Saturday, March 12, 2016
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Final Thoughts
Growing up in New Hampshire, the Appalachian Trail and the White Mountains were in my backyard, and I often spent weekends hiking there with my Dad or my Boy Scout Troop. My involvement in the Outing Club began during my undergraduate years at Dartmouth, and it was while a student from 1974-1978 that my desire to hike the entire AT was born. Thru hiking had just started to capture the imagination of hikers, and only a few each year completed the 2175 miles. It would be another thirty years before I was finally able to walk that long path myself.
Life had other plans for my immediate future, which precluded following this dream: medical school, marriage, medical residency in Colorado and at Dartmouth-Hitchcock, and raising a family. For fifteen years I had hinted to my partners in our Gastroenterology practice that I wanted to take a sabbatical. Adventurers themselves, they were willing to let me go. And it didn’t take much arm-twisting to convince my oldest son, Sean, age 24, to come along. He had just graduated from Middlebury College that February, had no job or immediate plans for one, so the timing was right for us both. In addition, my father (Paul J. Lena ‘50, DMS ‘51) had died in January, and now he would accompany us, some of his ashes resting in a small Nalgene bottle in my pack.
Our adventure began on “Step it Up Day,” April 14th, on the top of Springer Mountain, Georgia. We were greeted by a blinding snowstorm, inappropriately clad in shorts. As a result, our trail names were bestowed upon us by other hikers, and we became “Maine-iacs Uno and Dewey” for the next four months. Friends and family were able to follow our travels on our web blog, to which we would post pictures and weekly updates from internet cafés or libraries in towns. Occasional phone calls kept family up to date on our whereabouts and kept us informed of life in the real world.
We often stayed at shelters. These provided quite a social experience, where we found instant community and in depth discussions, which usually revolved around food. Most days we finished an exhausting 20 miles, barely able to cook our Lipton Rice dinner before falling into a hiking-induced ten-hour coma. Occasionally, “trail angels” provided a barbecue on a mountain bald, or left Whoopie Pies at road crossings or cold Cokes in a stream for us to find. Once a week we would hitch into a nearby town to eat greasy hamburgers or “Hiker’s Special” breakfasts. We became connoisseurs of diners. And along the way, Sean and I reconnected with old friends from North Carolina to Maine, many of whom treated us to “more than one pot” meals, cold beer, and sublime hot showers.
There was time to think, during those long miles in the “green tunnel,” to reacquaint myself with that Dartmouth student of 30 years ago who dreamed of a 2000 mile adventure. The daily challenges of sore feet, aching muscles, hunger, cold, and boredom served to intensify the joys. I experienced exquisite views, had mountaintop wild ponies eating from my hand, walked through a blooming rhododendron forest, and swam in clear waterfalls. Re-climbing the familiar White Mountains of my youth in the company of my son and my father’s spirit made this journey the long awaited fulfillment of a dream.
On September 6, 2007 our 2174 mile hike came to a successful completion on the summit of Mt. Katahdin, an old friend often climbed at home in Maine. After 144 days, 8 pairs of shoes, and 288 Snickers bars, we were home.
Life had other plans for my immediate future, which precluded following this dream: medical school, marriage, medical residency in Colorado and at Dartmouth-Hitchcock, and raising a family. For fifteen years I had hinted to my partners in our Gastroenterology practice that I wanted to take a sabbatical. Adventurers themselves, they were willing to let me go. And it didn’t take much arm-twisting to convince my oldest son, Sean, age 24, to come along. He had just graduated from Middlebury College that February, had no job or immediate plans for one, so the timing was right for us both. In addition, my father (Paul J. Lena ‘50, DMS ‘51) had died in January, and now he would accompany us, some of his ashes resting in a small Nalgene bottle in my pack.
Our adventure began on “Step it Up Day,” April 14th, on the top of Springer Mountain, Georgia. We were greeted by a blinding snowstorm, inappropriately clad in shorts. As a result, our trail names were bestowed upon us by other hikers, and we became “Maine-iacs Uno and Dewey” for the next four months. Friends and family were able to follow our travels on our web blog, to which we would post pictures and weekly updates from internet cafés or libraries in towns. Occasional phone calls kept family up to date on our whereabouts and kept us informed of life in the real world.
We often stayed at shelters. These provided quite a social experience, where we found instant community and in depth discussions, which usually revolved around food. Most days we finished an exhausting 20 miles, barely able to cook our Lipton Rice dinner before falling into a hiking-induced ten-hour coma. Occasionally, “trail angels” provided a barbecue on a mountain bald, or left Whoopie Pies at road crossings or cold Cokes in a stream for us to find. Once a week we would hitch into a nearby town to eat greasy hamburgers or “Hiker’s Special” breakfasts. We became connoisseurs of diners. And along the way, Sean and I reconnected with old friends from North Carolina to Maine, many of whom treated us to “more than one pot” meals, cold beer, and sublime hot showers.
