Today we’d like to show you some pictures from Saddleback Mountain. Heck, we’d just like to have seen the top of Saddleback Mountain. But with the passing of the front last night and the fog brought on by the resulting drop in temperature, neither one of those things is going to happen.

We packed up a wet tent and immediately started upward, but only after one last stop at “Your Move,” the Piazza Rock Lean-to’s wonderful two-seater outhouse, complete with cribbage board. The first two miles were full of rocks and roots, but not that steep as we had foggy glimpses of several ponds. Then things got tougher on the last 1,500′. Saddleback would be a hard climb under the best of conditions (meaning there are several metal rung steps/ladders installed, but not nearly enough!), however with the trail resembling a small stream this morning, it was a real slog. The wind velocity increased as we got higher and when we reached the top and its mile and a half of exposed ridge walking, we had perfect conditions for hypothermia. We quickly re-donned the clothes we’d peeled off on the climb, now adding gloves and toboggan hats to the mix.

On top of Saddleback, a feeble sun tried but failed to burn through. Once or twice we had a fleeting view of the valley off to the mountain’s leeward side, and one quick look ahead to the Horn, our next climb, but mostly we were just going from rock marker to rock marker in the fog and staying in sight of one another.

By the time we made the 600′ climb down and then back up the Horn, the weather was starting to break, but it was only after a very steep 900′ descent back into the trees (where we detoured to a new tent platform at the Redington Campsite [about the only dry place out of the wind we could find] for a lunch break) and then 600′ back up to Saddleback Junior that the clouds lifted and we had a glorious 360° view. We flew our wet ground cloths and tent flys as kites, and they were dry in a matter of minutes. At this point, the collective realization that we were not going to make it to our goal for the day, still nine miles distant, had the Gang of Four pretty bummed. We sat down for a team meeting, and decided to stop fighting the trail and just enjoy the chance to be here on an afternoon that couldn’t be any better. We called our trail angel Susan and with her assistance revised our plans to reach Stratton.

Over the next four miles the trail dropped 2,000′. Thankfully large parts of this were manageable. Still, Kleenex pretty much summed it up for the group with her short entry in the log at the poor old Poplar Ridge Lean-to: “I’m tired.”

At the bottom of the descent was a rain swollen Orbeton Stream. The water was over our knees as we slowly made our way across. A steep 100′ climb up beside a waterfall brought us to a pretty, abandoned woods road where as we had hoped (and prayed, it being Sunday), we found enough level ground to pitch our three tents. In fact, the road’s become a little hiker village, with one flip-flopper spending his second night here, Nooga and Blue Sky arriving after us, and a few other folks rolling in after dark.

Well-fed and dry, we are ready for sleep. As of this morning, our journey is 9/10 completed, but we already realize the AT in Maine is like no other…