Ranger Rick the Dick

Mile zero for a SOBO (south bounder)... just look at my majestic, yet nasty and evil, ginger beard.

DAY 1 

"You know you're not going to make it right?" The park ranger said while obnoxiously eyeballing his watch.

"You're probably right, but I have to try," I humbly replied.

"That's what gets people."

            Yeah, OK Ranger Rick.  This dipshit knew nothing about me and looks at me like I'm an idiot trying to finish climbing Mount Katahdin before dark starting at 11:15 in the am.  Granted, I was naive at the time and didn't know it was the one of the most difficult climbs on the Appalachian Trail and most people took 8-12 hours to complete it.  Also, it was my first day on the trail after being delayed a day with plane issues.  I was tired, but excited.  So what if it was a 10 mile round trip where 8 of those miles were either inclining or declining a thousand feet each mile. If I can survive war, I can knock this out!

            I walked thru some high grass and a campground next to a raging river courtesy of the remnants of Hurricane turned Tropical Storm Arthur.  The trail started on the far side of the campsite and I took off running into the wood line.  I ran for about a mile when I had to switch to an aggressive granny walking style which slowed into a lot of lunges while climbing.  Feel the burn in those hammies!!!

            The trees start to fade with my energy.  The wind picks up and cools my sweaty self in the July air.  The trail turns to all boulders as I wait for a group of teenage boys parkouring down towards my location like monkeys.

"That's a false peak right there isn't it?" I asked.

"Yeah, but once you get there you'll be able to see the finish and it gets easier to hike," one of them replied.

"Thanks guys."

            Helpful teenagers? This place is strange to me.  Onward!  As I use the helpful rebar to climb thru the boulders I'm harassed by the infamous Black Flies of Maine, but they refrain from biting.  The trail has now turned into a peaked ridgeline with a nasty drop off on both sides as the wind tries pushing me off.  I'm not a fan of this since vertigo took control of me.  I'm on all fours and crouching closer to the boulders trying not to look around as I leap or climb from one to another.  A couple is coming towards me like everyone else I've seen since apparently if you start at 11:15 am people will lose their mind!

"Hey! You're doing great and almost there," the woman said.

"Awesome, I'm just dealing with some vertigo issues," I replied as I held on to boulders with black spiders gliding in and out of crevasses.

            People encouraging a complete stranger?  First the helpful teenagers and now this.  Maybe there's something in the water.  I make my way to the false peak and see a group of young hikers in their early 20's taking a break with a stream and springs riddled backdrop and quite a bit of flat ground.  Off in the distance I see my objective and smile.

"Thru hiker?" One of them asked.

"I am."

"So you're almost done I'm guessing with a beard like that."

"Ha! It's my first day... going south."

            I had been growing an evil ginger beard since the previous October so I looked like I had been out there for a while.  Not so much.  I trekked to the top of Mount Katahdin where the temperature dropped quickly so I took pictures and video as fast as I could while wearing just shorts and a t-shirt.  As I was snapping pictures I noticed a girl walking on a sharp ridge with a dangerous drop on both sides.  She was then swallowed by a cloud and when it was gone she was on all fours clinging on for dear life as the wind strengthened in an attempt to finish her off.  I turned to a man who was also watching.

"Is that part of the trail?" I asked

"No."

"Good. I'm outta here."

The "Knife's Edge" with rolling clouds

            That girl was walking the "Knife's Edge."  Very properly named.  I only had time to hike the AT so side trails like that were not for me.  I high-tailed it off the mountain's peak standing at about 5,280 feet.  I was just now officially starting the trail.  The most convenient campsite and trail entry point for shuttles to drop off hikers was unfortunately 5 miles south on the AT.  Yup, I was negative 5 miles after a tough climb.  Great.  I pounded my joints going down and they began to feel sore as I reached the one-mile span that I could jog.  It was starting to rain as I finished up and headed to the ranger station to exchange the day pack with my hiking backpack after 5 hours and 45 minutes of moving.  Only 5 miles could be counted as trail miles that day.  Ole Ranger Rick had a smirk on his face as I walked thru the door.

"Didn't make it did ya?" He enquired.

"Oh I made it. I have pictures and video too," I happily answered.

"Wow, that's fast! You staying here tonight?"

"My guide book says there's a place another 3 miles down the trail."

"The nearest shelter is 10 miles away."

"I'll take a campsite here then."

            This would be the first of many instances where that motherfucking guidebook screwed me.  I paid 30 bucks for a site with just a picnic table.  It was now pouring outside.  There were areas with covered picnic tables that could keep me dry, but apparently those were off limits for whatever reason.  There weren't even enough trees at my assigned campsite to tie my 550 cord around that was to hold my one-man tent up since I didn't bring the rods in an effort to drop some weight.  It was my first night on the trail and I was sleeping in the rain under a picnic table.

A stack of rocks making Mt Katahdin 5,280 ft

            The table sat so low to the ground that my shins and forehead were a mere few inches from the supporting cross beams.  I'm quite active when I sleep with rolling and kicking.  I cracked my forehead a few times and my shins were bruised and bleeding by morning since I decided to sleep like a muay-thai fighter trains by kicking the living shit out of everything within striking distance.  To add insult to injury a nice couple in the campsite next to me were car camping with all kinds of hot food and plenty of cover watching me set up under a picnic table looking like a pathetic wet dog.

"Would you like to have some hot pasta primavera and dry off?" The woman asked.

"Oh no thank you ma'am," I retardedly responded.

       

       This would be the first and last time I said no to people trying to help me.  I was too stubborn and prideful to accept help and it was a poor decision.  Eventually I went over and spoke to them since I felt like an asshole for refusing.  We all chatted as I dried off and then I crawled back under my super awesome slumber set up and sadly ate dry grains and oats.  Not off to a great start.  And FUCK YOU, Ranger Rick!  Night nights.