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2000 Maine journal on the AT with nate dog Cheez and Nate trail begins
I have been wet for a couple of days. toward the end of the trial.


last day, bloody feet.








 Yes this is the trail, extreamly rugged.  


I crossed the stream to the left of the picture about 30 ft from the waterfall. This was after very heavy rains.  I made it but it was a dumb thing to do. I did not have any other choice if I wanted to keep going.

 Nate and I first night at the lake we camped by.


last day on the trail above a low cloud line.

peg leg and nate dropping us off.



The Journal Main rough draft

Nathan and I plotted a 50 mile trip starting at Riliey on Rt 4 heading south to Grafton notch. This was desided after we had arrived in Maine over a chicken sandwich at a service plazza. There was discusion on whether or not to attempt 60 mies. Nathan talked me out o fit. Later I was to thank him. We finished our lunch and head up to Grafton state park. It was here we expected to find a welcome center where we could ask about transprotation to the trail head. No such place existed and we begain to stressout. When driving through the small park we spotted two trail rangers, they advised us to seek a shuttle at a local bed and brakfast. After trying several local spots with no avail we finally ran across the Anover Guest House. (http://www.andoverguesthouse.com/)

The inn keepr
He had long stringy white hair that went down to above his shoulder blades. He kind of hobbeled around and at first I wondered if he had a broken foot. I looked down then I realizing his foot was missing. He had had a ambutation below his knee and wore the most basic out of date prothesis I had ever seen. I have never seen one that basic, not even in pictures. In fact so basic it was not covered in any of my physcial therapy classes. Home made? Who knows. I later find out he had lost his foot in a motorcycle accident. He talked in a funny Maine sort of way and I could not understand all he had to say. His speech was slurred, I attributed this from years of alcoholism. He had a barreled chest and would cough and wheeze occasonly, maybe indicating the first signs of emphassema.

In the very small town of Andover he had 13 relatives most of wich owned camp grounds or fishing cabins close by. He introduced himself as peg leg.


The house was a three story, old home with a large front porch. It was conviently located across from a small grocery/liquer store. There was also a baseball dimond that could be viewed from the front porch.
We negotiated the price and arranged for a 10:00 shuttle to our starting point. Nathan and I split a pizza and had some thoughtful conversation. After dinner we packed our packs as it was getting dark. Aas we finish packing our bags an otherwise attractive brunette with massive legs bearing scars and scabs all over her thighs comes over to us carring a case of beer. She introduces her self as bugger. (what the hell kind of name is that? Now I know that aint on no birth certificate.) Turns out most
all the through hikers have these weird trail names. It was her last day of her 300 mile section hike. She had been hiking with Roy, a north bound through hiker and this pot belly dead head named Green Green. Her mostly drunk yuppy dad and his girl friend played pattle ball in the frount yard.
She tells us to help our selves to her beer. Her and a black school teacher named Sure toes ancwer some questions about the trail. We popped in a movie that Nathan grabbed earlier and Sure toes Nat and I watched untill later that evening. The movie was called October Sky, a sappy tear jerker about a boy’s conflict with his dad. I had to excuse my self several times as I was over come by tears. Later after the movie I leave Nathan to his reading and join a very drunk Bugger Roy and Green Green in the kitchen. An empty pizza box and several shampain bottles lay scattered about.
Roy was in his mid 30’s. He was a north bounder who had been hiking with Green Green since Georgia. This was his thrid time completing the trail. They planned to take the next day off and contine North starting at Grayson notch. I told them of our 5 day treak which seemed very meak next to his almost 6000 miles of trail experience. “There not really such thing as a through hiker. Take your time enjoy your self. It takes a life time to understand the AT.” Ya our 50 mile grand adventure did not seem so grand any more. I was still very excited. They make a few jokes about south bounders, remember southbounders have only 250 miles completed next to their 1900 miles. I just sit and grin. They then start to comment on how crazy late it had gotten. I check the clock which reads 11:30. They got up and had a lot of trouble walking. Booger desides to urinate on the back steps. She takes hold of the rail, drops her draws and squats while holding onto the rail. She slips and baddly cuts her head. She is half nagged, laying in her urine bleeding badly from her head. She just finished 50 out of the toughest 100 miles on the AT to be done in by a back porch step. She survives, and leaves town drunk again with her dad at the wheel early the next morning.

