Date(s) Hiked:
June 25-26, 2005
Trails(s) Hiked:
Appalachian Trail
Total Distance:
17 miles
Difficulty:
Moderate due to distance and elevation. Terrain varied easy to moderate. Only 1 water crossing of consequence and it's bridged.
Conditions:
HOT! Bring lots of water and a filter to refill along the way.
Special Required Equipment:
Nothing beyond your usual preference.
Trip Report:
Hot, Hazy, Humid, Hike?
Give Blood and Support Maine's Insect Population
Two days along the Bigelow Range near Stratton, ME
June 25-26, 2005
Over Memorial Day weekend, I spent three days on the Appalachian Trail making my way northbound across the Carrabassett region of Maine, starting at Rangely. The following weekend I returned to continue across the Crockers. Finally, this past weekend, along with Mary Ellen, Rachel, Amy, and Brian, I hiked the remaining 17 miles of the AT through this region, over the Bigelow Range.
What's better than a good hike? Good friends are, and this story begins at Garret and Valerie's, where we were guests. It was great to visit with them, a wonderful gift to have their help with the car spotting (a 40-minute drive each way) and just amazing to have them open their home to us for the night. I cannot begin to thank them enough for their hospitality; they are two terrific people.
After a far-too-luxurious night of sleep, we woke with the sunrise, feeling the heat coming with the breeze. It was forecast to be a hot day, and we could smell it in the air. We got our gear into Brian's car (Amy's and mine having already been spotted on East Flagstaff Road the previous night) and hit the Woodsmen in Kingfield right as they opened at 7am. After chowing down a tasty and inexpensive breakfast (we recommend this place), we continued up Rte 27 to the AT crossing, where we met up with Mary Ellen and Rachel, ready to go.
Around 8:30am we started along the AT from Rte 27, an easy section of trail done primarily by thru-hikers, since most day trippers would drive in on the Stratton Brook Rook Road or Jones Pond Road to bypass this first mile. The trees were heavy and green, the air still, and the humidity building. We quickly looked forward to gaining some elevation in the hopes of finding a breeze.
We made quick work of the trail, arriving at Cranberry Stream campsite in under an hour. We stopped for a quick snack and some badly-needed water-drinking, then continued on. Our next landmark was an abandoned beaver pond. Now, originally we thought it was pretty funny having such a description. It sounded like directions given in Boston: "turn where the Dunkin Donuts used to be." But in fact, it was a very obvious pond behind a pretty large dam. From here we could see the height of the ridge and knew that Horns Pond was just on the other side.
We hit the Bigelow Range Trail, our 3.4 mile mark, after about 2:15, and we were hot. At this point, the entire goal was to reach Horn's Pond and go for a swim, and with that in mind we made our way up the ridge. The views opened up along the way, unfortunately very hazy but impressive nonetheless, looking back to Cranberry Peak, out across the East Nubble and Flagstaff Lake, and back down towards our starting point. We would occasionally pass small boulder caves giving off cold air and at each we'd pause for a quick breather.
Shortly after noon we crested the ridge and had our first look ahead to the Horns of the Bigelow Range. They looked awfully far and tall, and I just put them out of my mind and concentrated on getting to the pond. When we finally reached a viewpoint overlooking the pond we all found new energy and raced down to the campsite to get directions from the caretaker to the water's edge.
We wasted no time hopping in and swimming around. The water was cold but not oppressively so, and was just what we needed to counter the heat. After paddling around for a while we retreated to the shore rocks to dry off and have some lunch. At this point I didn't eat enough. I had brought a bag full of grapes and was looking forward to them, but they turned out to be too tart to enjoy, and made my stomach a little upset, so I just had a handful and that was all. I would pay the price later when I needed energy but didn't have it.
After getting dressed we started up the Horns. I knew in almost no time that my strength was waning, and when the rest of the group made the side trip to the open summit of North Horn I chose to continue up the AT by myself, very slowly. I was doing whatever I could to stave off any type of heat illness, drinking as much as I could and moving so gently that I didn't even raise my heart rate. I felt cooked, but I didn't feel dehydrated, and managed to keep any kind of headache at bay.
