Gilligan on the AT Revisited: 02-Oct-1993 (morning)

October 2, 2008

This is a 5-month long series of blog posts that are the entries in my journals written on most evenings as I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 1993. The journal entry appears first — indented — and then any additional commentary from my 15-years-removed perspective follows.

10/2/93 – Sat. (Morn.)

I’m making an entry now while I have the time so I won’t have quite as much “catching up” to do tonight.

I am in Monson, ME, at the Shaw’s Boarding House. As of my last entry I was at Pierce Pond Lean-to.

Sunday: Ate breakfast at the Harrison’s camp, hiked to Kennebec River, was ferried across and driven to Trailside Cabins by Steve Longley, later driven to Augusta airport (again by Steve) for $10, sat in Logan for a long time due to flight screw-ups, finally landed at BWI around midnight.

Monday: Ate breakfast with Julie, hung out at and around the farm all day, went to service for Dee that night.

Tuesday: Ate breakfast at Cliffside Inn, set off alarm at the farm, drove to Arlington for funeral, burial, and reception, drove until 10:30 PM to get to a Holiday Inn in Greenwich, CT.

Wednesday: Drove all day, got to Rangeley Manor to discover that Papi had mailed my rain gear home, spent night at Trailside Cabins, where I saw Strider (again) and Hopalong.

Thursday: Julie slackpacked me about 12 miles and then we spent the night in a hotel.

Friday: Did a 24+ mile day with a pack to get to Monson, passed The Last Ones Out, Old Man Sundance, Terrapin Flyer, and Roadrunner in the process, caught up with Chow Hound and The Seeker (U.K.) at Shaw’s. Pooh Bear & Airplane also supposedly are in town.

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Gilligan on the AT Revisited: 25-Sep-1993

September 25, 2008

This is a 5-month long series of blog posts that are the entries in my journals written on most evenings as I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 1993. The journal entry appears first — indented — and then any additional commentary from my 15-years-removed perspective follows.

9/25/93 – Sat.

I saw my first moose today. It was a medium-sized bull, so nothing special, but a moose nevertheless.

I’ve got to pass on to Mom and Dad about the Harrisons. Tim Harrison worked at an insurance company in Boston until 8 years ago, when they moved out here and started running the camp near Pierce Pond. The place is beautiful.

The Pierce Pond Shelter, where I’m staying, is one of the older shelters. It’s right on the lake, though, and we’ve already seen loons. There’s also a couple ohere from Boston, Bob & Rita Anderson. They’re pretty neat — have a son in med. school and a daughter who’s a junior at Colby College.

By the way, the flip-floppers last night were named “Son of Billy Goat” (Tony), and “Random Vine” (P.J.). I forgot to jot that tidbit down.

I’ve made it since Rangeley with very little (virtually no) rain, but Bob said it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, so I may get to try out my rain gear a la garbage bags yet.

I ran into an MATC trail crew that was relocating a couple of short sections of trail today. That was nice. They do one of the best jobs of any ATC club I have seen. I had a pretty nice talk with a couple of them.

Okay, so once again no deep thoughts. I’m kind of hoping to wind this whole journal down in the wilderness with a looking back on what I have learned and gained on the A.T., but I think it would be a bit premature to start now.

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Gilligan on the AT Revisited: 24-Sep-1993

September 24, 2008

This is a 5-month long series of blog posts that are the entries in my journals written on most evenings as I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 1993. The journal entry appears first — indented — and then any additional commentary from my 15-years-removed perspective follows.

9/24/93 – Fri.

I made it into Stratton yesterday by 2:00, got all my errands done, and did a 15-mile day out today.

I’m staying with a couple of flip-floppers who were right behind me down south, so they know all about me even though I’ve never heard of them. That’s kind of a first on that side of the coin for me. They’re pretty excited about finally meeting me, so I guess my entries have been pretty good in the registers.

As I sat in the Stratton Diner this morning, I realized how much I want to settle in a really small town. It was so neat to watch people walk in and greet everyone else in the diner, including the waitress. Maybe that is part of the appeal of E.B. White, what with his fascination with the small-town life in Maine.

I’ve been meaning to document my “gay theory,” which I’ve developed over the past 6-8 months:

Some people are born straight. Some people are born gay. Some people are both/neither. Call it 1/3, 1/3, 1/3. Now, society is geared heterosexually, and thus most people live straight lives (1/3 it’s normal, 1/3 are easily pulled that way, and many of the gays never figure out their “natural” orientation). If society weren’t so geared that way, there would be a much more even balance of gays & straights in the world.

