alpinista
Active member
I managed to squeeze in a few extra days off from work last week, and headed north to Maine, where the 4Ks have been calling me of late. With four days in a row away from the computer screen, I figured a backpacking trip was just the medicine. The weather couldn't have been better for the first half, when I planned to head to the Bigelows.
I decided if it were to be a true vacation, I wouldn't set my alarm. I had a leisurely breakfast in Massachusetts, then headed up I-95 for the long slog to Maine. I still hadn't decided if I would camp out at the Horns Pond Lean-To, Avery tentsite in the Bigelow col, or Moose Falls, the latter of which intrigued me because there was so little information out there about it.
My little VW Bug made it down the Stratton Pond dirt road without any problems, and I scored a spot at what I thought was the end. As I did some last minute packing of my backpack, I decided, "What the heck," I'll bring this incredible book by historian David McCullough on the American Revolution, specifically, the year 1776. I'd been fixated on it of late, and I couldn't put the book down. Well, there was a lot to write about that one little year apparently, and the book weighs a ton! (well, OK, not just the book made my pack heavy but it sure didn't help!
)
So ... off I go down this broad, flat dirt road toward Stratton Pond. The pack feels heavier and heavier with each step. Within minutes, I'm at another clearing for car parking, and I realize I could have driven even farther. Ahh, well. I pass by a small group of college kids out camping by the pond, and soon see an outdoor privy, and realize, there are a couple of spots here to camp.
Hmmm, I think. Why trek all the way up to the Bigelow range, when I can just stop here, set up camp and spend an afternoon reading this book? So that's what I did. I scored a spot just as the Fire Warden's trail begins, at the edge of Stratton Pond, and I find that there's a decent amount of foot (and mountain biking) traffic here. I get a chance to talk with some girls out mountain biking ahead of one of their friend's getting married at Sugarloaf the next day, a man out testing his new toy _ a GPS _ and a couple just meandering.
First day: 30 minutes of hiking, 6 hours of reading, lights out at 10 p.m. Ain't life grand?
The next day, I awoke at 6:30 a.m., and I'm ready to hit the trail at 7 a.m. It's too early to tell what kind of day it's going to be in the weather department. The clouds have obscured any sky. So I decide I'll take the Fire Warden's trail to the AT, a route with a dual purpose: I can scope out the Moose Falls Tentsite (part of a longterm goal to document each of the wilderness tentsites in northern New England), and I can also get a decent handle on the weather before I attempt to bag Avery and West Peak.
There are times when I wish I were a faster hiker. But there are other times, like this day, when I'm glad I'm not. I see so much more in the woods, little oddities that might otherwise escape me. Like this bizarre metal drum found embedded in the side of a tree. What the heck is this and what is it doing here? Or these signs of civilization. Just plain strange if you ask me!
This trail is steep but the trail crews have clearly done some fabulous work here, building stone steps. I was mighty impressed. Particularly when I'm solo, the steeps don't bother me. If I have to, I do the Everest Step, stopping every third step to catch my breath. Even if I wanted to break some speed record, I couldn't -- so why bother? Might as well just have fun.
At Moose Falls, I found not a single soul. But I also didn't spot any water source either. There are two tent platforms, and two ground areas for tents, plus a recently built privy.
Same thing at Avery: nary a soul. Not even a caretaker in sight.
So far, in the three hours I've been hiking up to the Col, I've only run into two other hikers. Not bad, if you're looking for an escape.
I made my way to Avery peak and marveled at the views. The weather Gods had blessed me with a nice, cooling breeze. I love the weather-worn signs in Maine that you can barely read, the lettering obscured by the beating they must take up top from wind and rain and snow. I'd never heard of Myron Haliburton Avery before, and enjoyed reading the plaque embedded in a giant rock, noting his role in getting the Appalachian Trail built. I hope the thru-hikers who have made it this far appreciate it as well.
As I made my way down Avery toward West Peak, I ran into three hikers, all of whom appeared to be in their 70s. I overheard one of them describe Flagstaff Lake, just off to the north, and how a town used to be there, until it was taken over by the government and flooded to create a reservoir.
