Just so you know, I did it! ;)
I got into Monson on the 28th after camping at one of the stream fords just about 6 miles from the road-- I was with Last Out, Franklinstein and Masshole who were all staying because of some trail magic at the river crossing (someone left a cooler full of Coke, Ginger Ale and Mountain Dew). I was one of the first ones out in the morning and I had a huge happy heart for getting into town-- I knew I had a lot to accomplish though. On the way in, I hit a reroute due to a beaver dam flooding the trail and leaving spots that were 2-feet deep in mud. I rolled in to the road to hitch to Monson at around 10:30am-- a few cars passed and I saw the fellow who gave me a ride from Stratton to the trailhead (well, I at least saw his RV) and thought it was kind of strange that he was always everywhere I was in Maine. He wasn't awake to give me a ride but fortuantely, an ATC worker was just leaving and wound up giving me a ride in to Monson. He talked about the mud just north and into the 100-mile wilderness and he talked about some of the spots he maintained there. As always, I pried a little information on what the trail conditions were and what to expect, the biggest truth was not to underestimate the 100-mile wilderness, it could be really rough or really easy but it's better to plan for the worst.
In Monson, I went directly to Shaw's and found Hambre-- we talked briefly and he was on his way out of town to hit up the 100-mile and hopefully finish "on the 3rd." He was ambitious so I figured I'd never see him again (thankfully it wasn't the case!) After Shaw's I got my awesome resupply my mom and brother sent out to me from the post office-- inside was quite an ample amount of food to last through the 100-mile wilderness although I was hungry so I managed to scarf down about 800+ calories of chocolate-covered peanut butter cookies without getting too full. I decided I'd hitch into Greenville for their supermarket considering the ones in Monson were closed and a gas station resupply really wasn't going to do me any good. I got a ride from the first car as I stuck my thumb out and made the near-20 miles to Greenville without any problem. I talked with the elderly couple who drove me, they were both admiring the fall foliage along the road and took the trip nearly every year. They noted how the leaves were going to fall quickly this year because it wasn't a particularly wet summer and asked me about my hike (main question I got in Maine: "did you see any moose!?") I was proud to talk about the four (technically three) I saw and how much damn beautiful they were. At the supermarket I did an awesome, cheap resupply and was soon on my way out of town. I got picked up after about 5 cars from a guy I had seen back in Monson who lived in the area-- he had just bought a new pickup truck and was telling me how expensive the gas was but how happy he was to be living paycheck to paycheck-- being a bit unsure about his future-- just going moment to moment. I admired his views and we talked extensively on the trip. I gave him a dollar for gas money to be kind, he was one of the most fun and jovial folks I ever got a ride from and I was more than happy to give him a reason to smile.
I stayed at Lakeshore House hostel after much deliberation-- I heard Shaw's would be more quiet but it seemed like the folks at Lakeshore House would be fun and talkative and friendly. Tinkerbell, who I had been hiking with for a few hours out of Caratunk was there and telling a story about a place she used to work when a very odd guy who called and wanted to know a great deal about bondage gear. In retrospect, I should have picked Shaw's but I heard there was an AYCE fish fry at Lakeshore (there wasn't) but I still got an AYCE breakfast at Shaw's the next day.
I mainly lay around that day relaxing-- had some pizza at the gas station and then read a book called "The Laughalachian Trail" by a kid named Ledge who did a yo-yo hike of the AT. I thought if I'd ever want to do an AT yo-yo and decided "probably not."
After eating some ice cream and trying to sleep, I spent a restless night with all of the drunk kids keeping me up until 2:30am as they watched Pinky and The Brain and were as loud as fucking hell the whole time. I wasn't happy so I got up during the night and slammed the door shut as hard as I can-- they stopped for 10 minutes and then talked a little more before going to sleep.
That morning, the 29th, I heard about all of the drunk's ridiculous exploits: a bluegrass group "jam session" that was held in town which the drunks made total asses of themselves trying to dance and "jam out." A few kids falling into the ice cold lake, that was about the extent of it. All of the kids were promising that it was going to be a rowdy night and it was in their way, just it definitely wasn't a party.
I had the AYCE breakfast at Shaw's which was pretty good-- I saw some familiar faces like Jungle Cat, Happy Trout, 70% and Firefox to name a few-- I also met a fellow from Pittsburgh who was section hiking the 100-mile wilderness and we talked for a while about Mr. Rogers and the area I grew up in.
I hitchhiked out of town soon after, I got a ride from a guy in a pickup truck who I talked quite a bit with. He knew Bill Irwin, told me a little history of the area, noted two hunted moose that were being hauled by trucks out of the woods and told me "god bless." I thought back to a guy in Pennsylvania who said a blessing for me on the trail and thought it was pretty cool to meet so many religious folks out here-- it was nice of them to bless me because it felt like a hug in a way. I got to the trail and made a wrong turn to get into the 100-mile, then got back to the actual trail and stood before the sign that noted the dangers of the wilderness and to bring 10-days worth of food. I laughed pretty hard, jumped up so my pack would shift the 6-days worth of food I had inside of it and trudged in.
