Well, I finally got my good bear story!  I was sleeping in my hammock about a hundred yards uphill from the Gravel Springs Hut in Shenandoah, and had just woken up around six in the morning.  It still wasn't light out, so I decided to go back to sleep.  I woke up again fifteen minutes later to this "whuffing" noise right next to my head, lifted my head up out of the hammock, and came face to face with a BABY BEAR CUB!!!!   My involuntary scream  (if I was a guy I would claim it was manly, but I'm not, and it wasn't) scared the little fellow probably as much as he had scared me, and he took off running across the campsite and straight up a tree about ten yards away. 

As I gathered my wits, I heard a noise in the brush, and watched as a HUMONGOUS MAMA BEAR ambled out to sit under the tree the baby bear had fled to.  I looked at her.  She looked at me.  I wasn't exactly frightened, as she seemed more irked with the antics of the little bear than she seemed upset about me.  The cub made some funny kind of mewling noises, and then the mama bear looked up at him and made what I can only term as an "exasperated sigh" at which he backed down the tree, far more slowly than he had gone up it, and they ambled away down the trail toward the shelter.

After sitting in awe for several minutes, I got up and went down to the shelter, but nobody else had seen the bears.  I later read through the shelter log, and apparently several others had encountered the same bears, either in walking to the shelter or in the early morning.  However, no one had had any confrontations and the bears had not been aggressive towards anybody, so I think it's proof that if you do not feed them or allow them to encounter human food, black bears really aren't a threat.  I will say that everyone has been doing great at following "best bear practices" from what I've seen, and I'm glad now that we're so conscientious!

As I write this, I'm sitting in the Appalachian Trail Conservancy's office in Harper's Ferry, WV.  It's wonderful here - they have a hiker lounge with air conditioning, places to charge your phone, and cold drinks for $0.50.  Essentially, hiker heaven.

"Halfway" on the AT is defined in a few different ways, as the length of the trail changes every year due to re-routing; this year's official mileage is 2185.3.  There is a nice big sign in the middle of the woods that signifies the "halfway" point, but it's from a few years ago and is actually a couple of miles north of this year's halfway point.

At this year's "actual" halfway point, there was a laminated 8 1/2 x 11 piece of paper taped to a post stuck in some rocks that marked the momentous occasion.  It wasn't really photo worthy.    The most important "halfway" for me, though, is Harper's Ferry, which is the "psychological" halfway and means that I'm definitely counting miles down instead of up from this point on!  Only 1019 to go........

I've decided to set my end goal as November 15th, though I hope I beat that by a couple of days.  To accomplish this requires that I maintain a 14 mile per day average for the rest of my hike.  My current average since beginning is 14.2 miles per day, so I feel that this is achievable.  I'm currently ahead of quite a few people that I started with, and while I sometimes miss the companionship, I'm proud of my pace and I intend to stick with it.  Occasionally people have chided me to, "Slow down and hang out more."  One guy yelled after me as I was jogging past him, "It's about the journey, not the destination!"  I have several thoughts on this:

1. I met two northbound hikers in Maine who were literally running through the woods during a rainshower, and they looked like they were having a blast.  They flew into the shelter, yanked their shoes off, shoveled food into their faces, yanked their shoes back on, and were gone again before Molly (Smiley) and I had even begun to make our lunch.  As they were eating, they grilled us on our hike so far.  One of them asked, "When do you want to finish?  And dear god don't tell me Thanksgiving.  There's a limit to how long this will be fun, and you want to finish well before you get to that point."  While his tone was somewhat abrasive, in retrospect I appreciate the concept, and am glad he put it so simply.  I want to be sipping cocoa on a couch somewhere planning my next adventure when it starts to get cold, not freezing my rear off on some peak in North Carolina.
2. Another northbound hiker was far gentler in his approach.  He was in southern Maine, carrying a tiny pack and wearing no shirt, but expected to finish both the AT and PCT in a single year.  He told me, "Pick a date you want to finish by, and stick to it.  Hike until midnight if you have to; do a forty mile day.  Spend yourself.  Spend all of yourself.  There's nobility in that." I like this thought.
3. Sometimes moving quickly in the woods is special.  Really special.  As in, the trail is gently downhill, and without thinking about it, you start moving faster, picking your steps intentionally, and as you move faster and faster, you achieve a kind of "zen" state in which your brain and body are both fully focused on the task at hand, and the trail slips past under your feet as your mind opens up to child-like creativity.  It's almost as though you're a waterfall on the face of the mountain.  Absolute bliss.
   
