Amicus
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Wed., July 19
The fierce storms that assaulted parts of central and northern Maine Tuesday afternoon left my brother-in-law John's camp on Lake Androscoggin without power for a day, ended the heat wave and cleared out the humidity. John didn't like leaving his family without power, but his wife and daughter are resourceful, so we packed up his pick-up and headed for BSP around 11:30 Wed. morning. It was the nicest day of the summer.
We arrived at our lean-to on Roaring Brook a little after 4 p.m. We hadn't planned to hike today but the crystal air, which gave us some great views of Katahdin as we drove in from Millinocket, had me digging out my AMC Guide and map. I saw that a two-mile trail went from Roaring Brook north to the summit of South Turner, said to have excellent views, so we left camp set-up for later, laced up our boots, grabbed our packs and headed up.
We reached its bare summit around 5:30 and the 15 minutes we spent there -alone, not surprisingly, at that hour - were as exhilarating as any I have spent hiking. The unlimited visibility gave us wonderful vistas in all directions but what gripped us was the profile of the Katahdin Range, five miles to the west. Looking down on Pamola's spire from a NE angle, our eyes followed the formidable serrations of Knife Edge to Baxter Peak, then the long curve down the saddle and up to Hamlin, tailing off again to the North Peaks. The two great basins, with their cliffs, ridges and headwalls, were in shade but perfectly distinct. This was inspiring.
When I sent in my application for the lean-to several months ago, I regretted almost immediately not requesting a tent-site, figuring that the mosquitos would eat us alive. We came armed with acres of netting for the lean-to, headnets, about a gallon of Deet and a citronella wick in a bucket. All but the citronella wick, which gave a pleasant light, stayed in the truck - there were no mosquitos. I guess the cool, dry air put them into a temporary funk. Our lean-to was near the end of the road along the Brook that runs down from the Ranger station and trailheads, and I noticed the next morning that the tent-sites, perched on a little ridge above the brook, seemed about 10 degrees warmer. And what price the beautiful night music of the Brook? My choice proved fortunate despite myself.
John made rotini alfredo with sausages, which we washed down with an earthy South African shiraz. We played some cribbage and went to bed.
Day 1 miles hiked: 4. Vertical feet climbed: 1,675.
Thurs., July 20
We planned a long hike around the perimeter of South Basin and wanted to take full advantage of the superb weather, so got an early start. There was a line of hikers checking in at the Ranger station at 6:15, but the majority turned out not to be heading up Helon Taylor, our Trail. We liked it, and the views began well before we reached the summit of Pamola, where the notorious Knife Edge Trail begins.
The Knife Edge was not as I'd imagined. No tightrope-walking or "don't look down" moments, like standing at the edge of Bondcliff, just 1.1 mile of all-fours scrambling up and down the serrations. I was glad that the toughest part comes first - a challenging drop down to the steep col between Pamola and Chimney Peak - the first serration. This and some other places reminded me of the hardest sections of the Huntington Ravine Trail. Wonderful views on both sides, of course. Very windy - I had to tie down my hat for the first time in a year. Our only company was a Boy Scout troop from Waterbury, Conn., making great time ahead of us - young legs!
By contrast, the summit of Baxter - the end of the AT and Maine's high point - was crowded. We chatted with the young Ranger who has been posted there all summer, shooing the heedless off the alpine vegetation and answering questions. He told us that the first through-hikers began arriving weeks ago.
The Saddle Trail heading north to Hamlin remained crowded, but once it veered east down to Chimney Pond and the ridge Trail became Northwest Basin, the people disappeared. This seemed strange, as it was not difficult, nor was the .2 mile of the Hamlin Ridge Trail ascending its summit from the west. The great views never stopped, and we enjoyed the constant shifting perspectives as we traced our semi-circle. Hamlin brought us our first views of the North Basin, with its desolate beauty.
As we bashed our way down the unrelenting boulders of the 1.3-mile stretch of the Hamlin Ridge Trail to the North Basin Trail, I came to understand why the north part is less traveled. It reminded me of the Watson Path down from Madison, but longer and without respite. It pounded my quads - prone to tendinitis - into hypersensitive jelly. The views made up for it. The North Basin and Chimney Pond Trails were a slog at times, as we were baked.