There was time to think, during those long miles in the “green tunnel,” to reacquaint myself with that Dartmouth student of 30 years ago who dreamed of a 2000 mile adventure. The daily challenges of sore feet, aching muscles, hunger, cold, and boredom served to intensify the joys. I experienced exquisite views, had mountaintop wild ponies eating from my hand, walked through a blooming rhododendron forest, and swam in clear waterfalls. Re-climbing the familiar White Mountains of my youth in the company of my son and my father’s spirit made this journey the long awaited fulfillment of a dream.
On September 6, 2007 our 2174 mile hike came to a successful completion on the summit of Mt. Katahdin, an old friend often climbed at home in Maine. After 144 days, 8 pairs of shoes, and 288 Snickers bars, we were home.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Sweet Success
The last white blaze
still light on his feet
The Maineiacs Uno and Dewey completed their 2174 mile Appalachian Trail adventure September 6, 2007 with the ascent of Mt. Katahdin.Uncle Jay (trail name Stick) drove from New Hampshire to hike this last segment with them and to share our final moment of sweet success.
The last 10 days were nearly perfect with respect to weather and hiking conditions. The air was crisp and clear, more fall-like, but perfect for cruise hiking. Dewey's leg injury improved daily, but never seemed to slow him down enough to allow Uno to stay abreast. Coming into Monson, we did experience a brief but violent thunderstorm. Within just a few minutes, the storm came up from nowhere, with lightning and a microburst of high winds, bringing down tree branches above our heads. We quickly pushed on and were quite drenched by the storm, but otherwise unscathed. We pushed into Monson, staying at Shaw's House; a wonderful hiker hostel with an all-you-can-eat breakfast. They seem to be well acquainted with a thru-hiker's appetite, but were astounded that neither of us asked for seconds. (It's possible that this may have raised issues of authenticity as thru-hikers!)The hike through the hundred mile wilderness came off flawlessly. The weather was perfect, (if not a little chilly for the likes of Dewey). We went into the wilderness with one day's worth of food then met Kathy and Tracey at Gulf Hagas for lunch, a swim in Screw Auger Falls, and to pick up our supplies for the next four days. The first 40 miles is mountainous and is difficult at times. We had a wonderful campsite the first night at Cloud Pond on Barren Mountain, but the 19 miles that day took us til 7:30pm to complete. Then came the slow, arduous, muddy walk over the Chairback range which has a reputation with thru-hikers as the toughest in Maine; only surpassed by the Mahoosucs. After Gulf Hagas, we scaled the last true mountain before Katahdin: Whitecap at 3800' is one of New England's hundred highest peaks. With these mountains behind us, the terrain became much more level, and somewhat easier to cruise through lake country.
Our final day on the trail, we hiked the last three miles to Abol bridge, then 10 miles into Daicey Pond, where Kathy had rented us a cabin for the night. We had the afternoon to relax in the sun, and admire once again the stunning views of Katahdin across the lake. Uncle Jay spent that day hiking the Owl, but joined us that afternoon at the campground.
The final day to summit Katahdin offered us nearly perfect weather conditions. After a somewhat leisurely breakfast of huevos rancheros, we began hiking the Hunt trail from Katahdin Stream at 9am. We were truly energized and nearly ran up the mountain, reaching the summit just before 11:30. We noticed a man taking pictures of us and initially thought the Bangor Daily News was there to cover our finish. But no, it was Uno's partner 'gastro Dan', who had driven up that morning to climb the mountain and greet us with whoopie pies, and hearty congratulations. Not knowing our expected departure time, he had been on the summit since 9:30, a truly heroic effort.
The down-climb was uneventful, as we avoided any rain even though the clouds appeared. There was champagne and celebration at the bottom. Thus ends our saga and adventure on the AT for now. Neither of us was tempted to do a 'yoyo', turning around immediately and hiking to Springer, as some hikers (usually those who have no life) have been known to do in the past. One trip on the AT which was the adventure of a lifetime seems sufficient for now. We both expect to become couch potatoes for the next week, and Kathy has made it her personal crusade to restore at least part of the 37 pounds Uno lost during this excursion. We cannot thank our friends and family enough, especially Kathy, for their help and support, without which the trip would not have been possible!
Monday, September 3, 2007
The End is Near
Screw Auger Falls
Tracey, Sean, Mark, Kathy at Pleasant River crossing
And they're off...again
Sean is grateful to survive his death defying leap. See first picture above for scale.
What a choice...Moxie or Coke? and note Whoopie Pie in other hand
Which way do we go? And do I have to go back to workon Monday if I turn around and go South?
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
Maineiacs spend two unscheduled days in Orono
Uno and Dewey expect to resume the trail tomorrow to complete the remaining 170 miles of the AT to Mt. Katahdin, after making and unexpected two day recovery back in the comfort of home, after Dewey tried to perform do it yourself leg surgery with a dull rock on the summit of Mt. Avery. Up to this point, due the difficulty of the frustrating terrain,and wet humid slippery conditions, Dewey had been cursing Myron Avery in fact for ever having pushed the trail through to Maine in the first place. He apparently got his answer.
