I Enter the Wild - Baxter Day 5: On Showers, Glacial Ponds, and Presence

At Roaring Brook Campground

In desert and mountain wilderness, people discover liminal places suggesting thresholds between where they have been and where they are going. Whether they experience these places as dream symbols or rites of passage, whether they physically travel through wild, disorienting terrain or enter it metaphorically through an experience of profound crisis, such sites mark important points of transition in their lives. Out on the edge - in the desert waste or suspended between earth and sky - they transgress the limits of culture, language, all the personal boundaries by which their lives are framed. ~~Belden Lane

Before I write anything else, I think I probably should confess. I spent last night in a motel in Millinocket . . .

Well, I needed a shower! Did I say that in addition to no electricity, there’s no running water in Baxter? That’s correct, no running water, definitely no showers. I hadn’t washed my hands under running water much less been able to shower since Thursday morning. By Sunday afternoon I really wanted to take a shower. So when I left Roaring Brook, I headed in to Millinocket and spent the night at Baxter Park Inn. There aren’t many options for lodging in Millinocket. I had stayed in one other motel on a previous trip and was less than satisfied, so I decided to give Baxter Park Inn a shot. And it is a lovely little motel. The room was clean, my bed was comfortable, and the shower was fantastic! Actually all the showers were fantastic. (I took more than one!) I didn’t watch television or read any newspapers while I was "in town," that was not my purpose. I just wanted a shower. So I picked up some food at the Hannafords, checked in to my room, took a long hot shower, wrote in my journal, read some fiction, then went to sleep.



North Woods Trading Post

It is now 8:30 a.m, 44 degrees outside, and I am heading back to the wild, feeling a little more tame myself! I chuckle as I drive past the North Woods Trading Post. This establishment is the nearest store to the entrance to Baxter, which is ten miles away. According to its sign, it has everything a camper might want: ATM, public pay telephone, pizza to go, souvenirs, ice, and 200 cases of beer! Speaking from experience, for most food items you might want, you’ll have to go all the way back to Millinocket. But if you can survive on pizza and beer, they’ve got all you need.

Roaring Brook

When I arrive at the Park I head up to Roaring Brook Campground. I have decided that I want to hike the Chimney Pond Trail. According to informational sheets Diane gave me, this trail will take me past the Basin Ponds, which are in a basin below Mt. Katahdin. At some point I will have gained enough altitude that I can see Katahdin from on high as opposed to viewing it as I have thus far, from the ground. Roaring Brook is another "multi-purpose" campground, with tent sites, lean-tos, and a ten-person bunkhouse. It is the trailhead for hiking to the Chimney Pond Campground, which is one of only two backcountry campsites in the Park, as well as for accessing many of the trails to Katahdin’s Peaks. It is quite lovely in Roaring Brook this morning. There appears to be more foliage change here than in many areas of the Park. There also appears to be fewer evergreens and more hardwood in this section of the Park than on the west side, so there is much color here.



Hobblebush

In fact, here I find hobblebush lining the trail. I haven’t seen hobblebush in other areas of the park. Hobblebush is a fascinating plant in the Fall. The leaves are so many different colors that one might think the Creator ingested some of the many mushrooms which grow off the trail before embarking on creation of this plant. Seriously, some leaves are green, purple, pink, orange, red, and blue, all in one leaf! I have to pull myself forward else I photograph hobblebush all day.



Chimney Pond Trail

I have crossed Roaring Brook which now parallels the trail, and I am accompanied on my journey by the roar of the water as it rushes downhill. The foliage and the brook are so pretty that it takes me an extended period of time to hike the first mile or so of the trail. I stop every ten feet to take a photograph! This can be disorienting, as I don’t know this trail, and there aren’t many "landmarks." If I stop repeatedly, I am unable to judge distance by length of time on the trail. I don’t know where I am or how far I’ve come! 

This is one of the delightful aspects of hiking a trail for the first time. I am fully present, focused on here, wherever here happens to be. I don’t know what is around the corner, so I cannot think of it. I don’t know what is at the end, or the top, so I cannot anticipate it. I can only be where I am now. Early in the hike the trail has some flat spots, and I balance on one of the little beam bridges across some wet areas. But most of the trail is quite rocky, in fact the rockiest trail I’ve hiked since Chimneys in the Smokies. In numerous spots I must step over, around or on top of large rocks and boulders. And as I hike, the trail becomes steeper. At times I’m actually climbing rock steps up the side of the mountain. All of this adds to the aspect of presence, as I am forced to pay attention to what is right in front of me. Journeys to areas like this are important to me for this very reason. I can be present, must be present, focused solely on what is in front of me. I do not mull over the past. I do not think toward the future. I am just here now. And what a spectacular now it is!

