Bouncing away

I followed Balsam to the river, tumbling down a few rocky patches of mountain. With a lot of energy, BJ tested the waters and discovered that it had a chill. It didn't matter, he was anxious to get off of the trail. His boots came undone and on with the Adidas trail runners. Atlas was also taking off his boots.

On the far shore of the stream, the brothers saw another hiker on the banks with a chain saw and an old school framed pack. He was older but appeared in good enough shape to hike.

The boys forded the stream and started talking to the fellow traveler. The conversation was a little bland, so I decided to leave BJ for a minute and follow a frog that was bounding away from the heavy backpacks that nearly crushed its torso. The frog was a female and very lazy. She hopped to the river and plopped in. The current was too strong for her and the two of us drifted down the Orbeton, me enjoying the ride, but her very in confusion.

After a while, she caught on to a tree branch and pulled herself to safety. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the ugly bugger. I apparated back to BJ and he and his crew were eating lunch on the old railroad bed. Back to society, they hoped but for me, back to being a shadow, hey, the sun was out in full.

May 25, Day 5, Shaw's Lodging, 7:45 AM

On Day 4, we woke up at 5:40 AM to prepare to hit the road. We were all a little afraid of what would be waiting for us on the trail when we departed. To our surprise, the conditions of the 2.7 miles to an old railroad bed were way above what we were expecting. We only walked across a little snow, way less than day 2’s snow escapades. We hiked down poplar Ridge and the trip was pretty much one big descent. The view on top of the ridge was overwhelming. It reminded me why I went hiking in the first place. With very little obstacles confronting us, we made our way to Orbeton Stream.

Orbeton Stream is at about 1,600 feet altitude. We guessed that any mountain range above 3,000 feet would be snowy. Anything below that mark would be pretty trekable. When we hit Orbeton, there were no designated places to cross like a bridge or logs or fallen down trees or stepping-stones, so we were forced to ford. So we donned our fording shoes, unzipped our sip-off pants so the shorts were on and walked through the cold water. The stream was perhaps 50 feet wide and the water made its way up past our knees. At most parts, it wasn’t that difficult. I even thought to myself at one point that it was kind of fun to ford streams.

Pause to eat a delicious home cooked breakfast!

Before we ventured across the stream though, we saw our first fellow back-packer on the other side of the water. He was carrying a big chain saw. We learned that the hiker’s name was Dave and he is a volunteer for the trail in Maine. He’s been keeping the trail tidy for 50 years. Dave had a conversation with Rich and I on the far side of the bank. Dad hadn’t crossed the river yet and Dave was just about to do so as well. Dave stripped to his tidy-whiteys stained at the seat with what I imagined to be chocolate pudding and put his old Keds on his wrinkled feet. He then forded the stream and talked with Dad for a spell. All-in-all, Dave was a nice guy who really took pride in his chain saw. We later found his car along the road bed with MATC as his liscence plate. MATC stands for Maine Appilachian Trail Conference. I guess he's more of a geek then we originally noticed.

We then all dried our feet and hiked up a steep rocky cliff that was 120 feet high. Then we hit the old railroad bed, which was converted into a rocky road with stems and ditches in the way. We headed north along the road for about 8 miles into a town called Phillips. We were a little confused though because along the road, we flagged down a local logger who was driving his big rig down a road that was drivable. He busted out a map and said that the town of Philips was best gotten to if we were to turn right at some cross roads about 1 mile down the path we were traveling on. He was wrong! We must have walked 3 or 4 miles down the road and saw no big crossroads at all.

Fortunately, we got the attention of a red Jeep Cherokee and the driver was kind enough to stop and offer us a ride into Phillips. Herb was the guy’s name drove us to the town center. Herb was a typical “Mainey” as I like to say. He was missing a few teeth in his grill and bragged about his 10 children ranging in age from 25 to 4 months. He was wearing a red derby cap that matched the exterior of his vehicle and he was listening to Jesus talk radio. But he dropped us off where we wanted and didn’t cut us up with a secret hatchet that he stored in back so we were all grateful for his kindness.

When we were resting in the lean to on our so-called rest day, we were able to contact Dana from Shaw’s Lodging. It was a miracle that Rich’s cell phone was able to get any reception, but it did. She was the one who told us to meet in Phillips and she would pick us up there.