The nest morning I awake to find the bunk room empty with the exception being Nathan alseep across the room. Nate and I awake, and get our stuff ready. Peg Leg drives us to the trail head and attempts to send us in the wrong direction on the trail. Fortontaly he was corrected by a through kiker that needed a hich back into Ransly. The weather was good. We started at 12:30 from Rt 4 and were told we had a nice flat trail ahead of us. My pack was at least 50 lbs. Nate summed the first 3 miles well, ”What do you mean they call this flat.”
Ya see in Maine they don’t believe in swich backs. Way up north they don’t even belive in dirt. Yes no joke, dirt dose not exist. Every once in a while you will see some black stuff in between the tangle of roots and rocks where a handfull of leaves are decaying. That dose not count. THERE is NO DIRT in MAINE. I gess they also figure the best way to keep a trail marked is to simply biuld it on top of a stream. Maybe they thougth the hikers could fish as they hopped from rock to rock and catch them selves a good dinner as they make there way to the next lean-to. It was not as bad as this but it was some of the worst kept trails I had ever seen. And yes no matter what you might currently belive swich backs are a good thing. Somewhere during that first day I realized I forgot toilet paper. Nathan had just returned from Africa was still concerned about his explosive diarhrea (it’s a great story just ask him). He agrees to share part of his toilet paper role and I stop sweating. We cover 9 miles with out to much trouble and camp at Sabbath Day Pond lean-to. We wat frozen hot dogs cooked over a small fire. Here we meet several South bound hikers.
Freght train is a plump tall fellow with mostly gray hair and a thick brown beard. He is in his mid thrities. He desended Katahdin(the starting point) almost two months ago. He told a good story about hiking to a lean-to up north to find a cooler filled with ice and 4 Budwisers. He talked about missing his Jim Beam. He was married for 4 years when reciently his wife died from complications of diabeties. He is hiking to raise money for the diabeties foundation. He carries there wedding picture on a shoe string around his neck.
Brian, trail name Homeless, is a young some what burnt out southbound hiker. He had been on the trail for 30 days covering some 250 or so miles. He comments several times about how he wishes there were more females on the trail. His buddy hopped off the trail a week ago with a knee injury. The next day he gets some of that good old exlposive diarrhea and gets off the trail. Later from a conversation with Freight Train he headed into Rainsly, a local town. Homeless starts talking about getting off the trail and desides to spend a week with his girl friend who lives in the area.
Heady was a slim guy in his sixties. He held several nursing degrees most of his sons became doctors. He was an all around nice guy, but definitely had a no nonsence attitude about him. Evidently earlier that day Freight train received a no smoking lecture. Heady was the guy who used dentle floss for fishing.
Ohio boy (don’t know his real name) had only been on the trail for 2 days. He wore combat boots, (I highly recommend not doing this), and carried an old army nap sac with no waist belt. His two older brothers had been in the army and helped him pack. He was concerned about his low mile days. He ha only one water bottle, but remembered a retractable fly fishing rod. He emptied and left some stuff at the shelter. He had just finished a graphic arts degree. He said he didn’t feel like working, had some extra money and desided to hike from Maine to Vargina.
A couple of North bounders came in later on in th evening. We offered all our left over hot dogs. The north bounders called themselves The Iowa Boys. I talked with one named Cornbread a little while about what is was like to be almost done with the trail. “Kind of mixed feeling,” he said,”Part of us is sad to be done with this life style. The other part looks forward to taking only weekend trips where you can take anything you want.” They all wore tennis shoes, carried no tent only a tarp. I asked Cornbread if he would do the trip agoinin a couple of years. He thought a moment and said,” I could see myself doing the traill or a big part of it anyway with a girl friend or a wife.”
After dark the moon was close to full so I walked down to the lake and sat on the rocks. The black inky waters of Maine spread out before me. Pine covered the hill sides and every once in a while animals could be herd snapping twigs or making gentle spashes on the water. Nathan and I talked untill very late in the evening about the paradoxes of woman. Every once in a while cyotes would meke errie calls from over a near by hill. I have been in backcountry many times before, but never had I herd the sound of the lonesome cyote. I felt pretty rugged.
The next morning we were the last to rise, the last to leave camp. Felt like such a slacker and were hiking by 10:00. It was now that I was told that the errie “cyote” calls were not cyotes at all but some kind of water fowl called a loon. As we were leaving camp we met Waterfall.
Waterfall was an attrative 30 year old with long blond pig tails. She had spent the last couple of years teaching a backpacking class at a collage somewhere in the north. She decented Katahdin 28 days ago. She looked well equiped. She wore gaiters, good boots, carried those ski walking poles, and carried a medium size internal frame pack. Before teaching she transcribed Lean-to shelter register journals for the state. “ I spent ten years dreaming about hiking the AT. Least year I was scedualed to make the trip. The trip was canncled because I had mono. When I finally accended Katahdin I stopped dreaming and it became reality.” She completed a 100 mile trail located in Southern Georgia in preperation for her trip.
