Bob, the friendly owner of Goose Pond Lodge in Rangeley gave me a ride to Bangor for the sum of $180. It was a 3 hour ride to Bangor and it was going to chew up a good chunk of his day, so that didn’t seem all that unreasonable. Not knowing anything about Bangor’s geography, I chose one of the cheaper hotels I could find since I’d be staying there all week. I quickly regretted this decision when Bob dropped me off at the Super8, which is located on the far outskirts of Bangor, near the airport. It clearly wasn’t an area where you could walk to much. After I arrived, I called around to a few of the bike shops to see if anyone rented bikes in the town. The town was only six miles across and would be easily navigable on a bike. After several calls, no dice. I then looked into the option of moving hotels to somewhere near the commerce area, better known as the mall. At least I could walk to Chili’s, Applebee’s, or TGI Chotschky’s. Sadly, most places were $90 or better, so I opted to just stick around Desolation Ave. out by the airport.

I decided to take a walk up the road I was on to see just what was there. Aside from a healthy dose of other hotels, all I found was a gas station with a Subway, a cheap movie theater and a pool hall. The next few days would find me eating a healthy dose of subs, seeing the Simpsons movie a third time as well as catching a couple other flicks. The third day I was there I walked the 3.5mi. to downtown Bangor to hit the library Internet up and catch a non-sub meal at a restaurant. Bangor had a cute little downtown and I managed to satisfy my recent chowder addiction by catching an amazing bowl of seafood chowder at an English pub called the Whig and Courier. I also found a nice wine and beer store so I could get my Belgian Ale fix. That day, I received a phone call from the CDC and they said the results came back negative for e. coli. They didn’t know exactly what my illness was, so they were going to send the samples back to the hospital for further testing. If they found out what it was, they’d call me. Not surprisingly, that call never came, so it’s still a bit of a mystery as to what I had. This is the second time I’ve had a serious illness that went unexplained by the medical world. My first was a 10 day sickness after returning from Vietnam. In that episode, I had chills, a 104 degree fever, headaches, sore throat, vomiting, etc. In doing some Internet sleuthing, it seemed all of my symptoms might have been due to the Plague. Yes, the Plague. I was surprised to learn that 50 people a year still get that. As it turns out, they never figured it out and I was left guessing, using WebMD to try to figure it out. That incident as well as the recent Maine illness hasn’t done much to inspire confidence in America’s health care system.

Aside from a few excursions out of the hotel, the rest of the time was spent cold chillin’. I spent most of the days reading, napping and watching TV. I think it might’ve been the most boring week in my life. I COULD NOT wait for my sister to arrive so we could get back on the trail.

She arrived on Friday and we were getting a shutle from Bangor to the 100-mile Wilderness the next morning. At 8AM, we were picked up by a guy from Monson named Buddy Ward. He was a native of the Monson area and had lived there most of his life. For nearly the entire three hour ride from Bangor, Buddy talked almost exclusively about bear hunting. One of his many jobs is at a bear hunting camp and the previous day had been particularly eventful for him, as the camp’s dogs had chased a bear around a huge moutain in the matter of a few hours. It was about 10 miles as the crow flies, but took the hunters nearly a day to bushwhack and locate the dogs via their radio collars.

Now, some of you are probably unfamiliar with bear hunting, as I certainly was prior to Buddy’s 3 hour talk. It goes something like this: It starts out by putting together a series of bait buckets for the bears. This was the particularly disgusting part, as the hunters put primarily donuts and a few other things in a 50-gallon barrel, seal it and let them ferment for one year. That’s right, one year. The next year, they transfer the contents to smaller barrels and place them at various points in the woods that are accessible by ATV. Every morning, they make rounds to see if the bait has been taken, which tells the hunters that the bear is in the area. If it’s determined that a bear is close, they release a series of dogs wearing radio collars to chase after the bear. Bears are pretty much scared of almost anything including wily dogs, so they run until they feel they can run no longer, at which point they head straight up a tree. It’s now the dog’s job to hoot and holler at the base of the tree, keeping the bear “tree’d” until the hunter arrives. Once the hunter locates the dogs and the bear, one person leashes the dogs and slowly starts to pull the dogs back, giving the bear the impression that the threat is subsiding. As soon as the bear starts his descent from the tree, the “hunter” with the gun pops a few rounds into the bear, killing it. Real sporting, eh?