When we got into Phillips, we tried to use the cell phone again but were unable to get a signal. We also tried to use a pay phone that was situated outside a convenience mart but it was busted. Dad kept feeding quarters into it and was getting awfully peeved when nothing was coming back out in a form of change. It was amusing to see him try time after time with the same result. We then walked into the local hardware store and the lady behind the counter said that if we were to stand in the middle of the main street, we should get a small trace of a signal. Low and behold the woman was right!

Let’s take a second to reflect on Po-dunk Phillips. I’d say that the population is perhaps under 500 people. The town center consists of a church that is dilapidated, a pizza place. A hardware store and that’s about it. I didn’t even see a post office. Maybe it was hiding inside the pizza shop though for all I know.

Boy was I glad to see Dana when she drove up at around 4 in the afternoon. We waited for her for around 20 minutes, sitting on the curb drinking a cold soda and taking in the whole atmosphere. (We later found out that the town of Phillips is infamous for it’s marijuana cultivating) Dana drove us into Monson where we were to stay at Shaw’s Lodging. Her and her mom and a lady named Sue ran the place. Apparently it is a place strictly for back-packers who are hiking the AT like us. It is about 1 mile off of the trail and is famous for its all you can eat breakfasts. Today’s meal was eggs, French toast, bacon and sausages all washed down with OJ.

Last night we got into Shaw’s at around 6:30 and we hopped into a well deserved shower and ate a home cooked dinner at around 7 PM. Dinner was meatloaf, carrots, corn, potatoes and salad. We drank ice-cold lemonade as well as water. It was quite satisfying to eat real food. We were surprised to see 3 pieces of rhubarb pie at the end of our dinners. It was a remarkable meal. We talked with the owners for a while and then I excused myself to read upstairs in my room. I’d say by 10 PM, I was out like a light.

The people are nice here at Shaw’s Lodging and we have decided to stay one more night. We are excited to see the Monson nightlife if it at all exists. I hear that there is a banjo band that plays in the town general store every Friday night. They got on the cover of the newspaper a few weeks back is what the word on the street is.

We’ll go into town to purchase some extra gear as well. I need to get a head lamp and a knitted cap for the cold temperatures at night. Our new plan is to remain on the trail but have a much less strenuous plan. Yesterday’s temperature was 91 degrees, so I am sure that some of the snow has melted away up on those peaks. We shall sit down and organize a trail plan later this afternoon. But for now, I will relax on the porch, read my book and ait for the real day to begin.

Wildlife we saw yesterday: snake, toad, badger, and a dead snake on the side of the road. Oh, and millions of flies!


(9:06 AM)

A Tale on the USS Blackfin

Steve was a naval officer on the USS Blackfin submarine that sailed the pacific seas during the Vietnam War. As the chief engineer of the vessel, he has had some good times as well as some not so good times. While walking alongside Balsam Jones, Treebeard told of this story:

One of my jobs on the submarine was to be in control of the rubber raft unit. The rubber raft was not the greatest part of my job, but if the captain said that that was to be the case, then there was no quarrelling.


The job of the rubber raft crew was to be able to go ashore while the submarine was floating around in the sea close to the harbor, but invisible to the naked eye. The rubber raft would be let out sometimes miles away from the beach and the men on the crew would have to paddle for sometimes hours on end to get to the shore to deliver messages or whatever need be.

Most of the time, the rubber raft was just used for drills and such. On one such occasion, the rubber raft crew was told to paddle out to the shores of Hawaii in order to have a practice. And just to make sure that we actually went to the beach, the captain made us pick up some beers for proof. Well, on a submarine, beer is considered a harsh penalty and could get a person demoted in rank or fined in salary. But if the captain said to bring back beer, there was no other way about it. His word was law, until someone higher up on the pecking order said otherwise.

The sub let us off a few miles from Honolulu and we paddled all afternoon and went into the evening hours. There were no signs of anyone around the waters and my men paddled until there skin was redder than a lobster’s tail. We finally made it to the beach after paddling for what seemed like days.

Jumping out we all had our mind set on one thing, beer. Not just for the captain, but for ourselves as well. One unlucky seaman had to stay with the raft while the other half dozen or so ran up to the town. We went into the first bar we saw and sat right down at a table. The waitress took our order and promptly came back with a half dozen bottles of beer. We drank happily and thirstily and it was soon time to order another round. We each had a few spirits and when it was time to go back to the raft, we requested a six-pack for the road. At the time, the law was for customers to drink in the bar and the establishment was not allowed to sell bottles of beer to anyone. I flashed a five dollar bill (big dough back then) and of course we got what we wanted.

