trailbiscuit
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Baxter State Park, May 28-31, 2004
Our trip to Baxter State Park in Maine began with the usual car-full of stuff that we just hoped had everything we would need. It never does, but we always seem to pack plenty of stuff we never touch. For example, I brought one pair of heavy socks, but 3 cotton t-shirts. Huh?
Our primary goal for this trip was to bag the four peaks on the New England 100 Highest list: North Brother, South Brother, Mount Coe and Fort Mountain. If the mountains allowed us to climb all four that would put our total at #72 with more plans for the rest of the summer...of course Danielle has more plans for the summer!
After sneaking out of work in North Conway, NH at about 3:00 pm, we began our trek north. After a stop at Pizzeria Uno in Bangor, we wandered around the Bangor Mall parking lot and adjacent sprawling roads looking for 95 North. Apparently, Bangorians only drive south because there are no signs for 95 North. Doesn't anyone want to go to Presque Isle? Eventually, we made it to Hidden Springs Campground at 9:00 pm. Confirming the reports we had, the folks at Hidden Spring were very nice. We were slated for site #25, but the “camp-keeper” informed us that our site was directly across from the teepee, which was open for the night. Let’s see: set up the tent, so we can break it down in 7 hours, or have the experience of sleeping in a teepee? Teepee it was. But, when we arrived at the teepee we realized that it was already occupied—by the biggest spider in existence, just clinging to the outside of the tent. Have you ever seen one of those campy movies depicting prehistoric times in which the grunting humans in ragged loin cloths fight off terrible beasts with torches and rocks? Well, this spider was about that big. After dispatching the beast and calming a quivering Danielle, we climbed into the teepee for the night. (For all you animal rights activists out there, I didn’t actually dispatch the spider, but shooed him away with a sneaker.) I guess I’m understating the “quivering Danielle.” Lucky for me, she possesses an intense fear of spiders. So much so, that I thought I would be driving back to Pizzeria Uno. Somehow, I convinced her that there weren’t any more and he wasn’t likely to come back with all my snoring. It worked and I didn’t have to drive any more that night.
Now, we are primarily backpackers, and don’t stay at many campgrounds, which is why it was strange for us to woken up by the sound of a hair dryer coming from the Shower House a few yards away. (Hidden Springs is a classy joint, so they don’t call it a “bath house.”) So, at about 7:30, we were on our way to Baxter.
We had reservations for Abol Campground, which was cool because we had never stayed there before. By 8:30, we were setting up shop in site #23. Abol is your typical Baxter campground: nice sites, not too crammed together, no running water and outhouses. I was all ready to climb into the tent and sleep the day away, but we had peaks to climb and adventures undertake...so, off to the Marston Trail it was.
It was a beautiful morning in northern Maine: 41 degrees and drizzling at the trailhead—typical weather for us. If we were at home I would have cowered in bed until the last possible moment, convincing Danielle that we should cook a big breakfast, eat slowly, do something homeownerish, and then explain why it was too late to go hiking. But not today, we had our reservations, we were in the Park, and we were going for it.
Our original plan was to start on the Marston Trail, take it to North Brother, bushwhack to Fort and back, then backtrack down the Marston Trail to the upper Mount Coe Trail junction, follow the Mount Coe Trail to the South Brother spur, hit South Brother, then continue to Mount Coe, and then out for a simple 14 or so mile day. Things don’t always go as planned.
I don’t think we had any real rain this day, but it wasn’t dry either. The trees were wet and everything was just damp. Not a bad day to be out the trail, but not sparkling either. The first 1.3 miles to the junction were fairly benign—a couple grouchy blowdowns, but nothing to get upset about. We reached a pond at about 2 miles, and got our first views of Fort Mountain. It looked like a typical rounded peak in New England, and the sun started to peek out a bit. Our spirits were high. Looking back, I think the peak was just baiting us. After chomping down a Power Bar apiece, we started the climbing in earnest. The Marston Trail gets step for about a mile or so as it climbs to the saddle between the Brothers—definitely a huffer and puffer. Great views along the way of Doubletop just to the west and Coe and South Brother to the south. Once at the height of land the trail winds its way through dense pine forest, and this where things began to get interesting.
At about 3500’ feet or so we saw a bit of snow on the trees. The novelty of fresh snow at the end of May was intoxicating. We laughed, giggled, snapped photos, and generally marveled at the wonders of Mother Nature. Mother Nature can be a real bitch.
We paused for a chilly lunch at the upper junction of the Marston and Mount Coe Trails, and contemplated our ascent of North Brother. As we looked through the trees to a snow covered Katahdin, we knew that North Brother had the potential to be very interesting. Plus, the wind had started to pick up. It had been present off and on all day, but now it was officially getting windy.
The trail to North Brother needs some love—heavy erosion. In some places, it is totally washed away.