   So, to Mr. It's-About-The-Journey, I say, "My journey is different than yours," and keep right on running!

I'm in Pennsylvania now!  Getting close to the thousand mile mark!  The last few states have been a blur.  Connecticut and New York were pleasant, rolling countryside, but the mosquitoes were pretty rough.  Of anyone had told me the most difficult part of the trail would be the bugs, I would not have believed them, but they swarm you constantly, buzzing in your ears, flying in your eyes, biting until you're in desperate need of multiple benadryl doses.  I was very thankful when that ended!

Towards the end of CT I made some significant gear changes that have enabled me to travel further and faster than before!  I swapped my boots for some cheap New Balance tennis shoes (size 10; I'm turning into a sea lion apparently).  Lighter shoes coupled with some "Dirty Girl" gaiters of planetary design are definitely the way to go! Fewer blisters, better traction, and more stylish!

My R&D department (thanks "Houston"!) researched sleeping bags and Dad bought me a new Kelty SB20 that's warmer, lighter and packs smaller than my old bag.  It's filled with duck down, which is as warm as goose down but deals with moisture better.  I no longer have to sit on top of my pack to coerce my sleeping bag into its compartment, saving me at least seven minutes every morning!

A chipmunk ate through my food bag,  so I got a new one of those, and after breaking three plastic sporks (one while demonstrating its flexibility.... "See, I think this one is stronger and more flexible than the....SNAP.  Maybe not.") I received a titanium spork capable of prying cold peanut butter out of the jar with ease.  This may be my new favorite piece of gear.  Probably because it has to do with food.

I got to see a bear in New Jersey, maybe twenty five yards away.  He was a bit small, making me wonder if a larger bear might have been watching us both, and I was impressed with how quickly they can move through dense woods!

Springs have dried up quite a bit in PA, meaning that I have to go off trail for water more often.  This frequently gives me an excuse to find places that sell fruit and ice cream, which are my two favorite treats out here! So far the best has been molasses flavored, which is something we don't have further south! Yum!

PA is also the land of snakes and spiders.  I use one trekking pole to sweep the ground in front of me for snakes, and wave the second in big arcs to clear the spider webs across the trail in front of me.  From afar I imagine I look as though I'm simultaneously searching for buried treasure and dueling imaginary dragons.

I'll try to update the blog more frequently ... The last few weeks went by so fast!

I leave you with an adaptation of She'll Silverstein's poem, "Somebody has to go polish the stars" specifically suited to large sections of Pennsylvania:

Somebody has to go sharpen the rocks
They're looking a little bit round.
Somebody has to go sharpen the rocks
For the frogs and the snakes on the ground
Say the hikers are hiking with far too much ease
They prefer when we stumble and fall to our knees
So please get the whetstones and honing strops
Somebody has to go sharpen the rocks!

Mt. Moosilauke was the last "White" mountain,  and I wanted to savor it.  I made sure to time my day so that I had plenty of time in the afternoon to make my way to Beaver Brook shelter, which is approximately one third of the way up the mountain.  I was definitely glad I'd left plenty of time, as the trail runs parallel to a series of cascades for over a mile!  The views were gorgeous!

I was also able to admire the work of the trail crews years ago, who were able to blast sections of rock out to make stairs, embed wooden steps into the side of rock faces, and provide rebar "handrails" to go along with them.  Trail maintenance these days is definitely less destructive, but also less helpful in many cases.

