The Last Section Part 12: “Flat” Trail and an Unexpected Hiker Encounter

This is part 12 of a 188-mile northbound section hike of the Appalachian Trail in Maine in September 2023. I started hiking at the road crossing near the town of Stratton, ME and finished at Mt. Katahdin in Baxter State Park, the northern terminus of the trail! Day 16 of the hike where this post begins is my 7th day in the 100 Mile Wilderness.

Catch up with part 11 here!

Day 16: Antlers Campsite to Wadleigh Stream Lean-To

Waking up at Antlers Campsite that morning felt like a small turning point in the 100 mile wilderness. The major mountains were behind me. The major river fords were behind me. I had a fresh resupply. Going forward, the trail was supposed to be “flat.” (The quotes are due to the Appalachian Trail fact that any time anyone says there is an extended flat section coming up, it is never actually flat.)

Since I had slept with my rainfly off, something I had done at most two other times on the entire Appalachian Trail, it almost added a symbolism to the shift in character of the remaining miles. It had been hard to trust the zero percent chance of rain, so I still slept with my rainfly right next to me, ready to put it up the second I might be awakened by drizzle. But I never had to. When the soft chatting voices of another group of hikers somewhere on the other side of the trees slowly woke me up, the very first thing I got to do was sit up and stare at a cloudy sunrise over Jo-Mary Lake before having to think about anything else. 

I lingered for a little while before packing up camp. This was the trail equivalent of a Sunday morning, where I chose to take some time to rest and enjoy myself while still having the awareness that right around the corner, just like a Monday, I’d have to switch back to working mode when I started hiking the remaining stretch of the 100 Mile Wilderness. When planning this trip, I had such a vision for this last section where I’d take some time at camp to have tea and warm food every day. I really had to treasure this moment of finally having a working stove and being able to realize my vision after its failure for most of the hike. 

When my last sips of tea were no longer warm, my cue had arrived to shift back into hiking mode, the longings for a shower propelling me forward. It had been about seven days since a real shower at that point, and that icky feeling that coated my body was ever the more present in the background of every pretty view or cozy campsite. 

Amazingly, the “flat” trail was mostly flat! But I’m still hesitant to remove the quotes. I got a little ambitious and took this to mean that I’d just be walking, but I found myself slowed by miles-long stretches where I was stepping over rocks, roots, and the muddy wet mush that the trail had become in many places. But in terms of elevation, I think it’s safe to say that this last part of the 100 Mile Wilderness before Katahdin had the least elevation gain and loss of the entire Appalachian Trail, other than some stretches of Pennsylvania or random short segments elsewhere. 

This meant that the scenery was mostly made up of towering trees and edges of ponds and lakes. There were so many places that I wished I could spend more time, had I not had to move some miles to make it to Abol Bridge within a reasonable amount of time.

A Resting Trail Crew

I came upon some unexpected scenery that afternoon as I hiked up to a group of trail maintainers scattered around the trail taking a break. They all looked younger than me, and it was extremely apparent that the work they were putting in to improve this segment of trail was far more taxing than the hiking I was doing that day. Red in the face from the warmth of the air plus the work clothes they were wearing, they started talking with me for a little bit in a genuinely friendly manner, all the while never shifting from the trees they were resting against. Thank you, volunteers! 

I settled into a perfectly ideal tent spot near Wadleigh Stream Lean-To that evening. I was just up the trail from the shelter, close enough to make use of the privy and stream that was the water source, yet far enough to have my own space. A couple other hikers, one of them being the friendly thru-hiker named Cloud, were camped nearby. He was still moving at the same pace as me although we hadn’t seen each other since the prior morning when we picked up our food resupply at Jo-Mary Road. Just having one familiar face around from time to time can do wonders when there are tough moments on the trail. 

