Hundred Mile Wilderness and Katahdin Summit (August 20-26)

August 20.

Hostel owner Jeff dropped me off at the trailhead this morning with a handshake and “Stay safe, Old Soul!”.  I hoisted my pack and set off into the mist.  There’s always something exciting about those first miles, leaving civilization and setting off into the wilderness once again.  By this stage in the game, that feeling tended to mellow after a few miles, but I hoped it wouldn’t wear off too quickly today.

I was headed out into the “Hundred Mile Wilderness”, the final 100 miles of the Appalachian Trail which culminated in hiking up Mount Katahdin, an impressive ultimate peak.  In my memory, the Hundred Mile Wilderness section had been a pretty section, including some easier and even flat miles.  I hoped my memories proved true!

The trail initially wound up and down small bumps in the terrain.  I was glad to be staying on my feet without any climbs so far.       

Hikers who had been dropped off later, from the other hostel in town, started to pass by me.  One hiker used a watch that kept track of his speed, and I asked him what pace he was keeping.  He said, “2.1 miles per hour.  I’m trying to keep it right below ‘torso sweat’ pace.”  I soon lost sight of him.  I must have been hiking more slowly than 2.1 miles per hour, but couldn’t work up a desire to pick up my pace.  Oh well, good to know.

I reached a stream that was flowing knee deep.  The rocks in the streambed were slick, covered in slime.  I hiked upstream to a narrower crossing spot, attempted to cross in bare feet and slipped in so that the bottom of my backpack got wet before I could stand again.  I felt like a large mammal, maybe a moose, scrambling around in the water before I could hoist myself up on my feet.  Two women were crossing downstream and were nice.  They waved up at me, as if to say that they had an eye on me, if I needed anything.  I came downstream to cross where they had crossed, this time with my sneakers on.       

The day was overcast with fine misty rains light enough to ignore.  I continued hiking along in a t-shirt.  I took a break at Long Pond Stream Lean-to and geared up for the final four miles of the day, a climb up Barren Mountain to Cloud Pond Lean-to ahead.   

I was caught off guard by how slowly I had to hike in those final miles.  Barren Mountain turned into a long series of large wet mud puddles, requiring skirting around a slanted muddy edge, stepping and just hoping you wouldn’t slip down into the mud and wet.  My legs were sore by then, and I was thirsty, having assumed that the boundless creeks crossing the trail would continue up the mountain.

I hiked down to Cloud Pond Lean-to in near dark.  I was really happy to reach the lean-to finally, pick out a campsite, and walk down to the lake for water.  I was glad to see a few tents around the shelter, and not be the only one there.  In my headlight’s glow I could see the fine mist coming down more quickly now.  It was a bit discouraging.  My backpack fabric was dark in color, having grown wet in the mist.  It would probably be wet when I shouldered it in the morning.  

I set my tent up on damp ground and hoped that it wouldn’t be rainy the next day.  Though it hadn’t been a particularly rainy hiking season, I didn’t have much patience for hiking in any more rain.

August 21.

The pines dripped raindrops onto my tent in the morning.  I ate breakfast and looked out my tent door at the white surface of the lake ahead, and the misty white sky above.  Their colors matched.  It was a calming scene, but not one that I’d choose to come out into, if I were at home, haha.  I felt my attitude had changed a bit since the start of the hike!  I leaned towards the comforts of home more than living outdoors through all weather types!  The damp, dripping forest held less allure than it once did.    

I packed up and tried to remember that I was only out for a few more days, then I’d go home, and then it might not be too long before I missed backpacking again.  Part of the challenge was that the sun hadn’t shone brightly for over a week.  I wanted to see the sun again soon.

I finished packing up, filtered water from the lake and headed out.  A fine mist fell, barely noticeable under the trees but evident whenever I hiked out over open rocks.  I didn’t like the prospect of hiking through rain and mist all day, but also admired the ever bright green mosses and spruce firs, contrasted with the red brown of roots, trunks and rich dirt.  I crossed a bog, Fourth Mountain Bog, rich with color.   

I stopped for second breakfast at a stealth site beside the trail.  The mist quickly coated everything I pulled out of my pack.  

A nice break came in the morning when I crossed paths with an Appalachian Trail Conservancy Land Steward, a young man passionate about field work and who had worked for the ATC for years, seasonally, after hiking the AT, and now had a full time position.  He seemed like the right person for that position, and was a wealth of knowledge about the area, showing me a map and mentioning the logging trucks nearby, which I had heard all morning.

