2008-06-28--2008-07-06: Wrangell-St. Elias NP

My flight arrived in Anchorage around midnight, and Trav and Kev came to
pick me up.  We returned to Kev's place, did some last-minute packing up
and got John (who was napping).  We hit the road around 00:30.

Zooming up from Anchorage to Glennallen, we just missed two moose along
the way in the dusky skies.  At one point we had to stop for 10 or 15
minutes at a construction site, and we were a bit worried that the road
was closed, but eventually they let us through.  Got gas in Glennallen,
then continued south and east along the border of the national park, to
Chitina, where we finally entered the park through a narrow notch
between two cliffs, perhaps blasted out.  This was the beginning of the
60-mile long, dirt, McCarthy Road.  We zipped along it, dodging
(usually) many hare along the way, and finally arriving at the outskirts
of the tiny town of McCarthy at the end of the road.  To get to the
actual town, one has to walk from this point, over a river on a
pedestrian bridge.  We found a place to park in a lot near the river,
and made our final packing adjustments before hiking over to McCarthy
Air, who then flew us in to a sandbar at Iceberg Lake, dropping us off
at about 10:25.  We hiked a short distance to some small lakes, set up
camp, ate a good lunch, and napped for a few hours.  Then we went and
played around on a small nearby glacier before returning for a yummy
dinner.  After eating we hiked back to Iceberg Lake, though it took much
longer than expected as most of the lake (the part closest to us) had
drained and it was quite small.

We got up to find ice on the water around us after a cold night, but the
skies rapidly clearing.  We had a tasty pancake breakfast, then started
hiking north and west up the valley.  After crossing a soggy field,
passing a bunch more small lakes with little icebergs, and hiking over
plenty of jumbled rock, we reached the edge of a glacier.  We climbed up
and over it with our crampons, avoid sketchy snow-covered areas that
could be hiding crevasses, and continued to make our way up the valley.
The glacier was contiguous with a huge, long snowfield which we followed
up the valley.  We stopped at a cool ice cave that had been carved out
under the glacier by meltwater and explored it a bit.  I hiked up along
the rocky moraines that paralleled the valley floor for quite a while as
the others stayed down on the snow.  Eventually I came down to the snow
again to join everyone for a late lunch.  Continuing, the snow
eventually came to an end and we squished our way through the soggy
ground beside the river that flowed from this side of the glacier and
snowfields.  The valley seemed to continue forever.  Eventually we grew
very tired and found a relatively flat, dry spot to stop and set up
camp, although we first enjoyed a good nap in the evening sun.  We
finally ate a late dinner (22:00) of pizza and calzones before heading
to sleep, the sky still very bright at 23:00.

We got up and had a simple breakfast, then headed a little further along
the soggy valley--encountering our first of many ptarmigans along the
way--before turning north for a steep climb up to a pass.  We made it up
in good time, and found a great place behind a rock outcropping to stop
for a break.  We wanted to do a side trip, so we decided to set up camp
there.  There were some recent bear tracks in the snow right near that
spot, so we wondered if we might see one, but did not.  After lunch and
a rest, we hiked to the summit of the unnamed peak on the west side of
the pass, scrambling over loose rock and trudging through one deep
snowfield.  It took a little while to make the summit, but it was
absolutely amazing.  360-degree views, and despite breezy conditions
earlier, it was totally calm.  We spent a long time up there, just
looking around and taking photos, before finally making our way back
down.  We had fun sliding on some steeper snowfields that we'd avoided
on the way up.  Back at camp we made fettucini alfredo for dinner, with
some popcorn for dessert!  The alpenglow on the mountains was excellent
as the sun went down.

After a delicious breakfast of fry bread and syrup, we packed up and
continued northward through the pass, sliding down snowfields, past icy
blue ponds, through a narrow notch in a rock outcropping, and into a
vast meadow.  From there we started bushwhacking to the west a little
bit, looking for a way to get all the way down to the Tana Lobe of the
Bremner Glacier.  We decided to forego the description in the guidebook
and take our chances on a steeper descent.  After temporarily losing a
pole in a hollow under a snowfield, thrashing through some thick brush,
easing down the bank of a rushing stream, and finally bushwhacking again
around a cascade in that stream, we made it down and had lunch on a rock
outcropping.  The mosquitos lunched on us at the same time, so we moved
on quickly, crossing mound after sandy mound of loose dirt and rock
comprising the moraine of the glacier, occasionally scraping through the
surface of it to find solid ice below.  Soon after reaching and crossing
a glacial river flowing through the moraine, we arrived the main glacier
surface, and were fascinated with its self-contained system of pristine
streams and foreboding crevasses and moulins (deep holes).  It was an
easy, though slightly uphill, walk northwest across the glacier, which
was pocked with rocks.  We did have to continue to watch for dangerous
moulins along the way, though, of which there were a few.  After a short
snack break at a huge boulder near the north edge of the glacier, we
began what was to be a hideous bushwhack into a lush valley.  Again we
risked passing up our guidebook's advice to stay high above the bushes,
this time to our detriment.  Luckily it was only an hour of suffering,
but it was certainly an hour too much.  We scrambled miserably through
the horizontal trunks of the shrub-like alders, losing footing, getting
our packs caught in branches, acquiring many scrapes, and getting very
dirty and sweaty.  The weather, which had been fantastic so far, worked
against us as we had the had hottest temperatures of the entire trip on
this late afternoon slog.  Finally, after passing in and out of thickets
for a while, we saw a mostly clear path back down to the stream at the
low point of the valley.  Another debate ensued, and we decided to cross
the river, which wasn't huge but was clearly powerful.  Alternatively we
could have hiked upstream and crossed beyond the split in the river,
each branch presumably of smaller size at that point.  So, we
bushwhacked a bit more down to the bank, then for quite some time up and
down the bank looking for a good spot to cross.  It turns out there
really wasn't one, so finally we made a careful plan, crossed without
packs (which we threw across), got a little wet (just feet), and had a
little excitement.  We made camp soon afterward, just uphill from the
river in the scraggly duff of the valley's west side.  We made burritos
for dinner, though were interrupted for a little while as we watched a
black bear across the river that looked like he might be coming our way.
Finishing the meal as the temperature dropped considerably, we then dug
a large plug out of the duff and built a fire directly on the exposed
soil, so as not to scar the landscape.  After the our scant collection
of firewood finally burned out, we called it a day around 23:30.