We got back to camp a little after 3:30, and I thought John's idea of a drive down to the Togue Pond Beach, just outside the Park entrance, was inspired.
His truck radio was tuned to a Red Sox station, and we were happy to hear that they were playing another afternoon game - another close victory which we heard the last innings of. After luxuriating in the Pond, we decided to drive on to the North Woods Trading Post - eight miles south but by a paved road allowing much better time. John had forgotten butter - a critical ingredient in this evening's side dishes - and we hadn't brought enough water. (We didn't bring a filter and didn't want to risk drinking Roaring Brook straight, although I gather many do.) A bag of ice placed directly on my quads and two Advil restored them wonderfully.
I'm not used to grilling ribeyes on a grate over a wood fire, which is my excuse for overdoing them. John did better with his sides, and a very mellow Cal. cabernet made things better. There was still plenty of daylight so we headed up to Sandy Stream Pond, where I gather you are pretty much guaranteed to see a moose. We had plenty of company and a cow dutifully gamboled (as much as moose do) in the middle of the Pond.
Day 2 miles: 12; vertical feet: 4,795. For me, these two numbers together are usually a reliable gauge of the energy consumed by a hike. Today's, however, drained me more than others that were longer with more vertical. It may have been the constant exposure along the ridges and the extra difficulty of the Knife Edge and Hamlin Ridge Trails.
Fri., July 21
We got up even earlier, as we had a 24-mile drive on the Tote Road to the Slide Dam parking area for the Marston Trail and wanted to beat the showers forecast for the afternoon. The humidity was back and mosquitos were stirring, but left us alone.
John made great time and we were ready to hike at 6:15 again. According to the "All Hikers Must Sign In" log, no one had hiked these Trails yesterday and only a handful all week. We were doing the Coe-Brothers loop, which we decided to do counterclockwise to avoid descending the Coe Slide.
We really liked the Mt. Coe Trail, although it was in a little rougher shape than others we hiked, with some blow-downs. At one point it follows a ledge above a brook with nice views south to O-J-I. We missed the O-J-I Link Trail, although we were looking for it only casually as a mark of our progress.
The Coe Slide proper is a long, tilted granite slab that seemed to go on for a quarter-mile. It was dry, although mists were heavy and we felt a few sprinkles. At the top, it felt as if a false step would send you on a bumpy slide of several hundred feet. I wouldn't want to climb it wet or descend it under any conditions.
The Coe summit was socked in so we hastened on to the spur trail to So. Brother. This is one tough little .3-mile spur - little-hiked from the looks of it and with scrambly bits. The mists had lifted and the summit views were great: Coe and O-J-I to the south, the west side of Katahdin, partially obscured by clouds scudding north, to the east, No. Brother ahead of us, and to the west, the slides of Doubletop.
We reached the summit of No. Brother a little after 11 a.m. The Katahdin views were better now, especially the northern part of the Range.
John - neither a bushwhacker nor a hard-core peak-bagger and attired in shorts and short-sleeves - wanted to end our forward progress there, but knew I wanted to bag Fort. I offered to solo it, but he was sure he wouldn't be able to endure the two-hour wait and wasn't willing to abandon me, so he gallantly offered to give it a try.
The herd-path is easy to follow as long as you have Fort in sight - there are even cairns. As we approached the low point of the col, however, the spruce became very thick, and we finally came to some blowdowns that made it hard to tell where the path continued. A minute's search didn't produce an answer.
That was enough for John. Even I realized that I had pushed this too far, so we turned around. He apologized for making it impossible for me to realize my "dream" (his word) of bagging Fort. As I told him, however, the only apology due was mine to him, for my lack of consideration.
By good luck, John discovered a pair of weather-beaten trekking poles at that very spot. He has never owned a pair and by the end of our descent of the Marston Trail he was making good use of them. Cumulative fatigue had taken its toll and that descent taxed us, especially the steep part going down to a little pond. Great views south and of those striking Doubletop slides offered welcome distraction. We met a solo hiker going up when we were half-way down - I suppose his was the other vehicle in the lot, which we reached around 2:30. We drove home.
Day 3 miles - 11.3; vertical feet: 4,335.
