A Thousand and One Appalachian Tales
part eightteen
Mahoosuc Madness
©Copyright 07/11/02002. Fresh Ink. All rights reserved.
The Agnostic Monk was awoken by Steve -n- Jerry who exclaimed aloud to himself on waking, "It's a beautiful day and you're part of it!" It was his mantra. The Monk got up and made instant oatmeal for breakfast. Then he packed up and headed out. Today he would enter the final state on the Trail, Maine! But first he had to pass over Mt Success.
The Trail began with an ascent through a grove of spruce before climbing over two steep humps. These were fair warning. It was like the Trail went over them just to let you know what you were going to be dealing with for the next several days. But The Monk didn't have a clue. He didn't think the Mahoosucs could be half as difficult as the Whites.
The Trail ascended even more steeply onto the open ledges of the lower peak. Then it was another .3 miles to the summit of Mt Success (3,565 ft). It turned out to be quite a challenge. He was still a little sore from yesterday. After his hell-hike from the day before, what he really needed to do was take it easy. Instead he pushed himself harder. He was over extending himself and the Mahoosucs were not the place for it.
From the summit, he was afforded excellent views into Maine. He was excited. Just a few miles further and he would be in the final State of the Trail. He couldn't rest now!
The Trail descended to a trail junction then ascended along the flank of an unnamed peak. Finally he reached the Maine-New Hampshire border. This was marked by a sign and a small group of thru-hikers. They were gathered together to mark the moment. There was Chris and Beth -- the Great Descenders, Lemondrop Kid, Beaner, Ken Bushpig and Rhode Island Red. The Monk brought the gathering to seven.
A quick study of the map showed the Mahoosucs to be some of the roughest most difficult sections of the Trail, this was definitively shown to be true by the last several miles. Already, The Monk was tired. He should have stayed an extra day in Gorham to rest but heard the clock ticking. It was now a race. If they did not reach Baxter Peak, the northern terminus of the Trail, in the next few days, they might miss their chance altogether. Rumor was the mountain closed in the first few weeks of October and those who didn't make it before then often missed their chance to complete the Trail that year. This was why many thru-hikers flip-flopped. If they didn't think they could make it before the mountain closed, they'd hitch the rest of the way and hike south from Katahdin. But to many this seemed an option of last resort. There was a natural inertia compelling them forward, a continuity, and flip-flopping broke all that. Besides, The Monk was loving every minute. This was exciting, adventure-of-a-lifetime stuff. He wanted to keep moving forward. Katahdin was the reward. He wanted to earn it.
The Mahoosucs put all that to the test.
It wasn't just the ruggedness of the terrain that made them difficult. There was also the mud. The Trail would quickly shoot up, cross a wet, marshy area on dilapidated, sometimes non-existent bog-logs then drop sharply down and do it again. Added to that was the fact that Maine was home to some of the most wild, inaccessible regions on the Trail. In short, it was for what they had been preparing all along.
The Monk spent a moment of silence to commemorate the occasion, then threw on his pack and trudged on. He still had 4.5 miles to go. But these were Maine miles. He quickly learned the difference.
The Trail ascended steeply to the summit of Mt Carlo (3,562 ft) where narrow, barely visible bog-logs were all that stood between him and knee deep muck. It helped that he could see where others had missed but sometime there was nothing he could do but join them. Then he descended just as steeply to the bottom of the sag between Mt Carlo and Goose Eye Mtn. The Trail again ascended, this time even more steeply than before. It was also not very well marked. As he ascended the East Peak of Goose Eye Mtn he reached an unmarked trail junction. He did not know which way to go. He was over tired from the climb and the day was getting late. He needed to move on or be stranded in the middle of rugged wilderness after dark. He made a decision and continued on, hoping for some sign of a white blaze but found none. He reached the summit of the East Peak (3,794 ft). Here again it looked like the Trail could go different directions, leading down different sides of the mountain. Yet he could find no white blaze or indication as to what direction he should follow. He took a best guess and continued down the other side, hoping to find a blaze. He was not sure he was going the right way. He wanted some form of confirmation but found none. In his exhaustion, he started to grow worried. It was his worst moment on the Trail. He started walking back and forth wondering what to do. Should he climb back up the ridge and look for a blaze?
