Thanksgiving morning outdoors

My neighbor Andy and I now have a Thanksgiving tradition- an early morning bicycle ride of a couple of hours down and back through Lincolnville Center to Camden Hills State Park, where we have a few routes that we choose from. According to Andy, we did this same ride last year, when we went up Cameron Mountain and then down the back side to Youngstown Road. This time, I promised my wife I’d be ready to travel at 11 AM to my sister-in-law’s place for a family get-together, so we altered the route a bit and stuck to the multipurpose trail in the park.

Home to Camden Hills State Park and back

There are just two more days of deer hunting w/ rifle season, so I wore a high visibility vest and tied a hunter orange bandanna to the back of my helmet.
It was below freezing on the ground when we left at 8:45 AM, and there was some black ice on the pavement, so no brakes or quick turns for a while.
The following picture was taken on the “closed” Martin’s Corner gravel road. Andy told me that there was a snapping turtle that was living in this super-sized puddle this past summer, that once advanced on him as he was riding through there.

Andy Hazen and the Thanksgiving ice

I’m thankful today that I live here, surrounded by woods, rocks, hills, and ocean. I’m thankful I have a loving family, that I still have my health, and that I can walk right out my door on my bikes and ride, or walk to these incredible trails and hike.

Bubbas Bike Bradbury

It’s sometimes surprising to view a visual record of where I go on my bikes. This one is wild!

Squiggles on Bradbury Mountain State Park

I haven’t ridden this place in at least 10 years, and sure regret being away for so long. I so much miss riding in the woods right outside of my house these past three weeks. Deer hunting season lasts one more week, plus snow may come at anytime to dramatically change the riding patterns up here in Maine. Thankfully, deer hunting is outlawed on Sundays.  When I heard that there was a Sunday Bubba ride to Bradbury Mountain State park, outside of Freeport, ME I was in.  The ride from here is close to 4 hours of round trip travel, including stops for gas and coffee.  Sunset is now at 4:04 PM, so you gotta take advantage of any good day to be out and this was it- blue skies, no wind, but there was that 26 degree start to the day.

There were tons of people out on the trails today.  The parking lot was full. The riding is less technical than up here on Ragged and Pleasant Mountains, so you roll through the woods faster.  There are few sustained downhills, so you pedal more, and pedal faster.  I soon shed one of my three top layers, but needed the chemical toe warmers in my shoes to stay comfortable.  It maybe hit 40 today.  At the end of the ride, Rigger and Nate grilled up some brats and hot dogs, and Steve provided some chips for some needed calories that helped warm me up gain.

Bubbas in the Woods

We stuck to the trails on the “East Side”.  The following is some of the good information from the bikekinetics website :
General Description:  Bradbury Mountain State Park in Pownal, ME is a popular, four season outdoor recreation and trail destination. The park is located in the Casco Bay region of southern Maine just 30 miles from Portland and Auburn-Lewiston, two of Maine’s largest urban centers and 5 miles north of Freeport, a town well-known for it’s outlet shopping bargains.   The forested, Bradbury Mountain with a summit scoured bald by glacier action during the last ice age, is the hub of Bradbury Mountain State Park. Rising to 469-ft above sea level, it may be considered more of a hill than a mountain, but mountain bikers from all over the northeast know that a mountain or park need not be huge in order to be a significant mountain biking mecca. This is certainly true of 800-acre Bradbury Mountain State Park, Maine’s first state park.

Over 18 miles of multi-use trails are shared by hikers, mountain bikers, horseback riders and cross country skiers. The trails radiate out from the mountain like spokes on a wheel and run over varied terrain to create excellent mountain biking options and endless trail connections for riders of all ability and skill levels.

The panoramic views of the Casco Bay coastal plain, opportunities to watch migrating hawks, eagles and osprey soar on thermal updrafts or view the rainbow colors of changing seasons on the landscape below, draw trail users of all types to the summit of Bradbury Mountain. By design, there are trails of varied lengths and difficulty levels to lead you there.

