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Sept
16 , 1983 Friday (37.7 mtg) From
Gonzo!s Appalachian Trail journal
This
morning I found out that I did not snore. Butch and Rob said that
they did not mind sleeping in the same shelter with me since I did
not snore - unlike countless other hikers who could saw a whole
forest down in one night. The conversations were light hearted and
jovial as we all began to realized that we were soon to become members
of an "elite few" who had successfully traveled the entire
distance over the Appalachian Trail in one season. By 1983, fewer
than 1000 hikers had done that. From Wadleigh No-Stream Lean-to
we had just 37.7 miles to the Summit of Katahdin! We could actually
finish in two days!
Directly beyond the shelter, the trail began an ascent up Nesuntabunt
Mountain that really got my blood flowing. I thought there were
no mountains in this area. We had started at such a low elevation,
that even though the mountain was just over 1500 feet tall, the
climb was more of a climb than I would have thought. I stopped for
a break near the summit after I traveled the 250 yards to the overlook
where the lakes below, and Katahdin could be seen. I could see the
smoke coming from the stacks of the paper mill in Millinocket many
miles away. The rest of the day would be a breeze compared to the
first couple of miles.
The big debate today became whether to hike to Cresent Pond and
parallel Pollywog stream, or take a shortcut on a logging road that
was shown on the map. Not a big difference in mileage, and I don't
even know why we would have considered it. I suppose because of
the poor trail conditions over the last ten miles, we feared that
the same conditions might reveal themselves to us along Pollywog
Stream as we had read in the registers that the trail was new. I
chose not to stray from the white blazes, and found the area to
be quite nice even though the trail was new and in poor shape. Bad
trail at the beginning of a day is never quite as bad as bad trail
at the end of a twenty-mile day.
I ran into Roger Brickner heading south near Cresent Pond, and stopped
to chat with him for a while. He and Mike were still doing the key
exchange thing, and he asked if I had seen him. I was ahead of Mike
apparently, and said I had not seen or read any entries in any of
the registers. I said goodbye to Roger, and headed down to Pollywog
Stream, turned right and began to follow the flow down to where
it merged with Bean Brook Stream. The cascading Pollywog provided
interesting scenes along the way before its intersection with the
larger stream in the lowlands. I crossed the now fairly large stream
on a logging road bridge and began a gradual ascent along Rainbow
Stream on the way to Rainbow Stream Lean-to. I followed Rainbow
Stream gradually uphill catching astounding views into little gorges
as the water roared with gushes of swirling liquidity that forced
its way between rocks while forming channels that meandered here
and there. After two miles of paralleling the stream, I arrived
at Rainbow Stream Lean-to, situated right next to the ten-yard wide
stream. I stopped to check the place out. While sitting on the platform
and reading the register, I casually looked up and noticed a tree
beside the shelter that had a light switch mounted on the trunk.
A strange sight out in the wilds of Maine. What did it control?
The bridge over the stream, if there ever was one, was gone so a
ford was in order. There were no rocks projecting to allow a rock
hop. I bare footed it through the rapids to the opposite side, put
my shoes and socks back on, and followed Rainbow Stream and its
deadwaters for another two miles to Rainbow Lake Dam at the end
of Rainbow Lake where the water had originated. Katahdin could be
seen across the Lake. The mountain looked different from this angle
- beautiful, but not as ominous. I continued on, following the shoreline
to the site of another large spring similar to the one at Potawadjo,
where I stopped for lunch.
The trail followed the shore of Rainbow Lake for yet another three
and a half miles. The walk was nice, the weather was nice, and the
scenery just as nice. I came upon a couple of southbounders who
were stopped along the trail attempting to repair their dogs' backpack
that had fallen apart. We introduced ourselves, and they recognized
the name Gonzo!, but I did not recognize them. Perhaps they had
begun after I did, and decided to flip flop in order to finish on
time. As I ascended the smooth rocky ledges over Rainbow Ledges,
I detected a haze building in the sky and had a feeling that now
that I was within twenty miles of Katahdin, the weather was going
to deteriorate. I was amazed with the stretch of good weather that
I had had during the past week or so, and felt lucky to have had
that. Whatever weather I received during my climb up Katahdin would
just be a part of the trip. It is the culmination of the climb that
defines the event, not the weather.
A couple
of miles of downhill trail brought me to my destination for the
night. Hurd Brook Lean-to was the last of the regular shelters before
entering Baxter State Park and the last few miles of the trail.
There was no spring at Hurd Brook, and water flowed from a pond
upstream. I had read rumors about the sickness that the water had
caused, so I decided to treat the water I was about to use. I was
not about to get sick on the last days of my hike! I had carried
a tiny bottle of Iodine tablets in my pack the whole trip. I treated
my drinking water with a tablet, let it dissolve, and then let the
water flow partially out into the grooves of the cap to zap any
microbes there. Rather than using this water to cook with, I boiled
the water in my pot sufficiently before putting the pasta in.
Butch and Rob arrived later, and even later the infamous Phil
Goad arrived just beginning his southbound section of his "Springer
to Springer" in one year hike. He had just turned around after
taking a break following his northbound journey, and was now heading
back south. He had a scarf tied around his head and the image he
projected resembled a pirate in my imagination. He felt it necessary
to tell us what really happened to him in Rangely when he spent
the night at Viola's boarding house. Apparently rumor said that
he had spent the night there and then refused to pay the next morning
and walked out. According to him, this was partly true, but the
reason he did not pay was that he had spent the night on the floor,
because no one was there to check him in. He seemed like an alright
guy, even though I did not appreciate seeing "Phil Goad - Springer
to Springer" stickers stuck on registers, trees, and even the
shell of a box turtle once as he attempted to make history, and
himself a legend.
Later on I got back to the cleanup of supper that consisted of some
macaroni noodles of some kind. The most memorable part of the meal
came about as I began to clean the pot that I had cooked in. Using
some of the water that I had treated with Iodine, I poured a bit
into the pot and began to swirl it around. Immediately the water
turned purple! My eyes popped out in amazement and bewilderment
until I remembered what I had learned in science class - adding
Iodine to starch will produce a purple color. I showed the others,
laughed, and finished cleaning.
This shelter had a baseball bat outhouse as well, and even more
curious was the light bulb suspended under the eave of the overhang
from a wire.... I hoped the people back at Rainbow Stream Lean-to
didn't forget to turn the light out tonight. A cute idea.
Gonzo!
Appalachian Trail Journals ©1983
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