After securing a campsite at the Katahdin Springs Campground for the five of us (Paul and I, Sweat Potato, Just Jim and 2Fer) for the evening of the 17th, we packed up and marched into Baxter State Park. Once there, we registered with the Katahdin Springs ranger to get our permit to summit Katahdin and paid our camping fee ($34 for the site). As we were going to slack pack up to Katahdin and back, we were instructed to put in a bag all those things we weren’t going to carry with us and put our name on the bag. This gives the ranger and idea of who is still out there and/or who to look for if the bag is still there into the night. With that settled, it was a matter of waiting till morning.

As a side note: Can you believe it will be 10 years to the day that we completed the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT)? Would have been nice for this to be the finish of this trail, too, and fitting for the completion of the Triple Crown, but alas we still have many more miles to tread before we are done.

Day 80: (Sept 18) 9.2 mi

We all went to sleep with nervous anticipation. The air was warm, and there was no chance of rain for the next two days. Therefore, no need for the rain fly. A full moon lit up the night, casting an eerie glow to the stillness of the night. An overly full bladder from cameling up all afternoon for the next morning’s climb had me up at least 3 times throughout the night.

4:30 a.m., the alarm starts beeping. Rise and shine. We got some climbing to do. We solemnly pack the gear we are not carrying in the two IKEA bags we have been carrying since landing in New York on July 1st.

Breakfast is consumed in the glow of red headlamps. Once done, Paul takes the bags to the lean-to, outside the ranger’s office, and I hang the remainder of our food at the bear hang site. It’s go time.

Sweat Potato walks in front. He’s game to be the first one to summit for the morning.  We sign the log and continue the approach via the 5.2 mile Hunt Trail. For NOBOs, these will be the last official miles of their Appalachian Trail thru-hike. For us, it’s the end of what people tell us is the hardest portion of the Appalachian Trail. We’ll see once we flip back to Pawling New York and head south. We hope they are right. We still will have 1400 miles or so still to walk.  First, we have to get up this mountain, and then, of course, down, which I am NOT looking forward to.

It’s 5:30 am, and with head lamps lighting our path, we march single file up the Hunt Trail. Sweat Potato and Just Jim lead as they are much faster hikers. We pause 2 miles up trail at the Joy spring for our last water refill for the day. It’s mostly well-built trail and steps until it isn’t. Then, it’s white blazes painted on giant boulders and scrawny trees. With trekking poles stowed, the full body workout begins. Pull-ups to scale boulders. Dips to get down. Leg presses. Triceps. Front rows. You name it. This is no longer a walk. Angled iron, hand and foot holds, appear periodically to help you gain better purchase on the rocks as you contort your body up, over, and in-between massive odd angled rocks. Often, I have to change footing as my left knee won’t push past 90°. Many times, I require assistance from Paul to complete the clamor up awkward boulders.. My fear of heights along some portions of this ascent become realized and greatly enhanced.  A slip or a misstep is all it would take to end this “hike”. And, in the back of my mind, I am noting, “I’m gonna have to go down this as well?“ Needless to say, this gives me great pause and slows my ascent to the annoyance of Paul.

Thankfully,  the weather is perfect, and the views (where there’s a wide base for me to feel comfortable looking) are amazing. We couldn’t ask for better conditions.  We feel truly blessed.

Eventually we clear the scrambling, and it’s time to break out the trekking poles to finish the ascent over the “flat” section to the summit. Hikers are coming down and give us messages from Sweat Potato, that he’ll be at the summit till noon, and then will continue on over Knife’s Edge. It’s nearly 11 am. We’ve been at this since 5:30 am. I am in tears as I am completely exhausted mentally and physically,  and there’s still just under a mile to go to the top. My biggest problem on rocks is which one to step on…so many choices and ADHD doesn’t help. I look for the dirtiest ones, as most people have stepped there, to narrow my options. More people tell, as they are headed down, “Your son said he’ll wait until you get there. Don’t worry”. I’m relieved and then mad at myself for keeping Sweat Potato from starting Knife’s Edge. I also chuckle at the fact they assume he’s my son, but that’s okay, we’ve kind of adopted him, as he calls himself our “trail son” anyway. (By the way, he hasn’t called to tell us he made it home safely…typical)

Paul has made it to the summit before me. I follow several minutes behind and finally summit at 11:35. What a relief! Wipe the Sweat. Wipe the tears. It’s time for hugs and photos!

We spend a bit of time resting, admiring the view and fueling up for our descent. We decided to take the Abol Slide Trail descent instead of going back down the Hunt Trail. We hope it’s a good decision.