We started the day hiking northward, further up the valley.  After a
short distance, we turned west and ascended through a rocky pass that
led through several snowfields and past some beautiful mountain lakes,
one of which we stopped at for lunch, a long nap in the warm sun, and
even a (very, very short) dip in the icy water for Kevin.  Continuing
from there we descended to the valley of the meandering Monahan Creek,
which we followed at a leisurely pace until late in the day,
encountering several more ptarmigans along the way.  As the river picked
up speed and began to enter a canyon as it neared its junction with
Ptarmigan Creek, we stopped to camp for the night.  Despite a large
grassy field, it was difficult to find a location that wasn't lumpy.  We
did the best we could.  We explored the river canyon a little bit, and
then made two different Thai dishes for dinner, which were delicious.
We had popcorn yet again as well, followed by an interesting encounter
with an unintimidated male ptarmigan.  For lack of a very good place for
a tent, Kevin and I slept under the stars.  It was chilly, but we slept
well.

Today we started off with a delicious breakfast of sausage and biscuits
before continuing down Monahan Creek along the rim of its canyon, to its
confluence with Ptarmigan Creek.  There we spent a while figuring out
the best way across, and though there was not nearly as much flow as our
previous big crossing, it wasn't easy to find a good spot.  We got
across without any big problems, though, and followed the creek's valley
northward, slowly angling up the valley wall to try to stay above the
heavy brush, which we had to bushwhack through a bunch of times.  Soon
we reached a side valley that was the entrance to our next pass, the
highest of all of them on this trip.  It was a long, chilly climb up
over much loose scree and snow.  The cool temperatures and overcast
skies were certainly better than hot sun for a strenuous ascent like
this, though.  We had expected to find some flowing water with all of
the snow around, but never really did, and we were just about out of
drinking water.  Eventually we stopped at the bottom lip of one of the
snow fields and dug down a bit.  Sure enough, there was a trickle of
water running down some rocks, and we managed to make a tiny pool from
which to pump it out.  Kevin cut his hand while pulling rocks out.  It
was a minor injury, but as a sign of the success of the trip, it was the
worst injury any one of us would incur the entire time (with the
possible exception of Travis's escapades with a guard rail back on
McCarthy Road before the hike itself really began).  Soon after filling
up, we reached the top of the pass.  There were some good views around,
but the current weather hampered them somewhat.  We sat down and had
lunch, huddled in a small indentation out of the wind.  After lunch it
was all downhill, and we didn't have much farther to go.  We started
with a long slide down a snowfield, the longest of the entire trip.  It
was a blast, but was over in seconds.  After a couple more minutes, we
came to another snowy drop, this one ending in an icy pond.  Due to the
danger of the pond and the steepness of the slope, we each (except for
me for some reason) grabbed sharp rocks to use in case a self-arrest
became necessary while sliding down.  Kevin went first, right toward the
pond.  I wasn't watching, but as he would retell it later, the soft snow
(as almost all of it was) became much harder near the bottom of the
slope, and instead of being able to dig in and slow down, he started
picking up speed uncontrollably!  Recognizing this, he flipped onto his
stomach, dug in his rock, and after about 30 feet of gouging into the
snow, he came to a halt.  At that point he yelled a warning to us, which
is when I first began to realize what had happened.  So the rest of us
traversed along the snow to try to get past the pond before sliding
down.  Not having grabbed a rock, I myself was a little nervous, so I
just took it slow, with no intention of sliding down.  John and Travis
went ahead of me, and did slide a little.  John had the same experience
as Kevin, and needed to self-arrest.  Travis didn't slide too much, as I
recall, and I did the same--I hiked down cautiously most of the way, and
only slid a little bit at the very end, when it was much safer.  That
thrilling experience behind us, we continued a bit further downhill on
snow, then encountered a flattish grassy bench with little streams
flowing through it and tufts of white fur here and there.  It was
clearly a popular place for mountain goats and/or Dall sheep.  It looked
like a good place to camp, and since we didn't have much further to go
to reach our final destination and were apparently well ahead of
schedule, we decided to stop here.  We explored the area, including
another attractive icy lake further below us (called Golden Pond) and
plenty of views of precipitous cliffsides forming the wall of the valley
further below us.  We sat on the edge of the rock outcropping bordering
our grassy bench and played a bocce-like rock-tossing game.  Nearby
wildlife included a curious hoary marmot living in the rocks, and yet
another ptarmigan wandering around.  Unfortunately for the ptarmigan, we
were starting to get low on food, and so we decided that since they were
so plentiful around here and so slow-moving ....  It tasted somewhat
gamy, and provided only one bite per person, but was an interesting and
new experience for us.  That plus a smallish serving of pasta shells and
sauce was our dinner.  After eating we walked around a bunch more,
downhill a ways toward the larger lake.  I kept looking uphill for goats
or sheep, but never saw any.  Eventually we wandered back to camp at
maybe 22:00 or so and called it a night.