All of this as well as many other gory details were covered in Buddy’s hunting lesson that he was providing us at no additional charge. I think he made reference to shooting nearly ever native animal of Maine over the course of our three hour ride. My sister, a vegetarian and no fan of animal cruelty or hunting, spent most of the ride squirming in the back seat while I politely entertained Buddy’s stories from the front. On our way into the 100-mile Wilderness, we saw two coyotes and Buddy was cursing himself for not having his pistol with him, because coyote pelts are apparently worth a lot. Robin and I, both anticipating the pelts were valued at $500-1000, were scratching our heads a little when Buddy said, “those are like $75 dollar pelts.” $75 bucks? Hardly seems worth it to me, but I suppose it’s just a matter of perspective.

After winding through the wilderness on a series of logging roads for nearly an hour, we came across the spot where the A.T. crossed one of them. Buddy dropped us off, gave us hugs and sent us into the woods. The final 40 miles of the trail were now in front of us. I was pretty excited. In four days, I’d be sitting on top of Mt. Katahdin. The last portion of the 100-mile prior to entering Katahdin’s home, Baxter State park were surprisingly easy, but not all that scenic. On the third day, we finally entered Baxter and were met with some nice sections of trail. We did about 10 miles to Katahdin stream campground, where we would set out for the 5.2 mile summit bid the next day. Upon signing in with the ranger, I learned that I was hiker number 338 to summit this year. Not bad, considering there was somewhere between 1200-1500 folks who started.

The next morning, we woke up in the dark to get an early start on the trail, since it was gonna be an ass-kicker. Nearly hitting our 7AM goal, we were on the trail by 7:20AM. The weather forecast was looking good, which is often not the case in early October when snows have been known to hit any time. On August 18th, we were all dismayed to learn that it was 20 degrees and snowing on Katahdin. What was it going to be like in October when I finally arrived? Surely it’d be hell. The A.T. is also known in the park as the Hunt trail, and is the route used by thru-hikers to ascend Katahdin. We had been warned that it was pretty tough and that the 5.2 miles would take us 4-5 hours. The first mile was a breeze, letting us cover the distance in a mere 20 minutes. From there things got interesting. The next mile and a half, wasn’t all that bad, just steep. We hit treeline at 3300 feet and still had another 2000 feet of elevation gain to go. Once above treeline, both Robin and I had occasions where we utttered, “Wait, we have to go over that?” The trail went straight up over large boulders and crevasses, sometimes requiring you to use the rebar that had been driven into the rock to use as hand and footholds. We were definitely in the toughest section of the climb, but it was fun, and the views were incredible. We climbed for another 1.5 miles and eventually hit “The Gateway,” which is the spot on the trail where it plateaus out into what they called “The Table Lands.” From here, we had another 1.25 miles up to the summit, which was recognizable for that entire distance, due to the congregation of hikers at the peak. The last stretch was rocky as could be, but it wasn’t all that steep. We summitted at 12:30PM, five hours after starting out. The mountain itself was just incredible. It’s the tallest mountain in Maine, and there really isn’t anything that’s nearly as high in the surrounding areas, so the views were just completely amazing.

After hanging out on top for about 30minutes, we decided to head back down. Not wanting to descend the Hunt Trail and all of it’s crazy rock ledges, we opted for another trail, the Saddle Trail, which I heard was the “easy” trail up the mountain. It was fairly easy for the first half mile until we hit the point where we had to descend from the ridge to the valley below. In the image above, we went from the mountain on the left down the side of the ridge and hit a trail that passed the pond that’s visible in the lower middle of the picture. Descending the ridge involved following a “trail” that was nothing more than a 1500 vertical foot rockslide over a half mile. Very steep. We eventually hit the bottom and had 4 miles to go to the parking lot where our folks were picking us up. The hike had been tough just getting to the top of Katahdin, so we were pretty beat by the time we set off down the rockslide. The last 4 miles saw the trail completely covered in large-ish rock that required you to step from one to the next. There wasn’t any smooth walking surface to speak of. It took us another 2.5hrs to do the 4 miles. As we were walking the last stretch, we saw our father waiting on the trail for us. We were almost there! When we got to the parking lot, our Mom, my Aunt, and my Uncle were waiting for us with snacks and beer. Woo Hoo! My mom completely burst out into tears of joy as my sister and I emerged from the woods. Her kids were back in one piece! My parents had seen me go into the woods six and a half months ago, and God knows what was going through their head. I can’t even imagine it. Now I was finally returning safely.

