Maine... Part The First

I'm afraid I'm not sure where to begin this post, except to say this: the past week and a half has contained some of my best days on the trail, and some of my most challenging.  Most challenging, you say?  More challenging, than, for example, the bleak nothingness that characterized most of the state of Virginia?  More challenging than overcoming the nausea that comes along with eating a half gallon of ice cream in one sitting?  MORE CHALLENGING THAN ESCAPING THE BLACK HOLE OF PEARISBURG?

Yes, friends, more challenging than those things. But let me back up for a second.

I got back on the trail on Tuesday (I think?  Time is so meaningless out here.) by catching a ride north from Melvin Village (where I rode out the storm) to Gorham, NH with Trapper and Dube (whom I had last seen back in Damascus as he was in the process of making up his mind to leave the trail).  I had wanted to get to Gorham the day before, as I was getting antsy to get back to the trail, but since Route 16 was closed due to hurricane damage, I couldn't get up there any earlier.  The ride up to Gorham was lovely, although due to many washed out roads what should have taken an hour ended up taking closer to three.  We ended up cowboy camping (laying out under the stars in our sleeping bags) three miles out of Gorham, watching the stars, warming ourselves by our campfire, and eating wild blueberries.  It was a magical night, made more so by getting to see an old trail friend.  The last time I'd seen Dube was under the saddest of cirumstances, so getting to hang out with him once more when his life was headed in a more positive direction was, excuse my language, fan-fucking-tastic.

 Dube, Trapper, and me, sporting a Burger King crown.

The next day I solo hiked to the Maine border.  Walking into Maine was both amazing and incredibly sad: my last state border in this journey, and an significant reminder that the trail has a rapidly approaching endpoint.  Happily, I was able to share the experience with Trapper, who I should mention, I met on my second full day on the trail.  At the border he reminded me of the conversation we had when we met while eating lunch on a windy overlook way in Georgia.  At the time everything was still brand new, and we were all still sorting out how do to the whole "Appalachian Trail" thing.  I remember being a bit shy at that time with people, and feeling almost like I had to justify my presence on the trail as someone who was serious about making it all the way to Katahdin.  On that windy overlook I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple, and introduced myself to a quiet (HA! WRONG ABOUT THAT!) red haired guy named Trapper (then Jon) as Bree, from Boston (It's weird to think about introducing myself now with my real name.  I hope I get that sorted out before I return to work.).  After several minutes of polite conversation (mostly centered around him being from Philadelphia and me going on and on and on about how I love the Mutter Museum there) he mentioned how amazing that this was our real life for the next six months.  And it is.

MAINE!  YES!

Oops.  Getting kicked out of the library.  Part 2, in which everything goes down hill (spoiler alert: MAINE IS WET) is coming up... soon?