After having a light breakfast of biscuits and jam, we broke camp and
continued down the valley.  We didn't have far to go today before
reaching our final destination, about 1.5 days early, so we were in no
hurry.  Being low on food, we did our best to keep our appetites at bay.
We started down the valley, passing the beautifully icy Golden Pond, and
played with ice a bit.  We also admired the huge cliff walls on the
south side of the valley as we progressed.  We were basically traversing
clockwise around the lower part of a mountain, through sloping grassy
fields that grew ever steeper, so we descended a little bit to where it
was flatter.  We encountered a bunch more ptarmigans, and followed a
river for a little ways too.  Eventually we got far enough around to
where the Golconda Creek valley came into view, and soon after, the
Bremner Mine airstrip, where we'd be getting picked up on Sunday
morning.  We continued traversing, staying above the thicker bushes, and
crossed some scree slides.  Eventually, we were able to make out the
remains of the old mining road that ran along the valley, and dropped
down to it.  There were some bear tracks and human footprints, though
none necessarily recent.  We hiked northward toward the airstrip (and
the historic abandoned mining village of Bremner just beyond it), and
were able to see some old structures in the distance.  We stopped for a
meager lunch along a brook, eating the remains of our cheese, crackers,
and beefstick.  Then we hiked upstream to a structure we'd seen, and
spent some time inspecting it.  It was some kind of a bin, presumably
for ore, up on stilts, with cables attached for bucketing the stuff to
or from somewhere else.  After checking it out, we hiked back downhill,
then up the road a bit before finding and exploring an old shack that
had lots of old junk in it, as well as a couple of bird's nests.  We had
fun exploring in and around it, then continued up to the airstrip and
across it.  We found some bear canisters with outgoing mail in them,
suggesting that there might actually be someone staying in the village.
We left our packs and hiked about a mile further up the road to the old
village, where we took a little time to explore a cool old garage with
an old Ford pickup in it!  It also had lots of cool old tools.  There
was a construction tractor and some other old machinery around outside,
too.  Then we wandered over to an old house, which did indeed appear
inhabited, although no one was around at the moment.  We found some
field guide books laid out in the back room for visitors, and checked
them out a bit, then headed back toward the airstrip.  There we set up
camp and made dinner.  We were pretty hungry, but still ate lightly, so
that we'd still have enough food to get through our last day.  After
dinner we made a fire in a pre-existing fire pit and hung out a while
before bed.

During the night we were woken a few times by a loudly gobbling nearby
ptarmigan (we think).  In drizzly weather we started out the day with an
excellent pancake breakfast.  Having eaten very lightly yesterday, we
had enough food for good meals today.  We soon started up with a hike
uphill on an old road toward an old mining area called Sheriff Mine.
Eventually we were practically walking in a stream the whole way.  We
encountered another ptarmigan with several chicks, one of which we
picked up.  We found an old Chevy and played around on it a bit, then
continued uphill to find a huge rock pile that we suspected might have
been the old mine adit.  Also in the area were lots of odds and ends
artifacts, such as pots and pans, and even an unbroken glass jar filled
with some kind of practically unidentifiable food mixture!  From there
we headed back downhill and returned to the main "village" where the
majority of the buildings are located.  We walked up to the powerhouse
and found that it was still in amazing condition inside.  We spent quite
a while investigating all of the old machinery, panels and gauges, and
boxes of odds and ends.  Then we walked down to a small building that
turned out to be some kind of boss's house, complete with old paperwork.
Near that was the house that we yesterday thought appeared to be
inhabited.  Sure enough, we knocked and someone answered!  It was an
interpretive ranger, an older woman named Barbara Morford who was very
friendly and very happy to have guests.  We were the first people she'd
seen all summer, and she'd been here three weeks already!  We came in
and chatted with her for a while as we ate our lunch (a potpourri of our
remaining snacks) in the back room. Then we headed northward a short
distance to the Lucky Girl Mine.  The ore-processing buildings by this
mine were mostly destroyed, with lots of the machinery strewn about
downhill from it.  We explored what was left of it, and even managed to
find the old mine shaft mostly obstructed by a pile of snow.  We
squeezed past the snow, though, and were able to look in past the grates
that had been put up.  We then returned to the ranger's house,
bushwhacking a bit through the valley to get there.  This time we
visited with her for quite a long time, asking lots of questions and
hearing lots of stories about her and the area.  She shared cookies and
hot chocolate, and we were thankful for it.  After our long chat, we
went next door and explored a large shed/garage that we hadn't been to
yet.  In it were lots of tools, including one hilariously large wrench
that gave us quite a laugh.  While out there, a flapping piece of the
tin roof got our attention, and we ended up staying to repair it, with
the help of a ladder from the ranger.  She was very happy that we did
it!  We then returned to camp and had a partial dinner of quesadillas.
Then we played bocce using our Nalgene bottles.  Having recently heard
that the plastic in them was bad for you, we decided to try to smash the
seemingly indesctructable containers, and Kevin managed to do it!  Then
we strolled around a bit, down the airstrip and back, before having some
more dinner--some cajun chicken and some Ramen noodles.  Made a fire
once again before bedtime.

We got up at perhaps 08:00 and stared at the very thick clouds overhead,
worrying about whether our pilot Gary would be able to make it in for
our scheduled 11:00 pickup.  It had gotten so clear the night before
that we were disappointed to see it get all cloudy again so suddenly.
Just as we were finishing our breakfast, where heard a plane coming and
figured out that it was ours!  We had originally scheduled the pick-up
for 09:00, but changed it to 11:00, and they'd failed to change it on
all of their calendars I guess.  Anyway, we broke down camp rapidly as
Gary waited, and we packed up and flew out of there!  Ranger Barbara had
been planning to stroll over and see us in the morning and say hi to
Gary, but of course she didn't get to after all.  After the plane took
off and made a sharply banked U-turn in the valley, we passed over
Barbara's residence and could see her waving at the plane from down
below.  I snapped a few photos as we got off the ground, and then my
final camera battery promptly ran out!  We completed the flight back to
McCarthy, bringing our grand Alaskan backcountry adventure to a close.