I hiked into Chairback Gap Lean-to and took refuge under the roof as the mist turned to rain.  The rain slackened, then intensified to a downpour as I prepared to leave the shelter and hike on.  I waited a few more minutes until the rain slackened off again.  My spirits flagged with the rain, but there were still some “at leasts” left.  At least it wasn’t a constant rain.  

The descent from Chairback Mountain included a scramble down a rock slide.  I hated that the rocks were wet.  I didn’t remember having trouble here before, but the wet conditions introduced a new level of caution about slick surfaces.  It was frustrating to be scared of falling and have to move at a snail’s pace through another shower.  I was glad that it was a relatively short scramble.     

The rain subsided and the sun came out in the afternoon.  Seeing direct sunlight again on the trail lifted my mood completely.  It was amazing.

I stepped out onto a gravel road, Katahdin Ironworks Road, and was met with the sight of a canopy, camp chairs, and tables loaded with snacks and food.  A young family and friends waved me over and offered me their trail magic- homemade BBQ sandwiches, salad, chips, drinks, brownies.  It was so uplifting, and in combination with the sunshine, completely lifted my spirits.

Two of the trail angels had hiked the Hundred Mile Wilderness the month before and enjoyed trail magic given to them, so decided to come back and provide for other hikers, even though young and busy.  I enjoyed talking with them and sitting in a chair in the sunshine to eat.  They were really kind, and waited for me, their final hiker of the day, before starting to pack up and leaving.  

I dried some of my gear in the sunlight, then resolved to hike another six miles to the next lean-to.  Those miles along the Gulf Hagas River were smooth sailing, especially compared to the rock scrambles of earlier.  

Rain clouds gathered and rain fell once again as I reached the camping area.  It was discouraging, but I still had the hope that the next few days were forecasted to clear, which seemed more possible after the afternoon sunshine. 

August 22.

I woke and started packing up around 0530.  I had woken up ravenous at 0200 and eaten a snack bar and honeybun.  I ate a second breakfast, then started hiking.

I started hiking up the first of four peaks.  It was pleasant to consider: there were four peaks directly ahead, then I’d descend into easier, sometimes even flat hiking for the rest of the day.  I hiked up Gulf Hagas Mountain and waved at some hikers packing up at their campsites.  I felt satisfied about having gotten an early start.  Also, it wasn’t currently raining.     

The view up on the final peak, White Cap, is good on a clear day, showing Mt Katahdin ahead.  I hiked up into mist and wind.  No view, but still a reward in knowing that I was done with the final big climb of the Hundred Mile Wilderness, and the rest of the day would be mostly easy hiking.

A viewpoint part of the way down, below the mist, offered a beautiful scene of valley, lakes, multi-hued green mountains.  I was glad to see something, and mostly just glad that it looked as though the sun would come out.

All my dreams for the day came true.  The sun came out for hours, and the hiking was easier.

Dark towers of clouds loomed over Crawford Pond when I walked by in the afternoon.  Soon I heard thunder grumbles.  It became one of those exciting afternoons when I raced to the next shelter, and just barely made it into Cooper Brook Falls Lean-to as the rain thundered down on the tin roof overhead.  That shelter was particularly scenic, looking right out on a swimming hole along Cooper Brook.  A group of us sat under the roof and made ourselves comfortable, pulling out sleeping bags and drinking coffee, watching rain drops plunk into the brook for over an hour.

The sun shone again after the storm.  A few of us continued on, flying over the next 8 flat miles to Antlers Campsite.  It was pretty hiking through fresh damp forest, often passing under large pine groves.

August 23.

The morning was misty and chilly enough that a privy thermometer showed 55 degrees, and I wore a coat to start hiking.

From a view point of Katahdin over a lake, I saw the mountain base, the top half disappearing among thick white clouds.  I wondered how many hikers were climbing up Katahdin as I looked over at it.

I stopped by Nahmakanta Lake and sat at an actual picnic table to eat another snack.  I walked out to the edge of the lake where waves rolled into a beach and a steady breeze blew.  It was a moody scene with overcast clouds scattered above, fitting, I thought, for the end of a long thru hike.

The afternoon featured a hike up Nesuntabunt Mountain, a hike of about 1000’.  It was annoying to have another climb, even though it was the only significant one of the entire day.  Thoughts like these made me feel pretty good about going home soon.  My body felt physically worn out, and I didn’t feel the same patience for challenges and appreciation for the surroundings that I had felt throughout the hike.

I hiked up to another picnic table (!) at Rainbow Springs Campsite with three other hikers.  It was a nice evening, sitting around the table chatting and laughing, sharing stories about the trail and hikers we had met earlier.  We each hoped to summit Katahdin on Sunday, so would likely continue to hike around one another the next couple of days.  It was an enjoyable group of hikers, and nice to share that goal.    

