(Blogger’s Note: Be sure to read Part 1 of this two-part series first.)
Humble cake at your service
Now that I’ve been introduced to the new me, also known as Humble Pie, let me share with you what unfolded during our 9 days in the 100 Mile Wilderness (100MW).
The plan? Yes, we got punched in the mouth almost daily, but we got up every morning and walked back to work through the beautiful chaos. The plan evolved and new paths opened up for us.
Our first SOBO white fire leaving Baxter.
Goodbye Katahdin, hello 100MW
As we pulled out of Baxter State Park and the heights of Mount Katahdin disappeared in the rearview mirror, we were ready to tackle our first section of wilderness hiking. We left our “remote hiker log” in the box provided at the Baxter border and continued on.
We made a brief stop at the last vestiges of civilization, the Abol Bridge store. We topped up our water, drank a cold soda and Gatorade, and sat at a picnic table with two young men from London who were walking through the section. While sitting with them, we learned just a few hours earlier that we had met a legendary NOBO hiker named «Lightning.» We met him as he entered Baxter State Park to finish his hike the next day on Mount Katahdin. It had exceeded 100MW in three days. We take nine. We discovered that Lightning was only 16 years old and so far along in high school that he had taken a semester off to hike the Appalachian Trail alone. He completed his trek in less than 100 days.
In such a short time we had already met many interesting people. We didn’t know how many more would cross our path. One of those people was an Appalachian Trail Ridgerunner.
Their job is to walk the trail, monitor and educate hikers, and, unfortunately, take out the trash that people leave behind. He answered many of my questions and encouraged us to keep our mileage between 10 and 13 miles per day for the first 400 miles. In their experience, this strategy ultimately leads to a higher success rate for SOBO hikers. Little did I know that his advice was what would help us slow our progress and save our bodies and our walk.
Step by step
This is how you survive when you feel defeated and defeated. We didn’t realize the harshness of what awaited us, but this first day we had two stream crossings. One we jumped. The other one of us got wet. We got very wet over the next few days.
We arrive at our first shelter. In Maine, a shelter is called a shed. The first was the Hurd Brook shed. 
Unfortunately, the bugs were so bad that we ended up setting up our tent to prevent the little devils from eating us alive.
Hot and humid forever
I don’t think I was completely dry during the 100 MW. I was hot and sweaty all day. You know who likes heat and humidity? Insects. Insects like heat and humidity. I don’t know if that’s scientifically feasible, but where we were, it was. I consumed between 7 and 10 liters of water a day and it didn’t seem like enough to me. Fortunately, the streams and streams were flowing well and it was easy to get cold mountain water frequently. The downside to this was that it slowed down our pace.
The trail provides
This is a phrase often heard on the road. However, for me, I know that the Path Maker is the true provider and is what keeps me going. On our second night we reunited with Spotter from our day at the summit of Mount Katahdin. 
Spotter was in a bad situation. Their water filter had failed catastrophically. He still had many days left in the 100MW. Fortunately, he approached us and asked if we were carrying two filters. Since I was still Inspector Gadget at the time, I thought, well, of course I did. We were able to give him one of our filters for the rest of the 100MW. We planned to leave for Monson the same day and we could get our filter back. Ironically, a few days later my sleeping mat would have a hole that couldn’t be repaired. Spotter carried an inflatable mat and closed foam cell as part of his sleeping system. He let me use the closed foam cell until we got to Monson. One night I was able to sleep on nothing but my mat (to keep my sleeping bag clean) and the wooden planks of the shed. «The trail provides.» The trail often doesn’t look like a trail either.
When did I know I was suffering?