Day 17: Wadleigh Stream Lean-To to Rainbow Spring Campsite

My hesitation to remove the quotations around the word “flat” when describing this trail was justified that morning, as I found myself climbing up Nesuntabunt Mountain not long after packing up camp. Sure, this was a mini mountain compared to most of the trail, but as I huffed and puffed during the short climb, I cursed my hiker friend’s explanation that had me thinking this part of the trail would be like walking on a sidewalk for about 40 miles.

I reached the side-trail to a view at the top just as three other hikers that passed me that morning were watching a Float Plane take off from the lake far below. I had just missed it, but it turned out the morning just had a different idea of something unique for me. 

A Fun Encounter

As I came back down the short side-trail from the viewpoint, another hiker with glasses and a long gray beard was coming by. We got to talking, and continued our conversation as we both started down the other side of the mountain, him leading the way a few steps in front of me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up for long, but I maintained the fast thru-hiker pace longer than I expected while immersed in our conversation. We said our farewells multiple times but then just kept talking. 

When I finally officially told him that I was stopping to take a break, we both agreed that it had been fun to chat for a couple miles, and neither of us had really expected to meet another hiker that we’d walk and talk with for any length of time, being so close to the end of the hike. We had never formally introduced ourselves, so as we parted ways he told me that his trail name was Voices, and I told him that I was Little Bear. 

“Wait!” he said. “We’ve met before!” 

I think I gave him a puzzled expression, because he started reminding me of the story. 

In May, I completed my second to last section hike of the trail, a 200 mile southbound section from Damascus, VA to Hot Springs, NC, which I wrote about in my prior series of blog posts. I was hiking out from Boots Off hostel near Hampton, TN and heading south when he passed me in the opposite direction, heading toward the hostel. I told him to say hi to Lucky Moon, one of the hikers working there. When I told him that my name was Little Bear, he joked that he could tell people he saw his first bear.

It all came back to me! It was so funny that we had been walking and talking and not realized we had met before in passing. This wasn’t the first time I encountered a thru hiker in Maine that I had also met in the south in May, because the location and timing of my two hikes aligned almost perfectly with the amount of time it would take a northbound thru hiker to get from one to the other. It had actually happened a couple times already, but I could tell that the others only vaguely remembered me. This was the first time, however, that someone remembered me first and had to jog my memory! 

It turns out that Voices has a youtube channel, so for fun I decided to link his video here where he describes our encounter – and where he also includes a detail I omitted about how I briefly hiked the wrong way!

Later in the day, I turned out to be very thankful for the morning jaunt with Voices to give me a nice head start compared to my usual pace, because I admittedly grew a little frustrated. The trail became extremely rocky, rooty, and muddy again, and I felt like I was stuck in one of those dreams I have occasionally where I’m trying to run but can’t seem to actually move forward.

I wound up stopping at Rainbow Spring campsite that evening after just under 12 miles, not nearly as far as I thought I was going to get that day. Fortunately, Cloud was there, and I started to feel better with the realization that I wasn’t the only one who had the experience with the hiking day that I did. 

This campsite was established and had a privy nearby, yet was only a tiny fraction of the size of the wide-open Antlers campsite two nights ago. I settled into a somewhat muddy tent spot, my honest train of thought being that if I took the second-to-worst one, I had a better chance of not having anyone set up right next to me. The trail hadn’t been very crowded the past few days and only one other hiker showed up after Cloud and I that evening, but on the Appalachian Trail you just never know.  

As the beauty of the evening set in, it started to bring me back to what this was really all about. I climbed onto a rock at the edge of Rainbow Lake just a short jaunt from my tent, and ate my dinner while I watched darkness fall. A small spring drained directly into the edge of the lake, making it sound exactly like I was sitting next to one of those garden fountains where a small spout of water flows out of some sort of statue into a little pool below. 

Not long after dark, I laid down in my tent to the hauntingly beautiful wail of Loons somewhere over the lake. Their calls were made comforting by the fact that I knew two other hikers were nearby listening to the same eerie echoes as I was as we all drifted off to sleep. 

Read part 13 here!