Back at the beach, the unlucky officer was surprised to see that we remembered him. He drank his beer like it was gold, careful not to spill one drop while the other lads were paddling back to the meeting point. We paddled until morning and were picked up on time.

The captain saw our beer and we snuck it into the sub. Pleased with the success of the mission, the captain gave us all good remarks. The story isn’t finished yet.

A few days later, it was time for one of the many inspections that the USS Blackfin would be faced with. Very high chiefs of merited distinction came on board to check the boat from bow to stern. While they were looking in the galley, I happened to open up one of the common refrigerators and was flabbergasted to see five bottles of beer just sitting there so lonely. I quickly slammed the door and continued on with the inspection. Apparently the captain didn’t even touch the beers that we got him in Hawaii. Thinking on my feet, I tapped one of the petty officers on the shoulder and explained that he needed to remove the beers ASAP before any of the inspectors were to see them.

When the inspectors left, not noticing to five beers, my heart finally stopped pounding. I played a little joke on the captain letting him know that the inspectors each enjoyed a nice beer at the end of their tour. The captain looked on in horror and then after I told him that we were clear, he patted me on the back and just walked away.

May 23, Day 3, Poplar Ridge Lean to 10:05

I normally try to record an entry every evening but found it impossible to do so last night. Day 2 of our trip was the worst day of hiking I have ever experienced. Granted, I am only 25 and haven’t done too many outdoor trips in my day, but I do have a few under my belt, so I know at least what to expect.

We woke up a little behind schedule, but felt that it didn’t matter because today’s leg would only be 8.6 miles. Little did we know these 8.6 miles would be the toughest of our lives!

After filtering water, eating a breakfast of Poptarts and making a nice batch of hot cocoa (by the way, the night at Piazza Rock Lean to was extremely cold, perhaps 36 degrees said the thermometer). We departed from the hut at 9 AM. The first mile was perhaps the easiest; hiking up the southern slope was a little muddy, but no real problems. Dad got his leg caught between two roots and needed our help to get free. That was the extent of our troubles in the first mile or so.

Then came the fucking snow! Rich explained that on the northern parts of mountains, the snow is always the thickest. Well, he was right I am afraid to say. Going up Saddleback Mountain was pretty challenging. We had a few snow banks that engulfed the trail. Literally, 36 inches of snow or more covered the path and there was no other way of getting around it. So up and over we went. Most of the time, our feet took one step on the top and then sunk through at least 20 inches of snow. This is extremely not fun to hike in. Once or twice, fine, we’ll deal, but when we got to the summit and started our descent, man was it tricky stuff. Every other step landed beneath the snow. At one point, I went through the snow and banged my knee on a jagged rock that was hiding underneath. I ripped a small hole in my pants and scraped my knee. At another spot, Dad fell right into a snow bank, breaking his fall with his face. He was fine, thank God. We would end up snow diving for perhaps 75% of the day’s hike.

We ate lunch on a really shitty slope that was in between two snowy sections to pass. Lunch consisted of tuna fish and crackers washed down with some peach ice tea. The time was 1 PM when we sat down to eat, out of breath and wet from all the snow holes. We realized that we hadn’t even gone 30% of our planned distance to travel. We were going to have to pick up our pace or we’d be black blazing for sure (hiking in the dark with flash lights). But how could we go any faster with all these dangerous snow mounds standing in our path? Rich and I could definitely go faster, but this style of “hiking” was really hard for Dad. Everyone was frustrated with the terrain and no one was having a good time.

After some hard walking and some snow clomping, we made it to the top of the Horn, which was about half the distance we planned for the day. We hit the summit at maybe 3:30 or 4 PM. We took a packs off break to contemplate the inevitable.

Climbing down the Horn was equally as terrible. As you may guess, the whole theme of the day was “shitty.” At one point, Rich had to rig up a rope for Dad and I to get down from a 60 degree ice slide that was impassible to with out the rope’s assistance. And to make matters worse, we were already in the dark!

Before we put our lights on, Rich and I decided to take some weight off of Dad and add it to our own packs. So now I had about a 54 pound pack instead of a 44 pounder. It makes a huge difference.

When it was time to switch on lights, I realized that mine, for some strange reason has broken. Luckily for me that the Maglite has an extra bulb in the butt of the flashlight. I knew it wasn’t my batteries that failed because I put new ones in right before I left. They were extra strength lithium ion batteries that last way longer than normal batteries.

By 10 PM, everyone was tired, I should say exhausted, wet from the snow and our morale was completely raped of any joy. Our soul purpose now was to find the Poplar Ridge Lean To. At 10:30, I felt that we had to have missed the hut along the trail. It was dark and we were cold and not functioning at full strength. We seemed to be hiking way more than 8.6 miles! But we continued onward.

