| September
18, Sunday afternoon and beyond:
Once
back at the ranger's station, I gathered up my backpack and walked
to the entrance of the park to secure a ride to Millinocket, the
closest town to the end of the trail. I had finished the trail in
time to make my way to the town of Coopers Mills Maine, where the
family who had wined and dined me so well with the vegetarian food
back at Rangeley Lake called their home. Lois had invited me to
come to the Maine Organic Farmer and Gardeners Fair if I had completed
the trail before the third weekend of September. But for now, my
goal was to get to Millinocket for a room and a much needed shower.
I managed to get a ride into town, and located the old white house
where rooms were supposedly available to hikers. The lodgings were
offered by a little old lady named Doris Young I had read about
in the Philosophers Guide to the Appalachian Trail. The place was
named The Hillside Manor, the cost $10.50 per night. Only those
who inquired and could pass her stringent test were allowed to stay.
The test she used to weed out lodgers was performed at the door
when she answered. Looking down at your footwear, she could determine
if you were a true thru-hiker or not. Apparently I passed the test,
and was offered a room. She was a nice old lady and did not intrude
on my privacy very much. I don't remember what I did the rest of
the day, but the next morning I remember looking out of the second
story window from room eight, my room, and seeing a pickup drive
by on the street below with a huge bull moose lying in the bed of
the truck. Apparently it was moose hunting season. As tame as the
ones I had seen on the trail were, I can't imagine that there was
much sport in the hunt that morning. All the hunter needed to know
was where the moose was. I know that I wrote up a post
card that was post marked on the 19th of September in Millinocket.
I cannot remember if I immediately wrote it up on the 18th and popped
it in the mail, or if I wrote it the next morning. Whichever day
it was, The card was my trip report to the ATC letting them know
that I had completed the hike. It was short and to the point - I
wanted to know what number I was. I knew there had not been that
many hikers who completed the A.T. in one season, and I wanted to
know just how low I was. I did not call home to tell anyone the
news of my success until the 19th, and even then only talked for
14 minutes at a cost of $7.91 for the call.
(click image for larger view)
I hitched a ride from Millinocket out to the interstate and then
headed south toward Augusta, the capital of Maine. What a town,
compared to the ones that I had grown accustomed to along the trail.
I think the first thing I did was stop at the Dunkin Donuts establishment
and buy myself a half dozen various donuts, mostly Boston cream
filled if memory serves me right. After scarfing them down and amazing
the waitress and all the rest of the clients who had never seen
anything like a bearded guy in shorts wearing hiking boots who smelled
terrible even though he had showered, I walked to the other side
of town to where there was a road leading to Coopers Mills. I secured
a ride to the post office in Coopers Mills, a town that did not
really look like a town, and asked the postmaster if he could help
me with directions to Lois and David's house. They had a rural address.
I set out to surprise them with my arrival. Lois had told me to
call when I got to Augusta, but I thought it would be "cool"
to just arrive and surprise them. They were not home when I got
there, so the surprise was on me. They were surprised when they
finally did show up and found me waiting. That weekend I was introduced
to the alternative lifestyle fair hosted by the Maine Organic Farmers
and Gardeners Association. All the "junk" food was all
made with organically grown whole wheat flour ingredients and other
natural ingredients. Basically it was a regular old time fair but
everything was organically grown, solar powered etc. I had a blast.
I eventually had to head home, but I had spent most of my money.
I arranged to have $150 express-mailed to me in Coopers Mills so
I could purchase a bus ticket home. The postage alone was $9.35
and did not arrive as quick as they said it would. I arranged to
be taken by Greyhound from Augusta to New York City, and then on
to St. Louis, Missouri. To be able to catch the bus the following
morning, I spent the night in a small overgrown lot on the edge
of the state sanitarium, where I just slept on my tarp amongst the
brush. I woke in the morning to the sounds of a grounds maintenance
worker walking into the brushy area. As he neared my location, he
looked around to see if anyone was watching, and then whipped it
out and urinated. I remained unnoticed, and did not move until he
had left. I wondered if he was one of the residents on a work detail
or just a regular employee. After a quick zip, he wandered off to
another location. I then packed up and headed for the bus station
just a block or so away and boarded a bus to New York City.