He was stunned by the quiet joy of self-forgetfulness. ~~Belden Lane

I briefly hear some machinery and growl in return - I am not supposed to hear sounds like that up here. Then I round the corner to see a trail crew working on a bridge across a creek. In fact, the bridge has been totally demolished, and I am unable to cross. The worker directs me to follow little yellow ribbons that he has tied around bushes and trees, indicating that they will lead me to a spot where I can cross the creek. I laugh, then he does also - the yellow ribbons are almost invisible against the yellow of the leaves. Eventually I am able to find my way to the edge of the water, where I rock hop, then climb the bank and am back on the trail again.

I soon cross a wooden bridge, and the trail starts climbing steeply again. I am feeling somewhat perplexed at this point. According to my guide sheets, I should have found an overlook by now. Did I perhaps take the wrong trail? I can tell that I have climbed to the top of a mountain, as there is much blue sky through the trees around me, but every corner I round takes me further up a hill. I feel like I have hiked several miles, but I am not finding the milestones I expect. And I am not passing people on this trail, either coming or going, so there is no one to ask. I journey on.

Mt. Katahdin and Basin Pond

Just as I am starting to wonder if I should consider heading back down, I round a corner and find a short side trail. Of course I must check out the side trail, and, Wow! Look what I just found! I thought my guide sheet had lied to me. Or else that I am on the wrong trail. But here I am, where I was trying to be! According to the guide sheet, I am two miles up the trail. And I have gained about 1,000 feet in altitude. Before I rounded the corner and found Basin Pond, I would have sworn that I had already hiked 5 miles up the trail and at least half that distance in altitude gain. Oh the joys of hiking a new trail, of discovery [and discovery . . . ;-) ] !

Basin Pond - Draining to Brook
at right

Chimney Peak & The Knife Edge

The only sounds I hear are a bird chirping and the gurgle of the water beginning its downhill journey over to my right. There is only a faint breeze. It's about 55 degrees. The sun is warm on my face. Across the pond is Mt. Katahdin. I pull out my maps and identify it’s many "parts." The dip to the left is called The Saddle; the spot to the right is Chimney Peak; leading up to Chimney from the right is The Knife Edge, aptly named they say, and not for those who are scared of heights. All make up mighty Katahdin. And it's mine, all mine right now.

I settle in on a boulder and sit for a while. I am under some scrawny little balsam trees, the subalpine level where tree growth is stunted. I am joined briefly by a young couple who are heading up to spend two nights at Chimney Pond. I smile as I hear her see Basin Pond and Katahdin for the first time, "Oh Wow!" she utters, echoing my words. The couple stay for a few minutes and we chat about the scenery, then they head on up the trail, giving a blessing to my solitude - their word. Yes, the mountain and this gorgeous little pond are mine. I think I will just sit for a bit in their presence.

Why wilderness? Ask those who have known it and who have made it a part of their lives. They might not be able to explain, but your very question will kindle a light in eyes that have reflected the camp fires of a continent, eyes that have know the glory of dawns and sunsets and nights under the stars. ~~Sigurd Olson

Soon I head back down the mountain. On another day, probably another trip, I will hike to Chimney Pond, perhaps spend the night there. But today I have accomplished all I desire. When I return to the parking lot, about 3:30, and check some additional guide sheets, I learn that the trail I just hiked is consider difficult and strenuous. I am proud of the accomplishment. I have grown stronger over the last several years. This trail did not feel difficult. It just felt delightful. I chat for a while with Ranger Mark, who impetuously asks me to marry him. Mark notes that I am wearing a Yellowstone sweatshirt, a Great Smoky Mountain cap, am in Baxter State Park, and am shooting film with an old Olympus OM2N camera. He is taken by all of these factors. However, he lets me know that if I say yes, we’ll have to have a serious talk with his wife. I let him off the hook . . . But I do have a delightful time chatting with him, yet another interesting Ranger. Mark is himself an ice climber as well as certified in wilderness rescue. We talk about his experiences at Baxter as well as life itself, then I head back to Kidney.

I arrive back at Kidney Pond at 5:30. It is 51 degrees outside. I fill the woodbox with logs from the barn then make a cup of coffee and sit on the back porch. There is only one loon on the pond this evening, looks to be the youngster. I wonder if his mom has left him here and headed for the coast. Would she do that? Do they do that? The sky is still clear, and the sun begins sinking behind the mountains to the west. Though the trees below are dark, Katahdin itself glows pink in the sunset, like alpenglow! The surface of the lake is still and the mountain reflects off the water. As the first stars become visible, the coyotes make their presence known, first a series of yips, then numerous howls. I am delighted. What a grand day it has been!

The sun was trembling now on the edge of the ridge. It was alive, almost fluid and pulsating, and as I watched it sink I thought that I could feel the earth turning from it, actually feel its rotation. Over all was the silence of the wilderness, that sense of oneness which comes only when there are no distracting sights or sounds, when we listen with inward ears and see with inward eyes, when we feel and are aware with our entire beings rather than our senses. I thought as I sat there of the ancient admonition "Be still and know that I am God," and knew that without stillness there can be no knowing, without divorcement from outside influences man cannot know what spirit means. ~~~Sigurd Olson

Donna