Through ice and snow, mud and puddles up to our ankles, we traveled. Past fallen down trees that covered the trail we marched. One tree was in the way and I was breaking the trail I was so pissed that I started punching and kicking the limbs of the tree. After doing this for a few seconds, I had knocked about 5 or 6 branches off of the tree, enabling Rich and Dad to climb over the pine unharmed.

By 11 Pm, I announced to the crew that I thought it was time to just sleep in the wild. We would be able to find the hut at sun up. The consensus was to follow the path by headlights and headlamps.

I am glad that we continued because at 11:45 PM, Rich shouted “Got it guys!” from the lead position and it was the best thing I’d heard in a while.

“Rich, You’re the man now Dawg!” I shouted as I came across the lean to. We made it! And to think, an 8.6 mile hike lasted 14 hours and 45 minutes. I’m not proud of this feat, but it felt good to get to the hut and I didn’t care about how it looked on paper.

Five minutes later, my flashlight malfunctioned again. I had no more bulbs. I guess the batteries were too powerful and fried all the bulbs. I didn’t figure that this was the case the first time that this occurred. I am just thankful that I finished the leg with light. Who knows what would’ve happened if I didn’t. Now I have no flashlight, but Dad and Rich do at least.

I think that Dad used up all his energy. Several times during the trek he felt that he was going to vomit. When we cooked a small dinner, Dad could barely eat three bites. We cooked another Mountain House of beef with potatoes and onions. I wasn’t that hungry either, but I managed to finish my bowl.

It was too dark to see any good trees to hang our bear bags so we just put the bags on the forest floor beside us and prayed that there were no hungry bears out that night. They didn’t come. Slumber came across each one of our persons quickly.

We decided not to go on the next morning. We concluded that the conditions were too dangerous and we ere ill prepared for the weather. The ground resembles winter, but it’s unusual because I can wear a t-shirt. Because of the snow, the conditions of the trail are muddy and wet. If it’s difficult for me, a 25 year old man who exercises on a regular basis, think of how hard it must have been on Dad, a 67 year old out of shape grandfather.

So today is a rest day. We’re still in our sleeping bags banging our head about yesterday’s leg. How did we fail to see about the conditions? Is it like this for the entire journey this time of year? We haven’t seen anyone else on the trail which may mean that others know about the Maine AT in May. I think that we are all just surprised and angry at the same time.

We’ll rest for the rest of the day in the lean to and tomorrow we will try to hike on for a few more miles until we reach an old railroad bed and hike south along that until we reach a major road. We will then try to hitch hike into a town and get out of the wild for at least of few days. I’m sad, actually quite depressed that we won’t be doing this high adventure trip after all. But it is just too unsafe for three guys who wanted to hike, not play in the snow.

I’ll relax and eat some oatmeal soon. I may read my book and nap out for a few more hours. I’ve heard a few of Dad’s old Navy stories, which are fun. At least we are all in one piece we seem to be in good spirits as well. Hey, at least we are together like father and sons once were a long, long time ago.

May 21, Piazza Rock Lean To, 6:05 PM Day 1

We finally got out and what a beautiful day. We left Sarah's house around 8:40 AM. Richard was running a little late. Of course Dad had to get he Starbucks coffee fix, so we stopped in Lexington before we got on I95 going north. The ride to Waterville took about 2 hours and 45 minutes, including a pit stop at Burger King for a quick breakfast at around 10 AM.

We dropped the rental car off at Enterprize and were greeted by a very friendly lady by the name of Dana. My first impressions of Dana were a little off though. She's 33 years old and a little over weight. She's not the greatest in shape if you will, but seems to know a lot about the trails. She was nice and took us to the drop off point in the town of Rangely, Maine right off of Route 4. Richard treated Dana to a cheeseburger from McDonald's. I got a quarter pounder with cheese, Rich got a double cheese and Dad got a 10 piece chicken nuggets. This food was going to be the last real style meals we would eat in 7 days or so. Delicious! And 30 minutes later, we're on the trail (2:15 PM)

The contents of my pack: sleeping bag, sleeping mat, two shirts (one long one short), under armor cut off, one pari zip off pants, two airs boxer briefs, two pairs of hiking socks. two pairs of sock liners, one rain coat, one fleece, one pair of mesh shorts, one pair of light weight Adidas trail running shoes, sun glasses, three quarts of Nalgene water bottles, toilet kit containing items for personal hygene, a mess kit consisting of one bowl, one spoon and one cup, two books (The General's Daughter, Vanishing Act), one hacky sack (for kicking around the camp), pocket knife, lighter, flashlight, extra show strings, head net and a camp towel.