(click image for larger view)
The thought of being a hiker fresh off the trail in New York City
scared me a bit, but I got off the bus in Grand Central Station
anyway and had an hour or so to kill before leaving on the next
bus to St. Louis. I found myself walking in hiker garb right down
42nd street like I knew what I was doing there. No one even seemed
to notice that I was, at least in my mind, a lot different than
they were. Obviously everyone is different there. That made me the
same.
Within two days I was back in St. Louis, picked up by my sister-in-law
and back in my old bed. Was that to be the end of my backpacking
career? Well, so far I could say I did not hike much. I had backpacked
twice in my life. I did not hike much, but when I did, I really
hiked! During those two times I had covered 2800 miles.
While on the trip I had met many interesting people, one of which
I contacted a couple of months after completing the trip. As a result,
I obtained a job at Camp Moosilauke in New Hampshire, for the following
summer. I worked at the camp for boys age 6 - 16 as the Director
of Outdoor Life & Backpacking, and archery counselor. Basically
I set up mountain trips and took the kids to see all the areas that
I had not seen while on the hike. I also set up wilderness canoe
and rafting trips - and went on them too! During my one day off
per week, I made excursions to Maine to see friends that I had met
along the trail and explore places I had not yet been. I traveled
extensively whenever I could, cruising with the top down in my bright
yellow MGB sports car along the winding, scenic roads of the White
Mountains of New Hampshire, and the rugged Mahoosucs of Maine. I
came to know them like the back of my hand.
I worked five summers at the camp, and gave the first Ali Strack
Jr. hiking award to one of the campers during my fourth year. It
started as a joke that some of the campers had come up with since
they thought I was kind of different with my love of nature and
hiking. The award was proclaimed by me as an award for the camper
who excelled at hiking, and went on the hikes because he loved them,
not because he was going to get an award for doing it. No award
came with it, just the recognition of being selected for it. Well,
it wasn't ten seconds after the recipient was announced that the
camp director stood up and declared that the Ali Strack Jr. honor
should become a yearly award and that a plaque would be made to
put the recipients name on. So much for doing it just for the love
of it. I know the award was presented many years afterwards, and
as far as I know it is still presented.
During those years at camp, while back in Illinois, I met my future
bride. I had taken up Swing dancing on Wednesday nights in Collinsville
to keep myself busy. Freyda and I began riding to the classes together
to save gas, and eventually began dating. She ventured out to New
Hampshire one year to visit after the end of camp. I took her around
the country and even went on a few hikes with her into the mountains.
She was not a strong hiker, but determined. Eventually we decided
to hike the Appalachian Trail during the summer of 1989. So off
I was again on the trail starting in Georgia. The pace was not as
fast as before now that I was traveling with my fiancée.
Enduring blisters, knee problems and all manner of other discomforts,
she managed to make it to Maine, but had skipped Pennsylvania. Halfway
through Maine, she took a bus down to Florida to help a friend in
need, while I continued on with our dog Cassie. After reaching the
end of the trail, I hitched back to a town outside of Augusta where
I had seen a '67 442 convertible that I thought I could buy and
then drive home. After examining it and almost buying it, I got
a ride to the Common Grounds Country Fair with a great guy in a
van filled with handmade baskets. I found out he was going to Missouri
a week after the fair and asked if he had room to spare. I worked
at his farm for a week until we loaded up his family and his baskets
for the long ride back to Illinois. Steven Zeh, the basketmaker
is now a famous basket maker that has been featured in the Smithsonian
Magazine and Martha Stewarts Living magazine. We still keep in touch.
Freyda and I were married in 1990 and paraded through town with
our all-Oldsmobile wedding procession featuring my car from high
school, a '69 Olds 442, our recently acquired '65 Olds Starfire
convertible, and my parent's silver, with patches of paint missing,
'81 Olds. I made a pair of ruby slippers for Freyda to wear at our
wedding as she is a fan of the "Wizard of Oz", made her
veil, prepared the music for the DJ, and even baked and decorated
our wedding cake since I could not find anyone who would do rolled
fondant cakes. Now everyone does rolled fondant cakes.
