Linguini, read the artice about you in the Mattapoiset (sp?) local newpaper. My mother in law works in Acushnet and knows your niece or something. Regardless. Article mentioned a rabid raccoon. I gotta hear that story! Grimace ME->GA '01 I think you passed us as we took some time in Manchester, VT
Grimace
I crossed the Mass. Pike and skirted Upper Goose Pond. Just after the stone chimney of a ruined cabin, a sick raccoon gave chase. I avoided contact by inches, by swinging around a birch tree and landing partly in the water.
Grimace: Wrong Way sent me your picture on Springer
Linguini
Rocky Raccoon
As I walked around Upper Goose Pond (near the Massachusetts Turnpike) late in the morning, a disheveled raccoon made a left turn onto the trail and shuffled stiffly ahead of me. He paused to fish around with his claw under a log, which caused me to catch up within 15 or 20 feet of him. Seeing me, he arched his back like a cat and hissed with a sort of clucking noise. If he could have spoken, he might have been saying, “Look, I’m having a very bad day, and if you provoke me, there’s no telling what I might do.” Having warned me, he irritably resumed walking up the trail. We proceeded in the same direction, with him appearing not to notice me as long as I stayed 20 feet back. Presently the trail and the perimeter of the pond came to a bend, and the raccoon disappeared behind a knee-high rock, presumably to descend the bank for a drink of water. Quietly and cautiously, I tiptoed to the bend and peered around the rock. Seeing nothing, I scooted ahead on the trail. No sooner had I taken three steps, when the raccoon ran over the bank at full speed with a crazed look in his eye. Suddenly, I was running and he was gaining on me, getting close enough for me see the foam on his mouth. Seeing a sapling tree growing on the bank of the pond, I leapt upward from the trail, pivoting on the tree like a fireman, and hoping the raccoon would jump off the bank after me. In a flash, the raccoon was running up the tree toward my hands, so I let go and dropped maybe eight feet into the brush on the edge of the water. With one foot in the water, I scrambled to my feet, preparing for the next onslaught. The raccoon had climbed the tree. He reversed direction, walking straight back down the tree. Fortunately, he returned to the trail, whence he came. I wasn’t sure, but I might have heard him mutter, “Some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed.” A pair of fishermen in a nearby boat looked to see what the commotion was about. With false bravado in a shaky voice I shouted, “Bet you never saw a hiker run like that!” The incident caused no damage, beyond some scratches on my elbow and feeling disoriented for a while.
Perhaps the trail was teaching me to show it more respect.
Linguini
If you remember we crossed paths just about a day or two before you got to Upper Goose. I have to say I am glad the racoon took after you and not me. I had a bad foot and a pack twice the size of yours. You on the other hand were traveling light so you could run… The Lord does look after the weak. LOL 
Sue/HH
HammockHanger