Several trails that climb the steep southern face of the mountain, like the Summit and South Ridge Trails are designated for hiking only. The challenging and technical multi-use Boundary Trail, popular with intermediate to advanced riders, climbs the north and west slopes. The Northern Loop Trail provides an easier path with a gradual climb up the east side of the mountain.

Park Facilities: include over 40 camping and RV sites, showers, sheltered and open picnic areas, restrooms, playground and ball field.

There is even a bike wash station located at the south end of the upper parking lot to clean your bike after your ride. How cool is that!

The Trails:   There are 18.8 miles of shared-use trails within Bradbury Mountain State Park. Of these, over 12 miles were designed especially for optimum mountain biking experiences. The well-marked and maintained trails vary from wide woods roads and doubletrack snowmobile trails to narrow singletrack trails.   The Maine Department of Conservation is currently working to expand the trail system by linking Bradbury State Park to contiguous and nearby conserved lands. This includes the development of a trail from the park’s northern boundary, across Tryon Mountain, across a Power Corridor to the Pineland Public Land Unit, a state-owned parcel of woodlands and agricultural fields with an existing three-mile trail network.

Route 9 bisects the Bradbury Mountain State Park north/south dividing Bradbury Mountain State Park into two distinct sections: East and West.
Bradbury Mountain East Side Trails

All of the trails on the east side of the park are open to mountain bikes. Trail intersections are marked by numbered wooden posts. This is where you’ll find most of the intermediate and beginner singletrack trails. The trails range from fast and flowy to tight and twisty with ups and downs, drops, bridges, and rocky, rooty sections. There is no real elevation gain in this half of the park. The trails mostly wind through old abandoned fields that have reverted to a mixed growth forest of paper birch, red maple, white pine and red oak over the last 40 to 50 years.

Snowmobile Trail: 1.5 miles. Easy
The wide, doubletrack snowmobile trail bisects the area north/south providing connections to other trails in the section allowing for any number of longer loop rides. This wide thoroughfare trail is perfect for beginners getting used to biking off pavement in the woods. There are a few steep grades, however.

Knight Woods Trail: 1.1 miles. Easy
Wide family-friendly biking with kids trail with slight grade. Several interpretive signs along the route provide trail users with a brief history of the area, forest and wildlife.

Fox East Trail: 1.4 miles and Fox West Trail (IMBA): 1.2 miles. Intermediate
Narrow, singletrack with sharp turns, bridges, long skinnies, up and downs, slick rocky and rooty sections and a few steep hills. Warm up on the Fox West Trail built by IMBA then tackle the fast Fox East which is the more challenging of the two trails.

Ginn Trail: 2.6 Miles. Intermediate
Narrow singletrack with a series of technical, rolling climbs, several bridges and skinnies.

Island Trail: 1.3 miles. Intermediate
Relatively new trail accessed from the Lanzo Trail consists of narrow singletrack with very sharp turns and a few bridges.

Lanzo Trail: 1.6 miles. Intermediate.
Fairly level, narrow and flowy singletrack lined with logs. While you will encounter rock, roots and a few sharp turns and bridges, there is nothing overly technical.

Ragan Trail: 0.7 miles. Intermediate
Narrow, rolling and flowy single track with obstacles that you can can opt to go around. This trail also features a challenging, high bridge for those who have no fear of heights and the confidence born of practice on less lofty obstacles.

When I hear about any more rides to Bradbury, I’m going.

Reading the Forested Landscape: A Natural History of New England by Tom Wessels – Reviews, Discussion, Bookclubs, Lists

I am so excited by this book…..

Read my review below.  Thanks to Philip Werner, Author of http://SectionHiker.com, outdoor writer, hiking guide, and educator for recommending it:

Goodreads | Reading the Forested Landscape: A Natural History of New England by Tom Wessels – Review

Running Ragged

Runner at water stop

You never know how things might work out.

