I Enter the Wild - Baxter Day 6 - Kayaks and the Appalachian Trail





I would paddle out swiftly onto the open lake if the moon was shining down its path. It never failed to come to me when going down that brilliant shining highway into space. Most completely of all would I be taken when lying on my back looking at the stars. The gentle motion of the canoe softly swaying, the sense of space and infinity given by the stars, gave me the sense of being suspended in the ether. My body had no weight, my soul was detached and I careened freely through a delightfullness of infinite distance.... Sometimes the night cry of the loon would enhance the illusion. For long periods I would lie, having lost track of time and location. A slap of a wavelet would jerk me back into the present and I would paddle back to the glowing coals of the deserted camp fire, trying to fathom the depths of the experience I had been through. ~~~Sigurd Olson

I am out of bed by 6:30, the cabin warmed by yet another great fire. It is again a blue sky morning. Today there is not only mist rising from the surface of the pond but also fingers of fog hovering higher overhead. The fog does not obscure the view, rather is a translucent veil moving before the trees, mountains, and pond, as if in the hands of a dancer. The sun bursts over the shoulder of Katahdin around 7:00 a.m., literally looking like an explosion, then reflects golden off the fog. It is an eerie scene, as the pond and sky are a deep blue but the fog itself glows golden. As the sun rises higher, the colors turn cooler, from golden back to white. There is no sound from the campground. I may be the only one up thus far. I enjoy my quiet greeting of the day. Once again I see only one loon. I think mama got tired of her youngster’s inaction and left him to fend for himself. I hope he can, fend for himself . . .

The neighbors in cabin 11 reported last night that they saw a bull, cow, and young moose in Moose View Cove last evening. I take my coffee and wander over via trail to see if perhaps they are dining in the cove this morning. But they are not. I have yet to see any moose this trip, but I’ve not made a concerted effort to be in their territory. Perhaps today. I note that today is the anniversary of my mom’s death just two years ago. I take a few minutes to acknowledge this fact, and I raise my coffee in toast. But I do not dwell on that occasion. I do wish mom were alive to hear stories of this trip. Though mom was always able to - and did! - elucidate every possible thing that could go wrong for me on an outdoor adventure, she acknowledged some time before her death that she lived vicariously through me. She would enjoy my tales of Maine.

I am not yet sure how I want to spend my day. Yesterday was so spectacular that I feel no need to push myself. So I dress for any type of outdoor activity and head out in the car. I first head over to Stump Pond. I confess that this is to be my first stop primarily because I have learned that one can occasionally catch a cell signal here. I don’t want to review any work related e-mails or to make any telephone calls, but I have written a couple of e-mails about my adventures that I would like to send off to friends if I can catch a signal. When I arrive at Stump Pond I note that the parking lot is full and there are cars lining the road in spots where signs say "no parking." This is a clue. I am lucky to arrive as someone is leaving and settle in to a "legal" parking space. When I wander down to the edge of the pond I discover that there are a cow moose and calf grazing in the pond.

There are basically two viewing spots at Stump Pond, one that is fairly open and can accommodate a number of people, one just off the edge of the road, that can only accommodate a handful. The roadside spot is full - of photographers with their mammoth telephoto lenses. I cannot find a spot at which I can set up my tripod; additionally, the moose are too far away for me to take any good shots. I note that there are a couple of places nearby where I can push through some underbrush and get down to the edge of the pond. As I head that direction, a young ranger walks my way and advises me that the areas past the underbrush are off limits. And he advises several folks who have already settled at the edge of the pond that they must leave. I wander up to the open area but am disappointed at the folks who have gathered there, all mostly photographers. There is a lot of loud conversation, about people and other trips taken, while occasionally shutters click when one of the moose raises its head. This for me, the sighting and "communing" with such wildlife, is a moment of reverence, not to be taken lightly. But I do not feel that some of my fellow observers are of the same mind. The attitude and concomitant noise ruin the mood for me, so I head off.

I decide that I will hike a bit of the Appalachian Trail at Katahdin Stream Campground. It is a nice day for a hike, cool but not cold. But it is not a good day for photography under the trees. When the sun is out, attempts to take photographs under the trees produce shots of light and shadow with little good detail. I know that this trip will be for the adventure as opposed to the photography. The trail parallels Katahdin Stream. This trail is much less rocky than the Chimney Pond trail of yesterday. There are more evergreens here, primarily hemlock, with stands of hardwoods at intervals. And the understory is much less dense. For the first mile the trail climbs but not too steeply. There are large gray boulders off the side of the trail, covered in green mossy growth. Right about the one mile mark, the trail crosses Katahdin Stream on a log bridge. It then takes a switchback, at which point the trail is actually the rock of the mountain itself, open to the sky, with a nice view of the far mountains. I note that the rock trail is lined by blueberry bushes, whose leaves have turned deep red. I wonder if I will see bears here, knowing that they dine on blueberries!