I made it to the shelter around six thirty, plenty of time to cook dinner and relax a bit.  "Multi" rolled in about a half hour after me, and we chatted about the day.  Favorite quote from that conversation:
Multi: "Yeah, I saw two bear in the hundred mile wilderness."
Me: "Oh yeah?!  How far away were they?"
Multi: "About a hundred fifty miles apart."
Ummmm.... Not what I meant. :)

We met an older couple that were out for just a single night, and chatted with them until dark.  AT hikers go to sleep with the sun generally.  8:00pm is jovially considered "hiker midnight." Normally in the shelter as everyone settles in for the evening, there is a certain amount of fidgeting.  People stuff their clothes sacks for pillows, roll over multiple times in their sleeping bags, blow up air mattresses, etc.  However, this typically dies down after a bit and everyone goes to sleep.  Not this night.  The older gentleman, introduced to us as, "Horace," was attempting to use his external frame pack as a pseudo-lay-z-boy recliner.  It didn't seem to be going well.  Clank.  Clank.  With each adjustment, the shelter rattled.  I could feel the vibrations through the floor.  Clank.  Clank.  Horace became more and more frustrated.  Clankety clank Clank.  I could hear him mumbling as he wrestled with the pack. 

I fell briefly asleep but was quickly awakened by snoring.  Our friend Horace apparently has sleep apnea.  As he would fall deeper asleep, the snoring would become more and more irregular, almost stop entirely, then Horace would gasp startlingly.......zzzzz....zzzzzz.....zzz...... . z.......ZZZZ CLANK CLANK CLANK!

This went on for hours.  Next to me, Multi tossed and turned in his sleep, whispering four letter words with each round of snore-clanking.  I giggled at the insanity of it all and checked my watch.  1 AM.  I gave up and pulled out my e reader, planning to read at least until dawn.  I finally fell asleep, e reader in hand, and slept until about 4:00.  ZZZ CLANK!  Multi woke up and said things I'm still not old enough to hear.  Knowing that everyone was already awake, I called it.  I got dressed, packed my pack and headed up there mountain in the dark.  4:30. 

End result: gorgeous sunrise on Moosilauke.  Beautiful views and frozen fingers, followed by an  exhilarating run down the much less steep south side of the mountain.  Pretty sure Horace was sent to make sure I got the sunrise pictures I missed in the rest of the Whites.  My guardian angels always come in the oddest packages!

Starting up Moosilauke that early set me up well!  22.6 miles, my biggest day yet!

I'm one month in!  My birthday marked a full month on the AT.  I've come 334 miles and finished one state (Maine), and am currently near the south end of "The Whites."  I've lost five trekking pole tips and sent home almost eight pounds of extra gear, including extra clothes, the solar charger, soap and my video camera.  Now that I've gotten some miles covered and officially feel like a real "thru hiker," it seemed a good time to reflect.  So, without further ado, the top seven things I didn't expect thru hiking the AT:

1. Numb toes.  I can't feel either of my big toes.  Informal survey suggests that neither can about 75% of other hikers.  I also have no feeling in my left arm from my shoulder to my elbow. 

2. Going down is harder than going up.  A steep downhill is physically more difficult, more painful and more mentally taxing than a steep uphill and the probability of injury is much higher. 

3. Going "fast" on the AT has way less to do with hiking speed than it does with number of hours hiked.  I'm keeping up with much faster people just by getting up early, hiking later in the day, and not taking many days off.

4. We thru hikers can smell your laundry detergent.  And your deodorant.  And if you have on perfume, we can smell you coming from a mile away.  I don't know why, but somehow the fact that we haven't showered in a week makes us super sensitive to people that don't smell like us.

5. Singing out loud off key while walking in the woods by yourself is amazingly therapeutic.  Until you're busted by a day hiker.  Then it's amazingly embarrassing.  But not so embarrassing that you don't start singing again about a hundred yards past said day hiker.

6. Walking in the rain isn't that bad.  As long as you take your shoes off every few hours and let your feet dry out, you don't get blisters.  I'd almost rather walk in rain than scorched by sun!

7. Being above treeline never stops being amazing.  Whether you're socked in with clouds or can see for miles, it's magic.  Pure. Magic.

Oh my.  I must tell this story, but it is not for the faint of heart.  If you have a weak stomach, skip this entry and check out my dissertation on the wonders of hammock camping.

