Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: The Neverending Trail from Mt. Katahdin

To recap: Air Rescue on Mount Katahdin’s Dudley Trail – Sunday, June 22, 2014

Hiking in to spend a night at at Chimney Pond is enough of a treat. The trail starts at Roaring Brook Campground and winds up through the woods, over brooks and streams. Dennis calls it “the longest 3.25 miles you’ll ever hike.” After last summer’s adventure, we know that’s not quite THE longest!

Rocky stairs on the trail to Chimney Pond

Chimney Pond, June 2014

With my stomach turned inside out and with more careful foot placement than ever, we made our way up toward Pamola Peak. The rate of incline up Dudley Trail is so steep, hikers are warned that climbing up is fine, but are strongly discouraged from attempting to climb down. For only my second time to climb Mount Katahdin, this trail was extremely taxing on my body. “Just put one foot in front of the other. Step, step, step.” Dennis’s words churned in my mind, and I added, repeating to myself over and over and over, “I can do this.”

Working our way up Dudley Trail, not even halfway to the top

We reached the peak, took the obligatory photos of each other standing next to the big sign and took a few shots of breathtaking views at every angle. We had lost so much time already. It was after 1:00, and darkness would fall around 9:00.  After a brief rest, we struck off descending the Helon Taylor Trail with 3.2 miles left of our journey, and I was never so happy to reach the end of a trail as I was this dreary day.

Already exhausted after climbing nearly straight up the side of Katahdin on Dudley Trail

We needed to descend this stretch before dark, and climbing down generally goes more quickly than climbing up. Hiking down from Chimney Pond takes us three to four hours with a few stops to rest, so we estimated reaching the Jeep around 5:00 – 6:00 p.m. We’d be fine. We began ambling down the rocky slope.

Looking out from Pamola Peak

The trail coming down the top of Helon Taylor was different than the other trails I’d climbed. We were traveling down a rocky spine with some stretches of easy walking on paths of gravel and the occasional hop, skip and jump down big flat boulders. I was relieved at the ease this time, my knees still quite shaky from our morning events. We kept a good, steady pace for quite a while before stopping to rest. I was so ready to end this hike, not many photos were taken.

Helon Taylor Trail leading down from Pamola Peak

Easy flowing gravel pathway on Helon Taylor Trail

“The black flies won’t be an issue when we reach the cooler air on top of the mountain,” he said. Pfft. Wrong. Yes, we plan as best we can for every situation. Plan A: Check your can of bug spray to make sure it has more than a few sprays of protection left in it. I ran out before we got to Chimney Pond the day before, and with my allergy to black flies, lack of a good bug spray is serious business. Plan B: Keep moving!

Dark Eyed Junco on top of Mount Katahdin

Every time we stopped to sit, have a protein bar or drink of water, the bugs attacked with vengeance. They were all over me, on my face, neck and under my hair. It was hot, baking sun reflecting off of the rocks, but I couldn’t risk putting my hair up and exposing even more skin. We had to keep moving. Then, we ran out of water.

Views from Helon Taylor Trail

Packing as light as possible means including only two plastic water bottles. 40 ounces of water for a full day of any outdoor sport isn’t enough, and our last reliable source of water was back at Chimney Pond – nine hours behind us. We looked for water available along our path, and we found a small pool of rain water in the sunken top of a boulder. I was thankful for the short rain shower we’d sat through earlier. We drank it.

Views from Helon Taylor Trail

My legs and knees were in bad shape when we finally made it below the treeline. It seemed we’d been coming down that trail forever already, and looking at the time, we were more and more skeptical of making it out before dark. We had flashlights, but hiking down rocks and over extremely uneven surfaces in the dark was more than my brain could wrap itself around. The tears welled in my eyes again. I was beyond exhausted, hungry and needed water so badly I was looking around every bend for any water source I could find. At that point, I didn’t care that we were below the canopy where the risk of beavers contaminating the streams can’t be ignored. My muscles were mush, I was sorely dehydrated, and my legs were starting to cramp fiercely, my knees nearly giving way with every step I took. Finally, I heard the sound of running water. Praying this was the beginning sounds of Roaring Brook, I sped up as much as I safely could to get to the source of the sound.

