TRAIL DAY 8
Sun, Feb 28, 2016 The glorious sunset last night was on Poor Mountain. It is amazing how much one can remember from an 8-month hike in the woods. Last night was as fresh as if I were experiencing it as I wrote about it. And this day, too. With my AWOL notes written over the print as observations or ideas came to mind and my thousands of pictures, the memories stored within come alive.
I took a picture of trees silhouetted in the faint glow of morning. When the sun peered over the horizon, the quality of light was the same as the night before with a 180̊ shift of the shadows. After breakfast and packing up, we were on our way. Over the weeks and months ahead, it would become clear that, in camp, it took about two hours to settle down and get to bed and about two hours in the morning to take the first steps after waking with the sun.
At night it was: (1) pick the site; (2) unload; (3) retrieve water filter and containers and collect all the water needed for supper and breakfast and the morning’s hike; (4) set up tent as gravity filters the water; (5) unload everything except first aid kit into tent in its functional location; (6) feed Theo; (7) prepare supper in the dark or while it’s getting dark; (8) visit Mother Nature if necessary and brush teeth; (9) settle Theo’s sleeping space to clear the way for mine; (10) spread out sleeping pad and bag and dress or undress as needed for bed.
In the morning, it was pretty much the reverse: (1) wake and get dressed; (2) shoo Theo from the tent or perhaps lure him out with placement of his food; (3) visit Mother Nature again; (4) prepare and enjoy breakfast which would eventually include fresh-brewed Starbucks French Roast coffee and a pastry shared with Theo; (5) collect everything from their routine, functional locations to pack away in their designated carrying location, done inside if raining and outside if not; (6) be sure tent is empty and pack away in outside pouch before force of interior contents makes it difficult – if raining, the pack would already be full but I’d push and pull to get the tent in; (7) collect water filter and containers – task triggered by leaving the filter bag out and visible; (8) pack Theo’s saddlebags as evenly as possible by moving water and beckon him to his labors which took little to no coaxing as we got farther north; (9) get gloves or mittens or whatever last items might be loose and be sure the chamois is packed away in back pouch and the bandana handy for the chest strap; (10) load up and take to the trail.
Gotta say more about Theo. He was such an incredible, loyal companion. He would need me always in his sight. If I went down a long path to a privy, on emerging, he would be sitting or lying on the path way down at the other end looking in my direction, awaiting my return. But what I really wanted to say has to do with loading him up for the day. He never gave a moan or groan or gave any indication that, “Hey! That’s a pretty darn heavy load today” and he always accepted his fate – eventually. I thought it hilarious when I learned that another canine hiker growled at his owner every time he put his saddlebags on.
Also – some hikers had to quit the trail because their dog lay down and refused to budge. I think I saw less than 10 dogs on the trail and I don’t know of any others that did every single step with their master, right to the summit of Katahdin.
Theo became the most loved dog – if not the most loved hiker – on the trail. Later in the White Mountains of New Hampshire someone would say to me, “I saw you in the Smokys – I remember your dog.” And ladies almost always waxed maternal when they saw Theo. “Aaaaah, isn’t he sweet,” they’d say bending down for some close bonding. The guys: “Hey, nice dog” or nothing.