Gris
New member
BUG-FEST 1.0 (continued)
Headlamps were bobbing this way and that. Sean ran (OK, he ambled with beer in hand) to the beach and cried out "what’s going on? Are you all right?" The next sound we heard was something akin to a porpoise breaching, you know, that sound that sort of sounds like a large creature surfacing and exhaling though it’s blowhole – and it was coming slowly towards us at a real regular rhythm. It was Chomp towing his kayak from mid-lake, breast-stroke style. Then came the Zen-like reply from Sherp, cool, calm and straight for the funny bone, “Chomp’s having an out of kayak experience…” The details of what happened eventually came out. Sherp had in fact “out-technique-ed” Chomp and when Chomp stopped racing he “stuck” his paddle in the water and flipped himself. What is not clear – and never will be – is the margin of victory. Yes, Chomp did manfully admit he was fairly beaten, but gosh during the six-hour ride from Baxter to Manchester on Monday the margin of victory seemed to grow by the mile! LOL!
WARM SUNDAY (THE ATTACK OF THE KILLER BUGS!!! or one T-O-U-G-H hike)
Sunday was supposed to dawn clear and cool. This was the rain free day we had saved to do the Traveler loop. It dawned clear enough, but it was anything but cool. It was gonna be another scorcher. Sean had to make a call (from outside the park) so he couldn’t do the loop, but he planned to meet us up on North Traveler. He never made it but instead disappeared into some kind of black hole Sunday. Rumor has it he almost found nirvana in the sublime environs of the cathedral of South Branch Pond, but could not find the appropriate mantra to bring himself to the level of an “out of kayak experience.” Gris, meanwhile, knew that in order to have any chance of finishing the loop after a long night of “mishydration,” he would have to start way early and go very slow (I am both old and slow). I also knew from Chomp's report that the dreaded black flies were gonna be brutal up top. I decided to dress in long pants and a long sleeve “Buzz-Off” shirt my father had given me. I also took a hat, head-net and bunch of other weighty items just to make sure I had a nice heavy full daypack (stupid!). At 6:00 a.m. mother Sherp’s voice reminded me “you have to get your water at the pond there is nothing after that.” So after rounding the pond on Pogy Notch I scooped about two liters of the muddy stuff up and threw in a double dose of Aqua Mira (after all I did have a full quart of mango Gatorade!). Not ten minutes later I passed a beautiful gin clear deep stream (Howe Brook!). Only just beginning on the Gatorade I did not stop and re-water, a decision that would come back to haunt me big-time. Oh yes, to this point the hike had only been a lovely flat walk in the woods. Not long after crossing Howe brook the character of the trail changed, it went up! It swung left and started the climb up to the peak of the Ridges. There were some beautiful views down to Upper South Branch. The trail itself was kind of nice here, moderately steep up through an interesting mix of slabs and pines. Then came the series of small ridges (false summits?) that more resemble something in Utah or Arizona than New England. About the third one I thought maybe I was at the summit of Center Ridge, but nope. About that time Spence and Joanna blew by me to the true summit. Sherp soon arrived thereafter. Spence and Joanna decided to linger on the summit and go back the same way. Not sure if it was heat, the bugs or trail “ruggedity,” but my intuition tells me it was probably a combination of both and more the heat measured against water in the pack – a wise move I would later regret not making myself. So Sherp and I pressed on. Sherp tried waiting for me on some knobs and summits, but the flies were just too brutal, especially since he was in shorts. He would later opine in all his (considerable) years of hiking this was the worst he'd ever seen it. In fact, the hills were alive with the sound of bug music (and the forest actually humming - creepy!). After leaving the slabs beyond Peak of the Ridges, I entered a dark evergreen forest where something quite large shadowed me through the woods parallel to the trail. It was around this time that I first tried the over-treated pond water and spat it out – Yuk! I rationalized I could force it down slowly and if and when it ran out, bushwhack down to Howe Brook if absolutely necessary - NOT! A few hours later, out of water, the bushwhack having failed miserably (45 min. of wandering in the forest) and the long clothes soaked and boiling, I was a little worried about finishing the hike. I donned headnet and laid down amongst the ferns in an open "dwarf birch" forest to die, but instead just napped for thirty or forty minutes and dreamt of spending the night out there. Refreshed I ate some raisins and a bite of apple(only thing i could keep down) and stumbled onward, up and over North Traveler and along the flat "alpine garden" and then down the steep knee to the Pogy Notch trail. Well, I did narrowly manage to avoid the "vulture food" category but not without severe dehydration symptoms at the very end (collapsing into dry heaves 50 yards from camp!). Hence my advice to anyone that attempts this loop in real heat (85F+), you will need a LOT of water, maybe 4-5 liters! Oh yes, back to the loop. I have to rate this as by FAR the most stunning visual feast of any hike I have done in New England. As I think Arm said, it has a little of everything. It even has a bit of a western look to parts of it. However, not only is it long and arduous without water, there are also some dangerous (for inexperienced hikers) spots, particularly on the decent of North Traveler. Well, enough said about the loop. If you are hard-core go do it!