At the summit of South Horn, I quickly celebrated another New England Hundred Highest summit, then looked ahead to West Peak. It looked a long way away, and in fact it was 2.1 miles away with a good drop and rise in between. Camp for the night was on the far side, so there was no choice but to keep going, a little bit at a time. Of course, the trail did everything it could to remain in the blistering sun. No worries, just another sip of water and another few steps. I must have done a lot better than I thought at the time because I was just a dozen yards from the summit of West Peak when the rest of the group caught up.
Atop the West Peak of the Bigelows at 4:26pm, I celebrated my 61st of the 67 New England 4000-footers, then started violently dry-heaving. At this point I needed to get out of the sun and rest, and I wasn't the only one. We descended the last of the day's 8.3 miles to the Avery Col campsite, where we found a site with a platform that would fit the two tents as well as a set of trees that would accomodate my hammock.
This time spent in the shade at the campsite, easily setting things up and not moving around too much, helped my recovery. After helping to filter, I downed a good deal of the cold, delicious spring water, rinsed off my face, poured cold over my head, and felt a lot better. By the time I had my stove set up and dinner going, my appetite had returned and all feelings of sickness had passed. I count myself lucky in this regard; Mary Ellen was much sicker from the heat and would not feel better for several hours. Regardless of when, we were glad to recover.
As evening came upon us, Rachel and Amy took off to reclimb West Peak in the face of incoming scud clouds, hoping to catch the sunset. The thunder started shortly thereafter, and back at camp we made ready to get under shelter. It wasn't long after their return that the lightning and rain came in earnest. I enjoyed hanging in my hammock through the storms, though it was unfortunate that because of the rain noise on the sylnylon rain fly I couldn't hear the tent conversations. Oh, well. It only lasted about a half-hour and then the cold air came in, feeling fantastic. It was a beautiful night for sleeping, and I only woke up once, which I consider fortunate as it allowed me to see the cleared view of the lights shining down at Sugarloaf.
One thing I haven't mentioned so far has been the insect population. Well, this was the height of blackfly season in Maine, and in the heat and humidity the little buggers were out with a vengeance all weekend. I, in fact, got eaten alive. We all did. We had blood dripping off us at times from the savage little beasts. I've counted over two dozen swollen, itchy bites on my body, most of which came while at camp when sitting or standing idly. I try to avoid using DEET on my skin, but this was a weekend I should have made an exception. I look like I have the pox!
While it was great to have that cold front pass through on Saturday night, apparently the front was eaten by the big Bermuda high pressure system offshore because it wasn't long before Sunday's temperatures were rivaling Saturdays. We struck camp early and by 8am were on the trail heading up Avery Peak. We stopped at 0.2 miles to top off our water at a little trailside box spring, since we knew we'd need every drop.
It was an easy ascent up Avery Peak, and there I celebrated my 62nd of the NE 67 4K's. This was the best of all the summits, and that's not just because nobody felt deathly ill on it. The views were open and incredible in all directions, there's a huge boulder with a plaque honoring Hyram Avery's work in creating the Appalachian Trail, and there's the big old fire tower, all of which make for a interesting peak. In spite of the ravaging bugs, I could have stayed there a lot longer; however, we had yet another 8.4 miles to go in order to reach the car, so after some snacks we reshouldered our packs and started down the steep descent into Safford Notch.
It's said that you can see the profile of a lying man in the outline of the Bigelow Range, with the ledges we were descending as the bald head. I don't know if this is true or not, but the several outlooks along the trail gave spectacular views of the enormous cliffs and ledges. Ahead of us was the 3-mile-long ridge of Little Bigelow; after descending 2000' to Safford Notch we would ascend back up 1000' or so to this ridge to follow it.
Down in Safford Notch it was cool and damp, the bugs manageable, and several folks went down the side path to the campsite to filter water. I took the opportunity to eat before the heat could kill my appetite. The vicinity of the Notch has a large number of huge, jumbled boulders (glacial erratics?) forming caves that were blowing icy cold air out their openings. This was spectacularly refreshing. We also encountered a group of AT northbounders on their way to Katahdin, who were taking the weekend to slackpack (not carry their full backpack) across the Bigelow Range backwards, and a couple of AT southbounders just a few weeks on the trail and bound for Georgia.