Then he spotted another hiker descending off the peak. As the other hiker approached he yelled to him, asking if he was still on the AT. The other hiker did not respond. As the hiker drew closer, he tried a second time. But again the other hiker remained silent. This really started to freak him out. What was the problem? Why couldn't he respond? Finally the other hiker drew within several yards and he could see it was Ken Bushpig. He lost it completely. Why wouldn't he respond? He wanted to know. A simple response would have helped immeasurably. Ken looked at him as if he was nuts and said he was acting like a maniac. The Monk agreed. He said he was really shaken up. He thought he was lost and was asking for help. Ken grunted and said he didn't know if he was going the right way either then continued on leaving him behind.
He sat there for several minutes collecting himself. Obviously, the Mahoosucs were far more strenuous than he had expected. He drank some water and had a pop-tart. As his strength returned he found himself consumed with embarrassment and regret. He was abashed by his behavior. He had never experienced a panic attack before but felt that, were he to define them, this would have met all the requirements. Strangely Ken had helped even though he didn't. If he hadn't come along, The Monk didn't know what he would have done.
It was getting late so he continued on. He dropped down to the sag between East and North Peak then ascended steeply up to the summit of the North Peak of Goose Eye Mtn (3,680 ft). He noticed rain clouds on the far peak. Then, as he descended, the clouds broke and a beautiful rainbow appeared. It was as if it was a sign from God. It had a happy, no nonsense, no coincidences reality to it as if God was determined to uplift his spirits and the only tool he had to work with was a sledgehammer. As The Monk approached an overlook he discovered Ken Bushpig sitting there in silence staring at the rainbow as well. Ken had been hit with the sledgehammer too. The Monk apologized to Ken explaining how ashamed he was for his behavior. Ken said something in Mainer and that was sorry too. Ken was not usually given to allowing others a glimpse into his inner life. But for the first time he exposed enough for The Monk to wonder if perhaps he too had been experiencing some difficulties on the East Peak of Goose Mtn. They both felt bad for what had transpired. But the rainbow was a sign that they should just let it go and move on. There was a strange sense of rapport as if they both understood this yet neither of them spoke. Since there was really nothing more to be said the Monk continued on, leaving Ken behind, deep in the high country. After a steep, rugged descent, he arrived at Full Goose Shelter for the evening. He was exhausted and tired and more than a little discomfited by the events of the day. Furthermore, tomorrow threatened to be the worst. They would be hiking through the penultimate section of the Mahoosucs with their passage through the infamous Mahoosuc Notch. The Monk had heard horror stories of the Notch all the way back in Georgia. Frank, the original Strider, had spoken of the Mahoosucs often and always singled out The Notch as a singular experience apart from all the other experiences of the Trail combined. Even The Philosopher's Guide spoke of The Notch in a way that seemed designed to scare your grandchildren.
"3. Mahoosuc Notch: you've been hearing horror stories about this one, and now you're here. The "Notch" will take a leisurely 1.5 hours to traverse. Best if climb over rather than following arrows and going under the boulders. Look in deep crevices for ice and snow. Take your time -- you'll be through this marvelous place before you know it, only to be struggling up Mahoosuc Arm. Note: flat spots for camping just before and after the Notch. Water at north end. //In '87, a dead moose was in The Notch with a cigarette in its mouth. A reminder that smoking kills."The 1988 Philosopher's Guide, pg 46
The Monk was too tired to eat but did so anyway. Then he cleaned up and crashed hard. He was asleep before his head hit his clothes bag, which he used as a pillow.
The next day he was again awoken by the sound of Steve -n- Jerry waking up. It's a beautiful day and you're part of it! Steve exclaimed brightly to all and none. Steve took down his flag of Jerry Garcia and began packing up. It would be a long day and he wanted to be the first one out the door since he felt he'd probably be the last one in.
Mahoosuc Notch, a deep cleft between Mahoosuc Arm and Fulling Mill Mtn., is wild and has a moon like appearance. Giant boulders from the notch's sheer walls have clogged the floor of the notch, necessitating a climb over and under these huge obstructions. Ice is normally found in these caves as late as July. Hikers, in some places, will be required to remove packs to climb under boulders and through caves. The notch is a mile long and takes considerable time to traverse."The Monk cleaned up, packed up, and buckled up, then climbed aboard the Mahoosuc Express. The Lemondrop Kid joined him. Together they scrambled over the open summit of the South Peak of Fulling Mill Mtn (3,420 ft) taking care to stay on the bog-logs wherever necessary. Then they reached the side of a steep cliff which dropped straight down The Notch. The other side of seemed so close they could reach out and touch it. With care, they descended the cliff face, via switchbacks, down into depths. At the bottom, they reached a trail junction. To the left led down and out, back towards New Hampshire. To the right led into a holy sanctum of the Trail. If the Trail was a chapel, this was it's sanctum sanctorum. They paused briefly at it's doors, then entered.Appalachian Trail Guide, Maine, pg 84
Mahoosuc Notch was unlike anything The Monk had experienced before. He described it as a jungle-gym of the gods. It was as if the two mountains were so close, they grated each other like cheese. In consequence, big chunks of mountain fell into The Notch leaving a labyrinthine passageway through the narrow corridor. But far from being a horror story, it was a total blast! It was loads of fun as The Monk and The Lemondrop Kid scurried over, under and around house sized boulders and rocks.