Finally settling below the treeline

It was not Roaring Brook, dammit, but it was water. Cold, clear running water. Not clean, not really safe to drink without treatment, but my body wasn’t making it any further without water. So we filled our bottles and drank. Ok, I guzzled. A lot. We still didn’t know what stream we had found or how far we had to go, so we kept moving without a real rest that time.

Darkness fell, and the flashlights came on. The thought that I was going to lay down on a rock somewhere and wait for Dennis to come back with park rangers to carry me out on a stretcher was at the forefront of my mind. I.Could.Not.Take.Another.Step. My knees buckled every time I put my foot to the ground. The path had become fairly level by now, with few step downs off of rocks and only some tree roots to navigate, but I’d already had enough. I was certain I couldn’t go on. Crying again. The severely injured hiker on my mind. Watching my husband’s flashlight bobbing up and down on the path in front of me as he kept moving at a good clip, more and more distance between us…then I heard it. It was the unmistakable roar of Roaring Brook – aptly named.

We rounded the end of the Neverending Helon Taylor Trail, onto the short stretch leading to the parking lot, the Jeep and HOME. That night, I vowed I’d never feel the need to climb the mountain again. I would keep my feet on solid ground with no desire whatsoever to kill myself for the sake of “accomplishment” or “overcoming.” There are much easier paths in life to tread than up and over the mountains. Then again, mountains are made of solid ground.

Till next time…

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: A Walk in the Clouds, Part 2

Air Rescue on Mount Katahdin’s Dudley Trail – Sunday, June 22, 2014

Chimney Pond, Baxter State Park

We go for the fun, the experience and to see the things we can only see from 5,000 or so feet in the air.

Views from Mount Katahdin

It’s the toughest physical challenge I’ve ever faced. Mountain climbing is not for the faint of heart but well worth the rewards. It’s also a dangerous sport, not to be taken lightly. Our degree of physical conditioning, difficulty of the terrain and sudden weather changes can’t always be predicted or controlled. Trails prove more difficult and time consuming than you sometimes expect. Flashlights for the “just in case we don’t make it back before dark” are an absolute must. We used ours this weekend. Accidents happen, and people get hurt. Sometimes people die.

Dudley Trail, Mount Katahdin

We climbed up the Dudley Trail, starting very early Sunday morning. Dennis and I are slower than the 20 year olds who bounce past us on trails, hurdling over rocks and boulders like they have springs in their shoes. I sometimes tease and poke fun at them when they speak to us. Fellow expeditioners seem to be quite a friendly and respectful group, so greetings and a few sentiments pass with most people who meet us on a trail. I called one of them a show-off as he was hopping down the rocks past us. He just looked up and grinned. When three older men breezed past us Sunday morning, I just shook my head, put my hand on my hip and thought, ‘Figures. They’re even faster than me! But I’m doing it, damn it. That’s something.”

Working our way up Dudley Trail, not even halfway to the top

I remember his face clearly. I moved over on the rock we shared for a brief moment to let him pass and told him to go ahead so he could catch up with his group. His face showed as much strain as mine did. I felt his pain! An hour or so later, we came upon a scene that turned my stomach.

The gray haired man was laying covered in layer after layer of blankets. There were blood stains on several rocks above him. He was moaning in pain. He didn’t speak English. We learned from his two friends that he is French Canadian. Several other hikers were sitting and standing around, waiting to see what they could do to help until the park ranger arrived from Chimney Pond. Dennis asked if they needed sleeping bags or an air pad. They had done all they could do until further helped arrived. He had fallen from a rock face, the rock face we were getting ready to climb, and landed 20 feet or so below in a crevice. He was bleeding from his head in several places, complaining of head and neck pain and couldn’t feel his legs.