The first day in it rained, it started out as a nice mist for the day so my rain jacket kept me pretty well covered-- I didn't sweat and didn't even feel clammy the whole day which meant I was doing it right for once. It's too often hiking that you're too hot so you sweat (thus the rain jacket is negligible aside from keeping you from getting a chill in the wind) or you're too cold but you get clammy (this is more common towards winter). I hit three stream fords, I was able to rock hop Little Wilson stream and wander on. After a short while and just before Big Wilson stream, I met my first hiker on the trail that day. After a quick introduction I noted the fact he had two different shoes on-- he proceeded to tell me, in broken English that he had tried to throw his shoes across Big Wilson and that he lost one of his shoes so he was hiking in a boot and a croc (thus he got the trail name "one shoe" from his hiking partner, both of which were from Quebec). I had to ford Big Wilson soon after but made sure I took the normal route of tying my shoes around my neck and letting them dangle. I used the rope to cross and it proved to be one of the most difficult crossings of the trail-- there was a spot where I had to go up and over a rock in the river which led to me plunging down into some deep water. At the other side, I sat and snacked to warm up and dry out as the fellow from Pittsburgh wandered across (and proceeded to fall in). I hiked with him soon after and hit an uphill and his voice started trailing off, I slowed down so he could catch up.
"Damn, I forgot how in-shape you guys are."
I had to think for a moment whether I was in-shape or not, who knows with all of the junk food I had been eating.
Eventually I lost track of him through a rock field. I rock hopped Wilber Brook and made it to the shelter where a gentleman, who introduced himself later after the incident, knocked over his alcohol stove and set about 3 feet of the lean-to on fire.
"That's not good" said an old man in the lean-to.
I stood and watched, along with two SOBO's who were sitting in the shelter in their sleeping bags (that would have gone up like a Christmas tree) and then struck up conversation for a while as the fire quelled. My Pittsburgh friend came along and started cooking after I had my stuff set up and he knocked about 1/4 of a liter onto my sleeping pad and bag by accident. I really didn't care that much nor did I care about much of anything at that point, it's just the stoicism the trail gives you. Besides, I knew it would all dry out at some point.
Cue the crazy mice-- I tried to keep my food bag and my garbage under my legs and during the night, a bold mouse chewed threw my trash bag and woke me up. I kicked it and it squeaked loudly as it flew under the shelter and quelled after half a minute. The mice were getting desperate due to the cold and this would not be my first time in the 100-mile hating them.
I didn't leave too early the next morning, I actually just lay in my bag while everyone got ready and then got packed up at the last minute and was the third one out of the shelter. I wanted to hike alone and I got my wish granted-- up and over a few rolling hills and rocks but nothing that interesting. The rain was starting up by 10 and it proceeded to rain heavily-- something that was pretty rare on the trail for me. I went up the Chairback mountains and the rain grew very cold, I found that if I stopped for five minutes I would start shivering, even in my rain jacket. "Not good" is all I could think, the last time I had had those conditions, it sleeted and snowed on me.
It didn't take me too much longer after noon to catch up to everyone. I came across Masshole and the Pittsburgh fellow who were there with a third pack. An incident had happened that a thru-hiker (Kokapelli) took a fall at the start of the Chairbacks and was not able to walk without help-- they had called 911 and a team was coming to get them but Kokopelli was going on to the next shelter to rest. I ran up ahead to see if I could help, I couldn't do much so I had to run back to Masshole who was in contact with the rescue team who told him to bring Kokopelli in the other direction opposite the shelter (to a side trail) to get him help. I had to run back, get the news to Kokopelli (who was reluctant to stop anywhere but a shelter due to the cold) and get everyone moving in the right direction. I left soon after, there wasn't anything I could do but everyone wanted to go into town due to the cold. The Pittsburgh guy offered to give me a drive but he said "make sure that's what you want to do though, you could press on man but I'm going home and you'd possibly be giving up your hike." I was the only one in the group to press on that day and I didn't go far down the trail before I started to feel depressed and guilty. I felt remorse for Kokopelli- the poor guy was about 60 miles away from finishing and he got that hurt and might not finish. I started to cry until stoicism and other thoughts took over, the trail demanded my attention with rocks and roots so I could keep my mind occupied.
I came along to a shelter 10.9 miles on and wound up sharing it with Franklinstein, Dirty D, Bunny and one-shoe's Quebec hiking partner (a smoldering hot woman, in my humble opinion). We talked, well they talked and I listened most of the time and zoned out to the sound of the rain. A few SOBO's came through, one alone who just took a break to cook and then a pair soon after, one of which had a dog. The dog ran in and hid under the shelter's floor (there's a gap of at least a foot under lean-to's) and after a while, the owner pressed on to keep hiking. The second SOBO stuck around and relaxed and as he was leaving, his friend's dog came out from under the shelter and ducked back in. The guy had to drag his friend's dog out with it looking so depressed and sad I couldn't help but "aww." The dog just stuck his head on one of the wooden boards and wouldn't move, finally the guy had to scream at the dog for it to press on and then it moved. The rain quit about 5pm and I debated pressing on further, I knew I wouldn't make it on such low mileage but you can't do much when it rains so hard.
The next day, the first of October had the french girl leaving