They discovered snow in some of the crevasses and the sound of water running far below. It took about an hour to traverse, and all too soon they emerged on the other side. The Monk was saddened that it was over. It was instantly his most favorite section on the entire Trail. He loved The Notch so much he has since returned twice. Each time has been a rare and singular joy, a precious and priceless treat. Someday he hopes to return again.
The Monk and The Lemondrop Kid stayed a moment beside the stream to reflect on what they just past through then began the arduous, Herculean journey up Mahoosuc Arm. This was a long incredibly steep ascent. The Trail passed through Mahoosuc Notch two, a pale imitation of the real deal now far below, then reached the open summit of Mahoosuc Arm (3,777 ft) 1500 feet up and 1.6 miles later. It was a glorious day and the views were outstanding.
They descended to Speck Pond. This was the highest body of water in Maine. The Monk was instantly enraptured by its quiet, magic charm and would have loved to stay there forever. There was a special vibe to the place that seemed instantly comforting, even hallowed.
They followed the Trail around the Pond and over to the shelter. There they met a caretaker who informed them that a large group of boys were staying in the surrounding area for the evening as part of an Outreach Program. This was the same type of program they had encountered several times before in Virginia. That could change things. Inside the shelter someone had laboriously stuck glow in the dark stars on the slanted ceiling of the shelter. He wanted to stay just to watch the "stars" come out but felt compelled to move on. It was early and he still had a long way to go to get to Katahdin. 268.7 miles to be exact and time was getting short. It was already September 14th. He did not know how many days he had left but they were dwindling rapidly. He promised himself he'd come back and stay another time (which he did) and pressed on.
After the hike out of Mahoosuc Notch, the hike up Speck Mountain was almost easy in comparison. The Monk soon reached a trail junction and discovered that the AT did not go over the summit of Speck Mountain but instead dropped down to the left. He did not like the idea that he should climb all this way up such an exceptionally steep mountain only to miss the summit. He scrutinized the map and determined that he could take the East Spur Trail and reconnect with the AT on the other side via the Link Trail or take the East Spur all the way down. He turned to his ever trusty Philo Guide for more information.
6. Phil Pepin says the best hike on Old Speck is to take the old A.T. to the tower, then use "East Spur" trail down which rejoins the old A.T. again and comes out only a few hundred yards from the present A.T. This trail is almost entirely over open ledges and the views are excellent. Should not be used in wet weather as the trail is steep (!!). This route is shorter than the A.T. by almost one mile. Comment by '86 hiker: "Crazy, insane. Should not be attempted with a full pack. Maybe good day hike." An '87 hiker adds, "great views, but trail is murder." //Don't miss 0.1 mile side trail to the "Eyebrow."The 1988 Philosopher's Guide, pg 46
He trusted the Philo Guide and best hike was a pretty convincing recommendation. Still, he was confused as it looked like if he took the East Spur Trail, he would miss the Eyebrow altogether. Still, the words crazy and insane were enough for him. The Lemondrop Kid joined him and together they made their way to the summit of Old Speck Mountain (4,180 ft). There, they ran into some of the Outreach group who were staying below. They climbed the rickety old firetower and lingered briefly to enjoy the fine, outstanding views. Then, as it was getting late, they climbed down and began their descent.
It was, indeed, incredibly steep, descending almost 2600 feet in about 2.3 miles. There were some difficult moments but they made fairly good time and reached Grafton Notch and ME 26 in the late afternoon. They followed the road back to the AT then continued on to Grafton Notch Lean-to for the evening.
It had been a long, exciting day, even though they had only gone about 9.3 miles. But, as these were the Mahoosucs, the toughest mountains on the whole AT, they had to ask themselves one question, did they feel lucky? And of course, the answer was an emphatic yes. Yes, they felt extremely lucky! Just for the Notch alone they felt lucky. It was all worth every step of the way.