Yesterday, I volunteered to work a water station, placed just past the 4th of the 9 mile Ragged Mountain Runaround, a first year trail running race organized by Steve Wagoner, taking place at the Camden Snow Bowl. My friend Trevor Mills was also with me, handing out water and encouragement.

The day was as humid as you can get- 100%. I have rode the exact course many times, on a mountain bike, but have never actually hiked it. We had radio communication and were updated as to runner progress. We knew when the last runner had started to head down from the top of the mountain toward us, with three miles to get to us, on a long downhill.

She was the 31st runner to pass us at our post, roughly half way done. We would see all of these runners again after they completed the 3+ mile-long Five Brooks Trail, and loop through this intersection a second time, as they headed down the mountain to the finish line.

We had a long wait, maybe a one hour wait. The mosquitoes were active today.

Ding!

I got the idea to leave Trevor to hand out water, catch up with back of the pack, and serve as a “sweep”, to help out any injured or exhausted runners as they labored back to the finish line. At first I hiked fast, but then realized that I’d have to run a bit if I were to reach anyone before they made it back to the water station.

The problem is that I am not a runner- I haven’t run for at least 20 years, with knees that have both had the cartilage removed way back when. I knew the trail, and basically loped along in jogging mode, shuffling quickly over wet roots, rocks and ledges when necessary. The sections of softer forest floor were comforting. I was soon completely drenched in sweat, but got into it, and was surprised at just how quickly I moved, realizing that I was actually sometimes faster over some sections than when riding a bicycle over the same terrain.

I caught the last runner just after Massey Falls, when I hung back enough to stay out of the guy’s sight line. The last runner that passed us had obviously passed him.

I made it back to Trevor and the water station after 3.5 miles where I had a long drink.

Cool! I had fun, and I understand these trail running folks better now.

A Cool Glide Through Maine – NYTimes.com

A Cool Glide Through Maine – NYTimes.com.

Eric Hansen catches some criticism on his trip preparation for this one.  Also featuring two of my PCT thru-hiking buddies, Bear and Sparkles, who are living the dream up here.

Light box, Vitamin D, and caffeine!

Maine is a light deprivation chamber for most of a 24 hour period right now. Up to about 14 hours of darkness, so it’s difficult to get outside and walk.
This is a shot of my morning launch pad, taken at the breakfast table. Note the light box that Auntie Mame and I fire up each winter day to ward off depression. That, a double shot of espresso, and 50,000 units of vitamin D got me going this morning. I’m riding on an up and down ferry right now in the middle of Penobscot Bay headed out to work on Vinalhaven island. My morning commute is pretty decent!

Breakwater Hike

The most unique hike in the Midcoast Maine area is the one mile (Well, really 7/8 mile) granite path known as the Rockland Breakwater out to the light house at the end.

Ready, set, avoid the cracks.

The breakwater was completed in 1902, after an 11 year construction period.  It was manned until 1965, when it became automated. The city of Rockland acquired it from the Coast Guard in 1998. The light house keeper lived with his family in a house in Glen Cove or Rockland.  He either commuted to work in a boat, or walked the Breakwater.
I recently re-discovered the pleasures of this walk when I was at work in Rockland and in desperate need of an activity break. With just an hour to spare, I hopped in my car, and drove the short distance to the parking lot near the Samoset resort, where there were a half- dozen vehicles. It was easy to see the scattered array of people stretched out on the 1 mile long granite finger that goes waaay out into the Bay.
I went out at high tide. Still, I kept keep my feet dry by dodging puddles.  This  is  a thrilling walk which can leave you in several moods, depending on the clouds, wind, and outside temperature of both the air and water.

Old and new

This picture was taken just at the end.  To the left is an antique schooner, heading out into the Bay.  To the right is the Maine State Ferry that is completing its 70 minute trip from North Haven Island.
Next, I plan to see how long it takes me to walk the whole way out and back from the office.