Also, there is the thought that homosexuality is normal as part of the natural order of things. Whatever the controlling influence, be it “God,” “A Force,” or simply the world looking after itself, a high gay population does one very important thing — it slows the world population explosion without forcing people to not have children.

I’ve been writing and talking at the same time, so I don’t think I’ve been very coherent or articulate, but at least I got down the basic ideas.

I also met a group from The Hyde School in Maine (Bath) and got a job offer to do wilderness stuff there. It’s an alternative school of sorts — high parent involvement and encouragement of students to find their own special talents.

Book: Why Men Are the Way They Are. Second time it’s come up on the trail.

Stratton, Maine, was an unmentioned milestone for me. That’s where I had Julie’s engagement ring shipped. I did not remember one way or the other, but, clearly, I decided not to make any mention of the plan I hatched to propose to her in my journal. That was, I think, because I knew I would be finishing up journals and sending them back home, and I was nervous that I would say, “Sure, read my journal,” without realizing that was in it. I decided pretty early on the hike that I would like to propose to her on Mount Katahdin. I talked to my mother about it at the family reunion in Calloway Gardens, and she helped locate a jeweler in Beaumont who would work via a couple of sketches and the telephone to make the ring. He shipped it to Stratton.

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Gilligan on the AT Revisited: 22-Sep-1993

September 22, 2008

This is a 5-month long series of blog posts that are the entries in my journals written on most evenings as I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 1993. The journal entry appears first — indented — and then any additional commentary from my 15-years-removed perspective follows.

9/22/93 – Wed.

Looks like better luck tonight — alone so far! I could have gone another 2-1/2 miles and then taken a 0.6 mile side trail to the Spaulding Mtn. Summit House, but I think there were already going to be a couple of northbounders there. Besides, it would have turned an early day into a not-so-early day.

I was thinking today about what I wrote last night about being “glad” that Dee died when he did, and I have an addition/clarification to make. When Mom told me he died, I immediately began trying to figure out how I would get to the funeral rather than if I would get to it. Does that make sense?

For some reason, I have felt somewhat detached about Dee’s death, but I don’t necessarily think that is bad. In many ways, Dee was already dead when I last saw him, which may seem rather harsh, but which is the truth. He no longer had even a glimmer of the wit and dignity that made him so special, so it was then that I said my farewell.

he is “officially” gone now, though, and that may or may not hit me at some other time. I still have all my memories.

196.5 miles to Katahdin!
1950.2 miles I have come!

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Gilligan on the AT Revisited — 21-Sep-1993

September 21, 2008

This is a 5-month long series of blog posts that are the entries in my journals written on most evenings as I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 1993. The journal entry appears first — indented — and then any additional commentary from my 15-years-removed perspective follows.

9/21/93 – Tue.

Where to start?

Dee died on Sunday, and I found out last night when I went into Rangeley, so I’m taking three days off in Caratunk, ME, to go to the funeral. In a sort of bizarre, twisted way, I’m kind of glad that he died before I finished the trail. For one thing, it gives me some time to put things into perspective. Also, though, I kind of feel like the inconvenience and delay that his death has caused allows me to kind of a make a tribute to him — his death has disrupted my schedule, but I am glad.

Also, I get to see Julie sooner than I had thought I would, which is a secondary positive, but a definite positive.

Finally, I managed to leave Rangeley without my pack cover and rain jacket, so it looks like I’ll be plastic-bagging it for a few days. I’ll try to call Papi from Stratton and let him know I’ll pick them up on the way back to the trail.

I had kind of hoped for solitude tonight, but a highly talkative southbound thru-hiker from _______ (age: 49, trail name: ______). he seemed kind of nice at first, but he seems more and more like a macho jerk who doesn’t shut up and doesn’t know how to listen.

(sigh) Maybe another night.

I believe this is the night I spent at the shelter that I went back and visited during our family vacation last month.

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Gilligan on the AT Revisited: 19-Sep-1993

September 19, 2008

This is a 5-month long series of blog posts that are the entries in my journals written on most evenings as I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 1993. The journal entry appears first — indented — and then any additional commentary from my 15-years-removed perspective follows.

