Hoot, Hoot, Who Knows This Trail

Sunday 18 August 2024

Trail Hiked: The Owl

6.6 Miles

9:30am – 3:15pm

Partly Cloudy, Misty, Warm, & Breezy

A play on words captures this chapter title. I stole it from the onomatopoeia of the Barred Owl whose song says, “Who, who, who cooks for you?” I thought it was fitting since we hiked the Owl Trail. I have seen this trail many times on my way up the Hunt Trail on various short day hikes and Katahdin summits. I had always wondered where it went. Now I know.

Bruce climbed Owl in 2023 with The Summit Project. I had friends who have climbed it, one being Stacey Morneault, my very experienced hiking buddy who has done most of Baxter, Maine’s 4,000-footers, most of the trails in Acadia National Park, many other miscellaneous trails, and as I write this, she is working on section hiking the 100-Mile Wilderness at an enjoyable leisurely pace. They both know my fear of heights.

Stacey had told me I could do the trail but there was one very steep and exposed area that might give me trouble. Bruce couldn’t remember an exposed section or any major difficulty and confirmed I could do it. Now, I am not one to let someone else’s opinion dictate what I do, but when it comes to hubby and Stacey, I greatly value their opinion. But this time, their input was conflicting. So, I tucked that knowledge away and planned our hike listing towards heeding Stacey’s insight, which meant I was a tad apprehensive of what was to come.

Facebook is a great tool and an awesome way to stay connected with friends and to make new friends as long as you don’t go down that rabbit hole of letting it be a time stealer. I think one of my new addictions is scrolling. But that bad habit worked in our favor the day before Bruce and I were planning to camp in Baxter – Yes, we finally snagged a reservation. I was looking at Facebook and a friend I met through Stacey posted she had also acquired a last-minute lean-to in Baxter and wanted to know if anyone wanted to share it with her. Well, I jumped at the chance. Her reservation was for the night before ours making it a two-night get-away for Bruce and me. And I would get to reconnect with Wendy. I had only met her once when we were on a multi-day backpacking trip in the 100-Mile Wilderness with three other gals organized by Stacey. But we didn’t even get to sleep one night in the woods. Crap happens on the trail and our fearless leader, Stacey, slipped on a damp rock and broke her wrist. Thankfully we were close to an extraction point and had cell service. That ended our ladies hike getting to know new friends. I was excited to hang out with Wendy and meet her all over again. The plan was to do our own thing on Sunday and meet up at her lean-to at Abol Campground after our chosen activities.

Bruce and I tried to get packed up and to bed early Saturday evening, but that didn’t happen. It wasn’t super late but hitting the hay at 10:00pm is late when you want to be on the road by 5:00am. We didn’t make the early rise. Even though most of our things were packed and ready our bodies and minds were not. It was difficult to slog off the morning fog. We decided to just go with the flow. Our to-go quick breakfast became a sit-down cooked one. A no need to shower became “the works” complete with a shave job. By the time we crawled into the truck it was 6:45am and the misty haze that had enveloped our being had burned away and we were ready to explore Baxter again. Knowing we had been added to Wendy’s reservation made us a little more relaxed about being able to get into the park. Usually without a reservation or pre-paid parking pass getting into the park can be hit or miss.

The hour and a half drive to Baxter’s Togue Pond gate house was routine and uneventful – just the way we like it. And there was no line. The barricade just after the entrance informed wanna-be guests that Roaring Brook Campground was full. We were headed to Katahdin Stream and were happy to know that plenty of room was still available there and at Abol.

Since there was no line, we had a leisurely and informative chat with the ranger who checked us in. We have been to Baxter many, many times and know only the general rules. No pets. No outside firewood. No alcohol. Gate opens at 6:00am and closes at 8:30pm. Site capacities are strictly enforced, and the speed limit is 20mph – which I think is too fast. But we wanted to know more stuff. Stuff I won’t get into here, that’s not the purpose of this. With our new-found knowledge we continued to Katahdin Stream Campground.