With gratitude!
The fierce storms that assaulted parts of central and northern Maine Tuesday afternoon left my brother-in-law John's camp on Lake Androscoggin without power for a day, ended the heat wave and cleared out the humidity. John didn't like leaving his family without power, but his wife and daughter are resourceful, so we packed up his pick-up and headed for BSP around 11:30 Wed. morning. It was the nicest day of the summer.
We arrived at our lean-to on Roaring Brook a little after 4 p.m. We hadn't planned to hike today but the crystal air, which gave us some great views of Katahdin as we drove in from Millinocket, had me digging out my AMC Guide and map. I saw that a two-mile trail went from Roaring Brook north to the summit of South Turner, said to have excellent views, so we left camp set-up for later, laced up our boots, grabbed our packs and headed up.
We reached its bare summit around 5:30 and the 15 minutes we spent there -alone, not surprisingly, at that hour - were as exhilarating as any I have spent hiking. The unlimited visibility gave us wonderful vistas in all directions but what gripped us was the profile of the Katahdin Range, five miles to the west. Looking down on Pamola's spire from a NE angle, our eyes followed the formidable serrations of Knife Edge to Baxter Peak, then the long curve down the saddle and up to Hamlin, tailing off again to the North Peaks. The two great basins, with their cliffs, ridges and headwalls, were in shade but perfectly distinct. This was inspiring.
When I sent in my application for the lean-to several months ago, I regretted almost immediately not requesting a tent-site, figuring that the mosquitos would eat us alive. We came armed with acres of netting for the lean-to, headnets, about a gallon of Deet and a citronella wick in a bucket. All but the citronella wick, which gave a pleasant light, stayed in the truck - there were no mosquitos. I guess the cool, dry air put them into a temporary funk. Our lean-to was near the end of the road along the Brook that runs down from the Ranger station and trailheads, and I noticed the next morning that the tent-sites, perched on a little ridge above the brook, seemed about 10 degrees warmer. And what price the beautiful night music of the Brook? My choice proved fortunate despite myself.
John made rotini alfredo with sausages, which we washed down with an earthy South African shiraz. We played some cribbage and went to bed.
Day 1 miles hiked: 4. Vertical feet climbed: 1,675.
Thurs., July 20
We planned a long hike around the perimeter of South Basin and wanted to take full advantage of the superb weather, so got an early start. There was a line of hikers checking in at the Ranger station at 6:15, but the majority turned out not to be heading up Helon Taylor, our Trail. We liked it, and the views began well before we reached the summit of Pamola, where the notorious Knife Edge Trail begins.
The Knife Edge was not as I'd imagined. No tightrope-walking or "don't look down" moments, like standing at the edge of Bondcliff, just 1.1 mile of all-fours scrambling up and down the serrations. I was glad that the toughest part comes first - a challenging drop down to the steep col between Pamola and Chimney Peak - the first serration. This and some other places reminded me of the hardest sections of the Huntington Ravine Trail. Wonderful views on both sides, of course. Very windy - I had to tie down my hat for the first time in a year. Our only company was a Boy Scout troop from Waterbury, Conn., making great time ahead of us - young legs!
By contrast, the summit of Baxter - the end of the AT and Maine's high point - was crowded. We chatted with the young Ranger who has been posted there all summer, shooing the heedless off the alpine vegetation and answering questions. He told us that the first through-hikers began arriving weeks ago.
The Saddle Trail heading north to Hamlin remained crowded, but once it veered east down to Chimney Pond and the ridge Trail became Northwest Basin, the people disappeared. This seemed strange, as it was not difficult, nor was the .2 mile of the Hamlin Ridge Trail ascending its summit from the west. The great views never stopped, and we enjoyed the constant shifting perspectives as we traced our semi-circle. Hamlin brought us our first views of the North Basin, with its desolate beauty.
As we bashed our way down the unrelenting boulders of the 1.3-mile stretch of the Hamlin Ridge Trail to the North Basin Trail, I came to understand why the north part is less traveled. It reminded me of the Watson Path down from Madison, but longer and without respite. It pounded my quads - prone to tendinitis - into hypersensitive jelly. The views made up for it. The North Basin and Chimney Pond Trails were a slog at times, as we were baked.
