I finally have all the posts from Morocco up. I linked to the posts, so all you have to do is click on each link below and they will open up in a new window. The first two posts are not new, but for continuity, I figured I would include them as well.
March 22 - Casablanca, Morocco
March 23 - Rabat, Morocco
March 24 - Rabat II
March 25 - Fez, Morocco
March 26 - Marrakech, Morocco
March 27 - To the Mountains
March 28 - Atlas Mountains
March 29 - Jebel Toubkal
March 30 - More Marrakech
March 31 - City of Lights
April 01 - Au Revior
I have a little kayaking and hiking in the works, so stay tuned...
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Leaving the Mountain

I was standing on top of Mount Katahdin, reflecting on the 2,176 miles past when two guys made their way up the mountain via a different trail. I met Todd and Jason, who were on vacation doing some hiking in New England. Todd had hiked the entire trail in 2005 an offered up a ride to Millinocket, ME. A small wrinkle unfolded when it dawned on me that I had left a couple of things down at the ranger station. Unfazed, the two said “No problem! We’ll take you to go and get it on our way out”, which happened to be a 16 mile detour on a gravel road.

I enjoyed the trail and even more so as I reflected on the completion of my trip and the prospect of not having to eat another energy bar for the foreseeable future. The vistas were substantially similar to that from Mount Katahdin; plenty of green in the distance dotted with lakes.
Eventually we and after a few sprinkles of rain we made our way to the parking lot, 4.5 miles from Mount Katahdin. While I passed up a refreshment from the four guys fishing in the 100-Mile Wilderness, I wasn’t about to pass up a celebratory beer after hiking 2,176 miles. As we sat in the parking lot chatting, the question was posed as to where I would be going from Millinocket, ME. After mentioning that I had a flight out of Bangor, ME the following day, they said “We can give you a lift there; we are going to be passing by.” Again, I gladly accepted.
The fellows dropped me off at a collection of hotels near Bangor airport (thanks guys). I found myself a hotel room, ordered a pizza and watched some playoff hockey to celebrate my accomplishment. I didn’t take the roof over my head, the running water or electricity for granted. There is something about getting back to nature that can give a new found appreciation for what we consider the most basic of things.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Hike Complete

While for the past few days the miles seemed to be coming slowly, they were now just flying past. I was 15 miles in my day before I even took notice of how far I had hiked. The only interruption in the morning was a moose fording a stream. I heard something splashing around and couldn’t figure out what it was until I saw the mangy moose crossing the river. I was later told that many moose look unkempt after a long winter as they aren’t able to take in the proper nutrients. It is also why they can be found near roads in spring, as they are licking the remnants of the salt runoff that had been spread on the roads in the winter snow.

I had good information as to what lay ahead on the trail from all the hikers that I passed hiking the opposite direction. Some of the trail became quite muddy in the areas of the boreal bogs, but it was nothing new having to play hopscotch on rocks and tree roots to keep my feet from being covered in mud. My boots were certainly worse for the wear as not only were they entirely lacking in providing cushion to my feet and knees at this point, but my feet were exploding out of the sides of the shoes and the sole on the right shoe completely delaminated, leaving it flapping with each step. I would normally replace my shoes every 500 miles regardless, but this pair hadn’t even made it to 450 by this point. The only salvation for my shoes was copious amounts of duct tape. Anything I do I always try to do it with a certain sense of style, but the tape wound around my shoe robbed me of that. I just hoped it would last the remainder of the trip.

I continued through the woods, out of the 100-Mile Wilderness and across Abol Bridge, from where I was able to see the top of Mount Katahdin. It wasn’t an imposing peak like some, but more of a tabletop with the steepest sections on its flanks. It was however the goal that has been hanging over my head since beginning the Appalachian Trail over 2,100 miles and a year ago.
Just prior to entering Baxter State Park I happened upon a small campground. While I didn’t have a tent, across from the campground right on the Penobscot River I was able to find a shelter, similar to the three-sided shelters found on other parts of the trail. It would be my home for my final night in the woods. And similar to most other nights, I would have it all to myself.

I woke at three to clear skies, a full moon and temperatures in the low 40’s. It was chilly, but otherwise a perfect night hiking scenario. I quite enjoyed night hiking on the southern sections of the trail and up north was no different. The trail looks different, sounds different and feels different. The focus is on what can be seen in the beam of light emanating from my headlamp. As there was a full moon though, there was sufficient ambient light to illuminate much of the trail. When there was no tree cover overhead I was able to shut off my light and guide myself solely by moonlight, far more than what my headlamp could accomplish.

I stopped by the ranger station in Baxter State Park to try and hit up a ranger for some information as to what I could expect for the last 5.3 miles of the trail on my way up Mount Katahdin. The ranger however was awfully late for work as there wasn’t a soul around during a time that was allegedly included in what the ranger’s office hours should have been. Hikers are generally encouraged to leave their packs behind to climb Mount Katahdin, taking only a loaner daypack from the ranger station. While I didn’t want to forego my pack entirely I did decide to leave my cook set and sleepmat behind before setting off.
The first mile of the trail was nothing more than a slow and steady incline. Soon after though, the trail became far rockier and was a series of boulders that required lifting my feet up 12 to 18 inches on average each successive step. I plodded along in a slow and steady fashion until the rocks turned larger and essentially the climb up was a scramble over boulders. There was also some snow still hanging around, but none directly on the trail.
Once the trail took me above the tree-line, the view opened up dramatically showing thousands of square miles of forest, riddled with lakes. While it was somewhat hazy and clouds began billowing in, the view was still remarkable.