A Real Day In Maine

Today rocked, because I spent time doing meaningful work. Translation= actual physical labor. Life for most of us in America is insular, removed from water, land, and sky. Today, I chose to bathe my actions in sunlight and meaning. In the morning, I used my $4 four-tray dehydrator to process several pounds of fresh chanterelle mushrooms, that my mother and I harvested from my friend Steve’s woodlot in Searsmont.

Pile 'o chanterelles

The fragrance of those heady, earthy life forms brought me back to the days when I was a boy, living with my parents and grandmother, when I would leave my room and wander through the kitchen upstairs where my grandmother had lines of sliced wild mushrooms dangling from threads of cotton in the dark warm cupboards. Tonight a hard frost is predicted, so next on my to-do list was to harvest any remaining vegetables that would be ruined by the cold. Most of what I picked were bell peppers, Ace variety, with those bright reds and mottled greens into a basket, next to the eggplants, zucchinis and tomatoes that were left amidst the weeds at this time of year.

Garden veggies

I was still aching for more of the outside that I could not clearly identify. Thus the hour and a half of moving and stacking firewood. I had bought two cords of mixed 24” and 16” lengths of oak, beech, and maple a month ago and have been moving the pile from where it was dumped up by the road to the woodshed, several hundred feet away.

Two cords or 9,000 pounds of wood

Normally, I crank up the little John Deere, hook up the trailer and shuffle back and forth, moving the stuff. Today, was different. I used my wheelbarrow instead, lifting lots of heavy loads, and then pushing and grunting my way up the little hill to the shed. Lately, I have been seeking genuine experiences with real work that include heavy lifting, pushing, pulling. What follows is the sweetness of genuine fatigue, the kind that makes sleep come easy and deep. I have also enjoyed cooking for myself, with my wife away for four days. For supper, I fried up a mess of the fresh peppers, onion, and a half pound of chourico, accompanied by a half a plate full of fresh tomatoes, topped with mayonnaise, salt and pepper.

Harvested

Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and before I laid out on the couch for a while, I put into the crock pot the fixings for a roasted butternut squash soup, including kielbasa, yellow split peas, sage and marjoram. The squash was one of two dozen that my mother grew for me in Massachusetts. When I come home from my ferry ride to work on Vinalhaven tomorrow afternoon, the house should be filled with the aroma of real food, from real vegetables, produced by real hands, from the very real world.

Bigelow Range- 2011 Version

Auntie Mame behind a windshield of ice

Woke up to a layer of ice this morning on the Caravan windshield outside our room at the Stratton Motel, where our the warm room had two double beds, a hot water bathtub,  fridge, microwave, and even better, no management here for the past 18 hours- how about the 28 degrees outside !
On the way up, I received an email from the owner, Sue,  to just go in and take room  #3 if she wasn’t around. Sue remembered me from several other times I’ve stayed here.  Easy.
Clarkie was to be over to hit breakfast at 7 AM when the restaurant opened. I was up early and decided to bestow some trail magic on a couple of hikers who were in full packs and shuffling around in the parking lot at 6 :20 AM, looking dejected after their 6 AM shuttle failed to show. I gave them a ride down Route 27 to near the AT where a gravel road dug right toward Crocker Mountain. I was unable to get more than a half mile there due to a washed out culvert, so they had to walk the remaining 3 and 1/2 miles to a trail head.  Nearby was  a section of Route 27 that had been washed out during Hurricane Irene, with a crew from Colorado was there on major rebuild of the road. 
When I got back to the motel, Sue showed up just before 7.  She took $50 cash for the room, taxes included.
Good breakfast at the White Wolf Inn, where we also ate last night sharing the table with Clarkie and Carol.  Get The Wolf  Burger. Yes.  Our breakfasts featured a choice of three types of home made toast- thick sliced- and the eggs were local. I had Eggs Benedict for $6.95. Decent, but nothing special.
Then the ride to the Firewarden’s Trail, two and a-quarter miles down a partially washed-out Stratton Brook Pond road that Clarkie negotiated with no problems.
We parked the car as far as we dared on the gravel road, and then walked to the pond, where our first challenge was to get across the inlet without slipping on a rock.