I doubt it happens often in these situations, but there was a doctor standing at his head, working to stabilize him, keeping a check on his waning pulse. The doctor spoke French and kept him communicating as needed. No, I doubt it happens often, but what a relief that this particular doctor was on this particular mountain on this particular day.

The ranger arrived and took charge of the scene, communicating via radio with the rescue teams. Maine Army National Guard’s medical evacuation team was dispatched. Waiting on the side of a mountain with a severely injured man, indications of a probable spine injury, it seemed like the rescue helicopter took forever to arrive. My stomach was so sick, I didn’t think I could go on. I had no choice.

Maine Army National Guard’s Medical Evacuation Team

Another group, then finally Dennis and I were released from the scene, and the Ranger encouraged us to hike out the Helon Taylor Trail due to the late time of day. We decided that was really our only safe option, at that point. Trembling, I started to ascend the cliff the injured hiker had fallen from. Dennis, ordinarily climbing ahead of me to guide me through the tough spots, stood behind me this time. I said, “I don’t think I can. I’m scared.” I had tears in my eyes. I felt his breath in my hair as he whispered, “YES, you can.” As I lifted up over the first level, a pretty tough stretch for me, I felt his hands on my hips supporting me. It was the most comforting touch I’ve ever felt.

We climbed for quite a while, listening for the rescue team to arrive, hoping to get some photos of the actual extraction. When they blazed in, we were at a good vantage point well above the scene and took about an hour to sit, rest and watch them work. Hoping the man was still holding on. Thinking, with heavy heart, about what his future may look like. I’m still thinking of our fellow hiker and wondering how he’s doing. I hope to hear a positive report soon.

Maine Army National Guard’s Medical Evacuation Team at work

Maine Army National Guard’s Medical Evacuation Team at work

Maine Army National Guard’s Medical Evacuation Team at work

Injured hiker being lifted into the Blackhawk helicopter

We were still quite a long way from Pamola Peak and had to hike out from there, down the Helon Taylor Trail and out to Roaring Brook Campground where the Jeep was waiting for us. We had no idea how long our day would turn out to be.

To be continued…

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: A Walk in the Clouds, Part I

The day I told my best friend, Robin Follette, that I was going to climb that mountain one of these days, the idea sat in the bottom of my belly just like most “one of these days” statements that we all make. I knew it was never likely to happen. I was overweight. I was sorely out of shape. I was getting older by the minute. I have a bad knee. I’m *extremely* afraid of heights. Extremely! Any excuse I could think of would hold me back. I was certain of that, but it was a nice dream! We stood at Sandy Stream Pond that morning, took our photos of deer and landscape, then hiked the four-tenths of a mile back to the parking lot where warm vehicles were waiting for us. We drove the scenic roads in and around Baxter State Park and took some great photos of Mount Katahdin from a good safe ground level. Yep, one of these days!

From the time we met, Dennis and I started talking about climbing the mountain. I told him it was on “my list.” He has climbed it many times since the first trip up with his family when he was 12 years old. At 56, he was game to do it again! Nothing stops this outdoorsman of mine, and I was determined to not let (insert my long list of inexcusable excuses) stop me. So I announced on Facebook to all my friends and family, 2013 would be the year I climb. I was going to do it. Really! I am! Really???

Dennis called in April to reserve a couple of nights in a lean-to at Chimney Pond, and our official plan was hatched. I think that’s about when my knees first started shaking, but I was still excited about the prospect of overcoming Mount Katahdin. I had to do it – no excuses, as my life has taught me well. You push through the fears, push through the pain, push, push, push. It’s ALWAYS worth it in the end when your goals are accomplished and dreams realized. I had grave doubts that I’d be able to make it all the way to the peak, but I had to give it my best shot.

