Flagstaff Lake

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Sept 7 , 1983 Wednesday (180.2 mtg) From Gonzo!s Appalachian Trail journal

Avery Peak provided the first climb of the morning, but took only minutes to reach the summit. I picked up water at the spring on the way up. Although the summit was treeless, the view was hazy and I could not see much. Rumor had it that the firewardens cabin at the top was supposedly locked, and that is why I did not spend the night there. Upon investigation I discovered that the bar with a lock on it across the door did not lock the door - the door swung open to the inside! I noted this for future reference. I descended toward Little Bigalow.

From Little Bigalow Mountain I could just barely make out Flagstaff Lake due to the haze. I ate lunch on Little Bigalow, and then descended down to the lowlands near Bog Brook Road near the lake. I passed up some fungi growing on a tree that was probably edible, one of the white "hairy" ones, but different in some ways than the ones I had eaten before. Ascending up over a little no name bump that I think was listed in the guide as a moraine left over from the ice age brought me to Long Falls Dam Road and within a few yards, the Jerome Brook Lean-to. It was obvious that this shelter was too close to the road.

The shelter was already occupied by a couple of southbound week-hikers, and bunk space was limited as some of the straighter base ball bats had been broken and replaced with some not so straight limbs just to fill the gaps. There was no way anyone could sleep on that. Luckily the damage was only on one side of the platform. Not long after I ducked into the shelter a light rain shower began, but quickly subsided. Following that, we stuck our heads out from underneath the overhang, looked up at the sky, and observed that the clouds were flying by quite quickly.

Later, Nick, Ron and Cathy, and Max showed up and pitched their tents in the clearing behind the shelter. Another hiker named Tim of Cinci (Cincinnati) stopped by as well and chose to sleep in the small area below the roof overhang at the front of the shelter to escape the torture of the uneven bats. We all gathered wood for a fire and spent the evening telling stories and laughing. We were all amazed at how Cathy could laugh and laugh and laugh all the time. My entry in the register at this shelter was short and to the point of where I was headed the next day.

The outhouse was particularly memorable. The walls were slanting, and the platform was only a foot or so off the ground, and quite air conditioned! From the looks of the litter covering the ground around the baseball bat outhouse, most people had chosen not to utilize it.

My final care package was sent out first class from Highland, Illinois today by my Mother to the town of Monson, Maine (cost $3.47)(see postal receipt) - four days before my arrival.

Gonzo! Appalachian Trail Journals ©1983

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