Dawn of the Ducks – Part 6: The Maine Event – Mount Katahdin

With about 70% of Appalachia behind me,

I imagined the whispers of family and friends saying…

He might as well finish this.

And I believed precisely that.

Physically…mentally…I was back on the right track.

But… there were still contenders ahead.

The doorbell had rung.

Father Time was approaching…

and the remaining states were throwing blows—

a left cross in Vermont,

a right hook in New Hampshire.

But the 1,500 miles behind me had prepared me.

North Carolina…

Tennessee…

Virginia…

W.V…

Maryland…

Pennsylvania…

New Jersey…

New York…

Connecticut…

Massachusetts…

Completing these states showed that he was a fighter.

So I crouched down.

I knit.

I danced with Vermont.

I showed New Hampshire my footwork.

I would tell myself, no matter how hard it is today…

Tomorrow will make today look easy.

And most of the time…

That philosophy turned out to be true.

Now I was in contention for my title fight.

We’ll call it…the Maine Event.

From the beginning, Maine let me know who the champion was…

100 Mile Desert Moments: BAM! The blow was quick.

It happened at the first water crossing.

I slipped on a rock

face down in the water.

The countdown began.

1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8… 9…

I managed to get up.

I grimaced—

a slight limp, a little pain…

but I would let it go…

and take my first steps into the 100 mile desert.

It’s quiet here.

When I speak…

I feel the need to whisper,

so as not to disturb the peace I feel here.

I enjoy every moment.

I have walked through beautiful places on this trail.

but there is something about this stretch that feels different.

Maybe it’s because I’m so close to the end.

I didn’t start the hike thinking: I’m going to fail.

But I had moments of doubt…

and now I had gotten so close that if I were breathing… I would be done.

Last night I had a conversation with my trail family.

I declared it out loud.

clear as day—

I would never undertake another hike.

I explained to him that I enjoyed the experience…

but I had no desire to do another one.

Mount Katahdin would be the end of me.

and I meant what I said.

The next morning I got up early and sat quietly alone.

My family and friends were on my mind.

The next time I saw them…

They would recognize that I was a hiker.

The Katahdin sign was only 9 kilometers away.

2,175 miles behind me.

And so, my trail family and I were on our way.

The walk was not difficult.

It was the anticipation that was unbearable.

I let myself be fooled several times by false summits.

But finally… just like the documentary I had seen months before…

there it was.

I looked south…

and at the time I didn’t realize how far I had come.

but how much he had grown.

I realized that the miles didn’t fight me… nor the states.

He had not conquered the path.

The kilometers were lessons…

The states were tests…

and the trail was love.

I took my last steps…

I took off my glove…

and touched the sign.

I was not the champion of the Appalachian Trail.
They had knocked me out…
on every mile… in every state.
But every time I came to…
I got up again.
Grateful for the lesson,
molded into a better version of myself.
Standing on top of the Katahdin sign,
I kept my hands up.
a champion about the person he was at Springer Mountain.

This website contains affiliate links, which means The Trek may receive a percentage of any products or services you purchase using links in articles or advertisements. The buyer pays the same price they would otherwise pay, and their purchase helps support The Trek’s ongoing goal of bringing you quality backpacking information and advice. Thank you for your support!

For more information, visit the About page of this site.