BLUE MONDAY (Back to “Reality” Again):
Day Four did dawn crsip and breezy, a perfect day to be up top! However, it was for us mere mortals just a traveling day and for me a re-hydrating day. But, first Sherp paddled South branch one last time. And, I noticed something different in his posture. His whole bearing seemed somehow regal. Not sure if it was awe of the surroundings or if it was that he was now undisputed grand champion of the kayak (guess that makes you loon bait Chomp – LOL!). Then we circled the tote road before hitting the AT Café for a decent cheeseburger and great fries for I-95. Rumor has it a rarified grand champion bounced back by scaling Katahdin in, what was to me, mind-boggling time - notwithstanding feeling a little less than perfect...
Yeah, it was, for me, a perfect weekend. Thanks, yet again, Sherp. Yu da man! GRAND CHAMPION no less.
Not even a hellish flight into a tropical weather system followed by a sleepless night at an Orlando hotel, for reasons which cannot be described here, or arriving home to find my surfboard stolen, could begin to spoil it!
Oh yeah, BTW, I now “get it” re the cathedral that is BSP.
Yours Truly – Gris, or should it be GRI(t)S
ps – Shizzmac, Chomp, Spence and Joanna – enjoyed meeting ya!
My pics are HERE .
Headlamps were bobbing this way and that. Sean ran (OK, he ambled with beer in hand) to the beach and cried out "what’s going on? Are you all right?" The next sound we heard was something akin to a porpoise breaching, you know, that sound that sort of sounds like a large creature surfacing and exhaling though it’s blowhole – and it was coming slowly towards us at a real regular rhythm. It was Chomp towing his kayak from mid-lake, breast-stroke style. Then came the Zen-like reply from Sherp, cool, calm and straight for the funny bone, “Chomp’s having an out of kayak experience…” The details of what happened eventually came out. Sherp had in fact “out-technique-ed” Chomp and when Chomp stopped racing he “stuck” his paddle in the water and flipped himself. What is not clear – and never will be – is the margin of victory. Yes, Chomp did manfully admit he was fairly beaten, but gosh during the six-hour ride from Baxter to Manchester on Monday the margin of victory seemed to grow by the mile! LOL!