August 24.

I woke around 0200 to the loud sound of loons calling out over the pond, a call and response that reminded me of coyotes howling.  It was haunting, even grating at times, and would have been jarring if I were camping alone.  I was glad I wasn’t camping alone.

I ate breakfast at the picnic table, then headed out, hiking several miles over rooty, rocky bumps to Rainbow Ledges.  The view of Katahdin from there was clear and beautiful- the clearest view of the entire mountain that I’d had yet.  

A hiker caught up with me and we chatted over the next several miles, all the way to Abol Bridge.  It was the best feeling to cross that bridge, see an even larger, clear view of Katahdin over the pretty Penobscot River below, and go into the camp store to buy food.  I sat at the picnic table with two other hikers and ate sub, chips, ice cream and sodas.  We all smiled in the sunshine.  

Sitting in the sunshine near Katahdin and eating were their own reward, but we also celebrated having arrived at the camp store and being given the final three open spots at The Birches Campsite ahead.  Katahdin lies within Baxter State Park, where hikers have to follow strict rules regarding campsites.  Northbound hikers can either camp at The Birches campsite near Katahdin, if they are lucky enough to be one of the first twelve hikers to reach the sign up sheet, or at a campground.  For many, starting the Katahdin climb from The Birches is ideal, being that it’s so close.

Our only regret was that we had taken the final three spots, so a hiker behind us would have to camp nearby at Abol Campground, and hike several miles to Katahdin tomorrow before starting that climb (as there were no campsites left that were closer to Katahdin).  I wondered if I should give my spot to him, but I also felt tired lately, and wanted tomorrow to be as easy as possible.  In the end, he was so good natured about it.  When he walked up to the picnic table, we told him the good news about all the snacks inside the camp store, then a hiker told him, “The bad news is, we took the final three spots at The Birches.”  He thought for a minute, then said, “So you mean I can stop here for today, rest, eat food, make a fire and drink a 6 pack?  All right!  Any day I can stop hiking early is a good day!!”

The three of us hiked further to where a ranger waited at a kiosk, then signed our names and continued on over several miles to The Birches Campsite.  I chose to hike the shorter Blueberry Ledges trail, which was as beautiful as I remembered- pretty stretch by white birch trees, then a waterfall gliding over granite ledges.  Some people were swimming there and one man was having a blast jumping into pools all over the place.  The water was too cold for me to swim, but I enjoyed wading. 

I hiked the final miles over another small mountain, through a pretty pine forest, and reached The Birches by late afternoon.  I ate a sub from the camp store while sitting around the fire pit with other hikers.  Often the conversation circled back around to, “I can’t believe the hike is almost over!”  Feelings varied from nostalgia to relief.  

This time around, I felt less nostalgia than relief.  I felt thankful for my time out here this summer, and also aware that my mind and body were ready to take a break from hiking all day, every day.  

August 26.

I woke to people rustling about around 0400, eager to get a start on hiking up Katahdin.  I rested a while longer, then started packing up around 0500.

I hiked down the road to the Katahdin Stream Ranger station, where the rangers had several light backpacks to choose from.  I picked one out and put a few things inside: snacks, water, raincoat.  I met another hiker who was excited about climbing up Katahdin today, smoking and smiling.  He asked me how I was feeling, being here a second time, and I laughed and told him that I was ready to be done hiking.

It was a good feeling to put nearly everything from my heavy backpack into a storage space at the ranger station, then hike towards Katahdin with a nearly empty pack.  I hiked by Katahdin Stream Campground where campers were waking and preparing their backpacks, then up a gently sloping forested trail for the next mile or so.

The other hiker passed by me with an infectious smile of anticipation.  Though I was ready to be done hiking, once I got going, I got caught up in the fun of the climb.  I reached large boulders that required maneuvering, pulling up and high stepping, took a snack break, then stowed my hiking poles in my pack to free my hands.

It was really nice to have my hands free for climbing, especially as I broke above treeline and started the open ridgeline climb towards the table plateau.  What an epic mountain and climb.  The path followed a ridgeline up the mountain that thankfully wasn’t too narrow, more of a rounded ridgeline than a narrow knife’s edge type.  The trail wove among the boulders on a sandy path at times, then scaled straight up the large sandy boulders in some places.  Occasional rebar placement offered hand and foot holds for pulling oneself up the rock.  I was beyond glad to be carrying a light pack.