Heading up Little Bigelow mountain (which I argue would have been better named Littleow, but I digress), I encountered an odd sight.  A rather overweight individual (a rare breed this far back in the woods) was stationed smack in the middle of a narrow rock climb, effectively blocking passage.  She was decked out in a pink shorts bra, black running tights and hiking shoes.  Perhaps in her late forties, early fifties.  Her pack was open, an odd assortment of gear scattered on the trail, Mountain House wrappers, a car charger for a cell phone, clothes.

"Do you know what time it is?" she asked.

"About one thirty," I replied, looking at my watch.

"Thanks!  Are you headed south?" she asked.  An odd question, considering the obvious answer, but, "Yes," I replied.

"Oh neat! Are you by yourself? That's cool, there aren't many solo women out here.  I don't talk to strangers, my name's 'Almost There'.  What's yours?"

"Friday," I replied, which is the trail name I've been granted.  It was originally Friday the 13th but that's a mouthful.

"Friday, do you know where we are?"

"Close to the summit of Little Bigelow if my timing is close," I replied.

Almost There reached into her pink sports bra and retrieved a yellow piece of notepaper with a sketch of the tail profile.  Though hard to read and disintegrating due to being soaked through with sweat, we were able to distinguish where on her hand sketched map we were actually located.  Concerned that after the long climb, Almost There wasn't going to make her goal campsite.  I pointed out a campsite closer than the one she had noted, and said I was headed there.

As I realized that Almost There wasn't moving anytime soon, I finally gave up and started climbing the difficult rock scree to her left.  "Okay I'll see you tonight!" she said as I struggled past.

About ten yards up the trail, I heard her yell, "What time was it?"

"One forty!" I yelled back, thankful to be past the roadblock and heading up the mountain again. 

As the day went on, I started feeling really exhausted.  More so than normal, but it was a hot day and a steep climb, so I attributed it to that.  Boy was I thankful as I stumbled into Safford Notch campground and started setting up my hammock.  Then it hit me, I was going to be sick.  Really, really, sick.  I made it about twenty yards from the tent sites and revisited my lunch.  Noodles, pepperoni and all.  Hugging a rock, I hoped it was just the end result of a really long day, hot weather and a big lunch, but as I continued setting up my camp, having to repeatedly stop for breaks, I knew I was in trouble.  Being sick sucks.  Being sick two hundred fifty yards from a privy is downright awful.  Originally thankful that no one was there to see me hurl, I began to have visions of laying dehydrated in my hammock for days before someone came to this back country tent site to save me.  Thus, when Almost There showed up around dark, I was really happy to not be by myself, even if it was the trail "roadblock."

"Hey, Friday, is that you? Do you know what time it is?"

"Right at eight o'clock.  Hey, I have kind of a problem.  I'm pretty sick, do you think you could check on me before you leave in the morning?"

"Sure thing," she said.  "Tomorrow morning I won't be 'Almost There' I'll be 'There'!"

Confident in the knowledge that I wasn't going to die alone in the woods, I lay back in my hammock and prayed to the stomach gods for mercy.  An hour later, it started.

Almost There came down the hill and sat down, mere feet from the evidence of my illness, and plopped down her food sack. "So hey, I know you're not feeling well, but I'm low on, like, sustenance food.  Do you think we could do some trading?"

"Um, yeah.  Hang on.". I put on my headlamp and crawled out of my hammock, found my food sack and sat down, starting to dig into it.  I couldn't.  The smell of food was overpowering.  "Here," I said, handing her the bag. "Look through there.  There're a couple of silver freeze dried packs, you can have one or two of those." She started digging through, and the results of my effort caught up with me.  As I began hurling the remainder of my lunch up, on hands and knees next to Almost There, she says, "Oh look, spaghetti! Do you like spaghetti? Do you think I could have this?"

I'm not the best negotiator to begin with.  Navigating a food transaction while barfing was impossible.  A few minutes later I realized I'd traded three freeze dried meals for a Hershey bar and two instant coffee packs.  Point for Almost There.

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Nine fifteen," I moaned. 

"Okay, see you in the morning!" she called after a few more minutes of chatting, and then headed off into the woods.  Downhill.  Away from her tent.

