KATAHDIN STREAM CAMPGROUND, BAXTER STATE PARK, MAINE
It’s upsetting to me that the Hundred Mile Wilderness is the last thing a hiker does on the trail. After almost five months on the trail, all I wanted to do was finish. I didn’t have it in me to really appreciated some of the best terrain in all the fourteen states the Appalachian Trail passes through.
The Wilderness starts at Monson and ends at Abol Bridge, just before Baxter State Park. The whole length is beautiful, full of almost untouched forests and secluded lakes, most of which have ample space to camp on. Even though there were probably dozens of hikers heading for Katahdin around the same time I was, I barely saw anyone after the first day or so out of town. Whole days went by when I was completely alone in the forest.
This could have been a profound experience. It could have been the perfect time to reflect on my journey along the AT. I could have taken it slow, camped a few times on the shore of one of these lakes and swam or just enjoyed the solitude. I could have spent twice as much time in the Wilderness and had an amazing time.
But I didn’t.
My parents were expecting me at Baxter on August 28, and I didn’t want them to waste a hotel reservation. I packed six days of food because I felt that any more would be too encumbering and I didn’t want to pay for a resupply at the only possible stop along the way.
By this point in the trail, I was tired. All I wanted to do was get to Katahdin. Even though Whitecap Mountain, the last real peak of the trail before Katahdin was close to the beginning of the Wilderness, I was still exhausted at the end of each day. Even the shortest climb left me discourage.
I hated how I came to feel about the trail. I wanted to enjoy the last section, but all I could think about was the final peak and getting home after.
My first glimpse of Katahdin came at the top of Whitecap Mountain. It loomed out over the other mountains in the distance. From the side, Katahdin isn’t a graceful peak. It doesn’t rise to a sharp peak, so even when it towers over the other mountains, it looks kind of hunched over. I thought the sight of it would give me some relief, or anticipation. But after working for more than four months towards that goal, I don’t think I really felt all that different.
Sure, I could now see my endpoint. I could see how far there was left to go, but if anything, it was kind of depressing. I had come so far. I just wanted to finish, to end strong, and the mountain was still days away. After a certain point, “so close” stops being close. I’d been hearing the phrase “almost there” since Massachusetts, and I think I psyched myself out of recognizing it. “Almost there” for me would be 50 yards before the terminus sign at Baxter Peak.
Other than a mental funk, hiking in the Wilderness was amazing. Beyond the beautiful scenery, the weather was fantastic through almost the entirety of the stretch. Days were mild and clear and the nights were cold enough that I could bundle up in my sleeping bag and not have to worry about overheating. There were so few people around, I could get my choice of campsites or shelter spots.
I even ran into my friends from Lakes of the Clouds, Powerade and Southbound. Colby Jack ventured ahead to meet his parents and the other two were trying to catch him. I walked with them for a few days before they took off ahead.
Leaving the Hundred Mile Wilderness and entering Baxter State Park was a surreal experience. This was it. The final destination. Base camp for the last ascent. Again, it was kind of hard to comprehend what that meant. Here I was, in the last 1/20 of the hike, and it still felt like I had so far to go. From the entrance to the park, there is another 9 miles of walking to the long-distance hiker campsite. The whole way to it was a pretty easy hike, but it seemed weighted down with significance. It was hard to get my legs to work right, and a hike that would have taken me a morning back in July took me to the middle of the afternoon.
The whole way there, I saw groups camping for the weekend or just doing a day hike around the park. Many people commented on my AT thru-hiker tag and congratulated me on making it. My response was usually along the lines of “I’m not there yet,” or “Congratulate me when I get to the peak!” It was mostly a joke but a little true. I didn’t want to celebrate until I laid hands on that sign at the top.