9/19/93 – Sun.

This entry will be as long as my cold hands will permit.

First of all, Buck apparently woke up in the middle of the night last night and realized that she needed to get off in Andover rather than walking all the way to Rangeley, so I am solo again as of today. Her company will be greatly missed. Ever since the Mt. Madison incident, she’d sort of lost her spunk and drive, which was part of the reason we were doing such low mileage. I, for my part, realized what I needed was to do a big mileage day to regain some confidence in my ability to get to Katahdin. So, in a way, it was good that Buck & I parted company this morning. Today was a gorgeous day — a bit chilly but not a cloud in the sky — and I did 22.8 miles. It’s good to know I still can.

I met a couple who were celebrating their one year wedding anniversary (today) with a four day hike. They were really neat folk and they told me to call them when I finish the trail and I can have a free hot shower at their house. They live somewhere near the Maine coast; their name: Lessard; Phone #: xxx-xxxx (area code unknown).

Tonight I’m staying with a flip-flopper from Pittsburgh named Prometheus who is a pretty cool guy but nothing to write home about.

It looks like October 6 might now be a reasonable ETA for Katahdin. That’s assuming the weather doesn’t get too bad. I can deal with the cold as long as it’s dry cold, but wet cold makes for slick walking, too.

My hands say it’s too cold to continue, so that’s gonna be it for the night.

Julie’s on my mind.

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Gilligan on the AT Revisited: 18-Sep-1993

September 18, 2008

This is a 5-month long series of blog posts that are the entries in my journals written on most evenings as I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 1993. The journal entry appears first — indented — and then any additional commentary from my 15-years-removed perspective follows.

9/18/93 – Sat.

Another long, tired, wet day. Low mileage, of course.

I am tired, so tired, of the A.T. If I can make it to Monson, ME, I think my spirits may lift, but right now it seems like nothing good ever happens.

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Gilligan on the AT Revisited: 17-Sep-1993

September 17, 2008

This is a 5-month long series of blog posts that are the entries in my journals written on most evenings as I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 1993. The journal entry appears first — indented — and then any additional commentary from my 15-years-removed perspective follows.

9/17/93 – Fri.

Well, we have now finally made it through that infamous obstacle, Mahoosuc Notch, “The Toughest Miles on the A.T.” It took us 3 hours, which is pushing the long end of average time. Buck has a really tough time on big boulders, what with her short legs and trashed boots. Buck, at separate times, dropper her hiking stick and her fanny pack (water bottle, iodine tablets, and mace) down rock holes, which I wound up retrieving. At one point, I found myself literally doing a handstand in a cave — all Buck could see were the lower half of my legs kicking in the air, the rest of my body submerged in a hole. It was fairly comical.

We only did 4.8 miles total today, though, so it now looks like Buck will have to yellow-blaze to make her October 3rd deadline, which, again, saddens me. I feel like I learn more & think more when I hike with her than I have at any other time on the A.T. We seem to have a really “deep” discussion every other day. She is infinitely will to listen to me talk about Julie, which is good therapy for me.

My deep thought for the day: the earth may be like a person’s first new car. He tends to not maintain it all that well because he thinks it shouldn’t really need it. When the car does start to wear, he may start maintaining it, but it is often too late. The next car, though, is often not the same case, because the person has learned his lesson. The analogy gets continued, though, in a sci-fi kind of dream for the future, in which man manages to colonize another planet, yet doesn’t screw it up like he has screwed up earth. All this stemmed from a rather depressing list of how many different ways mankind has screwed up the earth — so many that it hardly seems possible that they could all be reversed.

A flip-flopper named Morgan is here tonight. She and Buck hiked together back before Buck got off for the wedding in Hot Springs, so it’s been a big gossipfest/reunion. One’s on one side of me, the other on the other side, so I’m pretty much right smack dab in the middle of it.

Still missing Julie — actually feeling kind of heartsick. The days drag on interminably and the miles get longer and longer.

Mahoosuc Notch is memorable, and I wasn’t making up the “toughest mile” label — that was and still is the general consensus (although it is sometimes referred to as the toughest horizontal mile). Keeping in mind that, by this point, I was conditioned to the point that I could cover 20-25 miles in a day over any sort of terrain that allowed me to just hike, regardless of whether that was up and down hills and mountains. I covered 4.8 miles that day. Mahoosuc Notch is a mile-long section of the trail that is, literally, just a huge ravine filled with massive boulders. It was sort of fun, as it was as much rock climbing as it was hiking, so it definitely added some variety. There’s a nice Flash presentation with pictures that gives a pretty good sense of that section of the trail on the MaineToday.com site.