"Almost There, you're going the wrong way," I said.  She began stomping through the woods in the opposite direction, but still downhill.  "No, come back up!" I pled.  I finally ended up getting out of my hammock and walking back up to the tent site with her.  Second point, Almost There.

As dawn approached, I began to feel alive again, taking small sips of water and munching on small pieces of my extremely expensive Hershey bar.  I managed to get up the strength to start packing up camp, and emerged to the site of Almost There up the hill, in the dawn light, packing away her tent in nothing but a pink sports bra.  Nothing. But. The. Bra.

I kept my focus downhill and worked on getting my pack under control.  Thirty minutes later I began stumbling up the hill.  Thankfully, Almost There saw me coming and finally put some pants on.  Thank heaven for small mercies.

"Hey Friday, do you know what time it is?"

"About eight thirty," I grumbled, just wanting to get moving up the mountain.

"Hey, do you think I could use your phone?" she asked.  This is not a small request in the backpacking world to begin with, and far in the back country, with a low battery and not feeling so good, I was loathe to grant the request, but she had come and talked to me while I was sick, even if it was to swindle me out of dinner.  "Okay, but could you make it quick? I'm low on battery."

Fifteen minutes later, I received my phone back, covered in sweat and blinking low battery.  Third point, Almost There.

I headed up the trail, and heard it.  "Hey, do you know what time it is?"

"Almost nine!" I hollered back, and headed up and out.

Later that day, I summited Bigelow Mountain, feeling better and better as the day went on.  I'm still thankful that I wasn't alone that night, but God must have been running a little low on guardian angels.  That's okay, second string is better than nothing!

I've also met several other people who've encountered Almost There, and they seemed genuinely concerned for her safety, and insinuated she should get off the trail.  I'm not worried about her, she's tough, wily and resourceful and I think she'll be just fine!

Monson!  Made it to the first real "trail town." I passed the normal highway hitchhike and opted to walk in to Shaw's Lodging, only a mile and a half off of the trail.  arriving there, i was vaguely surprised to see that this was a true "lodging house" with "rooms and meals available" advertised in the front yard.  As I set down my pack, I was greeted by Dawn, who ushered me inside, set me up with a bunk, and said, "And of course you'll want to shower" in a tone that implied this was not just a polite assumption but rather more of a directive... .     In any event, I was happy to find that they really do have everything you could possibly need there, down to extra clothes you can wear while you're washing your trail laundry.  I picked out a t shirt with a snowboarding chipmunk on it, some shorts two sides too big, and washed my hair three times over while my laundry ran.  I then spent the afternoon going through my resupply box from May, who went above and beyond.  Other people's boxes had freeze dried spaghetti; mine had couscous, saag paneer, and brownies from a local Gainesville bakery.  Friends like May are hard to find!! She even sent coffee!!!!

Breakfast at Shaw's is not taken lightly.  I sat down at the table and immediately two big pancakes appeared in front of me.  After wolfing those down, Dawn came in and asked us what kind of eggs we wanted, and after I placed my order for two over easy, we continued sharing our trail experiences over coffee.  There were fourteen of us that morning, and it was awesome to be able to instantly relate to all of these strangers, having been through the same trials of the trail in the last week.  As Magellan ranted about Maine waterway terminology... "You call that a stream?!", plates began appearing in front of us with eggs, bacon and hash browns piled high.  It was amazing and we all ate until we couldn't move. 

Monson isn't large, and you can tell that it was once a far more bustling community than it is now, but it does have some new businesses that cater to hikers.  I went for lunch at Pete's Place and had a chicken salad sandwich that was delish.  They also had lots and lots of baked goodies that looked amazing, but I'd eaten enough already!

I'm definitely anxious to be back on the trail, but my Monson experience was great and I hope future town stops have the same sense of camaraderie and good times.  And food.  I hope they all have good food!

I've learned many important lessons so far, but the most important may be the concept of the hot lunch.  It's very easy to get wrapped up in the walking, only stopping momentarily at views that really deserve an hour's contemplation.  This both detracts from the scenery and exhausts the body.  Finding a spot to lay down the pack, pull out the stove, and make a real meal for lunch (even if it's ramen or a pack of oatmeal) gives you the opportunity to enjoy the scenery, rest your legs, and restore your energy.

