The last and final state. Then that was it. In just ten days I would be on top of Katahdin, celebrating my Triple Crown. But Maine proved to be a lot harder than I expected.

I felt joyous leaving Gorham, New Hampshire. The hardest section on this trail was over and soon we would be crossing into Maine, our final state of this trail. And although it was supposed to rain in the afternoon, the sun was shining as we hitched out of town.

We were all excited to be doing big miles again, and our schedule had us set up for doing at least 30+ miles per day.

But, like so many times before, we had to adjust our schedule once again.

Southern part of Maine

Just like New Hampshire, southern Maine offered steep climbs, giant rocks instead of trail, wet and misty weather as well as boglands. For the most part, I felt like Bambi on ice trying to make my way across the slippery rocks. But unlike New Hampshire, southern Maine offered iron bars for support to get up the massive rock.

Although there were wooden planks placed strategically in boglands, they did little to keep me out of the muddy water. More than a handful of times I found myself knee deep in mud. I had gotten new shoes in Manchester Center, less than 200 miles back, but the mud and razor-sharp rocks had ripped big holes in them.

Wanting to call it quits

It was around 6.30 pm when Mugwort and I – another thru-hiker that joined us for a couple of days – reached the Full Goose Shelter. The day had been slow going, and this was the last shelter before Mahoosuc Notch, the most notorious mile on the entire trail. If we continued on, we would most likely be hiking it in the dark.

Sitting down at the edge of the floor of the shelter, I looked down on my muddy shoes and wet feet. More than twice, they had been at the bottom of the bogs. And I knew that once I stood up, my wet shorts would leave a dark spot where I was sitting. I was cold, wet and exhausted.

The shelter was almost full, and staying the night crammed with other hikers didn’t appeal to me. However, changing into dry clothes and taking on Mahoosuc Notch in full daylight with new energy, did.

When Tang and Chipotle arrived, they were in good spirits and wanted to keep going. As we hiked out, Chipotle offered his sympathy.

– If Terminator wants to call it quits at 6.30 pm, then it must be really bad.

A primitive cry

Not long after, I slipped on a log. It wasn’t a bad fall, nor painful. It was just a fall. But it was one too many that day. Filled with a million emotions that needed an escape, I let out a loud cry while exhaling and inhaling at the same time. It sounded like a strange, wounded animal giving off a primitive cry.  

Too exhausted and too ashamed of not being able to cope with the whole situation, I stayed quiet. Rather than trying to explain myself or make any excuses, I decided to just keep going. The others did the same.

Not until we got to Mahoosuc Notch did we all speak again.

Slowest mile on the AT

Mahoosuc Notch is jumble of boulders at the bottom of a deep cleft. It involves more boulder-hopping and climbing through narrow passages than actual hiking.

– It might be a good idea to put away your poles. You’re going to need both hands when you’re climbing the boulders.

Having done this section before, Chipotle knew what he was talking about. Problem was, my poles wouldn’t collapse, which meant I would have to carry them. And if they broke or if I dropped them, I wouldn’t be able to pitch my tent. Which meant I wouldn’t have any shelter. And on top of everything, it would soon be dark.

Not an ideal situation.

It took us about an hour and a half to get through the 0,8 mile section. Despite having to take my pack off on several occasions to crawl through narrow boulders, I managed to keep my poles and could pitch my tent for a sound night’s sleep.

Keeping the pace

Even though we were out of the Whites, our pace remained unchanged. With the terrain so far, our schedule to make it to Katahdin in ten days suddenly seemed farfetched.

– It’s 10 am and we’ve only done 7 miles.

When Tang and Chipotle caught up with me at a busy parking lot, I felt discouraged. Despite an early start, the morning had been slow going. The plan was to hike 29 miles and then hitch into town    
the following morning. Now we were reconsidering only hiking another nine miles and getting a shuttle into town.

I didn’t like the fact that we weren’t able to do the miles we’d set out to do, but I was in desperate need of new shoes. And no one had to twist my arm to get into town for a cold beer and pizza earlier than planned.

Change of shoes

Once in Rangeley, I visited the local outdoor shop. I’ve worn Altras on all my thru-hikes, but there was no way my current ones would last the last 200 miles. It was a big gamble switching shoes. But since there wasn’t enough time to order new ones online for pick up, I had to try out Topos instead.

The first day back on trail, they felt fine. The terrain had finally become easier again and we were able to move at a higher pace. But after that first day, my new shoes started to give me problems. We still faced a lot of elevation, and every time I hiked downhill the shoes were digging into the outer side of my feet.

The terrain might have gotten better, but I was still moving slow because of constant stopping to adjust the shoes. Eventually I had no choice but to take out my scissors and cut the part off that dug into my feet.

They never fit me as well as the Altras, but with my own modification I could at least move without pain and constant stopping for adjustment.  

Crossing Kennebec River

Maine has a few big river crossings, some with strong currents and some were you face a waterfall when you turn your head to the side. But the biggest one requires a ferry (which is just a small motorboat fitting two people and the person driving the boat).