Gearing up to hike up Chimney Pond Trail, Baxter State Park

After a long spring in the woods, hiking miles on end on snowshoes then through wet terrain searching for Goshawk nests, my feet and legs had gotten much more adept at traipsing through the wilderness. I’m more sure-footed now than I was even six months ago. I found myself very glad for that when we started the 3.2 mile hike to Chimney Pond. Climbing up and over rocks and large boulders…NOT a walk in the woods! This 11 mile, 3,778 foot elevation gain, three day hike was the longest – and highest – I’ve ever made. I was in for the challenge of a lifetime, more so than I even realized.

 

Dennis decked out in Frogg Toggs rain gear and his pack

It was wet, wet, wet when we started up the long trail. We knew our first day of this adventure was going to be a washout according to the weather forecast, but this was the last weekend of the year that we were able to get reservations. Rain or shine, we were going! Dennis has a great deal of experience planning for a wide variety of outdoor conditions, so while I was shopping Saturday morning for a pair of pants to wear to a wedding I was photographing that evening, he was in sporting goods picking us up a couple of rain suits and a cover for my pack. He takes such good care of me!

Dennis is brutally honest and never sugar coats things for me, even when I wish he would! He had already warned me that this was the longest 3.3 miles he’s ever hiked. Knowing how many times he’s made this hike, I knew he was serious about that. In just this stretch of our journey, we would gain an elevation of 1425 feet. I learned that’s enough to get the heart pumping very quickly and requires a number of breather stops along the way.

Gorgeous Views Along the Chimney Pond Trail

No matter where you choose to sit and rest along the trails, there are unlimited views you will find absolutely enchanting!

Fall colors were spectacular in the park this weekend!

 

Bridges along the Chimney Pond Trail are a welcome sight after climbing boulders for long stretches!

Resting a minute, taking in the views not far from Chimney Pond Campground

We arrived at Chimney Pond to some of the most jaw-dropping views I’ve ever seen in my life. Dennis has told me for months, “I can’t wait to see your face when you first walk out onto Chimney Pond. You’re going to love it!” Now I knew why he was so eager to get me up there. Wow!

The Walk into Chimney Pond, Baxter State Park

The fall colors in the trees were really nice, but I was amazed at the variegated colors in the rocks. It was stunning!

 

Chimney Pond, Baxter State Park

In the backwoods of Maine, if you want or need it, you take it in your pack. Don’t take, do without! No bathrooms most places, no clean water source, no food, no heat, no shelter, no light after dark  – you get the picture. The caveat…if  you put it in your pack, you have to carry it all the way in and all the way out. The further you hike, the higher you climb, the heavier that freaking pack gets on your back and shoulders. Pack smart!

We took just enough for each meal we’d need for three days, including freeze dried soup, instant oatmeal, granola bars and Crystal Lite. We took a couple of empty drink bottles to fill at streams and ponds. Water would be boiled in a light aluminum pot on a single burner white gas stove (White gas is much lighter to carry than propane.) to kill the micro-organisms and to prepare our food. We found ourselves wishing we’d brought hot chocolate packets when our temps dropped to freezing the second night. Hindsight!

Filling water bottles at Chimney Pond

We packed one change of clothes, several pairs of socks in anticipation of wet feet off and on, down sleeping bags in compression sacks, sleeping pads, coats, flashlights and a few choice personal care items. Dennis has a saying. If you pay attention to the ounces, the pounds will take care of themselves. When you’re carrying a full backpack seven miles round trip, every single pound counts. Our bags were 14 pounds and 20 pounds. That was quite enough on the 1425 foot climb to Chimney Pond. I swore my bag gained ten pounds every mile we hiked. I was sure of it!

Checking in at the Chimney Pond Ranger’s Cabin – a cardinal rule of hiking. Safety is our responsibility when we venture into the wilderness. Always leave a paper trail. Look what happened to Hansel and Gretel!

We settled into Lean-to #4, got a fresh supply of water and ate some nice, warm soup for supper. As soon as darkness fell, we snuggled in to get a good night’s sleep. We’d need an early start the next morning for the next leg of our journey. Katahdin was looming over us all night…waiting…

 

 

 

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: Gone To The Dogs!

