In lieu of my Katahdin picture

When I was a kid and before I learned the lesson that human children MUST grow up to be human adults, I used to want to be a moose.  Yes, I grew up wanting to be a moose.  I mean, if you think about, who wouldn't?  They're majestic.  They're brave.  They look somewhat unassuming, but they can kill wolves or bears or just stomp over human adults before breakfast.  They are the Chuck Norris of the antlered mammals.  So, as a kid, I would pretend I could shape-shift into a moose. 

Then I grew up, and realized, no, human children don't grow up to become moose.  They have to grow up and become... a contributing member of society, an insurance carrier, a responsible... adult.  *gasp* and Ugh.

So, I go hike this really long trail on the east coast.  I cancel my car insurance.  I get rid of a lot of my worldly possessions.  I quit my job.  I choose to be unemployed and homeless for 6 months (and less than clean).  I make Maine within walking distance of Georgia.  I rival the Canadian goose in its migration patterns.  Yeah, and I fly a little short of the original goal.  I land in Rangeley Maine, a sleepy little town with a sports bar and a quilt shop.  I do not get to stand atop Mt. Katahdin and get my obligatory picture of me triumphantly waving my trekking poles by the sign.  And that's important.  It's THE picture of all pictures for thru-hikers.  You made it to Katahdin.  Congrats.  So, what do I get in lieu of my Katahdin picture?

Well, I get to be a moose. 

Sure, it may be a fairly anti-climactic, unassuming picture.  But in the grand scheme of things, I just fulfilled a childhood dream.  For 6 months, I lived in the woods: majestic, brave, and unassuming.  And in Rangeley, Maine, it seemed only appropriate that this be my final picture of my trek.  I grew up and was a moose.