2008-06-15--2008-06-17: Acadia NP

It was pouring rain as we drove up the Maine coast, and we were doubtful
that going to the park was going to be worthwhile.  But eventually it
started clearing up and drying out as we got further northeast.  Called
Dad while driving and had a nice Father's Day chat.  Got to the park
around maybe 13:00, bought a pass, parked in Bar Harbor and walked
around a bit.  Ordered some take-out sandwiches, walked past some shops
and then along the shore and around a big old hotel while we waited for
them, then ate them on a park bench overlooking the water.  Then we
drove south a bit and got onto Park Loop Road from Schooner Head Road
after stopping briefly at an outlook.  We drove down the loop road a
ways, stopping at a couple of places: Sand Beach, Thunder Hole (which
was utterly quiet), a little spot where we climbed down to the rocky
shore and looked at the rocks and some birds.

We got back onto Route 3, drove on a small side road along the east side
of Somes Sound, then around to the west side of it and to the Sea Wall
campground.  Arrived around 16:30, got a tent site (the place was mostly
deserted), set up our tent and threw some items inside, then headed back
out again.  We stopped at a picnic area just across the street from the
campsite and walked down by the rocky shore, then drove down the road to
see the Bass Harbor Lighthouse and hike the short trail there, where we
saw a harbor seal swimming by the amazingly orange rocky shore.  Then we
hiked along the Ship Harbor Trail along the shallow harbor in which a
bunch of gulls were floating around.  We passed by plenty of flora, then
hiked along the rocky ocean shore.  Returning to our campsite, we had a
nice fire with the plentiful already-cut-and-chopped wood that had been
left in the parking area, and made sausage, crackers, cheese, and soup
for dinner.  The mosquitos were out, but we had headnets and were OK.
After enjoying the fire and peaceful quiet for a while, we headed to bed
around 21:30.

Slept pretty well, though it did rain during the night and actually
leaked a little bit through the seam of the tent fly.  We got up around
06:00 or so, made some oatmeal, then got going on a very active day.  We
first hiked over Flying Mtn on the Flying Mtn Trail, starting at 08:30.
I loved the exposed rock on the trail, and there were a good number of
pretty pine trees, too.  We took in the views of the sound and the ocean
from the summit, then continued down the other side.  The forest was
much denser and darker, in the shadow of the mountain.  We stopped
several times to listen to some beautiful and sometimes eerie bird
songs, and I captured some of the audio with my camera (in a movie).  We
reached the shore of Somes Sound, and spent a short time there, then
planned to continue along the shore under the Eagle Cliffs, but the
trail was closed for peregrine falcon nesting, so we had to return to
our car by a fire road.  It was a pleasant walk along the road, but
there were no views.

We then drove a short distance and hiked a different trail, another fire
road, actually, that followed Man O' War Brook toward Somes Sound.  I
was hoping to find a spot where I'd taken a photo of Kevin 10 years ago
when we visited Acadia.  I wasn't sure where it was, but I remembered
that it was a pretty little waterfall splashing into Somes Sound, a bit
hidden in the trees.  Sure enough, when we reached the end of the trail,
Man O' War Brook was splashing into the Sound just through the trees,
and just as I remembered.  So I had Sherry take a couple of photos of me
there, similar to when I took one of Kevin.  The rocks were really
slippery, though, and I didn't want to go for a swim in the chilly water
of the sound, so I didn't climb quite as far up onto the rocks as I
recalled that Kevin had.  After our short break there, we headed south
on a trail that ascended to the summit of St. Sauveur Mtn.  At the top
we had gorgeous views of Somes Sound, although clouds and fog started
rolling in.  It was overcast now, and would be all day.  We used our
binoculars to look around, and had a bite to eat.  Eventually we
continued back toward the car, and I remembered just how beatiful the
landscape was along the spine of St. Sauveur, with tons of exposed rock
carpeted with the orange needles of the many beautiful pitch pines that
were growing in the area.  A number of the trees were small and oddly
shaped as they struggled to grow around and between the boulders of the
mountain, and the trail often seemed to wind between and around the
branches of the trees.  It was so beautiful that I wanted desperately to
take more photos, but my camera was acting up.  I kept trying it, and
eventually it came back on and I managed to get some shots.  Back at the
bottom, we went just down the road a bit and took a short hike from the
car to the Echo Lake Ledges, which is really just a big exposed bedrock
area along the shore of the lake.

Then we decided to drive up Cadillac Mountain, just in case maybe the
fog would break briefly for us.  It didn't.  There were views below the
clouds at various points on the way up, and we got glimpses of them as
we drove by.  But at the summit, it was totally sacked in, so much so
that standing on a small ledge and looking out, one's view was
completely uniform: foggy white.  We hung around a bit, read some of the
signs, and walked off-trail a bit, being careful to keep our bearings,
as it would've been easy to get lost in the fog.  Soon we headed back
down, and hoped to stop at a viewpoint below the clouds, but missed our
opportunities.  So we drove over to Jordan Pond, parked, and went for a
walk along the edge of the pond, taking in the limited, foggy views of
the hills at the far end.  We then wandered over to the Jordan Pond
House, and spent a little while in the crowded gift shop before heading
out again.  We continued on to the wild gardns, where there are tons of
species of plants, all labelled.  We spent quite a while browsing the
different kinds of flora and trying to learn to recognize and remember
some of them.  We were particularly amazed with how many different types
of ferns there were.  We were getting hungry, so we next drove into Bar
Harbor and walked around a bit looking for a place to eat.

We found a nice restaurant and had a yummy meal on this wet day.  It was
early--around 17:00--so the restaurant was pretty quiet, but there were
plenty of tourists on the streets.  After eating we got back on Park
Loop Road and made a stop at the trailhead for the Ladder Trail, which
was closed because of falcon nesting, but we hoped to spot some of them
up on the cliffs.  Using our binoculars and a map of the cliff, I tried
hard to find the nests in hopes of seeing a falcon, but had no luck,
despite spending quite a while at it, even as it started to rain.
Eventually we gave up and continued down to Sand Beach.

