We did it! – The walk

Spoiler alert: I completed the Appalachian Trail (AT) and reached the summit of Mount Katahdin on June 15, and I was the 18th hiker to reach the summit in 2026. But before that, though, it’s necessary to backtrack a bit since I haven’t blogged in some time.

New Hampshire: Part II

The last time I left them, and given the harsh weather conditions in May in the greater White Mountains area and specifically the Presidential Range, I had developed a case of the New Hampshire howling (or what I referred to in my last blog as “losing my nerve”). I took 2-3 days at Notch Hostel (great place by the way) and interacted with some very experienced climbers and trekkers residing at the hostel based on their insights and expert hiking tips. I found this stay and informal mentoring extremely insightful and useful for both my hiking skills, in a very technical topographical environment, and my state of mind.

Franconia Ridge was a highlight for me, as was navigating cold Mount Washington (it was 5 degrees and 40 mph winds the morning I reached the summit) and the descent from Mount Madison down intense Osgood Ridge. These areas, to name just a few in New Hampshire, tested my skills and abilities. The spectacular views and great feeling of accomplishment were tremendous and what I needed in those moments to literally “get back on the horse” and do what I knew how to do, which was walk safely, but with a clear mind.

On Mount Washington.

An incomplete snowy journey in the Presidential Mountain Range.

Looking back at one of the rocky descents of Osgood Ridge.

I also met some great hiking friends along the way in New Hampshire who were a pleasure to be around and added perspectives to the reality of late spring hiking in the White Mountains/Presidential Range that I valued and thought about quite a bit. Another plus in New Hampshire was the random kindness of some temporary caretakers charged with preparing the cabins for the season. In one case, they provided me with a place to shelter during a severe wind and rain storm and in another case, I was facing a long, deep snow trek in the woods and they unexpectedly provided me with some much-needed refreshments. I didn’t ask for any acts of kindness, but the trail provides unimaginable ways and puts people in your life who can and do make a positive difference in the moment.

With my hiking buddy, Mouse, at the Libby House Hostel in Gorham, NH.

Kilometers of snow.

Maine

Yes, I discovered that Mahoosuc Notch is the “hardest mile” on the AT. There was quite a bit of snow and ice in the lower areas of the notch when I passed it, which made walking even more difficult. It’s well documented how challenging this stretch of the AT can be. I crawled a bit, entered cave-like areas, dragged my backpack, broke my knees on rocks, and then was «rewarded» after passing the notch by climbing the Mahoosuc arm. Tough stuff, but I’m glad I experienced these areas.

A snowy and icy trail of Mahoosuc Notch.

Maine was a wonder to me. I found the climbs into the mountains a little different than what I had experienced in New Hampshire. It seemed like you ascended a similar amount of vertical feet as in New Hampshire, but the granite and shale rocks were more platform-like and, at least for me, easier to climb and navigate. The lodges were fantastic, as were those in New Hampshire, with helpful staff and good facilities for hikers. Crossing the Kennebec River via a provided canoe ferry was an interesting feature and certainly a necessity given the varying depth of water and rapid current. Sleeping on the beaches of the many ponds and lakes along the trail in Maine, with the loons calling early in the morning, was unforgettable.

Some mountain climbing terrain in Maine.

Camping on East Carry Pond Beach.

The 100 mile wilderness was the last magical part of the AT. After resupplying at Shaw’s Hiker Hostel (another wonderful place and the breakfast is excellent), I was planning to take it easy in the 100 Mile Wilderness to «drink it all in» before reaching the summit of Mount Katahdin. No. The trail had other ideas. It poured rain all day, every day, it became very hot and humid, and we hit black fly season. Oh! Fording what seemed like dozens of rivers in the 100 miles of desert and in relentless rain, my feet were in pretty bad shape with the early stages of trench foot. Considering this and the black flies that were eating my body, which was soaked in Deet (not healthy, I know), I sped up my hike and crossed the desert in about four days. This wasn’t my intention, but bug bites can motivate you to take a lively step. However, the 100 mile wilderness was so serene and isolated that it offered me one last experience of solitude on the AT.

In the White Cap Range in the 100 mile desert.

Black fly season in the 100-Mile Wilderness.

Mount Katahdin

On June 14, I arrived with two other northbound hikers at Baxter State Park and camped in the designated area reserved for northern hikers: The Birches Campground. The weather that day was pretty typical of last week: hot, humid and rainy. According to the park ranger’s weather report, the next day, summit day, was predicted to be foggy, rainy, and with a low probability of lightning. When the 15th arrived, we anxiously awaited the park’s official weather report for the day. In fact, until the afternoon we were facing a lot of fog, rain and a low chance of lightning. We had to choose between hiking to the summit that morning or hiking 10 miles from where we arrived on the AT to a private campground to spend the day and night there and then hiking back the same 10 miles the morning of the 16th to Baxter State Park and the summit of Mount Katahdin, or a 20-mile detour essentially because park rules only allow northbound hikers one night at The Birches.
We opted to summit Katahdin the morning of the 15th. We climbed the original AT portion of the summit hike, the Hunt Trail, which is a really tough climb with rocks, crags, metal handholds, and wet conditions for about 3 miles to treeline. At the tree line we waited a bit to see if there was any lightning activity in the area. None were detected. So, we went above the tree line, exposed to the elements, in the fog for another 2 miles.

Misty, misty cairns on top of Mount Katahdin.

When I reached the iconic Katahdin summit sign in the thick fog, I was filled with absolute joy and a feeling of satisfaction washed over me. I can’t really adequately articulate this feeling, but it was like, at least for me, when I got married or experienced the birth of a child. Super powerful. I took pictures and reflected for a while on the moment, the trip from Georgia to Maine, the people I met along the way, the places I visited and stayed, and how lucky I was to have this one-way ticket to be able to do this with the full support of my wife, my children, my family, and my friends. What an experience, what a life memory. I will never forget this and will think about it often. I am very proud to be part of the AT hiking community!

At the top of Mount Katahdin. Pure joy!

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