We got back to camp a little after 3:30, and I thought John's idea of a drive down to the Togue Pond Beach, just outside the Park entrance, was inspired.
His truck radio was tuned to a Red Sox station, and we were happy to hear that they were playing another afternoon game - another close victory which we heard the last innings of. After luxuriating in the Pond, we decided to drive on to the North Woods Trading Post - eight miles south but by a paved road allowing much better time. John had forgotten butter - a critical ingredient in this evening's side dishes - and we hadn't brought enough water. (We didn't bring a filter and didn't want to risk drinking Roaring Brook straight, although I gather many do.) A bag of ice placed directly on my quads and two Advil restored them wonderfully.
I'm not used to grilling ribeyes on a grate over a wood fire, which is my excuse for overdoing them. John did better with his sides, and a very mellow Cal. cabernet made things better. There was still plenty of daylight so we headed up to Sandy Stream Pond, where I gather you are pretty much guaranteed to see a moose. We had plenty of company and a cow dutifully gamboled (as much as moose do) in the middle of the Pond.
Day 2 miles: 12; vertical feet: 4,795. For me, these two numbers together are usually a reliable gauge of the energy consumed by a hike. Today's, however, drained me more than others that were longer with more vertical. It may have been the constant exposure along the ridges and the extra difficulty of the Knife Edge and Hamlin Ridge Trails.
Fri., July 21
We got up even earlier, as we had a 24-mile drive on the Tote Road to the Slide Dam parking area for the Marston Trail and wanted to beat the showers forecast for the afternoon. The humidity was back and mosquitos were stirring, but left us alone.
John made great time and we were ready to hike at 6:15 again. According to the "All Hikers Must Sign In" log, no one had hiked these Trails yesterday and only a handful all week. We were doing the Coe-Brothers loop, which we decided to do counterclockwise to avoid descending the Coe Slide.
We really liked the Mt. Coe Trail, although it was in a little rougher shape than others we hiked, with some blow-downs. At one point it follows a ledge above a brook with nice views south to O-J-I. We missed the O-J-I Link Trail, although we were looking for it only casually as a mark of our progress.
The Coe Slide proper is a long, tilted granite slab that seemed to go on for a quarter-mile. It was dry, although mists were heavy and we felt a few sprinkles. At the top, it felt as if a false step would send you on a bumpy slide of several hundred feet. I wouldn't want to climb it wet or descend it under any conditions.
The Coe summit was socked in so we hastened on to the spur trail to So. Brother. This is one tough little .3-mile spur - little-hiked from the looks of it and with scrambly bits. The mists had lifted and the summit views were great: Coe and O-J-I to the south, the west side of Katahdin, partially obscured by clouds scudding north, to the east, No. Brother ahead of us, and to the west, the slides of Doubletop.
We reached the summit of No. Brother a little after 11 a.m. The Katahdin views were better now, especially the northern part of the Range.
John - neither a bushwhacker nor a hard-core peak-bagger and attired in shorts and short-sleeves - wanted to end our forward progress there, but knew I wanted to bag Fort. I offered to solo it, but he was sure he wouldn't be able to endure the two-hour wait and wasn't willing to abandon me, so he gallantly offered to give it a try.
The herd-path is easy to follow as long as you have Fort in sight - there are even cairns. As we approached the low point of the col, however, the spruce became very thick, and we finally came to some blowdowns that made it hard to tell where the path continued. A minute's search didn't produce an answer.
That was enough for John. Even I realized that I had pushed this too far, so we turned around. He apologized for making it impossible for me to realize my "dream" (his word) of bagging Fort. As I told him, however, the only apology due was mine to him, for my lack of consideration.
By good luck, John discovered a pair of weather-beaten trekking poles at that very spot. He has never owned a pair and by the end of our descent of the Marston Trail he was making good use of them. Cumulative fatigue had taken its toll and that descent taxed us, especially the steep part going down to a little pond. Great views south and of those striking Doubletop slides offered welcome distraction. We met a solo hiker going up when we were half-way down - I suppose his was the other vehicle in the lot, which we reached around 2:30. We drove home.
Day 3 miles - 11.3; vertical feet: 4,335.
With gratitude!
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