I marveled at his knowledge of the place _ but also that they were hiking, and hiking strong. I sometimes wonder how long I can be at this hobby, and seeing them left me inspired. I was particularly impressed with the woman in the group who looked dolled up in an outfit straight out of Talbot's: a nice gray cardigan, white oxford shirt, khakis, tasteful earrings -- and solid hiking boots. Yes, we women can look nice and hike strong at the same time!
It didn't take long to hit West Peak, where I found another woman from the group of 70-somethings. She'd let her friends head to Avery, while she decided to take in the views from West Peak. I hope I can be just as active at that age. Yeah, there's still a lot of life to live, but how many people over X-age get off their duffs to walk around the block, let alone go for a hike? It was after talking with this woman that I decided that rather than hike back down the Fire Warden's Trail, I'd take advantage of the wonderful weather, and hike over to South Horn before going down the Horns Pond Trail. I am so glad I did.
We don't always get weather this perfect. And although I'm trying to scale back the peakbagging obsession, I figured -- what the heck, South Horn is on the NE 100 highest, might as well go for it. I didn't find it a summit to linger on, so I made my way down the Horns Pond, and found just one person: a surly thru-hiker who didn't even want to acknowledge a hello. Whatever.
But it's tough to remain miffed when you have a view like Horns Pond, where I spent about 15-20 minutes walking around and scouting it out. The two new lean-tos are nicely built with beautiful views of the Horns and the ridgeline. I love the plastic buckets to store food to keep them away from the pesky squirrels.
But the best part was the Horns Pond trail back down. A very nice change of scenery, and much less steep than the Fire Warden's Trail. This was the perfect way to end the day, weaving my way through fern-covered woods filled with clover. As much as I love seeing the views, seeing a new summit, a quiet walk in the woods soothes the soul.
I'd truly hit it big on the Bigelows -- and pix are here:
Day 2: 10 hours of hiking, 3 hours of reading, and 10 hours of sleep before heading out to meet up with AMSTony and SteveHiker for an adventure that Tony will write about shortly. Stay tuned!
I decided if it were to be a true vacation, I wouldn't set my alarm. I had a leisurely breakfast in Massachusetts, then headed up I-95 for the long slog to Maine. I still hadn't decided if I would camp out at the Horns Pond Lean-To, Avery tentsite in the Bigelow col, or Moose Falls, the latter of which intrigued me because there was so little information out there about it.
My little VW Bug made it down the Stratton Pond dirt road without any problems, and I scored a spot at what I thought was the end. As I did some last minute packing of my backpack, I decided, "What the heck," I'll bring this incredible book by historian David McCullough on the American Revolution, specifically, the year 1776. I'd been fixated on it of late, and I couldn't put the book down. Well, there was a lot to write about that one little year apparently, and the book weighs a ton! (well, OK, not just the book made my pack heavy but it sure didn't help!
)So ... off I go down this broad, flat dirt road toward Stratton Pond. The pack feels heavier and heavier with each step. Within minutes, I'm at another clearing for car parking, and I realize I could have driven even farther. Ahh, well. I pass by a small group of college kids out camping by the pond, and soon see an outdoor privy, and realize, there are a couple of spots here to camp.
Hmmm, I think. Why trek all the way up to the Bigelow range, when I can just stop here, set up camp and spend an afternoon reading this book? So that's what I did. I scored a spot just as the Fire Warden's trail begins, at the edge of Stratton Pond, and I find that there's a decent amount of foot (and mountain biking) traffic here. I get a chance to talk with some girls out mountain biking ahead of one of their friend's getting married at Sugarloaf the next day, a man out testing his new toy _ a GPS _ and a couple just meandering.
First day: 30 minutes of hiking, 6 hours of reading, lights out at 10 p.m. Ain't life grand?
