Butter Tea and I drove north towards Bangor Maine. We were working with Shades (Bill's trail name) on how we were going to get restarted SOBO. He had all the answers. He got us to a good outfitter for new equipment, shoes and resupply that we would need. Then he picked us up when we dropped our rental car and took us to Baxter Stare Park the home of Mama K - Mount Katahdin. The hardest climb of the trail - the northern terminus.
We camped at Katahdin Stream Trail on the approach to the legendary mountain. It was a pleasant campsite - well Rangered by some professionals. There was a real sense of seriousness as we crawled in the sack. Shades insisted that we use his 4 man tent so that our personal tents would stay dry for the upcoming 100 mile wilderness. We were happy to oblige and we enjoyed the extra room. It rained all night but dried up as we stirred for breakfast. Shades already had coffee ready. Butter and I fidgeted with our gear. I was nervous.
By 6 am, we were on the trail. After signing the hikers register we started north following the beautiful Katahdin stream - the water was crystal clear due to the granite streambed. There were several beautiful cascades and the trail was gently climbing into the lush Maine wilderness.
We were being lulled in to complacency by the soft trail and easy grade. Soon the trail diverged from the stream and incline began to steepen. Well carved steps gave way to random rocks which left little option but to hop from stone to stone. The forest was tight on both sides and the unmanaged vegetation was arromaric but too thick to get off the trail.
The raw smell of Maine woods - the moss and earthy scent of decaying wood - gave way to the acrid smell of sweat and exertion. I'd been there a hundred times. The pitch of the mountain was suggesting that this was getting serious. There was little wildlife except the occasional bird or small red squirrel. Butter Tea was well ahead of me now. I sensed that I was all alone. This wasn't a team climb - it was going to be me against this daunting mountain. I was afraid - had I learned enough - could I do this alone?
The grade kept getting steeper over the next hour as I made my way onto the foot of the mountain and I soon arrived at Oh Joy Brook - the last good water before the summit. I cameled a liter and carried two liters in my summit bag. So, I would in effect have three liters to make Baxter Peak and return.
As I climbed, the terrain became more difficult. The stones became larger boulders and it could take several footholds to get over just one obstacle. Occasionally, I had to remove my summit pack to pass between two tight boulders. My trekking poles became a hindrance and I stowed them to have my hands available for climbing.
The ascent was extremely difficult, exhausting, painful and occasionally terrifying. The biggest mental challenge was knowing that I had to eventually descend. Every extended step up was done with the apprehension of knowing that it would mean a tricky jump down. Not so bad in everyday life but here any loss of balance may result in a tumble off of a very short ledge.
Occasionally, there were rebar foot holds and handholds at particularly difficult spots. At the top of these steps it was necessarily to throw a leg over the top of the ledge to complete the climb. This meant bare skin and unprotected knees on granite. Further it meant that on the descent one would have to gradually dangle over the edge to land on the rebar steps. With no one to spot for you it was an act of faith.
After another mile the fir and pine trees began to thin. This offered amazing views of the flat plateau below me with countless lakes and streams. The plateau was broken by several rugged mountains with lots of exposed rock. It dawned on me that our mountain was larger than any in the area. Mount Katahdin, in fact, towered over its impressive neighbors. But I couldn’t yet see the top because we would have to crest one more false summit before Baxter Peak would be visible.
It was perfect climbing weather. Mostly clear skies, low wind and sixty degrees. But I was soaked through with sweat from the exertion. I put on thick sunscreen and my buff. I was wearing my hoodie for sun protection as well. Soon I would be completely exposed above the tree line. I wanted to eat a snack - but the butterflies wouldn’t allow it.
Upon clearing the last foothill ridge line, I was awestruck and terrified. The peak came into view. There was a seemingly unending field of massive granite boulders for a mile and a half at a sixty degree incline into the sky. These were refrigerator sized, car sized and house sized blocks of grey granite. The surfaces were course and the edges were sharp. The whole pile looked as if an angry child had thrown down the rocks in a tantrum. And the length of the climb was daunting - impossible to conceive of climbing in a week let alone in a morning.
It has been a long time since I have had to contend with the inner voice of quitting. But this first glance filled me with such fear and dread and doubt that I had to consciously stifle my minds insistence that I turn around and sulk off of the mountain in defeat. And Butter Tea would be expecting me on top - I couldn't let him down. I couldn't disappoint everyone who had supported me on this journey. I took some deep breaths to calm the nerves and set out to tackle the last, long climb one obstacle at a time.
It was a couple of hours before I pulled myself over the last boulder and onto a nearly flat ridge that led to Baxter Peak and the iconic Mount Katahdin sign. It was another mile to the top but only a couple hundred feet of ascent. I covered the last leg quickly (for me). And Jeff was lounging near the sign. And to my surprise so were around 15 other hikers. Where did they come from? I later found out that they had taken other trails to the top - less challenging and thus faster.
Jeff and I ate some snacks and had a little water - saving some for the descent. We took some pictures including Butter Tea's signature moon shot on the sign. Then it was time for the dreaded climb down. Jeff quickly put distance between us with his longer stride. I would be descending by myself. None of the other hikers were going down Hunt trail, opting for the much less challenging routes. But Shades was waiting for us at the bottom of Hunt so this was the only way down for me.
The first look over the edge down into the boulder field put a knot in my stomach. But there was no option. To my eternal relief, the descent wasn't nearly as bad as I feared. Far less exerting than I had anticipated. And there were only a handful of truly terrifying spots. Overall, it was a pleasant climb off of the boulders and I began to imagine a good meal at the campground. By the time I hit the tree line, I was cruising. But Mama K wasn't done with me yet. The impact of descending was taking a toll on me. My feet pounded with pain and all of my leg joints were screaming. It seemed like hours passed in agony until I once again arrived at Oh Joy Brook and her fresh, cold spring water. It was delicious and soothing. I filled up and headed down for my final hour on the legendary mountain. I ran into Butter Tea in the final quarter mile. He had come up to make sure I hadn't run into trouble. It was great to see him and it began to sink in that I had finished this incredible day.
I certainly had not conquered Mount Katahdin. But I had damn sure conquered my self that day. All of the fear and dread was simply in my mind. Quitting wouldn't have been a victory for Mama K, merely a victory for the inner doubt that I had allowed to bubble up in me. The self doubt from some long forgotten failure. Quitting is like that - quitting on the little things guarantees that you'll quit on the big things. Persistence through daily struggles fills a well of perseverance that can be drawn on for the truly difficult challenges that life offers.
Little did I know that I would need all the perseverance I could muster for the next challenge - The Hundred Mile Wilderness.
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