A quick stop at Abol Campground to see if Wendy was in yet and to let the Ranger know we were there and what our plans were. Then off to Katahdin Stream that was just another two miles away. We drove the narrow windy road without any wildlife sightings but enjoyed the beautiful thick forest as hints of fall colors dotted the canopy in between the fur trees.

Getting ready to hike out was becoming routine. We had fewer trips that morning going round and round the truck getting this or that from various spots tucked away in the gear bins. The one nice thing about weekend hiking verses thru-hiking is you get fresh and clean gear each time you go out. But unlike thru-hiking where what gear you have is all that you have and you don’t need to rethink each time you head out what you should take because, what’s on your back is all that you have. Weekend hiking, I find I am always second guessing myself on what I should take or worse, forgetting something that I really need – like an extra layer for those windy summits. But this time, we forgot nothing. In fact, we may have over-packed, another drawback of weekend hiking – for me, it takes longer to dial in my system because I have access to all my gear. But more isn’t always better. More can be a huge burden.

We sauntered out of the day-use parking at 9:30am but didn’t get far before we stopped at a stone with a bronze plaque letting all know that Percival Proctor Baxter donated the land now known as Baxter State Park to the state of Maine. We snapped a few photos then followed the Hunt Trail and those famous white blazes of the Appalachian Trail as they led us past tent sights and lean-tos along the Katahdin Stream in the shadows of Katahdin.

The Hunt Trail is the official path for the A.T. to summit Katahdin, the last section for a northbound thru-hiker. Many dreams have been completed on that section as well as tears of joy and agony shed. 1.1 miles in we came to the junction for The Owl Trail. At that junction, the white blazes and relatively serene path continued right. On the left was a hefty step up and off the Hunt Trail to access the Owl Trail. Then as far as one could see, rocks paved the trail on a steeper incline then the first 1.1 miles. It was in sharp contrast to the well-worn and maintained footpath of the A.T

“Here we go!” I joyfully proclaimed. The initial step up and rock ladened path soon leveled out to a soft pine-needle carpeted path as tall fur trees enveloped us. The humidity was thick as sprinkles made us wonder if we needed our rain gear. It would have been too hot to add a plastic layer to our already sweaty skin. It was bad enough with the young hemlock and balsam furs that closed in on the trail as they scratched through the layer of ick forming on my arms. But with miles of hiking experience, I have learned to embrace the suck. Being in nature is absolutely awesome and wonderful, but not every moment is. So, one needs to accept the yuckiness of it all to appreciate the greatness. And this holds true in the real world – which I have adopted the saying from a fellow hiker who once said something on the lines that the real world is synthetic and out in nature is the real world.

The thick forest hid any views of Katahdin, but we knew she was there. At one spot there was a narrow peak-a-boo sighting of her. The limited view was further hidden by the fog that shrouded the area, but her countenance could be seen momentarily as the misty haze moved with the breeze.

One thing I never tire of seeing are giant boulders that don’t match the surrounding environment. In my book Happy Hiking: Falling in Love on the Appalachian Trail I noted how I would entertain myself with thoughts of why these boulders were there. I was sure there was a scientific reason, but I preferred thinking they were dormant alien sleepers. While writing this chapter I referred to a guidebook Hiking Maine’s Baxter State Park by Greg Westrick of Falcon Guides®. The book’s map for The Owl Trail points out one such rock and I learned the proper term for this natural wonder. It is called an erratic. According to google, erratic as a noun is a rock or boulder that differs from the surrounding rock and is believed to have been brought from a distance by glacial action – or alien fources. Okay, that last bit I added. There was even a huge one called Balanced Rock for obvious reasons.