Katahdin Stream Falls



 The way of the mountain is the way of ecstasy, prophetic insight, the white-hot coals of inspiration, the long-distance vision that the towering peak affords. Here the spirit is given light. It longs to soar, viewing everything from aloft, placing all of life’s details within universal patterns of clarity. This si one way of going to the edge, surpassing the ordinary by ascending the mountain. ~~~Belden Lane

The trail becomes fairly steep at this point. It returns to a sandy/rocky trail under a spruce forest several hundred feet up, at Katahdin Falls, but the steepness continues. The Appalachian Trail here, Hunt Trail as it is called inside Baxter, is described as a difficult and steep trail. I learn quickly that I have not been wise to have attempted this hike the day after my most successful hike up Chimney Pond Trail. My ankles, achilles, and knees let me know that they received enough of a workout yesterday that they should not be pushed today. I consider hiking up the stone steps just beyond the Falls, but quickly determine that this is not a good idea. So I spend a bit of time sitting by the Falls. It is cool here, next to the spray from the thundering water. I then sit for a bit on the rocks that are open to the sky. Soon I head back down. I may not have made it anywhere near the summit, but it was a nice walk in the woods this day.

Moose View Cove - Kidney Pond
Mt. Katahdin

I feel rather aimless, so I head back to Kidney Pond. I have not availed myself of the kayaks and canoes up to this point. I decide that today is a perfect afternoon to kayak on Kidney Pond. Baxter has a really nice set-up as far as canoes and kayaks are concerned. Each pond with a campground has a number of canoes and kayaks which can be "rented" for only $1 per hour. And use is on the honor system. You take paddles and life vests from their designated spot, sign out on the clipboard, then put your money in a box when you return. There are also canoes and kayaks on some of the remote ponds which can only be reached by trail. You can check out a key for these boats from a Ranger and canoe or kayak in these backcountry sites if you wish. I decide to utilize one of the kayaks. And I spend a most delightful two hours on Kidney Pond, the only person on earth it almost seems. The sky is blue. It is somewhere in the 50's temperature-wise. There is only a mild breeze, enough to create comfort but not to affect my paddling ability.

Kidney Pond & Doubletop

I am astonished when I paddle out into the lake. The view is tremendous. When Gwen and I were here last year, it was overcast or rainy all week. Though we occasionally saw pieces of Mt. Katahdin, we were unable to see any other mountains from Kidney. I am surprised and pleased to note that I can see almost all the area mountains from the middle of Kidney Pond. Behind the cabins I see Doubletop Mountain - and it is obvious why it is named Doubletop. To the right of Doubletop are OJI, the Owl, and Mt. Katahdin. Wow! The view is spectacular. I paddle into Moose View Cove, then follow Kidney Pond Outlet, a stream that "empties" the pond, for about a half mile. It is Kidney Pond Outlet that I had to ford during that rainy hike on my first day here. I don't see any moose this day. But the colors of the trees around the cove are spectacular.

As I paddle I seem to move straight toward Katahdin. I head back out then paddle the entire perimeter of the pond, noting that placement of the cabins in the campground is so discrete that you can see only two of them from the middle of the pond. I am ecstatic. There is no one else on the pond. I hear no noise from the campground. At times I simply sit, not paddling, letting the wind move me around the pond at will. The pond is calm, sky and pond are deep blue, rocks jutting up out of the water are white, hemlocks are deep green, and stands of hardwoods add bright color. Glorious!!

Moose View Cove

 In wilderness extremity, people find themselves running out of language, driven to silence. Ordinary speech seems inappropriate. ~~~Belden Lane

I only reluctantly head back in, when noise from the campground begins echoing across the pond. I am grumpy at first, aggravated that anyone would disturb the quiet. But I calm down when I come off the pond and learn that a group of developmentally disabled young people have arrived for a stay in the cabins. They have had a long ride in the car and are letting out some pent up energy. I discover that Diane has returned, and we chat for a while, then I fill the wood box with logs. I note that the loon is still alone. I make some soup for dinner and settle in for the evening with a good book.

Donna