From there we had a long, uncomfortable ride back to Bar Harbor, ME, where we were to spend the next 5 days. My folks had rented a house and we were just going to eat, drink, sight-see and do some hiking in Acadia National Park. The week was great, weather was incredible, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was capped off by catching a sunrise from the Precipice trail on the eastern side of Acadia, overlooking the ocean.

So now I’m back in Florida, planning my next moves. I’ll be moving to Los Angeles in January and I’m trying to figure out the whole “work” thing. A harsh reality indeed. In the ultimate “screw you” to the trail and the freedom of the woods, I bought a laptop in New Hampshire three hours before getting on a plane to go home. How quickly we can slip into our old ways!

Thanks again to the crazy amount of support I’ve received. I honestly thought people would maybe take a look at this blog for the first couple weeks of the trail, then interest would totally wane. To my surprise, I was getting 50 views a day from people all the way through the hike. I hadn’t anticipated that at all.

As you’ve seen, I have my pictures up on Flickr, but I haven’t gone through and titled all of them. That’ll be coming in the next few days or so, as well as a few videos on my Youtube page.

One’s a time-lapse video of me walking a ridge in the White Mountains of NH.

The other’s of an awesome sunrise I caught in Acadia National Park on my last day in Bar Harbor, Maine.

The quality’s kind of crappy, but it’ll have to do until I figure out how to get high-Q vids up.

Enjoy!

Katahdin Summit Photo!!!

Originally uploaded by ryanchittick.

I made it! The last few weeks have been crazy, dull, awesome and shitty all at the same time. Give me a day or two to collect my thoughts and I’ll be posting a complete rundown of the finish of the trip.

Here’s the rundown of the recent events:
1) I almost had e.Coli
2) I spent a week hanging in a hotel in Bangor, Maine
3) I finished out the hike with my sister by my side
4) I had an awesome post hike vacation in Bar Harbor Maine with my Parents, Aunt and Uncle
5) I wasted no time and bought a laptop before even returning to FL
6) I’m back in Florida at the wonderful resort that is my parents house

So, folks, I’m holed up here for two or three days, taking a regimen of antibiotic. Supposedly, I’ll start feeling better in 3 days, at which point, i’ll skip ahead a bit and resume my hike, keeping my time schedule.

Let my affliction be a lesson to you all, treat or boil your backcountry water! Those signs placed by the forest service at water sources warning you of the risks are no joke!

 For most of the trail, any time a weekender would ask me where I was headed, I’d say “Maine.” Unfortunately, now that I’ve arrived in Maine, that clever comment doesn’t have the same effectiveness.

Also for the entire length of the trail, nearly anyone you encounter who knows anything about the trail says something to the effect of “wait ’til you get to New Hampshire and Maine. It’s awesome.” Well, New Hampshire’s under my belt, and I’ve cracked into the first portion of Maine as well. The thing is, all of the hype up to this point was absolutely right on. I’m usually one to build up anti-hype anticipation of things, so when someone tells me something’s gonna be awesome, i’m usually prepared to be diappointed. This hasn’t been the case one bit.

Two Mondays ago, we entered the White Mountains of New Hampshire, going over Mt. Moosilauke, a relatively tame affair save one 1.5 mile steep section, but we had a beautiful day, killed 2 hours on the summit and moved on. The next day, we went over Kinsman Mountain, which had some serious semi-rock climbing portions. This was our first real ass-kicking day; we covered 16 miles in the relatively slow paced 10 hours. Franconia ridge was the next section, but it was socked in with fog. The next section we hit was Mount Washington and the Presidential Range. We had the misfortune of hitting this part in bad weather, causing us to have to bail off the moutain and bypass 12 miles of trail. Mt. Washington is known for some of the most fickle weather in the world, and currently holds the record for the fastest windspeed record on the surface of the earth, a respectable 231mph. We arrived in Maine a couple days ago, and had to go through a mile-long boulder field called Mahoosuc Notch. This section was unlike any other on the trail, as it required you to crawl under giant boulders, hoist yourself up near-vertical granite faces using roots as handholds, and just generally exert yourself beyond anything you’ve done before. We managed to move through it fairly quickly, covering the mile in 2 hours, including a 30 minute halfway break.

The area between Mahoosuc Notch and where I am now, Andover, ME, has been incredible as well. We’ve had the pleasure of going over mountaintops above treeline, with 360 degree views. And the nice thing about Maine so far has been how remote it is. In the Whites, you’d look out and see roads, houses, towns, and plenty other signs of people. When you look out over Maine, you see very little other than beautiful countryside. From what I hear, it only gets better between here and Katahdin.

