hypothermia, a bequeathal, and the start of a million steps

(Disclaimer: none of us had hypothermia. Don’t worry, mom.)

We now hike with Max the Mouse. Max was bequeathed to our family by a sweet old man at our first shelter. Pearwood approached us with a lime green knit hat atop his head, “Are you headed to Katahdin? I was, but I’m not anymore. But Max needs to get there.” So into Charlotte’s pack went Max.

Max’s courier was not the only one who left the trail after that first night. The trail tested everyone that day and, in many cases, the trail won.

The torrential downpours led our family to set up tents in a downpour so we could get our soaking wet, miserably cold, and utterly defeated daughters into their sleeping bags to warm up. The trail was cruel that first day, especially after some beautiful weather earlier in the day.

When we finally emerged from our ultralight, double rip-stop, mixed denier nylon cocoons to go to the shelter to eat, we found a commotion inside. Someone was suffering from hypothermia and all hands were on deck. I ran to get my emergency blanket (take that, Matthew. Maybe it wasn’t all that stupid to bring that along). A man had fallen in a creek while wearing cotton clothing and his core temperature plummeted. By the time he reached the shelter, he was in trouble. Emergency workers came to carry him out.

“cotton kills” is a phrase often repeated in the hiking community. Everyone in my family was wearing the “right clothes” and were still miserably cold.

So we now carry Max. He gets his name from the son of a Ukrainian artist that our brief companion on the trail has the privilege to know. Max, we will try to do right, and maybe even have a few adventures along the way. Welcome to the MACK family (MMACK?).