One lesson we learned on this trip was the true difference between water resistant and waterproof. Waterproof jackets, but water resistant pants. Since we left the car, every fir tree we passed had left a bit of water or snow on our pants, and by the time we got to North Brother we were a little damp. Not wet, but damp. Enough to realize that our pants were not optimal for the conditions. It was a lot like walking through a car wash without any of the brushes moving.
Needless to say we pressed on, till treeline. The views from the summit cone of North Brother were almost as breathtaking as the wind. The wind never actually knocked either of us over, but it came close a couple times. We made our way to the rime ice covered sign at the summit of North Brother, and slapped our traditional high five. North Brother was #69 off the list.
We quickly turned our attention to Fort Mountain; because of the wind, we wanted to get off the summit as fast as possible. From the top of North Brother the beginning of the herd path to Fort is very easy to find, and in about a minute we were on our way. I guess, the bushwhack to Fort isn't a true bushwhack because there is a herd path that you can follow. Well, when it's in the high 30's, both temperature and wind, and everything is wet, it's a bushwhack.
Remember our pants? Well, about 2 minutes in the bushwhack we were soaked. (This begins the admittedly stupid portion of the program.)
“Well, we can’t get any wetter,” I yelled above the wind. This was a mistake that Danielle has been making fairly consistently for the entire of our five-year marriage: She listened to me.
Actually, we could get much wetter. Danielle has an art history degree and I hold an English degree; in other words, we don’t know anything about anything useful in the real world, such as physics. We were smart enough to wear gaiters for our hike—the tall ones that reach the top of the shin. What we didn’t realize is that when your pants become saturated by the millions of water droplets contained in each branch that one passes through (we passed through approximately 3,271,986 branches) the water makes its way down your pants and into your socks until your boots go squish with every step.
So, wet and tired we pressed on, testing the adage: “It’s not an adventure, if you having fun while it’s happening.”
Did I mention this was our first real bushwhack? We have already climbed another trailless peak, but Mount Nancy doesn’t count. We did some bushwhacking in Denali National Park in Alaska, but that was just wandering over the tundra...not many blowdowns on the tundra! Fort Mountain came with its share of blowdowns. So, for us, it was baptism by fire.
The distance from North Brother to Fort is only about a mile, but it took about an hour after we left the summit of North Brother for us to hit treeline on Fort. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire” isn’t really the right cliché here because of the temperature, but you get the picture. We scrambled as fast as we could up the side of Fort, tagged the summit (literally) and spun around. The wind had picked up from earlier on North Brother, and it was cold. Wet pants were not a good fashion choice. Of course, we looked marvelous...
To be continued...
Our trip to Baxter State Park in Maine began with the usual car-full of stuff that we just hoped had everything we would need. It never does, but we always seem to pack plenty of stuff we never touch. For example, I brought one pair of heavy socks, but 3 cotton t-shirts. Huh?
Our primary goal for this trip was to bag the four peaks on the New England 100 Highest list: North Brother, South Brother, Mount Coe and Fort Mountain. If the mountains allowed us to climb all four that would put our total at #72 with more plans for the rest of the summer...of course Danielle has more plans for the summer!
After sneaking out of work in North Conway, NH at about 3:00 pm, we began our trek north. After a stop at Pizzeria Uno in Bangor, we wandered around the Bangor Mall parking lot and adjacent sprawling roads looking for 95 North. Apparently, Bangorians only drive south because there are no signs for 95 North. Doesn't anyone want to go to Presque Isle? Eventually, we made it to Hidden Springs Campground at 9:00 pm. Confirming the reports we had, the folks at Hidden Spring were very nice. We were slated for site #25, but the “camp-keeper” informed us that our site was directly across from the teepee, which was open for the night. Let’s see: set up the tent, so we can break it down in 7 hours, or have the experience of sleeping in a teepee? Teepee it was. But, when we arrived at the teepee we realized that it was already occupied—by the biggest spider in existence, just clinging to the outside of the tent. Have you ever seen one of those campy movies depicting prehistoric times in which the grunting humans in ragged loin cloths fight off terrible beasts with torches and rocks? Well, this spider was about that big. After dispatching the beast and calming a quivering Danielle, we climbed into the teepee for the night. (For all you animal rights activists out there, I didn’t actually dispatch the spider, but shooed him away with a sneaker.) I guess I’m understating the “quivering Danielle.” Lucky for me, she possesses an intense fear of spiders. So much so, that I thought I would be driving back to Pizzeria Uno. Somehow, I convinced her that there weren’t any more and he wasn’t likely to come back with all my snoring. It worked and I didn’t have to drive any more that night.
Now, we are primarily backpackers, and don’t stay at many campgrounds, which is why it was strange for us to woken up by the sound of a hair dryer coming from the Shower House a few yards away. (Hidden Springs is a classy joint, so they don’t call it a “bath house.”) So, at about 7:30, we were on our way to Baxter.
