Day 1 Part I

Now I am not proud of the events leading up to my departure, however, I learned my lesson and this part must not be left out since it is a cornerstone of the story I am about to share. So on the way up to Baxter State Park I was a bit curt with my mom. She was saying things like, “Oh, we should meet up with you in Monson" and, "what’s the next trail town?” “Andover,” I said flatly, “Oh, well we could meet you there too!” Then she went on to look up all the trail towns on Wiki and report rather loudly the population and the demographics and when the town was founded. I started to get a bit annoyed because at the same time I was trying to make an itinerary for her of where the drop boxes needed to go and when they should be shipped.

Finally, we rolled up to the gate at Baxter State Park and the ranger came up to the window as my dad rolled it down. The black flies were swarming, and while my mom and dad swatted them like cats batting a suspended toy, the ranger appeared to be unfazed by them pulling in for a drink on her checks and lips as she asked how many people were planning to hike and where we were planning on staying the night.

“Now would she prefer a lean-too or a tent site?”

I was about to respond when my dad asked, “which would you prefer?”

“Definitely a lean-too,” the ranger advised.

“What about the bugs?” my mom interjected with a furrowed brow.

“The bugs aren’t out at night,” the ranger assured her.

“We’ll take a lean-too,” my dad declared.

I felt like a little kid sitting voiceless in the back seat as my parents responded to the questions delivered by the ranger. Further more, "this girl" they spoke of was supposed to hike all the way from Maine to Georgia, by herself, mind you, and I imagined the ranger questioning my abilities because I wasn't making decisions for myself.

“That’ll be thirty dollars,” said the ranger.

I started to dig into my pack for my money, when my dad pulled out the bills and handed them over.

I explained to my dad that I had planned the whole trip and budgeted it accordingly, but my dad insisted that he pay.

I huffed and crossed my arms as I sat back in my seat like a child.

The ranger also suggested that she (meaning me) get a day-pack at the ranger station so that I did not have to hike with my fully loaded pack up “the single greatest sustained climb on the AT,” (according to the thru-hiker’s companion, all 8oz of it that was also stowed in my pack).

“We’re not like the White Mountains in that we don’t have switchbacks…our trails head straight up,” the ranger stated rather proudly.

“If it were me,” my dad declared, “I would hike up the trail with a day-pack…" addressing me, he continued, "the ranger said you could leave the rest of your stuff in the lean-too back at the campground.”

Call me stubborn…or childish, but I insisted that I was going to begin the real way with all 35lbs of my pack.

After my parents took multiple pictures with me rolling my eyes in between, I headed out after a final shot in front of the Abol Trail Head sign. After a few steps I looked back to see my parents following me. “Come on guys,” I said. I pictured spotting them poking their heads out of the trees miles into the trail. I just wanted them to let me go, so it never hit me that we didn't have a proper goodbye.