Day 0 – Slackpacking Maine
Guess who’s back, back again? Smurf’s back, back again!
Yep, I’m back for my 2nd Slackpacking Trip and this one in Maine.
As I waited in the bustling terminal of Washington Reagan airport for my connecting flight, a woman caught my eye. Amidst the sea of travelers, there was a woman who stood out with an air of distinction. Petite yet poised, she carried herself with a grace, that belied her years, her attire representing her prominent life. It wasn’t until the wheels of the plane graced the tarmac of Bangor, Maine, that I learned of her name.
At the gate, Senator Collins, was met by a woman whose demeanor was a stark contrast to the calm of the Senators. With a furrowed brow and hurried steps, she kept pace with the Senator, her gestures animated, her words lost in the urgency of the moment. It was a silent conversation to us onlookers, yet it spoke volumes—a glimpse into the relentless pace of public service and a very unique election year. Well, enough about that.
In Bangor, I had dinner with Debbi, a fellow hiker from the sun-kissed expanses of Phoenix. Our conversation meandered through the myriad paths of life, careers, pickleball, and kids, only to discover that the world is indeed a small place, bound together by threads of connections, like those that seem to always lead back to Pittsburgh. It was the kind of evening that turns strangers into friends, setting the stage for the camaraderie that would define the days to come with the amazing women that join these Adventures in Good Company (AGC) trips.
On Friday, we met the other 6 brave ladies from all over the US who would be joining us on this hiking adventure. Debbi, Debra, Deborah, Christine, Christie, Machelle, and me. No, I’m not joking. I just told them to call me Debbie too (or Christie), if that was easier. We boarded the van that would take us northward with high spirits and anticipation in our hearts under the super wonderful Tori’s (from Slackpacking Massachusetts’s) direction. There, nestled amidst nature’s embrace, we would make our home for the week, a base from which we would explore, laugh, and create memories together.
Our destination, the Appalachian Trail Hostel & Outfitters, was a beacon at the edge of downtown Millinocket and our Maine trail home. Our other guides, Karen, whose voice had provided me with pre-trip comfort, and Danya, the hostel’s co-owner, warmly welcomed us there. Their hospitality was as inviting as the Maine wilderness itself.
Danya showed us to our rooms, where I found myself the fortunate occupant of the Earl Shaffer room, a space steeped in the lore of the Appalachian Trail. It was here that Shaffer, the first soul brave enough to traverse the entirety of the trail, had slept. To rest where he had rested, to dwell amidst the echoes of his groundbreaking feat, was to be a part of something far greater than myself. It was a silent homage to the spirit of adventure that compelled him, and now me, (and the Debbie’s, and Christie’s and Machelle) to seek the whispers of the wild that beckon from the trail.
As we settled in, the laughter continued. The evening culminated in a feast of Maine’s finest—a spread of Maine Lobster Rolls that was nothing short of amazing and the strangest green vegetable spiral looking things called Fiddleheads (from Tori of course), courtesy of our amazing guides. It was the perfect prelude to the dawn of our first hike.
In the company of these brave ladies, each with a story as unique as the paths we would soon tread, I found a sense of belonging. Together, we stood on the cusp of a week that promised not just the exploration of trails, but the discovery of each other.