On the way down, we ran into Colossus.  He was supposed to hike up with us earlier this morning.  He should have stayed in our campsite instead of at the Birches Shelter, then he’d have gotten up with all of us rather than sleeping through his alarm, as another hiker told us. Sweating like a mad man, he was hoofing it as fast as he could to meet up with Sweat Potato to traverse the Knifes Edge with him. Unfortunately,  he was an hour too late.

As we reached the edge of the Abol Slide descent, we took another breather. This was going to be tricky. Probably best to stow the trekking poles again, as this is going to require 4wd, and some butt sliding for sure.

Downward, we climb, following the blue painted blazes marking the “trail,” which is more of a climbing/bouldering route. Soon, our hands become chaffed from clutching crevices and edges of the rough granite boulders as we carefully descend. Lower yourself to one rock ledge, then slide on your butt to another, then turn around, find a hand and foot hold, and lower yourself to another rock. Repeat as necessary.  This goes on for hours. It takes us 2 hours to travel .8mi of the 3 mile “trail”. We have a shuttle to meet by 4:30 pm at the Abol Campground. It’s gonna be tight.

Eventually, the scramble makes a hard right and begins to traverse the mountain toward treeline, as opposed to continuing the descent through the rock slide. The traverse becomes switchbacks that evolve into trail, where we can break out the trekking poles to assist in our descent.  Paul’s tired poles unexpectedly break mid shaft, and he tosses them in exasperation. This will be the 6th time one or both poles have broken on this trail for us. I think I broke two poles on the CDT, and not one pole broke for us on the PCT.

With 30 minutes to spare, we reach the Abol Campground and our pick-up point. It has been one hell of a day. We just completed an 11-hour nonstop full-body workout. The best part is that we made it up to Katahdin and then down without getting injured. Even though my feet and knees are screaming at me in pain, I am completely happy. By far, this is the hardest thing, physically, either of us has done in our lives. The hard part of this ridiculous trail is done. At least, that’s what they’ve told us.

Once the shuttle arrives, we grab our bags and squeeze in with the rest of the finishers who are headed to the AT Outfitters Hostel. We are handed a cold drink by the driver and on our way. It’s a 30 min drive, but it feels like forever. My knees are throbbing. Another hiker offers me his Aleeve. I gladly down them. By the time we get to the hostel, my knees have calmed down. Out of the van, we clamor. Grabbing our packs, we look at each other in disbelief. Stairs?! Ugh!! Single file we stagger into the office to check in. Up another set of stairs (really?!) We climb to our bunk room. And who should we encounter as we enter, but Sweat Potato! How did he beat us here? we asked him. “OH, I hitched.” In fact, he had already showered. “Hey, let me take you to dinner,” Sweat Potato says, “Do you want to shower or just go now?” Now! Is our reply. We are starving and could definitely use a beer.

It’s at dinner that Sweat Potato shares that he can’t find Paulie Llama. He was supposed to summit with him, and then hand him over to us to take to Springer Mtn for our finish. Oh No! This is a travesty. I messaged 2FER and ask if he saw Paulie Llama in the campsite. He did not. Sweat Potato later that evening tears through his pack. Still no Paulie Llama. Somewhere. Somehow, Paulie Llama vanished. He probably didn’t want to summit again, like he did with Scout. And certainly didn’t want to traverse Knife’s Edge. He must have hopped out of Potato’s pack along the Hunt Trail. Either that, or he wandered off into the campground and hid before morning. It’s a mystery.

Day 81: (Sept 19) Bus to Bangor Airport

So there was a snafu with the hostel, in that they failed to put us on the list for a shuttle ride to Medway to catch the bus to Bangor Maine. After some searching and a few calls, we secured a ride for the morning with Llyod.  As Paul, myself, Sweat Potato and Little Bit were loading our packs into the bed of Lloyd’s truck, who should roll in in a car towing a scamper trailer, but Collosus He had continued over Knife’s Edge and down to the Roaring Brook Campground where he slept under a picnic bench, and then hitched a ride this morning into Millinocket, just in time to get to the bus station. This guy has the best luck. Except for the fact that I forgot to pick up his bag from the Lean-to, like he had asked me to the night before our ascent of Katahdin. Sorry, man. To be fair, he could have reminded me on his way up Katahdin. But being the happy guy that he is, no worries, the hostel will pick up his gear and mail it home to him.

The bus ride was pleasant and filled with laughter and stories. The bus driver even went the extra mile (literally) and dropped us at the airport where our hotel was. Sweat Potato hung with us till his plane left and joined us as we wandered to the laundromat. We didn’t want our fellow passengers to suffer from our clothing’s stench.

Tomorrow, we will fly back to New York, back to where it all started 80 days ago, and head south.