Little Bigelow Lean-to 2021.4 to Holly Brook 2045.8 (24.4 miles, 1,020.4 total miles)
I got up at 5:45AM, and saw The Stranger had left and Second Wind was packing up. There was no sign of Sunshine to be found.
I packed up and was hiking by 7AM, with music in even before I hit the trail. I was gutted, and needed some familiar tunes to sooth me.
The day started with an easy descent to a few miles of nice flat hiking. At a logging road, I had a bar of service and texted Sunshine to see if she was okay.
A couple miles in I hit a rocky beach off Flagstaff Lake. The day was cool, sunny, and breezy. I took a short path off the trail to stand in the wind coming off the lake.
It looked like an ocean, with how big the lake was, and how choppy the water seemed. I wasn’t sure if it was the wind, or usually like that, but I saw a boat rocking heavily on the waves on the other side of shore.
Past the lake, I had two small unnamed mountains to climb. On the way down the first climb, I hit my 1,000 mile mark. I’d heard a rumor there was a mile marker somewhere, but didn’t see anything.
I’d never seen a flip flop marker before, so I made one out of sticks. It was the first one I’d ever made, and I soaked in the moment, feeling grateful for the opportunity to have accomplished so much.
I found the official marker at a snowmobile trail half a mile or so further. I took a picture with that one as well. I appreciated it was there, but I was also glad I made mine at the actual spot of 1,000 miles past where I’d started.
I was quite sad that there was no one around to celebrate with, and I tried to process my feelings while I hiked, thinking everything through.
I stopped at West Carry Pond Lean-to, 8 miles in, at 10AM. I ate a couple snacks and filtered water. I cried a little as I filtered, and tried to decide what to do with my day.
Catchup had essentially made all the itineraries for us since Gorham, NH. I was feeling upset because I’d been going slower than I’d originally wanted to in order to hike with Sunshine and him.
I saw that I was 14 miles away from the Kennebec River, which requires a ferry across. The problem was that the ferry stops rides at 2PM, and I’d have to hike 3.5 miles per hour to get there by then.
Frustrated because I’d hiked two very short days to meet up with people who’d changed the plan last minute, I knew I could have crossed much sooner.
I felt strong and like I wanted to hike my pace again. I saw in the Far Out comments that there was a woman listed who would do a ferry after hours for $45.
I considered the option. I didn’t want to pay for the trip, but also felt very claustrophobic at the idea I wouldn’t be able to cross till 9AM the next morning. The trail has no other cutoff like that anywhere I know of.
I would be hitting the shelter on the itinerary around 2PM with how fast I was hiking on level ground, and I really wasn’t in the mood to end my day that early for the third day in a row.
I saw there were stealth spots a couple miles past the shelter and shortly before the river, so I loosely planned to go there.
A couple miles past West Carry Pond Lean-to, I ran into a hiker I’d leapfrogged earlier near the 1,000 mile marker.
He introduced himself as Woods, which I thought was ironic. After Baked Potato’s original trail family kept hiking after he got Lyme, he finished the trail with two hikers named Woods and Apples.
Woods and I discussed our plans for the evening, and both of us were up in the air due to the ferry. He mentioned he’d heard about Cheryl as well, and was willing to split the $45 with someone, as it was per ride supposedly.
I told him I’d think about it and see him ahead. I was sort of waiting to hear back from Sunshine before I made a final decision about anything.
A mile later I passed East Carry Pond Beach, which was indeed a sandy beach I was sorely tempted by. However, I’d done plenty of swimming lately, and some things are just less fun when you are suddenly alone.
I put on an interesting Backpacker Radio episode about the Shenandoah Murders, and listened to that for another mile or two, until I finally found another bar of service.
I got a text from Sunshine saying that she was sorry but she’d hiked ahead last night and was going across the river today.
She also mentioned her parents were coming to meet her at Katahdin, and she was now trying to finish by the 20th or 21st, which was a week earlier than we’d planned. I noticed she didn’t invite me to change plans with her, so I could only assume she’d decided, like Catchup, to hike her own hike for the remainder.
This time I really broke down into tears. It was my third time being left behind, but for the first time it wasn’t because I couldn’t keep up or had chosen to slow down myself.
It also felt like I hadn’t gotten to make an informed decision about the miles I wanted to hike for the past two days. I’d planned everything to follow the itinerary, for what felt like no reason now.