She told me a story about a getting caught in a flash flood while on that trip. She had set up camp between tow dry creek beds that joined at the base of her camp. At twiligh a flash flood hit turning the streams into swift rivers. The water levels continued to rise and started flooding her camp. The the back of the camp steap hill/cliffs rose and were covered with thorns. As it continued to get darkershe broke down camp. She missed judged the strength of the newly formed rivers. She started crossing the creek carring her broken down tent in her arms. Neadless to say the current swepted her off her feet knocking her down. The stream carries her for about 30 yards, she losses her tent, and her glasses as well as suffers minor bumps and scraps. With out her glasses she can only see the outline of objects if they are some three feet away. All of her equipment was now wet. She was effectable blind and the night and cold weather had set in. All this occurred at mile mark 40 on her 100 mile Georgia hike. In the past 40 miles she had only seen 3 people. She stumbled towards higher ground in the dark and finds a fallen tree. She spread her ground tarp over the tree to make a lean-to. The slope was significant enough that she had to dig in the soil to reduce the slope so that she could set up her stove. She cooked soup and tea to warm her self. The sleeping bag she used was very good quality and even wet it kept her warm. She said she acctually slept for an hour or so as she slid out of her shelter during the night to wake in the pouring rain. The next day she met her fourth hiker on the trail whose wife was meeting him at the next road crossing. Having very poor sight he lead her out, the wife drove he into town and she had new glasses in an hour.
She now hikes with disposable contacts. Interestingly the experience gave her more confidence in her back country ablities. That storm broke records for rain fall in the state of Georgia and did it in time of drought. She’ll tell ya,”They call me Waterfall because I tend to fall down a lot and it always rains when I camp.” Later she would live up to her name. She is also a big Jerry Garcia fan. Cool girl.
The first four miles of the second day were fairly flat. We then assened 1250 feet with in a mile and a half. Ths is compairable to Michamoqua’s hill a hard hike we would perform in scouts. That’s only the first part of the assent. It leveled out then we had two more sharp assents which were similar but shorter. (No swich backs remember.) We finally take our first break on the thrid mile of the hill, mile eight for the day. We sat and rested above tree line. We finish the last mile and stayed at Bemis mnt lean-to.
Waterfall, Heady, Ohio boy, Matt the witch doc and Patch camped with us that night.
Matt was in his early 30’s, worked as a Geologist for several years. He had hiked the 281.5 miles of Maine the year before. He was somewhat bitter about his previous job and quit so that he could hike the AT. He knee pain in the past and was wearing two rather worthless knee braces on both knees. I assessed his knees and advised him on better braces and a treatment program I was proud to be able to use my physical therapy skills, I had just graduated from physical therapy school. He had decended Katatin several days after Waterfall and they had been friends since the 100 mile wilderness.
Patch was a north bound hiker. He had a rather devious lauph and for no real reason I kept getting the feeling he had spent time in jail. He wore boots, carried hiking poles and had a pack just bigger then a typical school pack. He ate almost a comletly protein diet. He also took a lot of viatamins. He did not carry a stove and ate blocks of cheese and jerky. He was quick with jokes and was enjoyed cards. Nathan and I taught Ohio boy and Patch how to play spades. Ohio boy was my partner and was a bit slow on the pick up. Nate and Patch beat us quick. I started getting dark and patch complained about us keeping him up so late. He was planing to cover twenty miles tomorrow. Yes, this is double what nathan and I had just covered. Heady had been asleep for over an hour. We had a good time, Patch liked the new card game. I fell a sleep shortly after dark. I awoke shortly before dawn from smoke pooring in from Heady’s fire. He usally left 6:30-7:00 just as I would wake up. That day we assended Bemis mnt, Elephant mnt, Old Blue mnt, with in the first seven miles. On Old Blue mnt rain sets in, we keep a good pace as we once again broke tree line. We were a little concerned because we could he thunder in the distance. This mnt was in between us and our next water source and we were almost dry. We kept a hard pace and missed the storm. The rain stops, and in the next three miles we desend 2000 ft. We then accend Moody mnt. Patch with his 1900 miles of trail experience had told us the night before that this was a tough climb. I knew when he said it would be tough, then it would be very tough. The accent is an easy two times harder then the Michimacqua’s hill. At the peak we then take a short break. Nathan starts to get concerned about his right knee. I assess his knee and was able to conclude that he had a patellar tracking disfunction. Basically the muscles aren’t firing right causing the knee cap the rub just a little more on bones on the outside part of his knee. I tape up his knee but the Walmart tape does not hold. The decent causes