Luckily, the rain stopped, so we were able to get out for a hike.  We
strolled along the beach, then found the beginning of the Great Head
Trail on the steep enmbankment on the far side.  We started up, and saw
a couple of people coming down, but no one else after that on the rest
of the hike.  Looking back as we ascended, we took in the excellent
views of the beach below.  Then we headed into the woods for a while
before emerging at the rocky and sometimes precipitous shoreline.
Daylight was starting to wane, so we made our way around the loop trail
pretty steadily, though I had trouble dragging myself away from the
rocky formations along the shore, which were so tempting to climb down
and explore.  We got back to the car with still a bit of daylight left,
so we made a stop at Thunder Hole again on our way by.  There were a
bunch of others there, and there were some small swells coming in, but
not enough to make the sound that gave the formation its name.  So, we
headed back for camp for the night, enjoying a campfire for a little
while before turning in.

We woke up to another wet morning, and broke camp and packed the car as
quickly as we could, eating some bars in the car for breakfast.  We
drove along Route 120 along the west coast of Mount Desert Island as we
made our final exit from the park after a short but successful stay.


2008-05-20--2008-05-22: AT over Hall, Old Blue, and Bemis

Sherry dropped me off at the AT crossing on East B Hill Road, just over
the NH border into Maine.  She drove off and I started hiking around
11:40.  I moved pretty steadily, but didn't rush, stopping to listen for
birds and other wildlife, and to have a snack and drink now and then.
There were some human tracks going my way, perhaps within the past week,
but otherwise no sign of anyone on the trail.  It was overcast, but cool
and very comfortable for hiking.  A few bugs were out, but were rarely
bothersome.  I saw lots of trillium, both painted (white with reddish
center) and violet.  I was really enjoying being out alone, since I've
done it so rarely over the years.  I find it quite exhilarating.  I did
see one other person--at a camp across Surplus Pond, which the trail
passes by.  It was pretty quiet in the woods, other than some birds here
and there.  I heard and saw a woodpecker, and also saw a couple of other
small birds that I got good looks at with my binoculars.  One I think
was some kind of warbler (yellow on its belly), and the other I think
may have been a white-throated sparrow.  (Looked both of them up after
returning from the hike.)  I saw a fair amount of moose droppings, and
was hiking as stealthily as possible in hopes of seeing a moose, or any
kind of wildlife.

I hiked gradually up and over Wyman Mtn, and the sun poked out once or
twice briefly.  I stopped at a stream a little ways before the upcoming
Hall Mtn Lean-to to fill up, and the mosquitos there were numerous, so I
moved along quickly.  I got to the shelter around 16:00 and it was
actually somewhat sunny, so I hung my sweaty clothes in it and then
explored the immediate area a bit.  I'd gone only six miles, somewhat
leisurely even, but my legs felt pretty tired for some reason.  I
checked out the Gunsight (a long crack in the bedrock with views down
through it to trees far below) and some excellent views to the north
from a short side trail.  There was even a nice partial rainbow over a
distant small lake.

It started drizzling just as I was leaving, so I returned to the shelter
and moved my clothes inside, then made a freeze-dried meal for dinner as
the rain got heavier.  It was quite loud on the tin roof of the shelter.
It stopped after a short while, and then everything was eerily silent
for the rest of the evening.  I heard or saw only an occasional chirp of
a bird, an insect flying by, a fuzz floating by, or the slight rustling
of paper birch bark.  Despite being up on a mountain, there was no
detectable wind save for the birch bark.  I spent a lot of time reading
the shelter log (being on the AT, there are plenty of entries), as I
didn't have a whole lot else to do--I should've brought a book (I
decided not to at the last moment).

At some point, one thing happened, besides the rain, to break the
otherwise dead calm and peacefulness: I heard an odd sound that quickly
got louder, and it turned out to be the flapping wings of a large bird
flying just above the trees.  That I could even hear it at all is a
testament to just how silent it was.  It was hard to tell what it was,
but it looked to me like a large crow or raven.  It startled me, but
only for a split second before I saw it.  I went to bed just as it got
dark, perhaps around 21:00 or so.  This was my first time sleeping out
totally alone on a hiking trip, and I admit I was a bit nervous about
it, but also pretty thrilled to be doing it.  I thought I might have
some trouble getting to sleep, but that turned out not to be the case.

I slept a bit fitfully, as is almost always the case for me, but overall
slept well.  At one point during the night I heard a small animal
rummaging nearby, and wondered if it was going for my food, but I don't
think it was.  I got up to go to the bathroom and startled a rabbit (I
think), which bolted away.  I was awake for about an hour maybe, but
then fell back asleep.  When it started to get fairly light out, I sat
up and just quietly looked out of the lean-to, hoping maybe a moose
would wander by, since it was the right time of day for that.  I checked
the time on my cell phone and found out that it was only 05:02!  The air
was still totally calm, but the birds were singing away, which was nice.

I sat there a while, had some snack bars for breakfast, got my gear
together, and hit the trail at 06:45.  From all of the log book reading
last night, I knew that I was in for a fairly strenous day today.  It's
12.8 miles to the next shelter, with two big down-and-ups in between.
Lots of people were complaining about it in the log.  But with such an
early start I wasn't too worried.  I took my time hiking on the first
steep descent, which started immediately.  As with yesterday, I looked
and listened for wildlife, but encountered nothing but the occasional
bird and two chipmunks.  Now and then I heard some beautiful songs,
even.  It was overcast again, with the sun peeking out now and then,
like yesterday.  On the north side of the mountain, trees were still
just budding so I had nice views north of the upcoming Moody Mtn.  I
crossed a pretty large snow patch--about 25 feet wide--and postholed
deeply into it one time, which was a bit dangerous because underneath
was just a pile of medium-sized rocks--perfect for an ankle injury.
Yesterday and this morning I'd seen occasional smaller snow patches,
which I'd expected, but nothing quite so big.  Still, it was easy to get
by once I was more careful about it.