Woods had passed by before I got that text, and I took 20 minutes to myself to breathe and try to figure out what to do.
I thoroughly respected Catchup and Sunshine’s wishes to do what was best for them and have the experience they were seeking on the trail.
I asked myself, for the first time in weeks, what I wanted to do. My brain had no hesitation in telling me that I wanted to take the ferry, resupply in Caratunk, and get to Monson ASAP.
Monson is the last real stop for those going northbound on the AT. After that is the 100 Mile Wilderness, a possible stop in Millinocket, then Katahdin.
All morning I’d been thinking about how I just wanted to be done with Maine and the northern half of my hike. I wasn’t happy with the amount of zeros I’d taken last month and this month already, and without my trail family to hike with, there was no real incentive for me to be taking my time to Katahdin.
I felt like how I often feel when I zoom through the first part of a book, only to slog through the middle because I am busy with other things. Like I’ve been reading one small part of the book forever, except this time it’s been hiking through New Hampshire and Maine.
I truly had an amazing time with Sunshine and Catchup, but maybe we’d all been holding each other back.
I hiked off, fueled by electrolytes and caffeine, switching back to music. The trail was flat and easy, and only had rocks and roots near the water sources. Some parts were good old dirt.
I kept checking my phone repeatedly for signal, and finally got one bar while I was 2 miles from the shelter that had been my original destination at 1:30.
I had Cheryl’s number memorized and dialed, hoping I had enough service. She picked up after only two rings, and said she could take me across that afternoon.
I had 5.7 miles to go, and when she asked me what time, I hesitated. I’d been hiking fast all day, but my energy sometimes waned in the afternoon.
I wanted to say 3:30, but told her 4:30-5PM, just to be safe. That hour would cost me later, but I didn’t know it yet.
I hiked fast to Pierce Pond Lean-to, up and over a small rise. I ran a couple times down the trail. When I was about a mile from the shelter, I started asking people going southbound if they’d seen the goshawk that was supposedly attacking hikers.
Everyone said they hadn’t, and one couple said that mating season was ending or over, so they’d be less aggressive. Satisfied, I turned up my music and hiked under thick overhead foliage that darkened the trail around me.
I hiked with my sunglasses on all day, as a sort of defense mechanism against my own emotions. At the shelter spur trail, I saw Woods sitting with his phone out.
His greeting to me was, “How badly are you wanting to cross the river today?”
My answer was, “I already called Cheryl.”
I told him the plan, and said I was going to run over to the shelter real quick to see if anyone else wanted to come. She’d told me it was $45 per trip, and she could take up to three hikers.
$15 sounded better than $22.50 to me, and I was pleased to find The Stranger sitting and eating a snack in the shelter.
He had previously told me he didn’t speak the best English, being a Frenchman, but he certainly understood what I was saying, and jumped up to accompany us.
While they hiked off, I made a quick stop in the privy, very glad I only spotted the palm-sized spider lurking on the wall over my right shoulder as I was leaving and not when I entered.
I filtered the rest of my water, and took off down the trail. It was only 3.7 to go, and I was on a mission.
Too quickly, I caught up to the others, and I saw them across the Pierce Pond Outlet. It took me a moment, then comprehension dawned. It was my first water fording of the trip.
I knew there were two big ones coming up in a day or two, and I’d even read a comment about this one in Far Out, but had totally forgotten.
I stripped off my shoes and socks double time, and slipped on my crocs, stuffing my socks into an outside pocket of my pack.
The water felt amazing on my feet and legs, as it went up to my knees as I walked across the 20 yards or so the outlet spanned. I held my poles in one hand to stabilize me, and my shoes in the other.
I made it across just fine, and asked Woods what you’re supposed to do if a leech attaches. He said he’d never heard of leeches, and I explained that they are little bloodsucking creatures that are apparently present on our next fording adventure.
He hiked off while I was putting my sock liners, socks, and shoes back on. That took several minutes, then I kept going.
The forest was absolutely beautiful down to the river. The trail followed Pierce Pond Stream Cascades for much of it, which I stopped at briefly twice to admire.
The rest of the trail was surrounded by mossy rocks, with red pine needles underfoot. I hiked like mad, feeling better than I had all day.
I was proud of myself, because for a lot of my trip, I’d really taken the backseat on planning. I tended to get quickly overwhelmed with making decisions on trail of where to go next and how to handle things.