After a few weeks of working like crazy, family obligations and trips to make, Dennis and I finally had the chance to get away for a Saturday adventure. We loaded up around 6am with my three kids and his grandson, and took off for a fun-filled day outdoors.

I have a list. On my list are a number of things I’ve always wished to see and do, and most are specific to our outdoors life in Maine. My list includes learning to hunt with rifle and bow, learning to fly fish, visiting the Western Mountains and exploring the area on horseback, back country camping with just a sleeping bag – no tent or other shelter, hiking all over Acadia National Park and Baxter State Park, climbing to the peak of Mount Katahdin, paddling the Allagash River start to finish and camping on the river banks for several days along the way, developing and managing an active homestead in the woods, complete with my own fruit orchard…the list goes on and on. Somewhere very near the top of my list is taking off one weekend to stay in a cabin in the snowy mountains to enjoy some dog sledding.

Cadillac Mountain, Acadia National Park

I’ve seen pictures of these hidden areas of Maine that are only accessible during the winter by sled or snowmobile. I’ve always wished to be tucked away in the peace and quiet reserves of a remote area where civilization isn’t breathing down my neck. I love to walk outside a cozy cabin in the woods and hear nothing but nature surrounding me…see nothing but the walls of the forest…smell nothing but “green.”

Trail to Sandy Stream Pond, Baxter State Park

I’m slowly but surely whittling away at my list, and on the schedule this weekend was the Can-Am Crown International Sled Dog Races in Fort Kent, Maine. The entire event is made up of 30 mile, 60 mile and 250 mile races. I wouldn’t be able to actually ride the sleds, but watching them in action was going to be a blast! It also proved to whet my appetite even more to strike out on this adventure for myself.

I knew Dennis would enjoy taking off for the day to see the sledding event, and he would be able to tell us all we needed to know about the sport. In his early thirties, he purchased his first Alaskan Husky, McKenzie (Kenzie), and started his own team for mushing. With a little time, experience and a bit of trial and error, he finally put together a great team of dogs from excellent stock including puppies from a dog he procured from Susan Butcher, the second woman to win the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race in 1986. And the “Topgun Team” was formed.

Dennis ran the Can-Am 30 mile and 60 mile races during his sledding years. He enjoyed the sport immensely, but it wasn’t about the competition for him as much as being outdoors, enjoying sledding through the woods.

Dennis and Hunter watching the race

Dennis’s daughter, Ashley, ran a one dog race when she was eleven. They were in Lincoln, Maine and found there was a race for kids. At that time, Ashley had never even stood on the runners, but he gave her the chance to participate. She says, “Well, I didn’t fall off. So there’s that!” She did well, finished 9th out of 16 and most importantly, she had a great experience that day and enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment.

As life started taking a different path for the family, Dennis’s team of dogs was eventually sold to Steve Crone, owner of Telemark Inn Wilderness Lodge, and he began offering dog sledding adventures for families. It was exciting to Dennis when we were standing on the sidelines watching the last team of dogs take off in the 250 mile race that his friend, Steve, was on the runners. He yelled and waved as the team went breezing by.

The kids had a blast!

One of the teams we had the pleasure of seeing at Can-Am was driven by 15 year old Bailey Vitello, a musher from Massachusetts. In 2010, Bailey was the youngest musher to compete in the Can-Am 30 mile race at age twelve. Quite impressive!

Sled dog team run by the youngest participant in the race – age 15

We had a blast watching all the dogs and mushers take off on the trails. It was cold and snowing the entire day, but we were all bundled up well and were never phased by the weather.

Up and onto the long trail

We enjoyed a great snowball fight and some excellent Chinese food before leaving the downtown area to do more sightseeing for the afternoon. It was a great day! Who knows…maybe one of these days a trip to see the famous Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race in Alaska will be on the agenda for me and this fun loving outdoorsman of mine!

Till next time…