So yes, I am indeed counting the days to my finish. It’s definitely going to be a weird feeling to step off the trail and know that I don’t have to walk with 50 pounds on my back tomorrow (yes, I finally weighed my pack and I’m at about 50 pounds with 4 days of food). The future beyond my finish still has a large question mark above it, but I’m definitely feeling rejuvinated and positive.

You may hear from me one more time before my finish, but if not, the next update will be from the other side of this.

From the time we were leaving entering Vermont, the crew I’m hiking with had been talking pretty heavily about getting McDonald’s. Different folks had different wants. Mine, specifically, was Chicken McNuggets. Every time I tell someone this they say, “You know McDonald’s makes real chicken tenders now, right?” What they don’t get is that I’m not going after the McNugget seeking a nice tender piece of fried chicken. The McNugget is kind of like powdered tea, a loose approximation of a particular food, while somehow managing to have it’s own unique and tasty flavor. I know what I’m in for with the McNugget: pre-fab, ultra processed, mold-injected chicken pieces.  I find the uniformity of the McNugget shape comforting. They are undoubtedly my favorite fast food item (next to In-N-Out burgers).

So here we are, headed into Manchester Center, VT one morning. First stop: you guessed it. It was 10:00AM, so breakfast was in order. I ordered 2 bacon egg and cheese biscuits, hash browns and coffee. Around 10:20, I finished up and waited for the menu to roll over to lunch at 10:30. I actually got to see the lady crank the menu and flip it over to lunch. What excitement. Once lunch was available, I ordered a 20 piece McNuggets with a kids-sized chocolate shake. Once I was finished with the second order, I was satisfied, and we headed out to do errands. After grocery shopping, doing laudry, and hitting the post office and the outfitter (a pretty typical list of town chores), it was close to 5:30PM. We were planning on hiking out three miles to the shelter north of town. Before we hitched out of town, we decided to hit McDonalds again. Hikers always take any opportunity they can to pack on the fat and calories, because trail food simply doesn’t cut it. For this McDs visit, I was hipped to the dollar menu. I placed my order for three double cheesburgers, a 4-piece McNugget, small fries and chocolate shake. This was easily the most gluttonous order I’d ever placed.

I consumed this order without much trouble. In fact, the three mile hike up a steep hill was easier than any other hill in recent memory. I was fairly convinced that McDonald’s was responsible. I’m envisioning a McDonald’s-sponsored hike next time I do this. I’d have a support crew that would meet me at various road crossings and provide me with my McDonald’s fix. I’m willing to bet the effect would be completely opposite of the Supersize Me guy. I’d become a hiking machine, finishing the trail in a record time.

So secondly, I’ll say that my mood has picked up significantly since my last post. Getting through Connecticut and Massachusetts played a large part, as well as the fact that I’ve met up with some folks I knew from back in Virginia and have had a hiking posse for the past week and a half.

One of the more recent highlights of the trip was a stay in Dalton, MA at the residence of a local guy named Tom Levardi. He’s kind of an amazing guy, because he basically runs a free hostel out of his home, allowing any and every hiker that appears at his door to stay. I hadn’t planned on staying in Dalton more than a day, but his hospitality stretched that out into three days. On the second day, we were planning on hiking out when he offered to drive us to a trailhead 10 miles north on the trail so we could hike back to his house and stay another night. we took him up on this offer on day 2 as well as day 3, finally getting out on day 4. The man gave us beds, showers, ice cream, cooked dinner for us, drove us 70-some miles and was just generally a nice guy. Definitely the finest display of hospitality this side of the Mason-Dixon, or quite possibly on the entire trail.

We’ve finally gotten back into real mountains after them leaving us in central Virginia. Vermont hasn’t been that tough, but it’s priming our legs for the challenging White Mountains of New Hampshire. If all goes well, we’ll be there sometime next week. Weather there is notoriously unpredictable, so in addition to doing several 2000 foot climbs a day, we might be dealing with snow, sleet, or 60 mph winds. Last week, it snowed in most of the Whites. Yes, snow in August….North of the Equator. Should be good stuff.

Thankfully, my folks were kind enough to get together my winter gear and send it on up to NH for me so I can be toasty on those stormy nights. I’ll give you the full update after I go through. I’m fully planning on it kicking my ass, but the scenery will more than make up for it.

