an eagle fly over during the 10M hike and enjoyed a few waterfalls along the way. We camped at Khatadin Springs campground, right at the base of the mountain and woke up to no rain. Life was good. After a very steep descend from the summit, we met Wolfdog's family and my Maine family (Jesse, Rachel and their son, Cooper) who were waiting for us at the adjacent Abol campground.
I was happy to see everyone, but also sad because I knew this was when Wolfdog and I would be parting ways for good. I held back the tears, but felt my chest get heavy when we hugged goodbye. After 1,700M together, we were like brother and sister. I told him to enjoy his couch, girlfriend, and the fried shrimp that awaited his arrival back in Charleston, and to invite me to his wedding one day. He wished me luck on the rest of my hike and said to call him if I needed anything. Then we got in our cars and drove away. I spent my last day and a half in Maine taking in some much needed R&R with the Hardie clan. I did laundry, watched TV, and got some playtime in with baby Coop.
I had Wes send the Southern portion of my guidebook to Jesse's house earlier that week and was able to finally read through it and start planning the rest of my trek. Today, I am on a plane to Charlotte, NC. My Pop is meeting me there and driving me to Damascus, VA where I will start the last leg of this epic journey. I look forward to my flop and seeing the Southern side of the trail in all of its Fall glory. Springer Moutan, I am coming for ya!