Auntie Mame tested

What a day!  This is, so far, the best hiking day of the year: cool, clear blue skies, ample water (for drinking), light breeze, rich golden sunlight, and foliage bleeding with fall color.
The morning’s walk was one sustained ascent of over 3,000 feet in elevation.  It started flat, then went gradual, up to intermediate, and lastly – significantly steep. At times, there was mud to avoid, even up high.

No mud on Mame

The last 3/4 mile to Bigelow Col is exceptionally steep, climbing over 1,300 feet in that distance up a section of natural rock stairs that appeared as if they had been planted there centuries ago.
We three were fine in reaching to within  0.4 of a mile of Avery Peak. At this point we sacked out at one of the tent platforms just below Bigelow Col, where we enjoyed  the sun and our lunches. I unpacked my little percolator and made fresh strong coffee for Auntie Mame and myself, laced with powdered Nido ( whole milk) and some sugar. By now it was past noon, and since Clarkie had to be back to Rangely by 4:30 PM, we turned around and headed back down the same way we went up.

Going Down!

Both Mame and I greatly appreciated the attitude that Clarkie ( AKA Tenzing)  brought to this adventure.

Tenzing at the ready

It was simply put: “If we don’t make it all the way to the summit, we’ll have a great time just being out, being together, hiking around, and enjoying the jewels along the path. We can always come back again and give it another go.”
The down was much quicker than the up. The air was refreshing and  light was stunning, illuminating the changing forest zones and rocky, stream ribboned areas for the next couple hours. I took some good photos as souvenirs, along with three perfect boletus mushrooms that I’ll slice and dry when I get home.
By the time Clarkie dropped us off at 3:45 PM at our our Caravan in the Stratton Motel parking lot, thru hikers had taken all 4 of the rooms at the motel.  Both Marcia and I were beat, so we decided to take a $65 room at the White Wolf Motel, which was half filled with ATV (All Terrain Vehicle) folks. At one point, mud encrusted ATV’s outnumbered the cars in the lot here.
Our room was a bit of an upgrade from the Stratton motel, and was clean and apportioned with the one thing I wanted most- a bath tub. I stretched out under the hot water,  laid my head back on a bunched-up towel, and proceeded to pass out in the tub for a half hour.
Dinner was in the room, and consisted of some fresh mufalletta dip, hummus, and Fritos followed by fresh pizza ( $6.95 !) from the store next door, with chocolate Haggen-Das ice cream for dessert.
The evening’s entertainment was watching My Cousin Vinnie on the TV.
I love Stratton and look forward to more adventures up here, no matter when, where, with who, or how they will unfold.

Katahdin 2011

I hit the brakes and veered the Voyager around , heading back on Rt. 7.
“We’ve got to save that turtle,”  I told General Lee and Bill as we stopped in the lane and Lee got out and approached the painted turtle that was immobile in the center of the road.   I have seen too many dead crushed turtles at this time of year on the Maine roads, and this one made it easily to the other side of the road with the help of General Lee, who placed it on the gravel, safely off the path of oncoming tires.
So started our 24+ hour adventure up to and back from the top of Mt. Katahdin, in Maine’s Baxter State Park.
We were able to obtain a reserved parking spot at the lot in Roaring Brook campground, and although the weather was not predicted to be 100%, we hoped to have a day of it, a big day of hiking to the summit of Maine’s highest mountain.

“Head up the road about four and a half miles and look for a small sign on a spruce tree that says BOC.  Turn left there and take that short-cut to the Painted Rock’” the clerk at the Abol Bridge store told us.  Such are the directions in upcountry Maine.