Oh, and all the embeds in this post are because this is the first time in ages I’ve been able to write a post on a real computer. My dad’s cousin Cheryl and her husband Bill live in Vermont, and were kind enough to drive an hour to come pick me and my hiking buddies up from Killington, VT. They’ve been awesome to stay with and cooked us a ridiculous spread tonight that was topped off by homemade blueberry pie and B&J’s ice cream. I can still barely move.

I’m in the home stretch of this sucker, with under 500 miles left. Week by week, that number only gets smaller. I just have to keep reminding me that I only need to average 13 miles a day to meet my target of summiting October 2. I’m getting very excited about it. The mood is definitely different on the trail, as well. People are actually talking about the end now, where that was almost never the case before. The buzz that will surely be surrounding the hikers in the week prior to Katahdin will be very cool, i think.

Until Next time…

Nothing makes you feel more alive than being attacked by a swarm of yellow jackets because you just stirred up their nest while clumsily plodding down the boardwalk that supports their nest while listening to R.E.M’s Eponymous record. No, seriously. This happened to me yesterday. The moment I looked down thinking a horse fly was getting the better of me, I noticed that it was not in fact a horse fly, but rather 10 to 20 yellow jackets clinging to my shoes, socks and calves. Instantly, a rush of adrenaline burst through my spine and up to my scalp. I took off running down the 100 foot boardwalk screaming like a banshee, releasing a stream of obscenities that might make a Russian sailor blush. When the brief, but painful incident was over, i was left with 6 bites on various parts of my body. They’ve swelled up today and I can say I officially have cankles (google it). Ahhh, life is good.

But anyhow, yes it’s been quite a while since I’ve done an update. The big reason for this is that I’ve been pretty down in the dumps after returning to the trail from my NYC jaunt. I was quite aware that taking 12 days off to do fun stuff and see awesome people might have a negative effect on my trail psyche, but I had no idea to what extent. As I stepped off the northbound Metro North train at the Appalachian Trail station, the question that quickly entered my mind was “Is this really where I want to be?” For the first week back on the trail that answer was a pretty convincing NO. I mean, c’mon, I’d already spent 4 months sleeping on the ground, slogging through the rain, eating a combination of Lipton noodles and Tuna every night, and just generally forcing my body to do something humans probably aren’t designed to do. Did I really need to subject myself to 700 more miles to get the A.T. Experience? Probably not. For the first time ever, I seriously considered dropping out, going home, wrapping up this phase of my life and finally getting back to doing something productive.

The rub of it was that my folks were already planning on meeting me at the end, and my sister has already made arrangements to hike the last 50 miles with me. So I’m stuck with this thing now. Honestly, I’ve emerged from my trail funk and have finally started regaining steam. I’m almost in Vermont, and the last 600 miles are ahead of me. Totally doable, considering those states are said to be the most spectacular on the trail.

Given the fact that once I’m finished with this endeavor, most of the negative aspects will likely be whitewashed in the “those were good times” haze, I want to put down on record the larger things that make the trail a drag. All of the piddly stuff concerning food’s lack of variety, sore muscles and sleeping on the ground are hardly even worth mentioning. I think the single biggest issue I’m having with being out here is that it has indeed become a steady routine, a job of sorts. Sure, anyone reading this from the comfort of their office chair might be taking this opportunity to flip me the bird, but I’m serious. It’s not so much that it’s hard work, but I honestly feel like I’m not doing much with myself. And that feels just plain weird, given the fact that I’m a fairly antsy person. A hiking buddy and I were talking about how odd it is to be out here on an entirely selfish journey, consuming and blowing through money, while not really doing anything terribly productive or useful. I can say that I’m genuinely looking forward to stepping back into real work of some sort. Of course, the moment I sit down and begin some new professional gig, I’m sure I’ll be wishing that my only cares were still what I’m going to eat and where I’m going to sleep. But I suppose that’s just going to be how it is.

A cheap all-you-can-eat buffet is calling my name, so I must head off now to consume in upwards of 10,000 calories. Gotta pack that fat on for the lean times.

Oh, and I’ve been thinking about doing a series of posts that consist of character descriptions of various people I’ve met along the way. Since the “A Walk in the Woods” movie will undoubtedly come out before I can turn my A.T. Experiences into a movie highlighting all the crazy people, I figure I need to commit my memories of these folks to record. Let me know what you think of this.