Shortly afterward I passed by a nice thin little cascade in a stream,
and then encountered a short side trail to a very sunny, mossy viewpoint
northward.  I stopped to fill up one of my two water bottles.  I'm using
my new Katadyn pump on this trip, which is surprisingly fast.  Since I
drank quite little yesterday, I'm only filling up one bottle at a time
today, to keep my pack lighter.  Soon I reached the bottom of Sawyer
Notch, crossed an old railroad bed, now a little-used dirt road, and
then crossed Sawyer Brook.  The water was high, and I had to pick my
crossing point carefully, and was glad to have brought my poles, which
made it much less difficult.  I worked moderately hard coming up the
steep ascent of Moody, but took breaks and got up more quickly than I
expected to, which was nice.  I passed a viewpoint looking back south at
Hall Mtn, and then another to the east.  At both I took short breaks for
a snack and some photos.  Along the way I was seeing various types of
scat, many of which I photographed in hopes of identifying them later.

I made my way back down Moody Mtn rather easily to Black Brook Notch,
and found a number of unofficial campsites right along Black Brook.  I
crossed carefully, again thankful for poles as several of the placed
crossing stones were slightly submerged.  I then crossed a South Arm
Road, a small paved road, and headed right on into the woods since I
wanted neither to be seen nor to see others.  (I did hear and see a
couple of cars go down the road as I was on my way up Old Blue.)  In my
haste to get back deeper into the woods, I forgot to fill up my water
bottle again, which was a bit less than half full.  I was about ten
tiring minutes up the steep trail when I realized this, and paused for a
few minutes to decide what to do.  I managed to convince myself that
there would certainly be at least one trickle of water on the way up Old
Blue (and almost certainly more), and failing that, there would probably
be more snow, which I could melt in a pinch.  I really didn't want to
backtrack down the steep trail.  So I continued, but couldn't stop
worrying about it, and the stress over it was very unpleasant.  A couple
of times I strolled off trail a bit to look for a stream, but had no
luck.

Fortunately, maybe ten or so more minutes along the way, I came across a
tiny trickle coming out of the earth and dripping down from the roots of
some tiny plants.  I took my second bottle out and let it fill up, which
took about five minutes--it was barely more than a drip, but it was
running down quickly for its size.  After filling up the bottle, I
continued on, knowing that I could pump that water into my other bottle
whenever I needed more.  It drizzled briefly along the way, but was
mostly dry, and sometimes even fairly sunny.  I walked through some
heavily shaded evergreen forests, and over a couple of small streams
that would've provided me with water had I needed it, though they were
quite slow-moving.

I passed through an area in which the ground, including the trail, was
so thickly covered with moose scat that I couldn't avoid stepping in it
for nearly 100 feet!  I took a video (though later discovered that my
lens cover had been stuck half-way open for a while) as I walked along
quietly, peering around in hopes of seeing the moose that were
inhabiting the area.  It made me a bit nervous, honestly, but mostly I
was just excited at the prospect of seeing one.  I passed by some
heavily chewed trees, and shortly after that the moose scat decreased,
and I started to give up hope of seeing one, and continued on.  Soon I
followed a nice stream that went right along the trail for quite a
while, and would've been an excellent source of water.  Oh well.  I also
heard a woodpecker nearby, but couldn't quite spot him.

Finally made it to the summit of Old Blue at 13:45, which was somewhat
later than I thought (I didn't know what time it was).  I ate a much
belated lunch and took in the so-so views from the summit.  I could see
in all directions, but it was treed, and with the low clouds and now
heavily overcast sky, the views weren't great.  I was just barely more
than halfway to my destination, distance-wise, and planned to pick up
the pace since I was going so much slower than I thought.

I expected to see more snow, and right away I did.  A lot of it.  Two
feet deep, for about the next mile.  It was extremely unpleasant, and
though I managed to move fairly quickly given the circumstances, it
wasn't fast enough to get to the shelter before about 20:00, if these
conditions continued.  I post-holed only a few times, but those times
were dangerous, since it was so far down and there were plenty of logs
and stones underneath.  I followed the prints of the previous hikers as
much as I could, though even those post-holed on me sometimes.  I was
getting frustrated.  I kept hoping conditions would improve, but they
did not.  Over the next 1.5 miles, most of it was snow-covered, and
there were plenty of blowdowns in the way to add to it.  I was getting
more and more annoyed with every step, and counting every milestone
along the way--a trail sign before Elephant Mountain, a view to the
east, and eventually the junction with Bemis Stream Trail.  There I saw
that I was just one mile from the summit of Bemis Mountain, and that
really motivated me.  I knew that after Bemis it was essentially
downhill to the shelter, which I expected to be a bit easier than the
flattish ridge-walking that I've been doing.  I was suprised that my
legs weren't more worn out, especially after they got worn out on
yesterday's easy hike.  I presume, though, that it was adrenalin that
was keeping me going, because I was more than a bit worried about not
making it to the shelter before dark, which would be more stress than I
really wanted to deal with.

So getting close to the summit of Bemis got me psyched up, and I plowed
on, moving as quickly as I could, but still cursing the snow all the
way, as it alternated from annoying to not bad to (very occassionally)
clear to extremely deep, fragile, and frustrating.  I was doing my best
to find safe, reliable footing, which required a lot of balancing on
logs, visible stones, and narrow strips of exposed earth on the
outskirts of the trail.  The balancing act was tiring in itself, but was
better than risking post-holing when possible.  At one point my desire
to reach Bemis got the best of me and I started scooting across the snow
quickly, hoping not to post-hole.  It was risky, probably careless, and
I did actually post-hole hard one time, but was lucky not to hit
anything underneath.  I slowed down a bit after that.  The very last
stretch up Bemis, though preceded by some clear trail, was as bad or
worse than anywhere else, but before long I busted out into the small
clearing at the summit.  I was happy to be there, but still only
cautiously optimistic about the remaining 1.7 miles.  It was about
17:30, though I didn't really know and thought it was a little later.  I
stopped only briefly, wanting to keep moving, but did have some food
since I didn't want to wait too late for dinner.  I also was giving
myself bursts of energy with candy corns, which worked so well on the
winter trip with John.