Coming out of the hundred mile wilderness, I sat on the Barren Ledges, ate some delicious Annie's mac and cheese, and watched a group of three large birds soar higher and higher on thermals out of the valley while looking at this:

It's definitely important to keep walking, but it's far more important to stop and look around sometimes!

Attempt two to reach Baxter Peak involved Saddle trail, which according to the trail guide is the easiest ascent. Having seen both the hardest and easiest paths to the top we can reasonably ascertain that there is no easy way to Baxter Peak! Saddle Trail is a steep boulder climb, even though it is short, and several sections of it had so much water coming down that it was like climbing in a waterfall. We were essentially rock climbing, minus the safety gear, plus a thirty five pound pack strapped to our backs. However, after two days of hiking in Baxter Park we finally achieved our goal of summiting Katahdin.  The summit was completely encompassed by cloud cover, but we took a selfie next to "the sign" and were excited to start our AT journey officially!

If we thought the Saddle Trail up was difficult, we definitively didn't know what to expect on the way down.  Austin quoted Armageddon to describe the AT/Hunt Trail coming down from Baxter Peak as "pretty much the scariest environment imaginable." Words cannot describe the sheer terror and exquisite beauty of this trail.  There are large sections which feel like you are walking through a Tolkien novel, followed by strenuous scrambles across rock ridges with steep drops to both sides.  We made it, even with full packs, by taking it slowly and carefully considering each descent, but probably won't attempt that again!  Now we know why most people leave their gear at the KSC and only take daypacks to the top. 

We intended on hiking out of the park this evening, but came across Daicey Pond campground, which happened to have a cabin available.  We propose that  staying in a cabin with no electricity or running water still constitutes camping.  However the wood stove and free firewood allowed us to dry out all of our soggy gear from the last two rainy days.  Total win!

I've decided to name my left leg, "Smith."  The last two days have been spent catering to my busted left knee, and anything that high maintenance deserves a name.  Smith refuses to bear weight when in any position other than perfectly straight.  Why "Smith," you ask? It's a joke in the movie Mary Poppins.  The one chap says to the other, "I've just met a man with a wooden leg named Smith." The other chap replies, "What's the name of his other leg?" Makes me laugh even writing it now.

So, Smith had me defeated for a while.  I was moving slowly and in constant pain.  There were tears and  foul language and general frustration.  But I'm forty miles from Monson and only have five days of food, so sitting still isn't an option.  Finally with some experimentation, I was able to save myself with..... Funny Walks!

My knee bears weight perfectly fine when straight, it's just the bending that's the problem.  So my first funny walk is the "German Soldier" where I lift Ol' Smithy straight out in front of me, put some weight on my trekking poles and kind of pole vault myself up and over said straightened leg.  This works great for gentle up hills and down hills and can even be used in root and rock hopping scenarios!

If I've got good, flat, level ground, I can really get some speed up with the "Tetherball" wherein I step forward with my right leg, then swing my left around in a great big arc.  Beware, you can get carried away with this one, build up too much rotational velocity, and really throw yourself for a loop.  Use with caution.

On steep downhills, I do what I've termed "How's the Water."   I set myself good and stable on my trekking poles and gently lower Smith's big toe down to the next rock, similar to checking the temperature of a questionable swimming hole.  Works like a champ except my right quad is going to end up three times as big as my left.  I'll be like Hellboy but with one big leg instead of arm.

Last but not least is "Zombie With a Walker," an absolute necessity on steep climbs.  I plant my trekking poles ahead of me, take a big step with my right leg, then drag Smith up behind me like a dead body.  It's an ungainly, asymmetrical motion, but I get where I'm headed.

I should note that my internal monologue when reading profile maps is far more interesting now.  I used to think, "Well, I've got good level ground for a while, then steep climbs into and out of that valley." Now that assessment runs more like, "That's definitely German Soldier area there, maybe even with some good Tetherballing mixed in, but it's a whole lot of How's the Water and Zombie With a Walker after that." 

With my funny walks, I've picked up some speed, and my knee isn't nearly as sore at the end of the day.  Win!