As I climbed I could see the top, or at least what could have been the top of the mountain. As the summit of Mount Katahdin was on a tabletop though the “top” was a false summit. From there the trail lead over a steadily rising trail for the last mile with basketball sized rocks strewn about. The hike wasn’t taxing, but I had to think about where I was going to step as there was little space between the rocks.

Saturday, June 6, 2009
Final Outpost


The terrain had initially become more rolling than it had been to the south of Monson, ME, but it helped that the weather was absolutely perfect; in the mid-60’s and only enough in the way of clouds to make photos that included the sky look interesting. In addition to the hills there was also a series of four or five mountains I would have to cross on my way north, but by and large the terrain was much simpler than in New Hampshire. While Maine claims to have a wilder section of the trail than other states, it seemed that there were steps up and down the mountainous sections. As I wandered along I met a trail crew working to build yet more in the way of steps. I stopped to have a bit of a chinwag with the half-dozen trail workers and as I was speaking, one member of the group recognized me from a barbecue at Hog Pen Gap, GA when I was on the trail the year prior. Of all the places to be recognized, I didn’t think it would happen while on the Appalachian Trail.



Monday, June 1, 2009
Two Long Days
The weather has made a 180 and has just been fantastic the past two days. The next few days are looking pretty good as well with no complaints on my end. As I mentioned once before, the upside of the rain is that it tempers the black flies and mosquitos, but I will take bugs over rain any day. Someone had asked me how the bugs have been the last couple of days and I could only say "numerous and persistant". It doesn't help that I am walking through boreal bogs for a good part of the day.
I was hoping to pick up a replacement section for my broken hiking pole in Caratunk, ME, but my support staff dropped the ball on shipping. My support staff has been fantastic throughout my travels with so many things that I couldn't possibly criticize one oversight. I also sent a small food parcel to be picked up at the same post office, but wasn't going to need it until I hit the next town, 35 miles away. Instead of taking delivery of the package I had it forwarded to Monson, ME where I was going to meet my package and take that hard earned day off. The woman at the Post Office joked with me that if I was going to walk the 35 miles to Monson in one day, I would beat the US Postal Service Priority shipping and be in town before my package. I did and I was.
One thing that has become prevalent in Maine is having to ford rivers. Most of the rivers aren't raging, though I have heard people say that they are impassible at times after a heavy rain. To this point none have been more than waist deep and have been relatively gentle. It is somewhat time consuming preparing for the ford, having to put away electronics and the like. I have also generally been fording in bare feet which is a no-no. The rocks are awfully slick and one slip can mean a broken ankle. As an avid fly fisherman I like to think I have the proper experience for judging when I can cross a river sans shoes. That being said, once while fishing in New Zealand I was swept down river after my foot lost its purchase on a rock underwater. It is a rather helpless feeling being washed away and one that I would not like to repeat.
There is one river that has to be crossed in Maine, the Kennebec, where it really isn't ever safe to ford. At least one hiker has died trying and several other have had close calls. That being the case the Appalachian Trail Club mans a canoe to ferry hikers from one side of the river to the other. It's the official crossing of the Appalachian Trail.
So I find myself in the town of Monson, ME with a day off. I certainly needed to resupply as I am approaching the 100-mile wilderness, but I wanted the day off for another reason. Shortly after starting to hike the trail in Georgia I took a day off to do a bit of kayaking. Shortly before ending my hike I wanted to do the same. So I paddled around Lake Hebron for a few hours to scratch the kayaking itch.
Much as Spanish Moss is neither Spanish nor Moss, the 100-Mile Wilderness is not 100 miles nor is it wild; at least not as wild as it used to be. For those of you that have read Bill Bryson's book "A Walk In the Woods", relating to his hike of parts of the Appalachian Trail, technology has changed things somewhat since the time of the books writing. There are now also logging roads that cross the trail and cell phone service is available from the tops of certain mountains. Add the two together and you can have someone drive supplies in should you need them. I'm pretty sure that Dominos wouldn't bounce down 25 miles of rutted dirt road to deliver a large with pepperoni, but the area isn't as remote as it once was. There is also a hunting camp a few miles off the trail where I hope to spend one night.
After my run to the town of Dexter, ME, home to the shoe company of the same name, I am fully supplied with food for what I hope will be the last five days of the trail. I once again found myself behind the steering wheel of another persons car to make the run and probably bought more than I should have. This will be the most food I have carried at any point on the trail.
And while the replacement hiking pole section mailed to me is still somewhere in limbo, there was an outdoor store in the town of Greenville, ME that had exactly what I needed. For a well spent 20 bucks I am all set with my hiking poles and no longer have to use a stick as a poor mans substitute to an aircraft-grade aluminum hiking pole.
118 miles to go...
The Rain Has Ended...
Getting out of the sleeping bag in the morning was an effort. Before doing so, I made a mental checklist of the things I had to do and in what order, until I would be on the trail, hiking along generating body heat. My boots were frozen, my rain jacket was frozen, the knot holding my bear-bag in a tree was frozen, my water bottles were frozen and I was, well, rather chilly. From the time I unzipped my sleeping bag to the time I was hiking was less than five minutes. It was one of those rare times I was glad my day began with a 1,000-foot climb.
What I was looking least forward to was having to ford a river early in the day. It would have been an unpleasant task, but fortunately I was able to make my way across the river using a board someone left chained to a tree. While in Nepal I once had to swim across a river of glacial runoff from Mount Everest and it was an experience I hope to never have to duplicate. It gave me a new basis for the word “cold”.
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