I soon started down the trail, and was very happy to find that there
wasn't much more snow.  A few bad spots, but then it petered out.  Not
only that, but the trail started opening up, passing over thinly treed
bedrock with nice mossy groundcovering, which is a type of trail that I
really like.  I soon started ascending again, up toward what is called
Bemis 3rd (there are two more high points on the ridge, beyond the
shelter thankfully, called 2nd and 1st), and was happy to know that it
was my final ascent of the day, albeit a small one.  I was getting
excited at the lack of snow, the beautiful trail, and the nearness of
the shelter.  To top it off, the sun shone through and brightened
everything up for me for a few moments, inspiring my final climb.  I got
to a high point just before Bemis 3rd and encountered a spruce grouse.
He/she wasn't particularly scared of me, and kept flying up and down
from ground to tree and back.  I stopped after he first flew into a
tree, and got a look at him/her with my binoculars, but assumed it would
fly away if I moved closer.  But I tried anyway when I realized it was
staying close, and was able to get within ten feet of it with an
unobstructed view!  I got a couple of good pictures and a movie too.

Finally I continued on, giddy about my fun encounter with the grouse,
the now-beautiful trail, and my nearness to the shelter.  I passed a
nice stream that I assumed was just before the shelter, so I filled up.
Moments later the shelter appeared.  It was empty, as expected, and in a
very pretty wooded location, but with good light coming through the
trees.  It was about 19:15, though I didn't know that, and thought it
was later.  I was so very happy to be there, and still in disbelief that
my body wasn't more exhausted.  I couldn't wait to eat some hot ramen
noodles, so I quickly got to making them, and enjoyed every drop of the
hot liquid warming my body.  I sat inside the shelter, which wasn't
fancy but was nicer than the previous shelter, and even had two strips
of translucent material on part of the roof that allowed light in, which
is a great feature in my opinion.  I listened to the sounds of the
woods, which were very few as usual (though this time I had a babbling
brook nearby), and just enjoyed having reached my destination.  I read
the log book a bit, ate my other packet of ramen noodles, and then slept
as it was getting dark.

Slept OK, a bit fitful again--par for the course.  Woke up around 06:00
and got up soon after, though I thought it was later at the time.  It
rained a bunch during the night but was stopped now.  It was pretty
chilly, and my thermometer said it was 38F, though it may not be
completely trustworthy.  There was a wet spot where water had leaked
through the roof a few feet to the side of my, so I was glad I hadn't
slept there.  Had some Pop Tarts, then also fried up the rest of my
kielbasa for breakfast, and read the log a bit more. 

I began hiking around 07:45, thinking it was more like 09:00.  I went
through some dense, mature evergreen forest, with branches high above
and only smaller trees down low, so I could see around pretty well.
There were some moose signs, so I walked quietly (it was nearly dead
silent yet again today) in hopes of seeing wildlife, but did not.  After
hiking a while through this damper, darker area, the trail returned to
open rock for much of the remaining descent, which I enjoyed.  I stopped
a several of the open areas along the way, hopping around from spot to
spot between the moss and lichen covering the rock, looking for
interesting plants, animals, and views.  I took lots of photographs,
heard only a few birds, and killed lots of time.  I went over Bemis 2nd
and eventually Bemis 1st, trying hard to go slowly since I knew that
once I got more into the woods, it would be less interesting.  I even
wandered off into the woods once as well.  A couple of times I far away
from my pack and the trail that I worried a bit about finding my way
back.  I was only a couple hundred feet at most, but still, it's easy to
get disoriented.  When I did hear the occasional bird song, I stopped to
record it if I could, but really couldn't identify any.  Views were
occasionally quite good, despite low clouds and fog, as I hiked through
some of the more open areas.

I slowly made my way down the moderately steep descent to the Bemis
Stream notch.  There I crossed a small, quiet paved road and wandered
across a brief flat flood plain before getting to the "stream", which
was certainly big enough to be called a river, at least a small one.  I
hadn't eaten a lot, so I sat down to have lunch.  I did some
calculations about the last 1/2-mile that I had to hike back uphill to
Route 17, and realized I had killed time so successfully that I really
didn't have any time to eat before I should continue on!  So I ate
quickly, the whole time wondering how I'd get across the stream, since
it was quite swollen, and just about all of the stepping stones were
underwater.  There was a fallen tree downriver slightly, but I went over
to it and decided it was definitely too risk to try to balance across
it, even though it was certainly doable.  A fall would've been
dangerous.  So after having a bite, I took the "normal" way across the
stream, stepping on the usual rocks, despite knowing I'd probably get
wet.  I used my poles carefully, and it turned out that despite the
water rushing against and even over the low part of my boot, I made it
across without a problem, and didn't even feel wet!

At that point I hustled up the final stretch, since I was actually
slightly behind schedule.  It started raining on the way, a bit heavier
than it had any other time that I was actually hiking on the trail.  As
soon as I thought it might be worth getting out more clothing, though,
it slowed again.  I got up to the road a bit quicker than I thought, at
13:23.  Sherry wasn't around, so I snapped some photos, crossed the
road, and sat up on a little rock outcropping where the trail headed
back into the woods.  I got out some food and had more to eat, put on my
poncho (it started raining again), and took in the views.  After a
while, around 13:50, Sherry called my cell (it was trickier to find me
than expected), and soon we were reunited and on our way.


2008-03-07--2008-03-08: Mt. Cube

John arrived at our house around 18:00.  We decided where to go (AT
starting at Route 25A), finished packing up, and hit the road.  It was
precipitating, sometimes rain, sometimes snow, and we made our way
slowly to the trailhead on the slippery roads.  We starting hiking at
20:30 and put in about 1.75 miles before setting up the tent and calling
it a night at a bit after 22:00.  Our goal for the trip was to get over
Cube and Smarts, and hope that the weather held out.  It was supposed to
be in the mid-30s with precipitation, and I was really hoping that we
were at a high enough elevation that we'd only see snow.

