Backpacking in Maine – Grafton Loop

9:34 am. Trump Plaza – Atlantic City, NJ. I awaken to the sound of laughter. My sister had opened the blinds to our ocean view hotel room to discover a giant heart surrounding the name “Gina” etched in the sand. We joked that it was probably the bachelor who we saw french kissing a prostitute the day before. We are in Atlantic City celebrating Party Gras, which consisted of binge drinking, conga lines, crashing bachelorette parties, eating at the ultra-sheek, Asian restaurant Buddakan, and losing a collective $735. (There will be another post about the legend of party gras in the future).

After throwing back a fourth cup of coffee, we say our goodbyes and I head home to prepare for tomorrow’s backpacking trip.

Looking through Backpacker magazine, a friend had come across an article about a pristine back country trail called the Grafton Loop. It runs through Maine’s Mahoosuc Mountains and takes hikers along the Appalachian Trail for eight miles. A quote described the 42-mile trail over 9 peaks as “an easy four day hike.” It was within driving distance. Camping is cheap. The pictures were specacular. I’m in.

The friend who suggested the trip is an eagle scout and has spent his fair share of time in the woods, so I left the logistics to him.

“Let’s leave this afternoon,” Mike suggested. I was really longing for Chinese food, the comfort of my bed and about 12 hours of sleep, but, what the hell, I wasn’t driving. Before we left, we threw our packs on the scale, which regretfully informed us that we would be carrying 40 lbs each. This is not an overwhelming amount of weight for experienced backpackers, but I certainly not an experienced backpacker. In fact, this excursion was to be my first backpacking experience. Growing up I did my fair share of car camping, the type of outdoorsy event that consisted of boom boxes, smores, showers and the occasional restaurant run, but never had I thrown every article I needed for survival into a bag, slung it onto my back and hiked into wilderness for days.

8:34pm – We stop at a supermarket and pick up chex mix, a pepperoni stick and two cases of Redbull before hitting the road. We (Mike) drives all night, pounding energy drink after energy drink. When gas gets low in Vermont, it takes us an hour to find an open station. We finally enter into Maine around 5am where we are immediately greeted by meandering moose and massive logging trucks.

6:30am – We pull into the trail’s parking lot. For a moment we consider sleeping in the car for a few hours, but quickly nix the idea. Buzzed on Redbull and Maine’s freezing refreshing air, we step out of the car and quickly throw on the warmest clothes we brought. Thankfully I didn’t listen to the hippy at Campmor who advised against bringing a fleece because it was summer.

Day 1 – The morning is dreary and quiet; like after a fresh rainfall. At the opening of the trail there is a sign that reads, “Know your limits. It’s OK to turn around.” Perhaps we are exhilarated to go into the wild or maybe just delirious from lack of sleep, but we are confident.

About two hours into the hike we spot the first signs of snow. Our initial amazement at seeing snow covered trees in June quickly wore off as we ascend the mountain and the once dry river bed that we called the trail turned into a dangerous mix of slippery roots and icy rocks. At points we have to bushwhack, meaning we diverge from the cleared trail and push our way through dense brush because the trail is too hazardous. But we are persistent and finally reach the summit. The view is stunning. The only sounds we can hear are the beating of our hearts and the howling of the wind.

As we descend the first peak only to begin our hike up the neighboring mountain, the weather starts to break and sun pours onto the mountain. The last part of the hike is a rock scramble of sorts, requiring us to carefully climb and maneuver our way up a slick rock face. Strong gusts of wind forcefully push into our packs treating them like sails. While stopping for a quick breather I hock a loogie that travels thirty feet before splattering onto a rock.

We reach the top of the mountain and part ways with the Appalachian Trail. Questions like, “What sort of shape must you be in to hike the whole AT?” and “Do people lose their mind?” run through my mind for the next few miles.

We finally reach the first campsite, which is a small clearing near a river. Exhausted, we air out our clothes, set up the tent, eat dehydrated beef and masted potatoes (which is actually tasty) and pass out. After a few hours of drunken sleep on Saturday, no sleep the night before and hiking two mountains, sleep has never felt so good.

Day 2 - We wake up to find the battery died on our only watch. For the remainder of the trip, we resort to checking the time by periodically taking pictures and then reviewing the digital time stamp. I can’t take credit for the idea.

After mixing a concoction that claimed to be coffee and scarfing down some oatmeal and pepperoni, we continue on with our journey. We find a moose antler in the mud and take pictures with it. Mike contemplates taking it for a souvenir but it smelts like death and vile liquid was oozing out of it.

The scenery changes with the rising and falling of each mountain we pass. We climb a snowy hill and descend a sunny, green path. One hill is dense forest, the next is a wide open trail. We traverse treacherous rock cliffs and across calm open fields. The varying landscapes are astonishing.

Halfway through the hike, or what we project is halfway, we passed a sign that reads, “Next campsite 10.1 miles.” There is no way we are going to make it another 10 miles before sundown. Also, at this point the trail isn’t as clearly marked as it has been in the past. The trail markers change over from blue to red without warning. Reluctantly, we continue along the mosquito infested stream bed. Just as we begin losing our sanity and trail depression comes knocking, we hit the campsite. Thankfully the sign we had passed was wrong. We quickly eat and go to bed, but I have a hard time sleeping.

Two events keep running through my mind: 1. I saw a snake. It wasn’t big, it probably wasn’t poisonous and it didn’t threaten us. But, I am terrified of snakes. They are my biggest fear. I had been following Mike when I caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye. I let out a girlish cry and jumped past it. 2. Poop. We passed piles and piles of poop. At first we laughed, but then curiosity kicked in. What animal is leaving this behind? How fresh is it? Convinced we were passing bear droppings, we nervously crept along the trail blowing a whistle and talking loudly. We never saw a bear.

Day 3 – Our legs, hips and feet are screaming. We search for a nearby water source, which happens to be back down the hill that we had just come from. I develop a cough and am too exhausted to be enthusiastic about the trek. We spend the whole morning descending Puzzle Mountain. Once we reach the bottom we would have to cross a highway and climb two more mountains in order to reach the next camp site.  Sore, sick and exhausted, we approached the highway and make a game time decision to cut the trip early.

Our car, however, is parked at another lot, 8 miles away. I start walking down the highway with Mike, but stopp once he rounds a bend 100 yards in front of me. Defeated, I sit on the side of the road not caring about the ants crawling all over me.

An hour later Mike comes roaring up in his Jeep with windows down, music blasting, Redbull in hand. Apparently Mike caught a ride with a girl covered with tattoos in a white convertible.  She was a nice Maine girl who was dropping off her brother and a friend at Grafton Loop. She told him they were going camping for a week on the highest mountain, which we had not yet reached; and they didn’t bring a tent. Maine-iacs.

Even though we didn’t complete the loop, I still had a great time. We saw beautiful sights, faced some fears and escaped our everyday lives for a few days. Will I go backpacking again? Aboslutely. And I will be back to complete the Grafton Loop – with a little training, a lighter pack and more sleep.