Day 20: Gorham, NH. 298.3 miles from Katahdin, 1887.6 miles to Mt. Springer

After 300 miles, we have learned a lot about the "AT" in our few weeks on trail. For example, we are not your typical thru-hikers. Most people that pursue this goal seem to be at least 10 years younger, have copious facial hair, and play "Magic: The Gathering" (this is basically a video game, except on cards. It takes at least 20 minutes to explain the 'powers' that each card has. But, when you are walking for 6 months, you've got explaining time.) It is also common for AT hikers to take "trail names." They go by handles such as "Hoss," "Dixie," "Ginger Beard Man," or "Sensodyne." If you introduce yourself using your real name, other hikers look at you like YOU are strange.

We were poised at the top of Old Speck Mountain, less than 20 miles from the New Hampshire state line, ready to make our descent, when it started to rain. The descent down Old Speck, called the Mahoosuc Arm, is not easy in dry conditions. Sheer rock slides required careful hand and foot holds for each step. Our pace slowed to 1mph. 

Upon reaching the forest floor, we had to pass through the Mahoosuc Notch, the infamous "hardest mile of the AT", a mile of boulders as big as Volkswagens with no trail between them. Up, over, under, packs on, packs off, hand holds, knee holds, butt slides, etc. The rain soaked rocks made this no easier than normal.

We slogged a few final miles uphill, still miles from the state line.

The Appalachian Trail is outfitted with "shelters" every 10-15 miles, courtesy of volunteer trail clubs and the American taxpayer (thank you). These 3-sided log structures have a floor that serves as a sleeping platform and provides refuge for hikers and mice. 

We decided to stay the night in Full Goose Shelter, using a roof rather than our tent to keep out the rain. When we awoke the next morning, the shelter was an island, the wind was howling and rain still washing down.

When we got all our raingear on and started the final 5 miles for New Hampshire, we found the trail was a river-- in many steep places, a waterfall. We were soaked in minutes and every step was cautious and slippery, but we made the border.

We inched our way to the next shelter, 10 miles on, and waited for the storm to pass. 

A day later, when we sogged into town, even the items in our first aid kit needed to be dried out. We put every rain and dirt soaked stitch of clothing in the laundry and went to Walmart to resupply shop wearing nothing but our rain gear.

We are glad to be out of Maine and starting into the White Mountains. Fall and all its colors are coming to the Northeast.