The home state has continued to be a challenge for the thru-hikers. In the last three days before reaching Sugarloaf, we did three 10 mile days; but each day included scaling at least two four thousand foot peaks, not a trivial endeavor. Of the twelve 4,000 ft peaks in Maine, the trail manages to climb all but four in the western part of the state. With the completion of West and Avery peaks, we won't see that elevation again until Baxter. We spent one night in the summit lodge on Sugarloaf, easily accessed by a half mile spur trail off the AT. The building is left open especially for thru-hikers to use as a shelter. We thought we had the place to ourselves until 7:30pm, when 6 college students arrived in a pick-up truck, having driven up the cat access road, loaded with plenty of party materials and a tent which they proceeded to set up in the building. They were actually quite nice and offered us a beer, at least recognizing that the way to a thru-hiker's heart is through his stomach and love of beer.
The following day we descended Sugarloaf in a 20mph winds with rain and fog, only to climb the other side of the Caribou Valley over the Crocker Mountains. These have wooded summits, no views and add at least 3 miles to the trail before reaching route 27. Reaching the road finally at least we were rewarded by meeting Kathy and staying the night at a condo owned again by our good friends the Boleys (of Lancaster PA fame.) After showers and shopping in the lovely metropolis of Stratton, we enjoyed a nice repast at Hugs Italian Restaurant that evening.
The next day we had a slow start, lacking in general motivation , but managed to get ourselves on the trail by 11am. It was warm but very humid as we set out to complete 15 miles to Little Bigelow shelter over the Horn Peaks, West Peak and Avery. Because of the humidity and a brief shower the rocks remained extremely slippery and at times it felt like walking on ice. These were the conditions which set Dewey up 'for the fall' on the summit of Avery, gashing his lower leg. Despite the injury he got up and was able to complete the 7 miles to the shelter, but in the process the front half of his calf swelled to twice it's size, making walking a challenge. We finally managed to get into the shelter, literally minutes ahead of a deluge and lightning storm that had been threatening us for two hours while we walked along the ridge. We called the nurse-pit crew who returned the following morning and picked us up near Flagstaff Lake.
At this point we have passed the 2000 mile mark and have seen Katahdin from the summit of Saddleback Junior. With any luck, we expect to summit Thursday or Friday next week after Labor Day, weather permitting. We'll have more updates if there is any internet access in Monson. Otherwise the final chapter will be written after we complete the hike next week.
The home state has continued to be a challenge for the thru-hikers. In the last three days before reaching Sugarloaf, we did three 10 mile days; but each day included scaling at least two four thousand foot peaks, not a trivial endeavor. Of the twelve 4,000 ft peaks in Maine, the trail manages to climb all but four in the western part of the state. With the completion of West and Avery peaks, we won't see that elevation again until Baxter. We spent one night in the summit lodge on Sugarloaf, easily accessed by a half mile spur trail off the AT. The building is left open especially for thru-hikers to use as a shelter. We thought we had the place to ourselves until 7:30pm, when 6 college students arrived in a pick-up truck, having driven up the cat access road, loaded with plenty of party materials and a tent which they proceeded to set up in the building. They were actually quite nice and offered us a beer, at least recognizing that the way to a thru-hiker's heart is through his stomach and love of beer.
The following day we descended Sugarloaf in a 20mph winds with rain and fog, only to climb the other side of the Caribou Valley over the Crocker Mountains. These have wooded summits, no views and add at least 3 miles to the trail before reaching route 27. Reaching the road finally at least we were rewarded by meeting Kathy and staying the night at a condo owned again by our good friends the Boleys (of Lancaster PA fame.) After showers and shopping in the lovely metropolis of Stratton, we enjoyed a nice repast at Hugs Italian Restaurant that evening.
The next day we had a slow start, lacking in general motivation , but managed to get ourselves on the trail by 11am. It was warm but very humid as we set out to complete 15 miles to Little Bigelow shelter over the Horn Peaks, West Peak and Avery. Because of the humidity and a brief shower the rocks remained extremely slippery and at times it felt like walking on ice. These were the conditions which set Dewey up 'for the fall' on the summit of Avery, gashing his lower leg. Despite the injury he got up and was able to complete the 7 miles to the shelter, but in the process the front half of his calf swelled to twice it's size, making walking a challenge. We finally managed to get into the shelter, literally minutes ahead of a deluge and lightning storm that had been threatening us for two hours while we walked along the ridge. We called the nurse-pit crew who returned the following morning and picked us up near Flagstaff Lake.
At this point we have passed the 2000 mile mark and have seen Katahdin from the summit of Saddleback Junior. With any luck, we expect to summit Thursday or Friday next week after Labor Day, weather permitting. We'll have more updates if there is any internet access in Monson. Otherwise the final chapter will be written after we complete the hike next week.
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