We had reservations for Abol Campground, which was cool because we had never stayed there before. By 8:30, we were setting up shop in site #23. Abol is your typical Baxter campground: nice sites, not too crammed together, no running water and outhouses. I was all ready to climb into the tent and sleep the day away, but we had peaks to climb and adventures undertake...so, off to the Marston Trail it was.
It was a beautiful morning in northern Maine: 41 degrees and drizzling at the trailhead—typical weather for us. If we were at home I would have cowered in bed until the last possible moment, convincing Danielle that we should cook a big breakfast, eat slowly, do something homeownerish, and then explain why it was too late to go hiking. But not today, we had our reservations, we were in the Park, and we were going for it.
Our original plan was to start on the Marston Trail, take it to North Brother, bushwhack to Fort and back, then backtrack down the Marston Trail to the upper Mount Coe Trail junction, follow the Mount Coe Trail to the South Brother spur, hit South Brother, then continue to Mount Coe, and then out for a simple 14 or so mile day. Things don’t always go as planned.
I don’t think we had any real rain this day, but it wasn’t dry either. The trees were wet and everything was just damp. Not a bad day to be out the trail, but not sparkling either. The first 1.3 miles to the junction were fairly benign—a couple grouchy blowdowns, but nothing to get upset about. We reached a pond at about 2 miles, and got our first views of Fort Mountain. It looked like a typical rounded peak in New England, and the sun started to peek out a bit. Our spirits were high. Looking back, I think the peak was just baiting us. After chomping down a Power Bar apiece, we started the climbing in earnest. The Marston Trail gets step for about a mile or so as it climbs to the saddle between the Brothers—definitely a huffer and puffer. Great views along the way of Doubletop just to the west and Coe and South Brother to the south. Once at the height of land the trail winds its way through dense pine forest, and this where things began to get interesting.
At about 3500’ feet or so we saw a bit of snow on the trees. The novelty of fresh snow at the end of May was intoxicating. We laughed, giggled, snapped photos, and generally marveled at the wonders of Mother Nature. Mother Nature can be a real bitch.
We paused for a chilly lunch at the upper junction of the Marston and Mount Coe Trails, and contemplated our ascent of North Brother. As we looked through the trees to a snow covered Katahdin, we knew that North Brother had the potential to be very interesting. Plus, the wind had started to pick up. It had been present off and on all day, but now it was officially getting windy.
The trail to North Brother needs some love—heavy erosion. In some places, it is totally washed away.
One lesson we learned on this trip was the true difference between water resistant and waterproof. Waterproof jackets, but water resistant pants. Since we left the car, every fir tree we passed had left a bit of water or snow on our pants, and by the time we got to North Brother we were a little damp. Not wet, but damp. Enough to realize that our pants were not optimal for the conditions. It was a lot like walking through a car wash without any of the brushes moving.
Needless to say we pressed on, till treeline. The views from the summit cone of North Brother were almost as breathtaking as the wind. The wind never actually knocked either of us over, but it came close a couple times. We made our way to the rime ice covered sign at the summit of North Brother, and slapped our traditional high five. North Brother was #69 off the list.
We quickly turned our attention to Fort Mountain; because of the wind, we wanted to get off the summit as fast as possible. From the top of North Brother the beginning of the herd path to Fort is very easy to find, and in about a minute we were on our way. I guess, the bushwhack to Fort isn't a true bushwhack because there is a herd path that you can follow. Well, when it's in the high 30's, both temperature and wind, and everything is wet, it's a bushwhack.
Remember our pants? Well, about 2 minutes in the bushwhack we were soaked. (This begins the admittedly stupid portion of the program.)
“Well, we can’t get any wetter,” I yelled above the wind. This was a mistake that Danielle has been making fairly consistently for the entire of our five-year marriage: She listened to me.
Actually, we could get much wetter. Danielle has an art history degree and I hold an English degree; in other words, we don’t know anything about anything useful in the real world, such as physics. We were smart enough to wear gaiters for our hike—the tall ones that reach the top of the shin. What we didn’t realize is that when your pants become saturated by the millions of water droplets contained in each branch that one passes through (we passed through approximately 3,271,986 branches) the water makes its way down your pants and into your socks until your boots go squish with every step.
So, wet and tired we pressed on, testing the adage: “It’s not an adventure, if you having fun while it’s happening.”
Did I mention this was our first real bushwhack? We have already climbed another trailless peak, but Mount Nancy doesn’t count. We did some bushwhacking in Denali National Park in Alaska, but that was just wandering over the tundra...not many blowdowns on the tundra! Fort Mountain came with its share of blowdowns. So, for us, it was baptism by fire.
The distance from North Brother to Fort is only about a mile, but it took about an hour after we left the summit of North Brother for us to hit treeline on Fort. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire” isn’t really the right cliché here because of the temperature, but you get the picture. We scrambled as fast as we could up the side of Fort, tagged the summit (literally) and spun around. The wind had picked up from earlier on North Brother, and it was cold. Wet pants were not a good fashion choice. Of course, we looked marvelous...
To be continued...