him much pain. We take a break at the base of a stream close to a dirt road. Nathan desides to go on and see how he feels in the morning. I take food out of his pack to unweight him. We had covered over 12 miles and we were both very tired. The accent to Wyman mnt staerted at 1000 ft to climb 2700 ft in a mile and a half. I almost vomited twice. Three times as hard as the Michamaqua’s hill. Hall mnt lean-to greated me as the sun was going down. I was concerned about not making it to the lean-to before dark. Matt, Waterfall, and Heady and Nathan were already there. I had to treat and drink water at the mnt base before the accent and the others had gone on. This was uncompairably the hardest day of hiking in my life. All the other hikers, ecept Heady agreed, they had never hiked a harder day. I was not the only one to dry heave, Matt and Waterfall had dry heaved several times as well. I start a fire to dry out my cloths from the mornings rain. Heady declaires no more card playing may be allowed in the lean-tos. Heady and I talk about scouts and everybody goes to bed. I eat very late, after dark and hit the sack. That night I dream that my brother and I are getting attacked by some thug. I go to kick the thug and wake to find that I have kicked something hard. I still don’t know if I kicked the side of my sleeping bag or if it was Heady, sleeping next to me. I woke to Nathan lecturing me about leaving his stove outside. Its raining hard so I roll over and go back to sleep. When I finally do get up Nathan desides to hike six miles to the next road and head into Andover. Heady, Matt, and Waterfall do the same. I modify a taping techenque for the Walmart style tape. I use the whole role. What I did seemed to work, later Nathan told me it got him 80% pain free. It rained hard all the way down the road. At the road I me up with twelve boys and two adults from Qubeck. One leader had no shirt on, was a blue white and was shivering bad. All of my own equipment was soaked including my sleeping bag. That is a big deal. I deside to use a little white gas and start a fire. First I take my tent rain fly and tie it high to four trees. That would give shelter from the rain. The adult leader and I gathered wood. The rain just kept on keeping on. It took me two trys to get the birch caught. The fire built up very slowly. After about and hour the fire was big enough to warm by. The rain finally stopped. Several of the boys gathered around and helped me hold my wet sleeping bag out to dry. One of them let it get to close to the fire and part of it melted. Nathan came through taked for a short time then headed for the raod. I ate some of the burnt cake the Qubeckan’s gave me and repacked my stuff. I had seven remaining miles to hike in the rain. I was completely wet, my poncho though expensive was almost worthless. My pack cover was old and had lost it’s water proff ablilities.. It continued to rain on and off. The rest of the hike was a very wet and tired on. I cross three streams that were fairly high and wade through them. One crossing was at the top of a series of violent water falls 70 yards long and very steep. Not servivable if I fell and got picked up by the current. The trail crossed 15 feet away from the beginning of the falls. The terrain all around was very steep, this was the only suitable crossing. I think about Waterfall’s story and wade across. About half way across the current swept me and I lost my footing. My knees bucked and I felt my back side go under. I caught myself and with all my remaining energy pushed myself back to standing. I was very thankful I had packed my sleeping bag in the center compartment. I could not let that sleeping bag get wet if I was to have a warm night. I was very tired and wet and cont on to assend surpluss mnt. I was some what angry to find a scout troop set up in the lean-to. Though hikers and section hicker (thats me) are suppose to have first dibs. I started a fire while the rain started and stopped. A southbounder in his fifties helped me dry my sleeping bag. I had trail mix for dinner. The rain picked up. Setting up your tent in the rain can be an art. First and most important you need to select a place with good run off. At this I chose poorly. There were puddles in my tent and my ground pad was wet. I went to sleep dry but awoke wet, but warm. I was able to get 3- 4 hours of sleep. I woke early, packed, skipped breakfast and was on the trail by 7:00. Early bird catches the worm, but early hiker clears the spider webs off the trail. There was still a light rain. At this point my hair, shirt and shorts had been wet for over 24 hours. With in two miles I assended from 2500 ft to 3600 ft going from Fryer-nothc lean-to to Baldpate mnt east peak. At about 3300 ft I broke cloud line, at 3400 ft I broke tree line. The sun was shinning, behind me the clouds were layed out like an ocean. Puzzle mnt and Sunday river white caps poked through the cloud cover. I was warm, it was sunny and I was very happy. I set up my tent for it to dry as well as my therma rest. I enjoyed garnola bars chased by sparkling brown iodine water. I finished out that seven mile day secending 3800ft to 1500 ft with in three miles. The hike was over slick rocks and stream beds. My feet were getting sore but all I could think about was the pizza I had promised my self for lunch. I knew I was getting blisters but I didn’t care and I was truly surprised at the damage. By hiking in wet boots in these grades I had lost over 10 % of my skin to blisters over the top parts of my feet. I picked up my car and drove into Andover to meet Nathan

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