Caratunk General Store, Overcast at 60F
Following the Trail up the bank of the Kennebec, one soon comes to the Caratunk General Store. A post box for my outbound cards. Cards from M&D and a letter from Skip. A chance to buy some refreshments, and a phone next to the soft drink machine, so a chance to call Skip, then Mom and Dad.
Dad picked up -- it's late in the afternoon. Mom and Dad didn't get their hot air balloon ride due to weather. I talk about central Maine and how phenomenally pretty it is, walking these woods. Told him how fun it was to have a conversation with the tourists, the leaf peepers, who don't know about thruhikers like the locals do. At that moment, a couple in a brown Dodge roll up to the store and see me outside. The passenger rolls down her window and askes 'Do we take this road to (somewhere)?"
'I don't know, I'm not from here.'
They see the pack, the Virginia plate and ask, 'Where'd you come from?'
'Springer Mountain.'
The passenger looks to her driver and down at their map, 'Never heard of it. Where is it?' More map consulting.
'Georgia.'
'Georgia? Did you say Georgia?' Again, with the map.
'Yes, Ma'am.'
'How'd you get here?' They're both staring at me now, the map's away.
'I walked.'
'You what? You WALKED? From Georgia?'
My dad is laughing in my ear, listening to all of this. I nod.
'How?' 'On the Appalachian Trail, following those white marks like on that tree over there.' I point to the trailhead across the parking area. They look around, but don't see where I've motioned.
'How long have you been walking?'
'A bit over five months.'
'Five MONTHS? You been walkin from Georgia for FIVE MONTHS?'
'Yes, Ma'am'. My dad is sniffling like when he's laughing too hard and his eyes start to water. It's hard for me to keep a straight face with these ladies and half-hearing my dad in my ear.
'Where are you going?'
'Katahdin, up in Baxter State Park'
Up comes the map again. It's rotated one way, then another. Baxter is big and green and in the middle of the map, above where her finger is pinned. 'Oh.' They look at each other, then exit the car and go inside for better, saner help.
I close out my call with my dad, still sniffling from his listening enjoyment. He was just chuckling over it all. I sit down to catch up on a journal entry when the ladies come back out of the store with another map, a new one. They both consider me again, then the driver kind of stage-whispers to the passenger, 'Ask him.' I look up from my writing.
'Can we take your picture?' 'Sure. But can you take one of me with my camera, too? My dad would love a shot of me in front of the store here.'
They take the shots, get back into the Dodge, both look at me, confer with their new map, and slowly roll out of the parking lot. What'd that Southbounder say in PA? It just keeps on getting better.