What a night of sleep I had, until midnight. For some reason my mind thought it was time to get up. I tossed and turned, heard an owl hootie hooting, which I haven’t heard in awhile and fell back to sleep. At 5am I was up and started packing.

By 6am, I was ready to vacate my private space when the sky opened up and poured down liquid sunshine. And it never stopped! Hmm, so do I sit in my tent and pray that the rain stops? Or do I venture out for pancakes and coffee? Hard decision, but my belly won out. I put on my rain jacket, left my pack inside my ever so wet tent and walked up to the Cabin. There were a handful of hungry hikers all waiting for b bvtheir breakfast so I put my name in the cue. I had a cup of coffee and we all talked about the weather.

After a bit, I received my fluffy pancakes with lots of butter and syrup. I don’t know what it is but pancakes just taste better when you’re camping. They were delightful and the coffee was good enough for a second cup. Eventually I needed to brave the storm and pack up my soggy tent. I headed back out to my wet world, pulled my pack from inside my tent and decided that Norman was going to ride inside the pack today. He’s a bit scared of the dark but he agreed it would be better than smelling like a wet dog!

I packed my tent into its storage bag, leaves, dirt, grossness and all, then ventured out. There’s a saying on the Appalachian Trail, “No Rain, No Pain, No Maine”. Well today was the fulfillment of the rain part of this equation. Like it or not, a big part of backpacking is enduring the ever-changing elements. And rain is never an overlooked part of the East Coast experience.

I had to backtrack my .5 miles to get me on the AT. Them bonus miles add up. Once on the northbound trail, I was embracing my underused umbrella. It is a vital piece of equipment that I bring and hope I never have to use it. It’s like insurance. Today, the insurance paid off. Everyone else were wearing ponchos, or rain jackets but I had my tank top on and a good umbrella. It keeps me relatively dry, but doesn’t do a whole lot of good for the outside of my pack. The inners are fine. Norman and all my gear is nicely tucked away inside a trash compactor bag, and that thing is impermeable to rain! It’s bomb proof.

The plan was to make it somewhere where the sun was shining and I could dry out my tent. Not looking so good. I made it over the one and only climb of the day and after that, it was trying to avoid major puddles, swollen creeks and slippery rocks and leaves. Those leaves are my biggest nuisance. By noon, I made it to October Mountain Shelter. And the rain had not ceased.

The Shelter was the only reprieve I have had all morning from the rain. When I arrived, the kids from Germany and US were sprawled out. I placed my soaking wet pack inside the shelter, pulled out my lunch and proceeded to dry out. Once again, the talk was where are we headed towards tonight? There’s another Shelter 9.5 miles north, there’s a town 12 miles north that has a hotel and then there’s camping in the woods. The other backup plan is to stop by The Cookie Lady’s place and make a decision.

I took off once Uncle and Pyro showed up. I wanted to give them space in our very crowded shelter. The trail was engorged with water by early afternoon. There was no point even trying to keep my shoes dry, so I just started walking through the mud and muck. Before long, the kids passed me up as they were all headed to the Cookie Lady’s place. Save some cookies for me, I pleaded.

Once I arrived, I understood why this was the talk of the trail. Ruth, the Cookie Lady took over where Mrs. Wiley left off. Mrs. Riley ran this place for nearly 30-40 years, baking cookies for hikers and growing blueberries. She has been a status symbol of all that is good regarding the AT. When her husband passed, her daughters knew Mom could not continue and decided to sell the place. That’s when Ruth came in. Long story short, Ruth is much like Mrs. Riley. They both have degrees in nutrition, love to sew, grow vegetables, and berries and have a heart for hikers. I think I will stay!

Ruth shows us around, explains the history of the place, gives us a mason jar full of hibiscus tea and a wooden box of homemade cookies. This place is getting better by the minute. We are escorted to the Hanger, an airplane hanger that Mr. Wiley used for his plane, which is now converted with foam mattresses. I’m thinking this is my home for the night.

I proceed to unload my pack, which everything is thoroughly soaked in water, and hang it from any spot imaginable. As I’m drying stuff out, I notice a Tail-Dragger Plane overhead. He’s pretty low, and before I know it, he is landing on the strip of grass to the east of me. This is wild. Maybe he’s the owner, the husband?? Before I know it, Ruth, the kids and the husband are outside questioning the pilot. Ends up he read somewhere that this is a landing strip and evidently he randomly lands on unauthorized runways. Ruth is scratching her head as this has never happened before. They bid the pilot farewell and hope that this is a one and done kind of thing! Crazy happenings on the AT indeed.

After all the excitement is done, I head back to the porch with Ruth and the hikers. Ruth makes us an amazing chili, rice with vegetables dish that was hearty for this rainy day. I couldn’t have planned this better. The sun comes out, my gear is dryer, I have a proper bed to sleep upon, and my shoes, well I can’t have everything. They are still wet, but that’ll keep me humble. It was another incredible day on this magic strip of wet, soggy dirt, that leads me to Maine.