We passed several erratics, one being the largest of them all as the trail continued to draw us deeper and steeper into the wilderness. We - more like I did – huffed and puffed on the steepest sections. Then relished in the flat areas with a smooth footbed as I recovered. Then we would do it all over again. Then the trail made a drastic incline. There was one of those peek-a-boo lookouts at that spot so we chose to rest and have a bite to eat. The guide app, FarOut that I was using said we only had about 0.8 miles left to go. But we knew that was deceiving. We may have only had less than a mile to go but even an inexperienced hiker could see the trail went up hard and fast. It was at that point I pulled out the information my friend Stacey had given me. Bruce was still sticking to his guns saying there wasn’t any exposure. We didn’t refer to a guidebook before we went. While I love and trust my hubby dearly, Stacey has more Baxter hiking experience.

We climbed and climbed. I should have put my poles away; they became a nuisance. At one point I tossed them up ahead and luckily, they bounced to a safe spot and not down a notch. We were still in tree cover, but it was a bouldering hand-over-hand climb for me. It was by far the most challenging hike I had done since my 2017 thru-hike. I even think I said that there is nothing on the A.T. that difficult. It reminded me of hiking in New Hampshire near Mt. Moosilauke and Mt. Kinsman. As we climbed the tall trees dwarfed into shrubby gnarly alpine growth and they soon gave way to the exposure.

And there I was, so close to the top as my anxiety rose with each expansive view. It was breathe taking, but so much to handle. I was psyching myself out. Bruce went several steps ahead to scout but not so far that he couldn’t assist me if needed. He was fine. That kind of stuff doesn’t bother him. The trail wasn’t terribly dangerous, and I was sure I would be fine, but I kept second guessing myself and my ability. Being overweight and not as strong as I once was, I now also lack in confidence. I kept yelling up to Bruce, “What’s it like?” “Can I do it?” “How open is it?” “Oh my gosh, I need to come down this!”

Just like my fire tower attempt on the previous hike, I stopped looking out as I climbed. I focused on the next move. But when I felt secure, I did take the time to turn around and look out. It was so pretty, even if our view was hindered mostly by fog. With a few more hair raising and heart thumping maneuvers, we made it to the summit. Bruce nonchalantly claimed the peak as I found a spot to sit and regain composure. At one point he says, “I don’t remember any of that.” And that is why I clung to the trail information Stacey gave me. I checked my watch, and it told me that last climb took us 55 minutes to go 0.8 miles. I am good for 2 mph on moderate terrain. This was strenuous.

At the top we added an extra layer to buffet the wind and mist while we ate our snacks and rehydrated. I also geared up mentally for the climb down. I was not looking forward to it. Down is usually always the worst. But to my surprise, it was a breeze. A piece of cake. A cake-walk. I had zero issues of fear or anxiety going down. I actually found it quite fun.

We weren’t even back to the previous rest stop before the last climb when my quads started talking to me. I knew then it was going to be long sore hike out. But it wasn’t that bad kind of hurt. It was instead, that good hurt of a good workout. I just needed to take it even slow. After all, the goal is never the summit, it is a safe return.

I was relieved when we made it back to the Hunt Trail junction. I knew the last mile out was much gentler than what we had just completed. I took the liberty of going extra slow to use that time as a cool down – like horses after a race. The last thing I wanted to do was go from intense to sitting still in the truck or back at the lean-to.

With another successful Baxter hike done we headed back to Abol to find Wendy. Her stuff was set up at her site, but she was nowhere to be found. Realizing there wasn’t enough room at her spot for both our vehicles, Bruce and I left her a note explaining we were going to check out other options and we might not be back. Back to Katahdin Stream Campground we went.  We met up with Ranger Pete. The campground was full, but he radioed the gate to see if there were any cancellations anywhere. They found us a spot at Nesowadnehunk Campground on the western edge of the park. It is a 30-minute drive from Katahdin Stream. We didn’t mind, we love it out there.

We were disappointed plans with Wendy foiled again, but things happen, and one should be flexible with back up plans. So, Bruce and I spent a gorgeous evening in the openness of the field in the shadows of Double Top Mountain – a hike we will do another day.

Happy Hiking,

Emily

A little extra