All too quickly we started climbing up out of Safford Notch onto Little Bigelow. This was a beautiful section of trail that unfortunately due to the heat I could not appreciate. I very quickly was back to struggling again, in spite of plenty of food and water and even a cold, soaking wet bandana on my head. I ended up just putting it in low gear and moving at my own pace, apart from the group, because I was nervous that if I did anything else I wouldn't make it the long distance back to the car.
The ridge along Little Bigelow really was a great sub-alpine trail, with a lot of open ledges. After final looks back towards the range from whence we'd come, the winding descent began; so winding, in fact, that I began to wonder if Avery, when he laid out the trail, simply played connect-the-dots between the open areas. It wasn't too bad, I just really wanted to not be out under the sun, and every other turn came out of the tree cover onto baking hot rock.
No matter, it wasn't too long before we arrived at the brook by Little Bigelow Campsite where we jumped in to cool down. Well, I kneeled; it was Amy who actually got all the way in. After cooling ourselves off it was a beautiful green tunnel following what I believe was an old woods road back out the car, finishing our 8.7-mile day in around 7-1/2 hours. Ironically, here were the worst bugs, so as soon as everyone was out of the woods we hopped in the cars and hit the road. It was a long ride back to the starting point, but we stopped along the way at Annie's Exxon for cold drinks, which we drank very, very quickly.
Back at the starting point we encountered the slackpacking AT hikers, having finished our entire 2-day traverse in less time than we did just one leg of it. Amazing what 2,000 miles of training and conditioning can do. We loaded up our own cars and headed home. I tried a new route: Rte 16 all the way to Gorham, then back to I-93 via Rtes 2, 115, and 3. It turned out to be long, 5 hours in total, but a beautiful ride through the Rangely lakes region, past Umbagog, and down along the Androscoggin.
This was a great hike. The Bigelow Range is an incredible stretch of terrain, and I hope I get the chance to get back there some cool, crisp, bug-free autumn day. I think we did 17 miles of trail with between 5000' and 6000' of elevation gain.
My full photo album is here.
June 25-26, 2005
Trails(s) Hiked:
Appalachian Trail
Total Distance:
17 miles
Difficulty:
Moderate due to distance and elevation. Terrain varied easy to moderate. Only 1 water crossing of consequence and it's bridged.
Conditions:
HOT! Bring lots of water and a filter to refill along the way.
Special Required Equipment:
Nothing beyond your usual preference.
Trip Report:
Hot, Hazy, Humid, Hike?
Give Blood and Support Maine's Insect Population
Two days along the Bigelow Range near Stratton, ME
June 25-26, 2005
What's better than a good hike? Good friends are, and this story begins at Garret and Valerie's, where we were guests. It was great to visit with them, a wonderful gift to have their help with the car spotting (a 40-minute drive each way) and just amazing to have them open their home to us for the night. I cannot begin to thank them enough for their hospitality; they are two terrific people.
After a far-too-luxurious night of sleep, we woke with the sunrise, feeling the heat coming with the breeze. It was forecast to be a hot day, and we could smell it in the air. We got our gear into Brian's car (Amy's and mine having already been spotted on East Flagstaff Road the previous night) and hit the Woodsmen in Kingfield right as they opened at 7am. After chowing down a tasty and inexpensive breakfast (we recommend this place), we continued up Rte 27 to the AT crossing, where we met up with Mary Ellen and Rachel, ready to go.
We made quick work of the trail, arriving at Cranberry Stream campsite in under an hour. We stopped for a quick snack and some badly-needed water-drinking, then continued on. Our next landmark was an abandoned beaver pond. Now, originally we thought it was pretty funny having such a description. It sounded like directions given in Boston: "turn where the Dunkin Donuts used to be." But in fact, it was a very obvious pond behind a pretty large dam. From here we could see the height of the ridge and knew that Horns Pond was just on the other side.
We hit the Bigelow Range Trail, our 3.4 mile mark, after about 2:15, and we were hot. At this point, the entire goal was to reach Horn's Pond and go for a swim, and with that in mind we made our way up the ridge. The views opened up along the way, unfortunately very hazy but impressive nonetheless, looking back to Cranberry Peak, out across the East Nubble and Flagstaff Lake, and back down towards our starting point. We would occasionally pass small boulder caves giving off cold air and at each we'd pause for a quick breather.