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Gilligan on the AT Revisited: 16-Sep-1993

September 16, 2008

This is a 5-month long series of blog posts that are the entries in my journals written on most evenings as I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 1993. The journal entry appears first — indented — and then any additional commentary from my 15-years-removed perspective follows.

9/16/93 – Thu.

Some days are tough! Rock scrambling slowed us down so much today that we only hiked a bit under 10 miles. Tomorrow is the day we tackle the big bad Mahoosuc Notch and Mahoosuc Arm, so it’s shaping up to be another 10-miler.

I thought a little bit today about the religious philosophy we came up with yesterday, and I concluded that I am still not absolutely convinced that there is “something else” at all. If there is, though, I am still much hapier with an un-personified force rather than a God-in-the-likeness-of-man.

This is Buck’s and my second night in a row alone. She reminds me more and more of Josie B_____.

4+ months on the trail. I can adjust to a life without the comforts of home, but it seems never again to a life without Julie. I miss her terribly.

 

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Gilligan on the AT Revisited: 15-Sep-1993

September 15, 2008

This is a 5-month long series of blog posts that are the entries in my journals written on most evenings as I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 1993. The journal entry appears first — indented — and then any additional commentary from my 15-years-removed perspective follows.

9/15/93 – Wed.

I’ve got a lot to write tonight, so hopefully I’ll get everything down.

First of all, Buck is still with me. It was going to be just too costly for her to get to Monson, so she decided that it was not meant to be. She went to the grocery store with me and said she had called Joe and had an excellent conversation, so she was glad I had pressured her.

When I got back to the hostel, sadly, it was to find several police officers there. Just Jane’s dog, Max, had just been hit and killed by a passing car. I had first met the dog in Hanover, NH, and had played with him and petted him a lot while I had done laundry yesterday in Gorham. As I told Jane, I have yet to spend the night in a shelter with a dog, which is unfortunate, but I certainly enjoyed Max when I got to see him. I felt so bad for her, as I got the feeling she was really close to the dog. Some hikers dug a grave behind the hostel and made a wooden cross that said “Max,” which was rather touching.

Roadrunner also showed up that night — I hadn’t seen him since Connecticut.

Tomorrow we will cross our last state line and be in Maine!

Buck and I had a really good talk today about relationships and religion, which I will now try to summarize.

Here is what I/we came up with as a possible “religion.” A very basic premise is that whatever God/Force/Afterlife/etc. there is, it is behond the comprehension of the human mind — beyond words, beyond images, beyond human ideas. All legitimate religions are human attempts to describe the same indescribable thing.

Having said that, here is now our attempt to describe the indescribable. We settled on the term “force” rather than the term “God” as a label for the center of the spiritual scenario, as “God” is too much of a personification of something that is decidedly non-human. Now, we assum also that every person has something inside of them that is slightly beyond life — something that does not simply cease to exist with the stopping of the heart (more on this later). This “something” is most commonly referred to as the “soul.” The soul itself is a small force. It may be good, bad, happy, sad, or any combination o such attributes, depending on who (and how) the individual is. So, when a person dies, his/her soul goes back into the main force, taking with it not human consciousness, but human attributes. This force does affect the world in some subtle, unknowable way. But this force is not all good or all evil. It is whatever mixture the souls make it, thus being able to simultaneously play a role in war and famine as well as in the beauty of nature and the miracle of love.

All religions (pretty much) work towards the same end, of having people leave this world with as much good in their souls as possible, regardless of the premise under which that good is striven (?) for.

Two loose ends:

One, why must there be “something else?” There might not be, but there are so many unexplained things and so many “spiritual moments” (star-gazing, a majestic mountain range, love) that it is hard to attribute it all to genetic mutations and scientific realities. It is much easier to live a life that has a point than one that is simply ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

Two, how does this tie into relationships? Two people who go through life together have love in their souls. If they work through problems rather than giving up, then that love comes out stronger in the end. When human live does end, then, their souls contribute that ultimate good of love to the force.

All this came out in a two-hour conversation. I’ll see how it stands up to further thought!

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