This time, when I was alone again, I didn’t fall apart like I did when I dropped behind the Cult. I felt my feelings, and I honored my pain, but I also rallied in a way I was rather impressed with, as I made my own plans, and even found a couple other hikers to join me and split the expense.
I made a game out of seeing if I could catch up with The Stranger and Woods. I knew The Stranger tended to hike slower, by his own admission, and all day I’d been just a little faster than Woods, who was a NOBO maybe around my age or younger.
It didn’t really matter, because we were all taking the ferry together, but I wanted to see if I could do it.
I had a memorable moment where I almost fell into a stream because I was walking and eating fruit snacks, before I caught the Stranger about a mile out, and finally passed Woods less than half a mile to the river.
I ran down one of the last slopes, listening to Elastic Heart by Sia for the fourth time that day. It had become somewhat of a theme song for this hike, and always made me feel stronger.
I reached the shore of the Kennebec at 3:36, with Woods and The Stranger arriving just a few minutes later. The river and surrounding wildflowers were visually stunning.
Woods called Cheryl and let her know we were early. She said she would be there in half an hour, but it ended up being just under an hour by the time she paddled across the river in a canoe.
In the meantime, I mapped out my route to Monson and what I needed for a resupply. I called Shaw’s in Monson to adjust my reservation at the hostel, and phoned the Sterling Inn, who said they would give me a free shuttle to their B&B to resupply.
We watched Cheryl paddle across the river, upstream and into the wind. She was certainly a strong woman, with gray hair and a thin build.
Neither Woods or The Stranger were up for paddling, so I sat in front and had Cheryl direct me as we paddled upstream against the wind toward shore.
We were weighed down by three of us and our packs, so it felt very thrilling and nerve wracking to be up front so close to such deep water.
When we arrived at the other shore, we made our way as far up the river as we could, until rocks got in our way.
Cheryl backed us up against the rocks, and we all got out, feeling extremely stiff. The Stranger handed her $60 and refused to take Woods or my money, which I found extremely touching and very much appreciated.
We walked the .4 to the road together, and at the road Woods and The Stranger hiked on, while I phoned Sterling Inn and waited at the road for the shuttle.
As I waited, people gave me kind waves as they drove by, then a big white van pulled over. A trio of middle aged, very friendly people and their dog were inside on a rafting adventure.
The woman handed me a banana and a nectarine, and gave me a hugging meditation after they asked me if I was hiking alone, and I explained I now was.
They were so kind that I was almost disappointed when the shuttle showed up. I headed over to where Zack was waiting for me, and he drove me the mile up the road to the inn.
There was an extremely good resupply there, with everything hikers would normally buy at a Walmart, and at great prices. I got a day plus of food for $22, which I was happy with.
I ate a bag of Funyuns while I charged my phone and battery for half an hour, then took the shuttle back to trail.
It was 3 miles to a brook with stealth camping, and 6 miles to the first shelter. If I’d given Cheryl the right time originally, I could have certainly made it to the shelter.
However, it was 6PM, and I didn’t want to arrive at camp at sunset. So I climbed the steady incline to Holly Brook, still feeling strong, even 20 plus miles into my day.
It felt so good to hike my first 20 in over a month, even though I was very much helped by the easy terrain.
About a mile before the brook, I saw Stranger had found a stealth spot of his own. I arrived at camp at 6:50, which was a very nice flat spot next to the water.
I set up my tent, and organized my resupply. I was done eating and in bed by just after 8PM. I realized I’d become much more confident and efficient than I even knew before.
The strong emotions of the day had dulled a little. Though I still felt in shock at what had happened, and hurt by it, I had a lot of empathy for Catchup and Sunshine.
We all had to do what was best for us. It was hard not to take it personally, but I knew it wasn’t personal at all. It was triggering for me, but I was handling it the best I could, and hiking out my feelings was always good medicine.
I felt like since I had split off from the others, I’d experienced a lot of trail magic in a short time. From PTL doing actual trail magic, to Woods giving me a dehydrated breakfast before we crossed in the canoe, to the van people, and Stranger even covering my ferry fee.
Maybe that was the Universe’s way of saying I was in the right place at the right time, and was supported after all. It was up to me to make the best of the cards I’d been dealt, and time to get to Katahdin my way. Just like Frankie said.