Until next time…

the past week has been pretty interesting. the highlights have been:

- getting new shoes
- seeing transformers the movie
- staying at a mayor’s house (more on that later)
- hiking through a superfund site

I’ll be hiking up to Pawling, NY by the end of the week, where I’m going to catch a train into NYC. I’ll be meeting my girlfriend Lilly there, hanging out for a bit, then we’re heading up to Buffalo to see some family. I’m looking very forward to it!

I’ll be giving some more detailed updates toward the beginning of next week.

until then…

Two Saturdays ago, I had made the 20 miles from Pine Grove Furnace state park to Boiling Springs. The trail club had sanctioned a small camping area on the outskirts of town, wedged between a corn field and the railroad tracks. I decided to set up my tent, offload my gear and head into town. As i was setting up my tent, an extremely long freight train cruised by not but 40 yards from me. Chris Farley’s ‘Van down by the river’ bit came to mind, and for the first time on the hike, I truly felt like a gore-tex wearing hobo. I shook it off, strapped on my fanny pack (yeah, that’s right) and headed in to town.

After some local kids fishing on the town square pond quickly identified me as hiker trash, they immediately started bragging about how Boiling Springs was a great place to score any kind of drug. I got the sense that they were trying to sell me something of my choice, but all their ‘dudes’ and ‘brahs’ got in the way of their sales pitch. I finally shook them with a joke about how there’s nothing to do in small town except get fucked up, or apparently, catch 4 inch fish in the town pond.

I ended up at an Italian place called Anile’s. What has struck me so far about crossing the Mason-Dixon line is that you can no longer count on these ho-dunk town to have a mexican restaurant. Instead, it’s Italian. I ended up ordering a stromboli that was easily the size of a quarter of a watermelon (not those seedless genetically-engineered wonders, but state fair blue ribbon-sized melons). Upon finishing it, i received ”wows” and compliments from the waitress and owner. Swamp-etite in the house! (honestly, that just came to me)

With a very full belly, i wandered back to my campsite. As I approached, i noticed a circus-sized tent set up 30 feet from mine. This can mean only one thing: Locals. For some reason, thru-hikers are always afraid of camping near locals. If there’s some amazing campsite next to a waterfall, but there happens to be a road nearby, 4 out of 5 hikers will pass it up, presumably with the fear of hearing ”hey, there’s one now, let’s go mess with him” while snug in his tent sometime past midnight. So what passed through my head as i saw the locals’ tent on a saturday night the weekend before the fourth of july? a couple cases of Milwaukee’s best, some wily pitbull, some guy named delbert, shooting 22s at bottles on the railroad embankment, etc. I figured i would be in for a night of hootin and hollerin going on while i try to get some sleep, all the while damning my decision to sleep here.

My fears were totally misplaced. Instead, i ended up with the Key Club; five kids in their twenties who knew each other from the cross-country team in high school, and have all gone on to varying athletic achievements in the NCAA circuit. I first met Dan Wilde, who then introduced me to John Butler, Maureen McCandless and Christian Kunkel (co-founder of the American Beerpong Association of America check it out here). They quickly made me feel welcome and offered up an open invitation to their food and beer. After being unable to find beer in town, i was happy to take them up on the offer. A short time later, Pat Caulfield (not the dead artist, apparently) and his girlfriend Lauren Tucci showed up. We hung out and i told them stories of the weirdos on the trail, while i marvelled at the fact that they routinely go for 15 mile runs on the A.T. (they had one planned for 9am the next morning). Things definitely got rowdy as the John and Christian seemed to be in an unspoken competition of who could speak the loudest. Once we plowed through the last of the Miller Lites, we switched to passing around Parrot Bay passionfruit-flavored rum (which just might mke a pansy drinker out of me yet). One odd thing was that I found out Christian, Dan and Pat all worked for a company doing similar work to my last job. It was rather random to meet other people doing this niche job…and at a campsite on the edge of a 200 person town?

Anyways, i just wanted to give some props for the nice display of northern hospitality! Oh, ad thanks to the mad exercise physiology knowledge of Maureen, i now know that the burn i feel on uphills is due to oxygen deficiency and lactic acid!

And sure as anything, the next morning when i was in town nursing my hangover at he local A.T. Office, the gang came by with all their camping gear, dropped it in their cars, changed into running gear and headed out. You’ve gotta respect the dedication of REAL athletes. It makes us hikers look like a bunch of hacks….

Oh, and christian, nice ‘tash in the SI pic….