On me: Hiking boots, one t-shirt, underpants, zip off pants, baseball cap, hiking watch, lucky necklace from Korea, and this journal and pencil.

Group gear to be distributed among the team: two tents (one two man and one one man), one stove with extra fuel, stirring spoon, a pot for cooking, biodegradable soap, camera, toilet paper, 100 feet of rope, carabiners fo bear bags, tent cord, water sterilizing pen, compass, altimeter, sunscreen, Purell soap, bug spray, cash, ID cards, AT maps, first aid kit, and 7 days of food

After getting organized, Dana left us at the trail head and the Rieber men started walking. The trail conditions are pretty wet. My boots definately like the fact that I waterproofed them last night while packing. The first part of our trek was an easy day. We only hiked 1.9 miles to Piazza Rock. We won't have any more days like this. Today we just didn't know what time we'd be off.

About a half mile into the hike, I saw a snake! It wasn't too big, maybe 10 inches long. It was brown in color like a stick and slithered away before Dad could spy it. Rich got a quick glance though. I am almost positive that it is harmless, but it was fun to see some wildlife other than a squirrel or bird for a change.

We had our first scare about 1.3 miles along the trail. Rich was passing me his camera and we dropped it in the muck. We fumbled! Luckily it wasn;t totally damaged. After that scare, we vowed to be more careful. Plus, Rich just bought it a few months back.

We saw snow! While the temperature is roughly 50 degrees or so, snow was found hiding under a few over hangs. Our first day finishes here at Piazza Rock Lean to. We will sleep in this well kept lean to that is walled on three sides and open on the fourth. We set our packs inside the lean to and explored the area around us. Rocks were very slippery when climbing and I almost got my first feel of Maine's fresh spring water on my ankles, but managed to keep my balance with my 44 pound pack that rests awkwardly on my shoulders. The rocks around us have a magical looking water fall that appears to crash down from the heavens. It loops around on the rocks looking like a water slide out of a kids' theme park. It's very cool looking and Rich snapped some pics.


After making a camp fire with as dry of sticks as we could find and old newsparer that we found from June of 2003, we set up the stove for dinner, seafood chowder. We will be eating a brand of food called Mountain House. These are made for backpackers and only need hot water in order to eat them. It was satisfying and I found quite tasty too. We mixed Crystal Light into some water and made Peach Ice Tea. Dad had to have his hot cocoa. The camp site has a two seater privy that has a cribbage set between the seats. This means no doors between stalls of course. I find this feature pretty amusing.

We'll set up the bear bags soon, putting all our "smellables" into sleeping stuff sacks. This way, bears can't get at our food. We'll make this happen by stringing the sacks over a tree branch, dangling them about three feet from the top, maiking it almost impossible for hungry bears to get.

It's nice no one else is around. Pine trees are like blades of grass in the suburbs here always around. It should be a great trip with Dad and Rich, one that'll never be forgotten. I plan to read a little bit tonight and sleep well. It's going to be a chilly night, so I hope my North Face sleeping bag is well worth the two hundred bucks I spent on it.

I've taken a shit in the outhouse and it wasn't that bad. I squatted of course. The temperature is dipping down and it feels good to be by the fire, except when the smoke flies into your eyes. It burns! We all made up trail names for ourselves too. Here goes: Nick is Balsam Jones, Rich is Atlas and Dad is Treebeard.

So this is Balsam Jones calling his journalling off for the night. (7:01 PM)

Day 1

Balsam Jones takes his hat places it above his line of vision. "Hmmm, keep walking. That's nice, I like that, keep walking down the trails." He placed the cap back on his head and opened his dark blue journal with the spirals. His pencil was freshly widdled from a neat and tidy pencil sharpener, a home edition self-cranker. BJ had the spirit of a young tiger. He started what would become a daily activity. Let's take a look at what he has to say about the day's events.

Appalachian Adventure

It has come to my attention that some guy by the name of Casual Jones has just come back from this crazy adventure in the land where no motors pollute. His trail name was Balsam Jones. A few nights in the wild later, Balsam Jones became one with nature. Well my name is the Anytime Kid and I was right along with Balsam Jones. I'll be the narrator in this little stroll back in the past. Enjoy the posts to come.