Like many hikers around me, I really enjoyed this section of trail.  It was unlike any other part of the AT.  I paused many times on the climb (on those sandy patches of trail between boulders) to either take pictures of the trail itself winding up or down boulders, or the incredible landscapes surrounding.  Silver lakes dotted the land below, mountains flattened out as I started to look down at them from above, nearby mountains with rock faces appeared much closer from on high.  

I also loved that I never felt truly in danger, as the rocks were dry and rough enough to provide good traction, and the trail never passed on the edge of a boulder above a sheer drop off the mountain ridge.

I reached the top of the first climb, a plateau called the Tablelands.  It was so neat to hike through the Tablelands and up to the summit of Katahdin in clear weather this time.  I could clearly see the entire landscape of the golden orange tundra grass, surrounding peaks, the final climb ahead and silhouettes of people surrounding the sign midway along that ridge above. 

I hiked up the final climb, then the final steps to where two friends were sitting and snacking by the sign.  One had her phone up and pointed towards me.  I asked, “Are you taking a video?”  She said “Yeah, but I can stop it if you want.”  I said “It’s okay, but it’s not going to be very dramatic!”  I hiked up to the sign and gently touched it and said, “There it is!” and turned towards her and smiled.  She laughed.  It was perhaps a good reflection of how I felt about it all.  Not especially emotional about the accomplishment of having made it, but certainly taken by the surrounding beauty, and also pleased to be finishing up a long hike.  

After a hiker took photos for me, I sat with the other hikers and ate a snack.  My friend sighed and said, “I just want to live up here forever!”  I said, “You mean have this feeling forever?”  She laughed and said yeah.

I sat and chatted for a while, then started the hike down.  Clouds were rolling in, mostly large billowing clouds but some becoming darker.  I looked around before I headed down, especially over at Knife Edge, a really impressive sheer spine with granite slopes.  I could see people’s silhouettes coming up, kind of amazing to see, though not anything I ever want to attempt!

I headed down, deciding to hike a different trail, the Abol Trail, on the way down.  I had been told it was pretty steep.  I followed several day hikers and felt that if so many of them could make it, I probably could as well.

Clouds rolled in, obscuring Baxter peak behind.  They would clear again later, but you never knew for sure what weather might sweep in up there.

The Abol Trail was quite steep, basically following an old rock slide down.  It was a lot of impact to the knees.  I stowed my poles again and used my hands quite often to lower myself.  I was glad to take that trail- it was more fun because I didn’t know what was ahead, versus coming down the same trail I had taken up.  

The descent took me quite a long time.  The sun was strong and I had a headache from joint impact, exertion and hunger.

Eventually I reached treeline and continued down a steep descent which finally leveled out near Abol Campground.  I was really glad to get down to the campground and stop to eat a snack after avoiding taking an earlier break.  It was that feeling of not really wanting trail food anymore but needing to eat it because that’s what I had.

I started the final two miles along a gravel road, back towards the ranger station and my belongings.  The long thru hike was basically completed.  I had summited Katahdin.  How did I feel?  

For one thing, I was so thankful for the clear sunny skies on this final day on the AT.  The views had been stunning.

When I considered the entire hike, Georgia to Maine, more than my own personal accomplishment, I was moved by the generosity of the trail angels, the hospitality of hostel owners, the hard work of the trail maintainers, the hikers I’d connected with (and even not connected with!), the gift of time to reflect and listen to books, and the spontaneous, adventurous nature of trail life.  What a gift the trail culture and life can be.  I felt reconnected to a trail that I had first hiked seven years ago.

Thanks for following my journey, and all the well wishes along the way!  Happy trails to you on your own hikes and adventures ahead.

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Comments 7

  • GKAustin : Sep 12th

    Congratulations. Wonderful narrative and images. Thanks for sharing your adventure.

    Reply
    • Katie : Sep 13th

      You’re welcome and thank you!

      Reply
  • David Odell : Sep 12th

    Congratulations on finishing your AT hike. Enjoyed your writing. David Odell AT71 PCT72 CDT77

    Reply
    • Katie : Sep 13th

      Thank you, David!

      Reply
  • Carol : Sep 14th

    Congratulations Katie, I’ve enjoyed reading about your second trek of the AT. I admire your perseverance and continuing on despite the skunk encounter and the need to track down the necessary innoculations.

    Reply
  • Carol : Sep 14th

    Congratulations Katie, I’ve enjoyed following your second trek of the AT. I really admire your perseverance despite your encounter with the rabid skunk, and the challenges of finding inoculation sites as your journey progressed.

    Reply
    • Katie : Sep 14th

      Thank you for following my hike, and your comments, Carol!

      Reply

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