Fording is not something often done on the Appalachian Trail. A ford is when you are crossing a river, and it is shallow enough for you to wade across.
Maine is where most hikers encounter their first ford. When I hiked through Maine almost every ford was so low that it was possible to stone hop my way across. My hiking partner and I passed every ford this way, each time feeling lucky that we didn’t have to get our clothing wet. Most hikers know about the fords well in advance, and are not excited about the prospect of getting wet, especially in Maine in October.
Maine in October is pretty cold by the way…
We thought we were in the clear and continued on our merry way entering the 100-mile wilderness and quickly approaching Katahdin and the end of our hike. Five miles short of the base of the mountain hikers cross over the Nesowadnehunk Stream. On the day we reached it, it had been raining heavily all night and the river was swollen and raging.
Just before reaching the river there had been a high-water bypass trail but we ignored it. We could have gone back to it, but being typical thru hikers, going back the ¼ mile to go around was out of the question. I waded up to my waist before I realized I would be swept away if I went further. In the end I used some boulders and a very slippery tree branch to precariously pick my way across. Ford semi-avoided.
Afterwards, the sun started to poke through the clouds and even though my feet were soaked, I was happy to be close to my final destination. Had I taken the time to read the guidebook that morning, however, I would have seen that the high-water bypass trail took you around not one but two fords.
Oops.
Finally a REAL ford
By the time we reached the second ford, it was too late, we had to go across.
This one was wider and deeper. A few hikers with long legs were able to make it across a very treacherous looking rock hop that I did not want to risk. Slipping on a rock meant falling in and soaking my belongings, and a possible injury. I looked around the river for about 45 minutes, walking up and down the shore-line, through bushes and over trees, for a possible crossing.
About 100 yards upstream I found a spot where the water was calm, but deep. I was irritated and just wanted to get across so I decided that this was my best shot. I took off my pack and shirt and held them above my head with one arm as I probed the depth of the water with my trekking pole in the other. Slowly I made my way across as the water level rose up to my chest. On the opposite side was a steep bank and I had to throw my pack up onto shore and use a tree root to haul myself out of the water.
There are a few times towards the end of a thru hike when you realize just how mentally tough and physically fit you have become as a result of walking through the wilderness for six months. You feel that you are in the best shape of your life and literally nothing can stop you because you now are so strong and powerful.
Even in the midst of something so suckish as wading through freezing chest deep water, there is a raging lunatic deep inside you that is having the time of their life.
When I reached the other side of the shore I let that raging lunatic free, whooping and yelling with a smile on my face. I realized that I was a super-woman. Never had I felt like such a badass. The temperature was in the fifties, yet here I was, hauling myself out of an icy cold river in shorts and a sports bra. Wet and triumphant I rejoined my group as we continued at breakneck speed to our campsite at the base of Katahdin.
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