Had a reasonably good night of sleep and got up just after 06:00 and got
going.  We hit the trail at 07:00.  Ice on the trees was dripping off
and getting us somewhat wet, but the sun was out and it was not
precipitating, which was good news.  Some fresh wet snow made
trail-breaking tiring, but we pushed along, slowly but surely, and made
the summit at 09:15.  The views were out of this world, with lots of fog
in the valleys below, and ice covering everything else.  I took tons of
pictures, amazed and not wanting to leave.  It seemed like we were on an
island in an ocean of fog, with hardly any other land in sight across
the vast white sea.  Eventually, though, we headed down the south side.
The going was slow with the deep, wet snow.  It took a long time just to
make the 1.6 miles to the Hexacuba Shelter, which by that point we had
been greatly anticipating as a dry place to take a break.  The short
slog up the spur trail to the shelter was grueling in itself, and the
snow was so wet, combined with the dripping trees, that by the time we
got there we were pretty soaked.  We made a hot lunch and did our best
to dry out a bit.  It started clouding up again and raining on and off.
I changed into some dry clothes, then we continued down, over Eastmans
Ledges, to a brook just before the ascent up Smarts begins.  We filled
up our water bottles as it started raining really hard.  We were getting
really drenched now, and it was supposed to be cold tomorrow, so we
debated bailing out via a snowmobile trail that ran along the brook.  It
was a really tough decision, especially for a trip with both anticipate
so much each year, but conditions could start to become life-threatening
if we weren't careful, considering just how drenched we were getting.
John had some new waterproof gear, but I was feeling underprepared
without a truly waterproof layer for either my jacket or my legs.

Eventually, two snowmobilers came by and we got some info from them
(though they were a bit lost themselves), and decided to head down the
packed snowmobile trail back toward Route 25A.  We were booking, wanting
to get back to dryness as soon as possible.  John had a huge bag of
candy corns that he kept pulling out, and they were a great source of
fast energy to help keep me going.  Eventually we got to a dirt road,
then followed that out to 25A, puzzling over some intersections along
the way but making the right guesses.  It seemed to go on for ages, but
as more and more houses popped up, we knew we were getting close.
Finally we made the main road, then started along that toward John's
car.  It was about 16:00 and we had a long, long walk ahead--about 6
wet, hilly miles after an already long and exhausting day.  We tried
thumbing, and eventually a friendly woman named Sandy picked us up--we
were so grateful!  We'd just dropped our packs on the side of the road
(hidden, sort of), so we hopped in quickly and she took off to get some
gas (she was low), then turned around and brought us to our car, telling
us many interesting stories about her life along the way.  We thanked
her profusely, then got in John's car.  I was very chilly, and didn't
really have enough motivation to change out of my soaked clothes, so we
just cranked the heat and I warmed up a bit as we drove home.  We picked
up our gear from the gully where we'd stashed it, and also picked up
pizza from C&A on our way through Hanover.  It was not the ending to the
trip we had hoped for, but it sure was nice to change back into dry
clothes and eat some hot food.


2008-02-24: Moose Mtn.

Sherry, Jon (and Jet) and I headed over to Three Mile Road to hike Moose
Mountain.  We went up the AT and had a pretty easy hike up on the snowy
trail under blue, sunny skies.  There were a couple of women up there
when we arrived, chatting really loudly, but they soon headed down and
we had it all to ourselves.  We sat on our snowshoes (and Jet lay on
Jon's jacket), had some sandwiches and hung out for a bit before heading
down on the old ski trail.  It hadn't been used in a while (though there
were some ski tracks on it), so we broke trail through the deep snow,
which had a bit of a crust on the surface of it.  This was a problem for
Jet, and his front legs were getting scratched, unfortunately.  He
hardly complained, though, and toughed it out the whole way down.  We
soon passed the new Harris Lodge, being built by the Dartmouth Outing
Club, which is still under construction.  It looked beautiful!  No one
was around, and Sherry and I walked around inside a while.  From there
it was just a hop, skip and a jump back to the car to complete the loop.


2008-02-23: Mt. Ascutney

Jon, Jet and I headed to the start of the Brownsville Trail on the north
side of Mount Ascutney.  The trail appeared to be pretty lightly used.
Early on, the snow was very shallow, and the going was pretty easy under
perfect conditions--clear, calm, and cool.  While we were still on the
old logging road portion of the trail, I spotted some tracks from some
kind of creature living in the rocks under the trail.  I couldn't for
the life of me figure out what it was, but it left lots of paw prints,
and also appear to have been dragging its belly around in spots, too.
Continuing, we passed some nice icefall in the woods on the left before
reaching the views from the old quarry.  we took a bunch of photos
standing on the huge blocks of stone heaped on the side of the slope,
then kept moving.  Soon we encountered some major ice on the trail, and
needed to put on our crampons.  Just before the ice, there were two
small trees that had been stripped almost entirely of their bark.  It
wasn't by a moose, and couldn't have been a porcupine because the higher
branches wouldn't have supported its weight.  Another mysterious sign
left by an animal.  Climbing up the ice, we passed a few more equally
icy spots, with very beautiful flows hanging down over the rocks.  My
crampons were acting up, not staying on very well, but I managed.  We
stopped at the Knee Lookout for some more views, then slogged through a
short stretch of very deep snow just before joining the well-broken
Windsor Trail.  From there the summit was just a little further.  We
passed four others as we neared the summit, but that was it and we had
the tower all to ourselves.  We climbed up, took in the excellent views,
and were amazed at how calm the air was even up here.  Jet sat down, and
Jon and I took a break too and had a bite to eat.  Eventually we
returned the same way we came up, moving quickly down and back to the
car.