Days 151-155: Maine's Mahoosuc Range

Day 151. September 10th: Gentian Pond to north end of Mahoosuc Notch – 13 miles

We’re about to reach the final state on the trail, and I am determined to see a moose. We wake up early at Gentian Pond, but despite copious moose dung along the trail, we don’t spot any wildlife around the edge of the water. After a steep climb up Mount Success, the trail winds downhill to the border.

Maine. We’ve made it to Maine. Katahdin feels so close I can taste the cold summit air, but I know better than to count my chickens. Maine’s section of trail is among the longest, second only to Virginia. We are still nearly 280 miles from the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail.

Maine welcomes us with cool air, green forest, and a footpath composed of roots and rocks. The days of a single track of packed earth are behind us. Clouds are gathering, and it’s supposed to start raining this evening and continue for the next several days. I’m not feeling great, but I push through the fatigue. We are hoping to traverse Mahoosuc Notch, famously the “most difficult or fun mile on the AT,” before the weather turns. When we arrive at Full Goose Shelter two hours before sunset, the lean-to is packed wall to wall with thru-hikers. “We’re going to hunker down and wait out the bad weather,” one of them explains. “Don’t want to do the Notch when it’s wet!”

Etienne and I weigh our options. Once the rain starts, Mahoosuc Notch is unlikely to dry out for several days. We glance up at the gray sky and decide to take our chances. As we shoulder our packs and return to the trail, the hikers in the shelter cheer us on, whistling and wishing us luck.

It’s an easy climb up Fulling Mill Mountain, and then the trail tumbles into a gully. I complete half the descent on my backside, gripping roots for stability. Then we reach Mahoosuc Notch. So far, the rain seems content to hold off, so we strap our poles to our packs and start across the ravine filled with boulders the size of cars. In one place, there’s actually a tunnel, and we can only squeeze through by removing our backpacks and passing them through. Despite the terrain’s well-deserved reputation for its difficulty, the seemingly haphazard white blazes mark a relatively level path through the ravine, so it requires more finesse than strength. I feel like a kid on a jungle gym.

Still, the boulder field is a mile long, and daylight is fading fast. We don our headlamps just as it begins to rain. Suddenly, Mahoosuc Notch seems less like a fun challenge and more like an easy place to break a bone. Luckily, the boulders are more textured than the signature granite slab of New Hampshire, and the cool, misting rain doesn’t make the rock too slippery. It’s dark when the trail returns to solid forest floor. By the yellow beams of our headlamps, we find our way to the large campsite just north of the Notch. It’s empty, as all the hikers who were ahead of us are holed up back at the shelter. I’m exhausted, but proud of us. If that was the hardest mile on the trail, then I should be able to finish the rest.

Day 152. September 11th: Mahoosuc Notch to Grafton Notch – 5 miles

The boulder field of Mahoosuc Notch is notorious, but no one warned me about Mahoosuc Arm. The trail climbs 1000 feet on a bald rock slab. It rained all night and into the morning, and the terrain funnels all that water straight down the trail, so we’re climbing a small waterfall. The challenging ascent requires most of my energy, and it’s all I can do not to quit for the day at Speck Pond. Instead, after resting and waiting out the heaviest wave of rain, we continue down the mountain into Grafton Notch. We camp shortly before the road.

Day 153. September 12th: Grafton Notch to Dunn Falls – 9 miles

The next day, we intend to hike 12 miles to Andover, but once again, my body vetoes our plans. I’m still on my period, and even after the brief respite through the Whites in New Hampshire, its duration over the past six weeks has been nearly triple what is normal. I’ve been taking a multivitamin since Hanover to combat the loss of iron, but regardless of whether I’m anemic at this point, the fatigue has made my limbs feel like sandbags.

My bad knee isn’t helping. After glorious views at the summit of Baldpate mountain, the descent brings me to tears. Steep, exposed rock slab alternates with slick mud and roots. Everything is damp from the morning’s rain. I mutter profanity under my breath, directed at the MATC. It’s like the trail clubs of New Hampshire and Maine are in a pissing contest for the crown of “most rugged and difficult section of the AT.” In good weather with a day pack, I’m sure the scrambles and slabs on Baldpate are a fun challenge. To a broken-down, depleted thru-hiker in wet weather, it feels sadistic and dangerous.

At Dunn Falls, I give up for the day. “I’m sorry,” I say to Etienne. “I just can’t. I can’t make it.”

He accepts my shortfall with his usual patience. “Don’t worry,” he tells me. “I’m going to contact my boss and ask for one more week off of work. Then we won’t have to rush.”

This makes me feel slightly better, but I’m still bitter toward my malfunctioning reproductive system and my stiff, painful knee. It’s difficult to reconcile my imagined version of my Maine self – hardened, weathered, iron-strong — with this crumbling real version. I know I’m asking a lot, I think to my body. But we’re almost there.

Day 154. September 13th: Dunn Falls to Andover – 3 miles

We nero into Andover the next day and stay at the quirky and comfortable Human Nature Hostel, run by a hiker and contestant on the reality show Naked and Afraid. Our visit coincides with that of Pappy, a gentleman from South Carolina who has the distinction of being the oldest Triple Crowner. Now, he’s attempting a second thru-hike of the AT at the age of 87 in a bid for the individual age record.

The day is relaxing, and even though my health issues continue unabated, the rest improves my morale. Furthermore, Etienne’s work deadline has been extended from October 8th to October 15th, and the extra time is like a weight lifted from my shoulders. After yesterday, it seemed inevitable that he would have to leave me behind in order to finish in time. Now, that seems unlikely. But the nights in Maine are getting colder. We still need to hurry.

Day 155. September 14th: Andover to South Arm campsite – 10 miles

After an enormous plate of blueberry pancakes, we depart from the Human Nature Hostel and hit the trail. Except for the steep climb up Moody Mountain—1000 feet of elevation gain in four tenths of a mile— today’s terrain is easier than the rest of southern Maine. After our late start, I’m pleased to cover 10 miles. I go to bed looking forward to the next few days. Based on a message I received over the wifi in town, it’s likely that soon, for the first time in 500 miles, we are going to see Ash and Rob again.