WARM SUNDAY (THE ATTACK OF THE KILLER BUGS!!! or one T-O-U-G-H hike)
Sunday was supposed to dawn clear and cool. This was the rain free day we had saved to do the Traveler loop. It dawned clear enough, but it was anything but cool. It was gonna be another scorcher. Sean had to make a call (from outside the park) so he couldn’t do the loop, but he planned to meet us up on North Traveler. He never made it but instead disappeared into some kind of black hole Sunday. Rumor has it he almost found nirvana in the sublime environs of the cathedral of South Branch Pond, but could not find the appropriate mantra to bring himself to the level of an “out of kayak experience.” Gris, meanwhile, knew that in order to have any chance of finishing the loop after a long night of “mishydration,” he would have to start way early and go very slow (I am both old and slow). I also knew from Chomp's report that the dreaded black flies were gonna be brutal up top. I decided to dress in long pants and a long sleeve “Buzz-Off” shirt my father had given me. I also took a hat, head-net and bunch of other weighty items just to make sure I had a nice heavy full daypack (stupid!). At 6:00 a.m. mother Sherp’s voice reminded me “you have to get your water at the pond there is nothing after that.” So after rounding the pond on Pogy Notch I scooped about two liters of the muddy stuff up and threw in a double dose of Aqua Mira (after all I did have a full quart of mango Gatorade!). Not ten minutes later I passed a beautiful gin clear deep stream (Howe Brook!). Only just beginning on the Gatorade I did not stop and re-water, a decision that would come back to haunt me big-time. Oh yes, to this point the hike had only been a lovely flat walk in the woods. Not long after crossing Howe brook the character of the trail changed, it went up! It swung left and started the climb up to the peak of the Ridges. There were some beautiful views down to Upper South Branch. The trail itself was kind of nice here, moderately steep up through an interesting mix of slabs and pines. Then came the series of small ridges (false summits?) that more resemble something in Utah or Arizona than New England. About the third one I thought maybe I was at the summit of Center Ridge, but nope. About that time Spence and Joanna blew by me to the true summit. Sherp soon arrived thereafter. Spence and Joanna decided to linger on the summit and go back the same way. Not sure if it was heat, the bugs or trail “ruggedity,” but my intuition tells me it was probably a combination of both and more the heat measured against water in the pack – a wise move I would later regret not making myself. So Sherp and I pressed on. Sherp tried waiting for me on some knobs and summits, but the flies were just too brutal, especially since he was in shorts. He would later opine in all his (considerable) years of hiking this was the worst he'd ever seen it. In fact, the hills were alive with the sound of bug music (and the forest actually humming - creepy!). After leaving the slabs beyond Peak of the Ridges, I entered a dark evergreen forest where something quite large shadowed me through the woods parallel to the trail. It was around this time that I first tried the over-treated pond water and spat it out – Yuk! I rationalized I could force it down slowly and if and when it ran out, bushwhack down to Howe Brook if absolutely necessary - NOT! A few hours later, out of water, the bushwhack having failed miserably (45 min. of wandering in the forest) and the long clothes soaked and boiling, I was a little worried about finishing the hike. I donned headnet and laid down amongst the ferns in an open "dwarf birch" forest to die, but instead just napped for thirty or forty minutes and dreamt of spending the night out there. Refreshed I ate some raisins and a bite of apple(only thing i could keep down) and stumbled onward, up and over North Traveler and along the flat "alpine garden" and then down the steep knee to the Pogy Notch trail. Well, I did narrowly manage to avoid the "vulture food" category but not without severe dehydration symptoms at the very end (collapsing into dry heaves 50 yards from camp!). Hence my advice to anyone that attempts this loop in real heat (85F+), you will need a LOT of water, maybe 4-5 liters! Oh yes, back to the loop. I have to rate this as by FAR the most stunning visual feast of any hike I have done in New England. As I think Arm said, it has a little of everything. It even has a bit of a western look to parts of it. However, not only is it long and arduous without water, there are also some dangerous (for inexperienced hikers) spots, particularly on the decent of North Traveler. Well, enough said about the loop. If you are hard-core go do it!
BLUE MONDAY (Back to “Reality” Again):
Day Four did dawn crsip and breezy, a perfect day to be up top! However, it was for us mere mortals just a traveling day and for me a re-hydrating day. But, first Sherp paddled South branch one last time. And, I noticed something different in his posture. His whole bearing seemed somehow regal. Not sure if it was awe of the surroundings or if it was that he was now undisputed grand champion of the kayak (guess that makes you loon bait Chomp – LOL!). Then we circled the tote road before hitting the AT Café for a decent cheeseburger and great fries for I-95. Rumor has it a rarified grand champion bounced back by scaling Katahdin in, what was to me, mind-boggling time - notwithstanding feeling a little less than perfect...
Yeah, it was, for me, a perfect weekend. Thanks, yet again, Sherp. Yu da man! GRAND CHAMPION no less.
Not even a hellish flight into a tropical weather system followed by a sleepless night at an Orlando hotel, for reasons which cannot be described here, or arriving home to find my surfboard stolen, could begin to spoil it!
Oh yeah, BTW, I now “get it” re the cathedral that is BSP.
Yours Truly – Gris, or should it be GRI(t)S
ps – Shizzmac, Chomp, Spence and Joanna – enjoyed meeting ya!
My pics are HERE .
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