I found these hanging on the third day and chuckled. My knee was already bothering me and my feet hurt everywhere. I didn’t realize I had hurt my knee climbing Mount Katahdin. I think I was spoiling him without realizing it. That just caused the domino effect, causing other parts of my legs to be overused to compensate, which then caused more problems. This is the day we knew we had to shorten our miles and lengthen our days. Shout out to Spotter for helping us rearrange our mileage for success. I also knew I had been a fool to pack everything, including the metaphorical kitchen sink or, in my case, titanium chopsticks for a shakedown at the 100MW. The weight overloaded my knees. I had no choice but to slow down, especially going down a hill. I knew there would be a major team revamp when we got to Monson. But in the meantime, our bodies were working hard and we were constantly sore and tired. I was hoping our “follow-up sections” would arrive sooner rather than later. Unfortunately you can’t order them on Amazon.com.
This little light of mine…
It was amazing to find a bunch of tea lights hidden in the rafters of a shed. It warmed my heart on a sad, rainy night. It also toasted my toes which were a little soggy with water. 
Speaking of wet, battered feet; This is what your feet can look like after walking in the rain and through streams for two days in a row…
(Warning!! Nasty, gross feet pics ahead. Continue at your own risk of needing therapy)
Luckily, I had blister care in our first aid kit and a pair of Darn Tough dry socks to put on and dry these pups off a bit.
Every day ends in «Y»
What day of the week is it? It’s easy to lose track of the date, the day, and sometimes even where you are. It just blends together. Rock, root, rock, stream, up, up, up, down, up, root, rock… Even signs sometimes have nothing to offer you. 
Even with the brain fog and decision fatigue, you walk through many wonderful and beautiful places. Pictures sometimes don’t do it justice, but here are a few that will hopefully give you an idea of what we were able to enjoy. I apologize for not having the names of all the places where these photographs were taken. We were surviving, but we were still enjoying ourselves. Recording and tracking my photographs was not high on my list of priorities. However, all these photographs are of 100MW. (If you’re really curious about where the photo was taken, please post a comment and I’ll do the research to locate the location.)
One of many water crossings. 
Mountain heights. ⛰️
Low valley, but still beautiful.
Continue traveling by truck or, in this case, walking
It was still left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Repeat all day. I was taking an average of 30,000 steps a day. I think at one point my feet petitioned the Maine courts to be emancipated from the rest of my body. We move on though. Lisa is tough. In fact, I’m sure he has a mountain goat or a lion in his DNA. Me? I’m pretty sure I have some hippo DNA in me. We knew we were getting closer with every step and that lifted our spirits.
Private lunch for two
On one of our cold, rainy days we found «Fort Relief» right in the middle of the day. Fortunately we didn’t need reservations for a very special lunch date. What is «Fort Relief»? Well, it’s a two-seater outhouse in the middle of the 100 MW. The beggars couldn’t choose, so we dined at this fine establishment, well at least dry. 
The best lunch of the full 9 days. 🙄
However, on one of our sunny, hot and humid days we were able to enjoy a great lunch at a stream crossing.
Spoiler alert. I still have my chair as I write this about a week after leaving 100MW. It has gained its weight in my backpack.
Difficulties and comforting
We’re done. It was difficult. It was painful, but we persevered. We lift each other up in prayer and in our love for one another. God helped us. I know that without Him I might have given up when I was at my worst. But He was faithful and I took every step with faith that He was leading me. I don’t want to preach, but for me it was real. I couldn’t have done it without Him. In His strength we emerged at the southern end of the 100MW.
We had a river crossing closer to the end, but crossing it was a pleasure this time.
Exit, right stage #civilization
We arrive. IN SOBO mile 114.6. Maine Route 15.
The warning at the southern end of the 100MW.
We arrived at the parking lot with our bodies mostly intact, but our marital bond was stronger than ever. 
We waited in the trailhead parking lot for our shuttle to arrive to take us to Shaw’s Hiker Hostel in Monson. When we got into the van, our driver, Chester, told us that the heat index had been close to 100 degrees for the past few days. What helped us survive what we now knew was a jungle climate? My new favorite drink, ice water. 
We were safe. We were back in civilization. Little did we know that our next chapter at Shaw’s Hiker Hostel would change the trajectory of our entire view of the hiking world. It may have even saved our entire upcoming trip.
To be continued…
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.