We were at the Togue pond (southern) gate of Baxter State park by 6:10 AM, where there was no line, and then easily negotiated the 10 miles or so over gravel road to Roaring Brook, but without seeing a moose.
After saddling up our packs, we headed up the 3.3 mile Chimney Pond Trail where we were eventually greeted by glimpses of the the massive 2,000 foot headwall on this side of Katahdin.

Headwall Obscured Above Chimney Pond

Unfortunately, we were beset by thick cloud cover, so our panorama was obscured by the weather, which would continue to affect us for the rest of the day.

After checking in at the ranger station, listening to her tell us where we could find the bail-out path on the way up, that it was NOT a good day to do the Knife Edge, and that there was 90% chance of thunderstorms and showers all day, we proceeded up the Cathedral Trail, at 1.6 miles the most direct and steepest way to get to the top from Chimney Pond.  As soon as we left, we hit rain on the hardest part of the trail.  No matter how miserable it would be, we were going to do it anyway.  Unfortunately it also required 2,353 vertical feet of elevation gain- a ridiculously huge challenge to get my 215 pounds up there.
But we did it- in the fog, over wet rocks, with the path plugged silly by a group of 15 or from a boy’s camp.  This was no place for hiking poles, which I stored in my pack, trading them for a pair of gloves.  The hike was so steep that it required several upper body moves where I had to grab tightly on some crevices above and trust my arms to  pull me up and over.
On the way up, near the top, sat a solo hiker on a rock pile, taking on a snack just before the turn toward the summit.  Turned out it was Laredo, who had also thru-hiked the AT in 2007.  I remember reading his shelter register entries, especially the funny song he wrote about the bemoaning Cove Mountain shelter. He finished a month before I did, and we experienced a grand reunion up there- high on the rocks, starting out at the mist. We now all hiked together all the way to to the summit, where there were already thirty people eating, yelling, running around, snapping pictures and talking on their cell phones.

Uncle Tom and General Lee

Of course, Lee and I had never abandoned our plan to hike the often treacherous and always fabled Knife Edge, so when the clouds started to break, we looked at each other and one of us said, “We’d better go. Now.”
Up, over, and out we went- into the cloud world of mist atop what has been described as a dinosaur’s back. I’d done this thing twice before and I didn’t think there was much work to it, but today it was formidable.  Most of the time, I was scanning the total rock world ahead, and trying to pick a footpath that would render me mostly vertical.  The surface of the rocks pitched this way and that, and the walk also went up and down, even some back and forth.

Bill Gifford working the Knife Edge

I dredged up from the memory bank an image of  one harrowing section- a bad drop near the end of the ridge, and it was still bad.
The thunder started up before we reached Pamola.  As we hit the peak, the rain started, lightly at first, but then more persistently, so we didn’t stop, but shot right over the summit and booked it down the other side, where we were still terrifyingly exposed.
I pulled my Lekis to full extension and got ready to focus. It was a long, tough  3.2 miles back to the car. The rain made the rocks treacherous and there was no way that either Lee, Bill, or I could not avoid sliding distances over some of the slippery steep ledges, but each time, we were upright when we hit the low points.  We all survived the steep unrelenting descent, but I did experience a significantly bloody knee, resulting from a leap off a tall ledge to the bottom, where I neglected to factor into the leap the horizontal distance from me to a neighboring ledge that I bashed against.
We made it to the car by 2:30 PM- a decent day of working the trails, for sure.  After we headed out of Medway and got onto I-95 the skies opened up, the wind increased, and it started to hail.   At times, most of the cars on the road were pulled off, due to the volume of water falling from the sky. It was the first time that I have been in a car where the hail was so big that I was worried about my windshield cracking.  The storm followed us all the way back to Waldo County.
We rolled into the driveway changed people.  All that we experienced fit into a window of opportunity that took just a few hours more than just 1 day.  This was the fifteenth time that I had walked to the summit of Mt. Katahdin, and I trust that the road ahead leads me back again sometime.  The turtle is back on trail.