Part 1: A Decision at Jo-Mary Road

Once again, we were up and moving in the dark, with the big question of the day being the condition of Castaway’s foot. Unfortunately, it had not improved overnight, but Castaway was ready to test it on the 3.8 miles between the Cooper Brook Falls shelter and the Jo-Mary Road, where we had been able to arrange a noon pick-up today, if he needed it. We made good time; however, by the way he was favoring his right foot, we could all tell Castaway was far from enjoying the walk.

At the road, there was much discussion. We encouraged Castaway to go back to Monson, and see about getting to a doctor. He, probably correctly, argued a doctor would only recommend rest, which he could do on his own. He was most insistent the rest of the Gang not stop to stay with him, saying that he would prefer to slow his pace considerably, and stop for a day or two at the White House Landing hostel, which he could reach by boat eleven miles up the trail. Satisfied he would find all the assistance there he needed, including, if necessary, a ride to wherever he needed to go, we finally gave in to his wishes. Although we had poor luck at sending text messages at Jo-Mary Road, surprisingly we were able to reach Rebecca at the Lakeshore House by phone and Castaway told her he didn’t need a ride after all. With many tears and hugs all around, we said a painful “see you up the trail,” with there being some talk of Castaway jumping ahead to Baxter State Park when he felt like it, so we could climb Katahdin together before he came back to fill in the missing 40 miles. It was our saddest point of the entire trip…

In the emotion of the moment, we had forgotten to give Castaway some extra ibuprofen before parting. When Kleenex remembered this about two miles up the trail, we determined to stop the first southbounder we encountered, and send a supply back down the trail to him. This delivery service arrived in the form of two men (old and younger) and two dogs. After hearing our request, they agreed to take on this mission of mercy. Which brings us to the next big story of September 22nd:

Part 2: The Case of the Purloined Food Bag

We were about half way to the next shelter, in a gentle rain, when here came Stoves running down the trail towards us, sopping wet, with no jacket or backpack. Out of breath, he asked had we seen two southbounders. We replied yes, but a good ways back. He yelled “They stole my food!” and a few other angry comments, and took off again south on the AT.

And we’re left standing in the middle of the trail wondering “What about Castaway’s pills?!?!?!”

As best we could later put the whole story together, when Stoves left the shelter that morning heading north, he had neglected to pack an eight-pound bag of food. While it never became clear to us how one could omit an eight-pound load from one’s backpack, and fail to notice at least some difference in weight, that seems to be what happened. A little later, the two southbounders (and dogs) arrived at the shelter to take a break. Finding the abandoned food bag, they regarded it as manna from heaven, as their hike from Katahdin had taken longer than they expected and they were short on supplies. A by-stander tried to intervene, saying probably it belonged to Stoves, and surely when he discovered his mistake, he would be back for it. The older southbounder thought enough time had gone by for this not to be the case, and given the state of his traveling pantry, he preferred to take the food rather than leave it for the shelter mice to consume.

As this tale unfolded, we worried about a possible confrontation when Stoves caught up with them, but when Stoves later passed us again heading north (much sooner than we would have thought possible), he had recovered his food without any contention. The incident had added twelve miles to his day, and made our little 21.5-mile total for the day seem paltry by comparison. On his food recovery run, Stoves had also met Castaway, so we were glad to have a positive report on his progress. And yes, he did get the vitamin I…

We were also caught and passed by several folks who had been ahead of us, but had made the side trip to White House Landing for the one pound hamburger lunch. Although we had heard some very negative customer service reviews about WHL, involving its very gruff owner, all the reports we received today were favorable [as were the later reports from Castaway on his two day stay there].

Towards the end of the day, many of us were confused by AWOL only including in his guide the second of two “side trail[s] east to sand beach on shore of Nahmakanta Lake,” meaning when we reached the first, we still had two miles to go to reach the second. Here we met a family just arriving by car to camp by the lake. In a classic bad news/ good news situation, when N, after laying all the necessary groundwork, tried to yogi a soda from them, the father said “We don’t drink sodas, but can I offer you a beer?” To which the several other hikers walking up at that point in the conversation, responded in the affirmative, and scored their chilly brews. Ah, well, their gain, N’s loss…

And sometime in the late afternoon, we decided to try for another 20 miles tomorrow, to see if we could take advantage of the weather forecast for next Tuesday for a great summit day…

A congenial crowd is at tonight’s shelter: Flintstone (who we haven’t seen since the NOC!), Stoves, Stoves’ Dad, Kleenex, and us. What started as a rather soggy first day of Autumn ended quite nicely with a handsome campfire on a damp, but clearing night with just a sliver of moon visible through the trees…