Tat tvam asi
The next day began with yet another powerful ascent, this time over Baldplate Mtn. After a solid three miles of steady climbing The Monk reached the partially open West Peak of Baldplate (3,680 ft) in the late morning. From there it was a quick drop to the bottom of a sag, then up again, this time to the summit of East Peak (3,812 ft). He lingered to enjoy many righteous views in all directions.
From East Peak, the Trail descended steadily to Little Baldplate Mtn. Then the Trail dropped away, descending very steeply, almost 750 feet in about .2 miles. It continued on into Frye Notch and the Frye Notch Lean-to where The Monk stopped to rest and have a peanut butter sandwich. He caught up on the exploits of those ahead of him in the Trail Register and left a few of his own for those behind. Then he ascended up and around the easterly arm of Surplus Mtn. From there it was downhill all the way to Dunn Notch Falls, a spectacular double waterfall dropping into a deep gorge. The Trail continued a short distance further to East B Hill Road where he discovered a small contingent of thru-hikers awaiting a lift into town.
This was a hard hitch made all the more difficult by the number of thru-hikers looking to make it. Luckily a small band had just left and the remaining 4-5 did not have to wait long. The Monk grabbed a ride with the second group, leaving a third perhaps even fourth group behind.
In Andover, he stopped at Addie's Place and asked if it was possible for him to work for his stay. She said yes and set him to work chopping firewood. He quickly drew a crowd of thru-hikers who gathered around to watch. Soon they all insisted in joining in and taking turns. He felt like Tom Sawyer and his whitewall fence. Soon the firewood was soon all split. After, they walked to the country store for supplies. Out front, someone had bagged a bear and it lay gutted in the back of a pickup truck.
Back at Addie's Place, it was a full house and after dinner, The Monk helped with the dishes. The next morning, after breakfast and dishes, he thanked her for her hospitality then caught a late, lucky hitch back to the Trail.
The Trail ascended several knobs before reaching Surplus Road and a small Pond. It then ascended steadily to Wyman Mtn before dropping to Hall Mtn Lean-to, where he arrived in the mid-afternoon. It was far too long a haul to the next shelter and as these were Mahoosuc Mtns, he decided to stay there for the evening. Reading the Trail Register, he discovered that a southbounder had confirmed that Bemis Mtn Lean-to did not exist. It was not listed in his Data Book but it was marked on his map as being scheduled for construction that year.
Also in the Register was a riddle by Steve Trailnameless which inspired him to include one of his own. This was one of The Monk's favorite riddles. He first heard this riddle way back in High school when his stand partner in Orchestra told it to him. He drew a cartoon showing three thru-hikers walking in a row. He described the thru-hikers as being able to see the hiker in front of them but not being able to see themselves or the ones behind them. He then added the riddle part. There were two black hats and three white hats. One hat was randomly placed on top of each hiker's head. The hats were such that each hiker could see the hat in front of them but could not see their own hat, or the ones behind them. They could however, hear each other. The last hiker said, "I don't know what hat I'm wearing." The middle hiker said, "I don't know what hat I'm wearing." But the first hiker, who could see no ones hat, said, "I know what hat I'm wearing." How did he know?
The Monk enjoyed this riddle because it involved no trick answers. It was a pure logic riddle. Basically, if the last thru-hiker saw two black hats, he'd know he was wearing a white hat. Since he didn't know what hat he was wearing, he couldn't possibly see two black hats. Therefore, the possible combinations of hats he could see were two white hats, a black hat and a white hat, or a white hat and a black hat. However, if the middle thru-hiker saw a black hat she'd know she was wearing a white hat because she couldn't possibly be wearing a black hat or the last thru-hiker would know what hat he was wearing. Therefore, the first thru-hiker knew he was wearing a white hat!
The Monk spent the remainder of the afternoon reading the book he brought with him, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. This was a story which used the motorcycle as a vehicle, a metaphor, for the study of rational inquiry and the quest for truth. It followed the life of a man and his son on a journey across America.