When doing the schedule for Maine, we’d considered the river crossing at Kennebec River. The ferry operates between 9 am and 2 pm every day, and if we wouldn’t want to lose a whole afternoon of hiking, we would have to get there before 2 pm.

Although we were making good time for the ferry, we knew we could face a long queue since the boat only took two people at a time. And having just caught up with a group of guys at a river crossing right before Kennebec, we decided to sprint to the ferry.

Just like old times

The sprint paid off and we were able to relax for a couple of hours at Sterling Inn before hiking out again. Chipotle had decided to stay the night and then get a ride from there to Shaw’s Hiker Hostel – our very last town stop.

Hiking out from Sterling Inn felt like old times when it was just Tang and I. The trail was cruisy and we got in to camp early. Getting into camp early meant we could have an early start the next morning and aim for the 2 pm shuttle that would take us to the hostel.

Turned out it was a good thing we did. About an hour before getting to the road, where the shuttle was picking us up, the rain started to really pour down. Like so many other times before on this trail, we looked like drenched cats waiting on the side of the road before we were picked up.

The rain kept coming down like crazy for the rest of the afternoon, and once again I was overjoyed at having a roof above my head.

Entering the 100-mile wilderness

Going northbound, the 100-mile wilderness is the last 100 miles before finishing at Mt. Katahdin. Before entering, there’s a sign saying one should not enter unless one has at least 10 days of food and are fully equipped.

We planned on doing this section in 3 days.

The 100-mile wilderness isn’t actually as remote or wild as it used to be. We saw both cars and received our very last trail magic in this section. One concern we did have however, was the river crossings. Because of the heavy rain the day before, the water lever was significantly higher than normal.

River crossings with strong currents and high water levels are probably the most dangerous part of any trail, and should be taken lightly. Before letting us hike out, the hostel manager warned us about the river crossings, and informed us about possible reroutes.

As we approached our first crossing, we talked to hikers going southbound who had crossed it and decided to try and cross rather than do the reroute. By staying together, moving sideways and unbuckling our hip belt, we made it safely through all of the river crossings in the wilderness.

Meatball sandwich and chocolate brownies

Like so many other times before on this trail, I found myself running low on food. My appetite had, to say the least, been unreliable since the start. I’d had difficulty estimating how much food to carry for each section, and once again I found myself rationing my food items.

But like they say, the trail provides.

On our second day, about an hour before our planned campsite for the night, I passed a pick-up truck next to a road. It had a big tent set up next to it with a few people under it.

If it’s one thing you can’t be on trail, it’s shy.

– You guys doing trail magic?

Next thing I knew, I had the most wonderful meatball sandwich resting on my lap while sitting on a chair. On the ground stood a beer and next to me was a chocolate brownie waiting to be dessert. Chipotle and Tang soon caught up, and we found out that the guy giving us the trail magic had done the trail three times. He continued telling stories about what the trail and equipment used to be like. Just like the ghost of Christmas past, he was a thru-hiker of AT past.

As fascinated as I was over the fact that someone would choose to do this trail three times, it was time to get going. It would soon be dark, and we still had another three miles to go. Soon we also heard the familiar sound of rain drops against the tent.

As we were the last hikers for the day, we were offered a bunch of brownies to take with us. Knowing that I might be running low on food, I made sure to grab a few extra.

Rain and sunshine

It didn’t take long before the ponchos were taken out of our packs and the headlights were switched on. By the time we’ve gotten to the campsite, it was pouring rain. Still full of our meatball sandwich and brownies, at least we didn’t have to worry about dinner.

Like so many other times before, I pitched my tent in the dark and pouring rain. I knew my shoes, socks and tent would be soaked in the morning, but I didn’t mind. Laying in my tent I listened to the soothing sound of raindrops hitting the tent, savoring the fact that it was my second last night on trail.

Eager to keep going, we decided to get up at 4 am and hike out in the dark.

Around 10 am I stopped on top of a cliff with a gorgeous view. The sun was shining, and it was the perfect setting for having a chocolate brownie. All morning other hikers had congratulated me for getting this far and being almost done. I felt good.

A glimpse of Mt. Katahdin

– Good morning! Enjoying the sunshine?

A group of day hikers appeared from the opposite direction. Having adopted the annoying hiker habit of spreading my stuff wide and far to dry up, I tried to gather them as best as I could.

It was funny how it was the 100-mile wilderness, yet I seemed to have encountered more people on this section than any other on the AT. But I couldn’t welcome it more. All of the encouragement and congratulations definitely fueled me and kept my spirits up. And this group did not disappoint.

While asking questions about my hike and the AT, they gave me Twizzlers, fruit and water.

– You know that’s Katahdin, right?

One of the men in the group spoke up. Being an oblivious person – and especially on trail – I obviously didn’t know that.

After some more chatting, the friendly hikers said goodbye, wished me luck and I left me on my own. Watching the mountain, I felt like Frodo and Sam in Lord of the Rings when they reached Mordor. Except Katahdin looked magnificent and inviting.

And tomorrow I would be on top of it.