Millinocket, ME

The morning dawned a cloudy day, yet almost balmy compared to the frigid mornings these few days past. Up early, with only day-packs, we climbed quickly up into those clouds. Seeing nothing but the rocks immediately surrounding us, we made our final ascent to that coveted peak, that longed-for symbol of completion: a weathered wooden sign standing awkwardly upon the boulders. There was no impediment in our minds, nor any distraction in our eyes, for there was nothing else to look at, nothing else to see. There was only a contracted world shrouded in fog but bursting with the bright glory of success. The chill, damp wind kept our celebrations shorter than one might have expected after so long a time spent in effort and anticipation, but our shouts and laughter were no less for it. We howled louder than the wind could, stood stronger than the mountain itself, for we were here; we had come to Katahdin as to a holy mountain and were found worthy by all the tests the long oddessey of the trail could throw at us. We each took our turn before the sign, standing above or kneeling before it, awash in a brew of emotions that no words nor even any tears could begin to express. We hardly understood them, knowing that time would take care of that; right then, it didn't matter. What mattered was that we were there. We were done. We were thru-hikers at last.

Monson, ME

One sunny spring day, which now seems so long ago, I took my first steps on the approach trail leading to the AT, beginning what would be a true oddeyssy of body, mind and spirit. It is over 2000 miles later, and I've made it to the final trail-town and resupply point: Monson, the doorstep of the hundred-mile wilderness. This will be my last entry until after I have summited Katahdin and become an official 2008 thru-hiker. How exciting!

Since my last entry in Andover, things have been going well. The terrain became significantly easier, and we continued having pretty good weather. We survived the remnants of Hannah quite easily; it rained steady all night, then stopped just after dawn, didn't even get wet. We did get soaked pretty bad the other day when the cold front moved through; cold indeed... the temperatures took a serious drop last night. This morning was frigid and it was hard to get out of the sleeping bag. Especially knowing we had a river to ford in just over 2 miles of easy terrain. But it wasn't too deep, and the freezing water had a rather invigorating effect more than anything. It's only the second ford so far (water levels have been low enough to rock-hop the rest) but I'm coming to enjoy them. Feels more adventurous, I guess. And anyways, I keep reminding myself that the discomforts never last. 20 minutes after we set out this morning, I was sweating.

Looking back at my previous entries, I see some real negetivity. I also see that it looks like I'm sort of dreading the end of this trek. Neither are true reflections of how I feel. For the first, I'm enjoying every day of this hike, only occasionally having hard days, usually just hard hours or minutes. Like I said, the discomforts are fleeting and the satisfactions of the trail are always there waiting; like the sun behind the clouds, it never stops shining even if I don't see it. As to the second, well, there are some things I'll hate to leave behind, but there are also reasons I'm happy it's almost over.

Things I'll miss: All my friends I met on the trail, especially my crew: Enoch, K-Bomb, and Orangedust (and her dog Bea), but also Neon, CC Rider, Freefall, Wookie, Mike, Old Buzzard, and many others. The open hours to do nothing but walk and think my own thoughts, uninfluenced by news, books, or anything else. The forest's peace, the mountains' beauty. Natural light and natural daily rhythms. Not having a job. Sitting on some mountain just enjoying the silence. Seeing moose (saw 2 a week ago, about 15 minutes apart) and other wildlife, even if only occasionally. The self-sufficiency and simplicity in that all I need is carried on my back. The best tasting water ever, free and flowing.

Reasons I want to finish: Seeing my parents, sister, and friends back home. All my music. Not having to hoist my broken, ill-fitting pack again and tackle what is often just ridiculous trail. Riding my bike. My body is tired of hiking. No more staring at trees all day. No more staring at trail all day. Gaining some weight back. Meals that need more than just adding boiling water. Fruits and vegetables, every day. Clean socks. Mongolian Barbeque. Being able to actually write down what I'm thinking instead of forgetting half of it.

So I guess I'm saying that I'm satisfied with what I've done, where I've been, and where I'm at. But I'm also ready to move on to new things; it's time to finish, to return home. But we do have plans after summiting and before I return home: we're going to rent a car and drive from Bangor to Asheville to see a friend we all met on the trail. She said we could crash at her house for a while. I figure I'll spend a few days there before heading back to Detroit. And then? I have no definite plans, really. But I do know one thing...

The West is next.