Up until the early nineties I had mostly been employed as an upholsterer
for my uncle, who owned an upholstery shop. I mostly liked the challenge
of reupholstering antique furniture. But Freyda thought I should
get a real job, with real benefits, so I went back to SIU-E for
a year to get a teaching certification. By the time my classes were
done, and especially after the student teaching was through, I knew
this was not for me. I managed to secure a seasonal job at the Jefferson
National Expansion Memorial (The Arch, for those who don't know)
as a park ranger. I spent most of the summer at the top of the Arch
informing the "intelligent" people of our country about
just what river that was down below and what state was on the opposite
side of the river. I slid into a permanent job as a museum technician
when the season came to a close and worked with the exhibit staff
for eight years. We did things like sucking the dust off of the
artifacts, checking the buffaloes butt for nickels, and occasionally
designing and building exhibits. Although I stayed the course, the
supervisors came and went until they hired someone who did not seem
to get along with any of us. Being me, I ran into conflicts when
they wanted me to do upholstery work without extra pay. I told them
it was not in my job description, but would do it if they paid me
more. That and other run-ins with the supervisor culminated one
day when they claimed that they no longer needed my services. They
hired two others after I left. The staff all got raises and the
supervisor left about one year later.
I took the summer off and rebuilt our bathroom in 2000 while I looked
for another job. Just as my unemployment checks were about to run
out, I landed a job as a desktop publisher at The Electronic Village
in St. Rose. That job did not have a lot of publishing to do and
I eventually became master sign maker for the Schuette Brothers'
SuperValu stores. Suddenly I was put in charge of a small part of
the company reproducing art by giclee printing. This was a new venture
for the boss in art reproduction. None of us knew anything about
it, but we hoped that the business would grow. Eventually all the
other employees in that part of the business left for various reasons,
and eventually I was the only one working with the art. I digitized
original art, and then print it on watercolor paper, canvas, or
photo paper in sizes up to 3 feet by 4 feet. I honed my PhotoShop
image editing skills while jobs were scarce. Attrition sucked some
of the other employees working as internet technician out of the
picture which left an opening for me to take over providing technical
support over the phone to those who have trouble with the internet.
I could do that job while the artists sat and contemplated whether
they should get their art reproduced or not.
Then 2003 rolled around. I had thought of hiking the Appalachian
Trail again as a twenty-year comparison sort of hike, but plans
did not work out as I had to stay home to cut the grass. Then I
came up with an alternative idea… why not make a web page that
revisits the Appalachian Trail on a day by day basis that I put
up as that day occurs, just as if it were happening today! Well,
since I had begun scanning my hundreds of slides the year before,
I thought "yes, that is just what I will do". I approached
the boss and told him my idea and he agreed to give me space on
the server. Starting May 15 of 2003, I put up one page each day
to tell about that day, only twenty years later. I included pictures
as well to help people visualize what I saw. Of course nothing will
ever give you a true feeling of what life on the trail is like,
but I have looked at other AT hiking websites and believe mine to
be more fully illustrated and complete than any one out there yet.
During the summer of 2003, I made contact with a fellow hiker from
1983. He and I were invited to New Hampshire to the Appalachian
Long Distance hikers Association Gathering to retell some stories
and show slides from our trips since we both hiked during the year
that the ALDHA organization was formed. When I completed the trail,
less than 1200 people had registered as having completed the trail.
This number includes section hike completions as well and I have
figured out that as far as Thruhikers completing in one season,
I am among the first 1000. Now that number has skyrocketed. I wonder
after reading some of the recent online journals whether one can
even find a spot on the trail to be by yourself. The world is just
too crowded.
Freyda and I have done our part to keep the population down, we
have sired no children. We currently live with three muts and over
twenty chickens.
I
spent almost a year and a half searching for hikers from 1983 and organized a
30 year anniversary reunion at the Appalachian Trail Museum in Pennsylvania in
June of 2013 attended by about 30 hikers from that year. I have been the webmaster
for The A.T. Museum since 2003 (www.atmuseum.org).
Life on the trail has made me what I am, and to some people I might
appear as a cheapskate. I suppose by most definitions I am, but I choose to believe
that I am merely waiting to spend my money on something worthwhile rather than
drugs, booze, or smokes. Life on the trail has taught me to live with what I have,
and that most things are not necessary. I save my money to return to the trail. Thank
you for following along. Gonzo!
Alan Strackeljahn Email
Gonzo!
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