The next day, I awoke at 6:30 a.m., and I'm ready to hit the trail at 7 a.m. It's too early to tell what kind of day it's going to be in the weather department. The clouds have obscured any sky. So I decide I'll take the Fire Warden's trail to the AT, a route with a dual purpose: I can scope out the Moose Falls Tentsite (part of a longterm goal to document each of the wilderness tentsites in northern New England), and I can also get a decent handle on the weather before I attempt to bag Avery and West Peak.
There are times when I wish I were a faster hiker. But there are other times, like this day, when I'm glad I'm not. I see so much more in the woods, little oddities that might otherwise escape me. Like this bizarre metal drum found embedded in the side of a tree. What the heck is this and what is it doing here? Or these signs of civilization. Just plain strange if you ask me!
This trail is steep but the trail crews have clearly done some fabulous work here, building stone steps. I was mighty impressed. Particularly when I'm solo, the steeps don't bother me. If I have to, I do the Everest Step, stopping every third step to catch my breath. Even if I wanted to break some speed record, I couldn't -- so why bother? Might as well just have fun.
At Moose Falls, I found not a single soul. But I also didn't spot any water source either. There are two tent platforms, and two ground areas for tents, plus a recently built privy.
Same thing at Avery: nary a soul. Not even a caretaker in sight.
So far, in the three hours I've been hiking up to the Col, I've only run into two other hikers. Not bad, if you're looking for an escape.
I made my way to Avery peak and marveled at the views. The weather Gods had blessed me with a nice, cooling breeze. I love the weather-worn signs in Maine that you can barely read, the lettering obscured by the beating they must take up top from wind and rain and snow. I'd never heard of Myron Haliburton Avery before, and enjoyed reading the plaque embedded in a giant rock, noting his role in getting the Appalachian Trail built. I hope the thru-hikers who have made it this far appreciate it as well.
As I made my way down Avery toward West Peak, I ran into three hikers, all of whom appeared to be in their 70s. I overheard one of them describe Flagstaff Lake, just off to the north, and how a town used to be there, until it was taken over by the government and flooded to create a reservoir.
I marveled at his knowledge of the place _ but also that they were hiking, and hiking strong. I sometimes wonder how long I can be at this hobby, and seeing them left me inspired. I was particularly impressed with the woman in the group who looked dolled up in an outfit straight out of Talbot's: a nice gray cardigan, white oxford shirt, khakis, tasteful earrings -- and solid hiking boots. Yes, we women can look nice and hike strong at the same time!
It didn't take long to hit West Peak, where I found another woman from the group of 70-somethings. She'd let her friends head to Avery, while she decided to take in the views from West Peak. I hope I can be just as active at that age. Yeah, there's still a lot of life to live, but how many people over X-age get off their duffs to walk around the block, let alone go for a hike? It was after talking with this woman that I decided that rather than hike back down the Fire Warden's Trail, I'd take advantage of the wonderful weather, and hike over to South Horn before going down the Horns Pond Trail. I am so glad I did.
We don't always get weather this perfect. And although I'm trying to scale back the peakbagging obsession, I figured -- what the heck, South Horn is on the NE 100 highest, might as well go for it. I didn't find it a summit to linger on, so I made my way down the Horns Pond, and found just one person: a surly thru-hiker who didn't even want to acknowledge a hello. Whatever.
But it's tough to remain miffed when you have a view like Horns Pond, where I spent about 15-20 minutes walking around and scouting it out. The two new lean-tos are nicely built with beautiful views of the Horns and the ridgeline. I love the plastic buckets to store food to keep them away from the pesky squirrels.
But the best part was the Horns Pond trail back down. A very nice change of scenery, and much less steep than the Fire Warden's Trail. This was the perfect way to end the day, weaving my way through fern-covered woods filled with clover. As much as I love seeing the views, seeing a new summit, a quiet walk in the woods soothes the soul.
I'd truly hit it big on the Bigelows -- and pix are here:
Day 2: 10 hours of hiking, 3 hours of reading, and 10 hours of sleep before heading out to meet up with AMSTony and SteveHiker for an adventure that Tony will write about shortly. Stay tuned!
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