About the trail legs. I have learned to read mud. Like, that mud looks really deep, but THAT mud is probably less than shin- deep. It is the little things. I am certainly not completely trail- seasoned yet, though. For example a couple of days ago I totally wiped out on a slippery log and fell flat on my tailbone (it would have been on my back if my pack weren't there) and to add insult to injury, my feet landed in the bog under the log, getting them completely drenched again. And they had Just begun to feel dry after the two days of rain we got. Also I occasionally hit myself in the face while trying to shoo flies away from my eyes. Flies are not only annoying, they are dangerous.
Anyway there have been good days- like one 21-miler we did- and bad days (like the day after the 21-miler). One interesting day of note follows.
We were feeling pretty good. It was raining, but our boots were not yet drenched. We successfully climbed a mountain and made it to the first lean-to at 2 or 3, and a combination of things made us want to continue to the next shelter ten mountainous miles away: we felt good, and a guy we don't like had already set up camp in the shelter. So we ate lunch and headed out. The rain continued. Our boots and clothing became soaked. It was getting darker and darker. The mountains were slippery and slow going and you can forget about switchbacks in Maine. I was getting worried and I could tell Connor was too because she was talking a mile a minute about random stuff. Then we scrambled over some rocks and saw our final climb of the day: Chairback Mountain. It looked like a smaller version of Katahdin. A giant pile of giant sharp wet boulders with random little white blazes as far as the eye could look up in the rapidly dimming rainy light. An expletive slipped out of my mouth.
I don't remember much of that climb except that I was in a complete panic and Connor was still talking. We made it to the top and began our tree- rooty slip-n-slide down the other side, wondering where the hell the lean-to was.
Then suddenly- We heard voices!! And we saw smoke!! We arrived at the shelter to find five boys including one who had somehow started a fire in the rain. That was one of the happiest moments of my life. One of the boys set up his hammock in the rain and the rest of the boys made a spot for us to sleep in the middle. Holy crap it was amazing. That was an 18-mile day. We made dinner and passed out.
Well anyway. I couldn't possibly describe every detail of our trip. I must mention that Maine is beautiful and full of gorgeous crystal clear lakes. Also I have discovered how much it sucks when it rains for an extended period of time. One rainy day, and I believe it was the sixth day of not having talked to my loved ones, I pretty much felt like crying all day. And I had not packed enough toilet paper for this situation. That day we finally did get cell phone service and when I was talking to Andrew I had to say, "excuse me a moment, I have to blow my nose on a leaf" but as soon as it was sunny I felt one hundred percent better. I think we hikers suffer from a disorder similar to SADD ( you know, seasonal affective something disorder, it's advertiised on tv) but Connor and I agree that we have Weather Affective Disorder, code name WAD.
Speaking of code names, we were throwing around the idea of our trail names being Ginger(Connor ) and Daywalker(me) but it never really stuck, despite being an ingenious South Park reference. But yesterday at the hostel, Shaw House, our hiker friend Brookie who happened to be the one who started the fire at the Chairback lean-to, named us Flora and Fauna.
So this is Fauna, signing off for now. Wish me luck! Over 150 miles of Maine to go!!
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