Spaulding Moutain Lean-To
Oh, Maine, you crazy kid. There are no bugs now! There are no bugs because it’s 40 frakking degrees!
OK, call it ‘in the 40s at night, with high winds. The wind chill last night was in the 30s, if not the 20s. I have the gear for it, but man, is it hard to de-tent in the morning.
Yesterday was rough. Oh, hell, they’re all rough. 😆 But Saddleback and the Horn with high winds were… harder than I remembered. But part of that’s the NOBO/SOBO thing. The NOBO descent down the Horn was the typical vertical tumble of treacherous boulders for a mile, but this time they were slate! I called it a day at the official tentsite before Saddleback Junior. That descent britalized my knees to Jello, and the ascent used up my courage for the day. Oh, and there was a bonus on top! A trick bog with moving rocks that unexpectedly swallowed your feet to mid-calf!
So I had black, muddy, wet socks and shoes. Camp shoes would have been great for that, except there was nothing to indicate it was a bog. Looked like a little puddle.
I’m eeking out tiny miles by listening to pods for like… 4 hours a day. The pods are using my battery like crazy, and the short days and the cold are using my food. I won’t have enough food to get to my next resupply, so I had to do a little tapdancing. I’ll be at the Hostel of Maine Monday and Tuesday nights. Spendy, but there are only a couple of yowns left. Schedule-wise, who knows?I think I’m OK, but I’m just concentrating on one day at a time. I think Icoyld maybe have gotten thete Sunday, but tomorrow are the Crockers, or one of them—more high above-treeline bullshit. “The AT in Maine: An unrelenting procession of bullshit.” 😄
Shelter’s crowded! A college group, a lot of weekenders. Maybe some thrus, since I’m firmly in the bubble now. Dogs. Three dogs. Dogs are good.