We wasted no time hopping in and swimming around. The water was cold but not oppressively so, and was just what we needed to counter the heat. After paddling around for a while we retreated to the shore rocks to dry off and have some lunch. At this point I didn't eat enough. I had brought a bag full of grapes and was looking forward to them, but they turned out to be too tart to enjoy, and made my stomach a little upset, so I just had a handful and that was all. I would pay the price later when I needed energy but didn't have it.
At the summit of South Horn, I quickly celebrated another New England Hundred Highest summit, then looked ahead to West Peak. It looked a long way away, and in fact it was 2.1 miles away with a good drop and rise in between. Camp for the night was on the far side, so there was no choice but to keep going, a little bit at a time. Of course, the trail did everything it could to remain in the blistering sun. No worries, just another sip of water and another few steps. I must have done a lot better than I thought at the time because I was just a dozen yards from the summit of West Peak when the rest of the group caught up.
This time spent in the shade at the campsite, easily setting things up and not moving around too much, helped my recovery. After helping to filter, I downed a good deal of the cold, delicious spring water, rinsed off my face, poured cold over my head, and felt a lot better. By the time I had my stove set up and dinner going, my appetite had returned and all feelings of sickness had passed. I count myself lucky in this regard; Mary Ellen was much sicker from the heat and would not feel better for several hours. Regardless of when, we were glad to recover.
One thing I haven't mentioned so far has been the insect population. Well, this was the height of blackfly season in Maine, and in the heat and humidity the little buggers were out with a vengeance all weekend. I, in fact, got eaten alive. We all did. We had blood dripping off us at times from the savage little beasts. I've counted over two dozen swollen, itchy bites on my body, most of which came while at camp when sitting or standing idly. I try to avoid using DEET on my skin, but this was a weekend I should have made an exception. I look like I have the pox!
While it was great to have that cold front pass through on Saturday night, apparently the front was eaten by the big Bermuda high pressure system offshore because it wasn't long before Sunday's temperatures were rivaling Saturdays. We struck camp early and by 8am were on the trail heading up Avery Peak. We stopped at 0.2 miles to top off our water at a little trailside box spring, since we knew we'd need every drop.
Down in Safford Notch it was cool and damp, the bugs manageable, and several folks went down the side path to the campsite to filter water. I took the opportunity to eat before the heat could kill my appetite. The vicinity of the Notch has a large number of huge, jumbled boulders (glacial erratics?) forming caves that were blowing icy cold air out their openings. This was spectacularly refreshing. We also encountered a group of AT northbounders on their way to Katahdin, who were taking the weekend to slackpack (not carry their full backpack) across the Bigelow Range backwards, and a couple of AT southbounders just a few weeks on the trail and bound for Georgia.
All too quickly we started climbing up out of Safford Notch onto Little Bigelow. This was a beautiful section of trail that unfortunately due to the heat I could not appreciate. I very quickly was back to struggling again, in spite of plenty of food and water and even a cold, soaking wet bandana on my head. I ended up just putting it in low gear and moving at my own pace, apart from the group, because I was nervous that if I did anything else I wouldn't make it the long distance back to the car.
No matter, it wasn't too long before we arrived at the brook by Little Bigelow Campsite where we jumped in to cool down. Well, I kneeled; it was Amy who actually got all the way in. After cooling ourselves off it was a beautiful green tunnel following what I believe was an old woods road back out the car, finishing our 8.7-mile day in around 7-1/2 hours. Ironically, here were the worst bugs, so as soon as everyone was out of the woods we hopped in the cars and hit the road. It was a long ride back to the starting point, but we stopped along the way at Annie's Exxon for cold drinks, which we drank very, very quickly.
Back at the starting point we encountered the slackpacking AT hikers, having finished our entire 2-day traverse in less time than we did just one leg of it. Amazing what 2,000 miles of training and conditioning can do. We loaded up our own cars and headed home. I tried a new route: Rte 16 all the way to Gorham, then back to I-93 via Rtes 2, 115, and 3. It turned out to be long, 5 hours in total, but a beautiful ride through the Rangely lakes region, past Umbagog, and down along the Androscoggin.
This was a great hike. The Bigelow Range is an incredible stretch of terrain, and I hope I get the chance to get back there some cool, crisp, bug-free autumn day. I think we did 17 miles of trail with between 5000' and 6000' of elevation gain.
My full photo album is here.
