Into the hundred mile wilderness

Leaving Monson the next morning with all of our gear, food, and full bellies we headed out late, just past noon.  Taking quite some time to get a hitch, we crammed into the backseat of four person pickup and headed to the trail. The trail following along the side of a giant lake, gifted us with a breathtaking view of the fall colors and clouds. Stopping to take pictures and enjoy the fall scenery we came across a warning sign. “There are no places to obtain supplies or get help until about bridge 100 miles north. Do not attempt this section unless you have a minimum of 10 days supplies and are fully equipped. This is the longest wilderness section of the entire A.T. and it’s difficulty should not be underestimated.

With that we waked into the hundred mile wilderness with only two days worth of food and the hopes Kim would be at the road in thirty miles. Flailing and I hiked together for a while taking about what to do when we get done.  The only plan we had ironed out was finishing, after that we both had our thoughts on what to do, where to go.  The smooth clean trail allowed for easy hiking, as the three of us hiked.  Flailing getting into his mode, would pull away from the two of us and leave us talking to each other alone as we tried to catch him. Eventually I would pull away as I picked up speed.  My shoes finally had not ceased to hurt, but stopped enough for me to bear walking in them.

When I caught Flailing we had just a bit to go down before the stream and shelter.  Dropping from the rocks and climbing over the stream we got ready for lunch. Our normal Ramen bomb and company were fine for us.  Eating joining in we discussed how a to go and planned on he next shelter. Earthling moved out firs like she normally did while flying and I strolled behind. First we stared slow thinking we had all day and pick up our pace over time. We got movie so fast that I kept a jog for most of the flat terrain all the way to the river crossing. Walking past the giant waterfall, neither one of us really wanted to stop and look, we just wanted to get the day over with.

We had just a short climb down the ravine to the river to meet her hopefully for the next fording.  To our surprise she was waiting for us by the water.  Looking at the river, I couldn’t bring myself to walking through it there had to be alone way across. I looked up and downstream and to my delight I saw a log to crossed the river.  It had fallen and become lodged in the rocks.  Thinking back to Shaws, I remembered Poet telling of the log and decided that wold be my way across.  The others started taking their shoes off as I scrambled to the log. 

Sitting on it like I was riding a horse I steadied myself.  Getting feel for my balance it my pack and the logs motion.  If I didn’t remain perfectly straight, the weight would pull me in one direction and I wood slide off into the water. With the first few scoots I felt my heart increase as I made my away from the safety of the rocks. Each scoot after that, my heart rate rose.  My adrenaline was pumping and I fought to keep it from racing, I had to stifle my nerves.  It didn’t help that Flailing was yelling at me the whole time.  Slowly and methodically I made my way across to the other side, dry and victorious.

With the late hour we decided to head o the pond for the night, tenting rather than pushing into the dark to the shelter.  The short mile hike would provide us with a beautiful pond and a beaver damn to walk across.  Taking the moment to grab a few photos I climbed the damn and headed down the gravel road, looking for a place to camp.  We got lucky as the road turned to grass and had plenty of space for us to camp on.  Setting up our tents we ad just enough time to watch the sun come down and light up the trees around us, full of the reds and yellows.  We all slept well that night fora change, the sounds of a tiny creek carrying us off.

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