"In all of the Oriental religions great value is place on the Sanskrit doctrine of Tat tvam asi, 'Thou art that,' which asserts that everything you think you are and everything you perceive are undivided. To realize fully this lack of division is to become enlightened."Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, pg 126
The Monk related to this in terms of something called Quantum Inseparability. This was discovered through a famous thought experiment put forth by Einstein. In an attempt to rebuke Neils Bohr for his interpretations of Quantum Mechanics, this thought-experiment actually went a long way towards proving Inseparability. It showed that even at a distance, particles possess remarkable entanglement and "spooky" actions exhibiting the characteristics of non-locality. The Monk felt that the infamous EPR experiment, as it is called, went a long way towards proving Tat tvam asi. Since science could show such remarkable connectivity on the sub-atomic level and since everything was made up of sub-atomic particles, it stood to reason that all things were interconnected.
The next day, The Monk continued on into the depths of Maine's wilderness. He began with a steep descent into Sawyer Notch, dropping over 1500 feet in about a mile. From there the Trail shot straight up Moody Mtn ascending over 1200 feet in less than half a mile. The map said to use caution on the smooth ledges of the cliff face in wet weather as they can be dangerous, but they seemed just as dangerous in dry weather as well. At the top, the Trail crossed over the tops of the ledges whose sheer cliffs dropped over 1100 feet into the Notch below. By all indications Moody Mtn was just a bump on the map, barely over 2250 ft in altitude. But, what a bump!
The Trail then descended steeply into Black Brook Notch before beginning a long difficult ascent up Old Blue Mtn, gaining over 2500 feet in 2.8 miles. At the summit of Old Blue (3600 ft) he stopped for a long rest and had lunch. He had barely gone 6 miles and already he was beat. Still, he enjoyed magnificent views in all directions and was thankful for this amazing, once in a lifetime opportunity.
After lunch, he descended from Old Blue and made his way a short distance more to the side trail which led to Elephant Mtn Lean-to. It was a .6 mile descent from the AT to the Lean-to where he stayed for the evening.
Arriving at the lean-to The Monk discovered The Lemondrop Kid, Steve -n- Jerry and The Great Descenders already there. Steve was discussing a book one of The Great Descenders had left behind at a shelter along the way. The Descenders had begun a tradition way back in Georgia of leaving behind in shelters the books they finished reading along the way. As this was pretty much every other day, this must have been in the hundreds. And it was this strange fiction from an obscure press. One couldn't make up enough words to describe it. With all the books they read, it left him wondering how they managed to find time to hike. In this instance, Steve -n- Jerry picked up one of the books and was reading it. He had already finished the obligatory On the Road, by Jack Kerouac. Steve had gotten it from Zero after he had given up on it.
The Monk pulled out his copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and found time to squeeze in a few more pages. The Great Descenders scoffed at the book but Steve -n- Jerry said he had read it years ago and loved it.
Before evening, Buddy Bear and Bare Bait straggled in rounding out the group. They looked exhausted and were none too please by the distance they had to descend from the Trail to get there. They had half a mind to continue on the Bemis Valley Trail and catch up with the AT at State Road 17 rather than climb back up to the ridge. But as they cooked dinner, they relaxed and sought comfort in the fact that Rangeley, Maine, awaited them the day after tomorrow.
The next day, after climbing back up the ridge, The Monk continued on to the summit of Bemis Mtn (3,592 ft). Off in the distance Mooseioskmeguntic Lake shimmered a bright, mercurial silver in the later morning sun. From there the Trail continued on over Third Peak, Second Peak and First Peak before finally descending down to an old railroad bed and crossing Bemis Stream. From there the Trail ascended once again, past State Route 17 and onto the next map in the set.
The Maine maps and guide book were different from all the others in the series. The book was thinner and all the Trail information was printed on the backs of the maps. There were seven maps in all and finally, after six days of hiking in Maine, The Monk was moving on to map six. He couldn't believe that it took him six days to complete one map. Sometimes in Virginia and Pennsylvania, he could finish a map in a day or two. Not so in the Mahoosucs!
The Trail skirted the northern shore of Moxie Pond before climbing up the side of Four Ponds Mtn to give Long Pond a wide birth. Then it dropped down to pass along the eastern shore of Long Pond before arriving at Sabbath Day Pond. There the Sabbath Day Pond Lean-to sat nestled along the western shore. Coincidentally, it was Sunday. Many had hiked on to Little Swift River Pond Campsite for the evening leaving The Monk with The Lemondrop Kid, Buddy Bear and Bare Bait for the evening.
There beside the fire they discussed the difficulties of the last few days. Without a doubt the Mahoosucs had been the hardest part of the whole Trail. But now, at long last, they were behind them and the best was yet to come.
©Copyright 07/15/02002. Fresh Ink. All rights reserved.