Day 2

Although I slept past my 5 a.m. planned wake up, I got my act sufficiently together to be well on my way towards Mt. Washington by 7 a.m. and was on the summit trail by 10 a.m. The trail I had picked to the top was a veritable superhighway as far as hiking routes go: wide, extremely well marked, and in excellent condition. This came at a price, however, as there was a crush of other like-minded hikers determined to summit the highest peak in New Hampshire and the second highest mountain east of the Mississippi. Yet the crowds couldn't take away from the views, which were incredible. Although New England is known for its rolling green hills and "gentle" mountains, Mt. Washington is very much an alpine environment that stands in contrast to its surroundings. I even witnessed a diehard skier playing in the last vestiges of snow remaining on the north side of the mountain. Pretty incredible for the 3rd of July in 80 degree heat.

About half of the trail to the top was above the treeline, affording incredible views of the surrounding White Mountains every step of the way. Reaching the summit (6,288 ft) was somewhat anti-climactic on account of the auto road and cog railway that ushers tourists to the top. Call me elitist or insensitive, but I'll say it anyway: the last thing I want to do after a grueling ascent is share the summit with loud tourists elbowing each other to buy the coveted "This car made it to the to of Mt. Washington" bumper sticker. But I digress.

My legs were more than happy to finally reach the flat ground of the parking lot after a steep and constant descent. Two down, one to go. After downing yet another snicker bar (and in so doing pushing the running tally to 6 for the trip), I was on my way to the final destination: Baxter State Park, where Mt. Katahdin resides.

As I drove further and further into Maine, traces of civilization became few and far between. Thoreau was right- there is something about the Maine woods that grips you. I can't articulate it, but there certainly is something. It's a place where the term "blackberry", when used in colloquial conversation, is more likely to refer to the actual fruit rather than its electronic counterpart. It's a place where Mother Nature's rules are far more salient than Uncle Sam's. It's a place where the prevailing views of "progress", that is, paved roads, expansion of business, and the pursuit of profits, is rejected as a wholly inadequate way of approaching life. It's also a place where you become acutely aware that Mother Nature doesn't give 2 sh#*'% about your comfort, contrary to what modern society will have you believe. It is at once both refreshing and humbling.

I camped by shore of a lake with an incredible view of Mt. Katahdin. In technical terms, the peak is classified as a monadnock, meaning it rises abruptly from the surrounding landscape since its composition has been able to resist erosion better than the surrounding landforms. In less technical terms, this means the mountain is amazingly majestic. Picture a rock wall rising a mile above the surrounding lakes, rivers, and pine forests. It is little wonder the Penobscot Indians christened the peak "Katahdin", meaning "the greatest mountain".