Long Trail Day 23 (End)

Laura Woodward Shelter to the Canadian Border

10 Miles (277 Total)

It was mostly a disastrous night. We were stuck in a cloud (I hate this so much), and it stormed much of the night, pelting our beat up tent with more rain.

In the morning we made the unfortunate discovery that the inside of the bottom of our tent was all wet. Somewhere there is a leak on the floor and water pooled in, soaking our sleeping pads and one of the corners of my sleeping bag. We can’t use the Zpacks tent anymore. With well over 170 nights of use, it is now a washed up paper bag. Which is mostly unfortunate. You figure that you pay so much for this tent that it would last for much longer. I don’t think I will be buying another tent from Zpacks. This was my second one and the first one started having much of the same issues too. It’s just too expensive for how much you actually get to use it.

It was cold getting out of the tent. I wished we had a shorter day to walk out, but we still had about 8 miles to the Canadian border and then another 1.5 miles to the trail head parking lot, where my college friend Riley was going to pick us up.

The trail was much of the same: mud, rocks and roots.

But at least it was dry.

Eventually after about 5 hours of hiking we reached the border. It was partially cleared with a view into Canada and its mountains. There is a clear cut where the border resides that stretches east and west. A small monument presides along with a Canadian flag, and a sign indicating the Northern Terminus of the trail.

There.

Finished.

We smiled and looked out into the distance.

No more.

Another couple was there at the monument, just starting their hike and heading south. They took our picture and were then on their way.

I did not not envy them.

Instead, I felt guilty.

They were in for quite the ride. They had no idea what lay ahead. The lush, overgrown forested booby-trapped maze laid in wait for them. A jungle of rocks and roots with jaws the size of tree trunks and a bite that stings more than a thousand killer bees.

I thought back to the black fly, that menacing little monster waiting somewhere out there with all of his other little monster friends. They were waiting for them, these new little lambs, heading out into the firestorm. Their little mouths salivated with anticipated glee.

But the mosquitoes just sat on mud puddles, regenerating their stock. The rain had stunted their growth for only a moment. The new moisture was breeding ground for a new army. A stronger army. The black flies would soon be all gone and replaced by even more of their vampire kindred.

Hiker season was just starting. The mosquitoes knew this. All winter they remain dormant, waiting for this feeding season again. Soon the conditions would be just perfect for their proliferation and swarms. They would start buzzing, electrifying the woods. Filling it with static.

No hiker was safe out there. You really needed to come prepared. If you didn’t happen to pack a head net, good God! You would have been better off smashing your face in with a baseball bat at home.

As we exited the woods, a sigh of relief fell over me.

The Long Trail was long, but it was finally done.

The bites would heal.

The soreness in my knees would go away.

And eventually, I wouldn’t even think about all the hardships anymore.

I would think back to the grand views. The green, rolling hills. The quiet nights. The rain pattering on the tops of shelters. All the things that were good.

Because the bad only lasts for so long. And then it eventually goes away. And whatever is left in your head, those feelings will stay with you forever. And as time goes on, the bad ones go away completely, and the best ones are the only ones that fill your head.

They stay in your dreams and go with you wherever you go. They are the reason you go out there, into the wide open space to begin with. To capture them with your mind. To learn something better, something gentler. To learn something about yourself, too.

I cannot think of a better way to spend my life.