From the Editor: There are 29 images in this story and despite their conservative 100 dpi resolution, they will take a while to load. To help minimize this problem, I have divided the story into two separate "chapters." You can jump to the next one using the link at the bottom of each page. Each image can be viewed in its original size by clicking on the image itself. Use your browser's Back Button to return to the story. Enjoy!
Baby Resor put out altitude aspirations on hold for a few months and gave us an opportunity to explore our great northeastern coast and the wilds of Maine. We arranged for a few nights in lighthouses and not wanting to abandon the mountains altogether, camped a night in Baxter State Park a few miles short of the north end of the Appalacian Trail to position ourselves for a climb up Mt. Katahdin.
A Friday afternoon flight landed us at Boston's Logan Airport and after a short drive to Gloucester, we arrived in time for sunset and a cup of chowdah. Made famous by generations of fishermen, Gloucester is now known for Gorton's of Gloucester, The Perfect Storm and quaint seashore scenes.
As it turns out, Saturday morning isn't a great time to leave Boston for the Cape. Fortunately, it was a nice day for a drive and several hours later, we were rewarded with azure skies, white sand dunes and the open Atlantic. Our trusty Blazer allowed us to cut off road and through the dunes to this pristine section of the Cape Cod National Seashore. Mere miles from the bustle of Boston, the CCNS offers miles of nearly vacant beaches.
 Provincetown lies on the Outer Cape at land's end and earns the title as the Gayest Town in America. Gayer than German Village. Gayer than Key West. Gayer than San Francisco. Gays outnumbered straights 8:1 at 3:00 pm when we first walked down Commercial St. By dark, the titer had risen to 40:1. Provincetown is the gay capitol of the U.S., but somehow they make it work and it fits here. Take a minute to tune in to The Voice of Provincetown for the full effect.
Saturated with the counterculture and extreme "diversity" of Provincetown, we were glad to see the dawn of a new day. When we set off across the breakwater we were refreshed by the salt air and the solitude of Race Point Lighthouse. It was a nice break.
After lunch at Moby Dick's we made our way south to Dennisport for a night at The Lighthouse Inn. This working lighthouse has been a B&B for decades. Like all lighthouses, it sits right on the coast with nothing but water clear to the horizon. The calmness of the Atlantic struck us as we relaxed on the deck. It's likely a different scene altogether in November. The breakfast was outstanding with lobster omlets and fresh blueberry pancakes.
After a leisurely drive down to Falmouth, we hopped the ferry over to Martha's Vineyard to see firsthand what all the excitement is about. Getting the truck over to the island would have meant $300 and reservations made in January. Instead, we strolled the flower-lined streets of Oak Bluffs checking out the merry go-round, chintzy gingerbread houses and ice cream shops. Sorry, no photo of the Chappaquiddic bridge.
 The clear skies of the Cape gradually gave way to clouds as we drove north into Maine. While the weather cleared enough to enjoy Freeport and some late-night shopping at LL Bean, the next morning looked grim. Thankfully, we were able to swap our night at Katahdin Steam Campground (read: tent) for our night in the appropriately-named Big Mud cabin on Lake Millinocket. Our log cabin at Twin Pine Camp overlooked Millinocket Lake and Mt. Katahdin. We grilled brats for dinner. Despite the soggy weather, we were able to get a campfire going along the shore and enjoy a game of Othello in Big Mud.
 The day dawned as overcast as the evening before, but the forecast was good. Undeterred, we set off for the end of the road and Baxter State Park. The skies were clear and the summit had only a few light clouds by the time we arrived at Katahdin Stream Campground. After pitching the tent and setting up camp, finding a moose became a top priority. We first hiked around, and then paddled around Daicey Lake with spectacular views of Mt. Katahdin and this grazing moose. Mother Nature had laid out a perfect day that would be followed by clear skies for the rest of the trip.
The famous Maine mosquitoes and black flies were curiously absent and our roaring campfire kept the chill off. The campground was full, but Katahdin Stream has only 17 sites and we felt like we had the place to ourselves. Our tent was just a few paces from the stream and it provided a natural backdrop to the night. The "night" ended at 3:30 am when the alarm sounded. The plan was to be on the trail by 4:00 am and hike the flat, easier part of the trail by headlamp in the dark. Angie was still sound asleep when I left for the final 5.2 miles of the Appalacian Trail.
It was light enough to hike without a headlamp by the time the going got tough. The Hunt Trail on Mt. Katahdin has a stretch that gains over 3,600 feet in just 3 miles, most of which is climbing from boulder to boulder. About two thirds the way up this section comes the Class 2+ Boulder Field featuring numerous "pitches" that require handholds. At the top of the Boulder Field the trail levels out for a hundred yards or so and leads up to the foot of the Hunt Spur. This exposed, narrow and steep rockfall gains 400 vertical feet in less than 1000 feet of "trail." You've made the easy part once you top out on the Hunt Spur. It's a short walk over to Thoreau Spring and then another mile and 600 vertical feet to the summit. Alpine tundra at only 5000 feet is testimony to the northern lattitude of Katahdin. I left the trailhead at 4:00 am, but it still felt good to be the first person on the summit and have that picture perfect day all to myself.
 I had kicked back to enjoy the view (which was spectacular to say the least, especially of the Knife Edge and the steep north face of Katahdin) when some other climbers arrived at the summit. Their sign kissing, dirt eating, and general celebration made it obvious that these weren't day hikers. It turned out that these two runners from Texas had just done the Appalacian Trail in 65 days, setting the 9th and 10th record fastest times for though "hiking" the AT. Do the math; that's a long way, every day. I was proud to snap their picture.
Click here to go the next page of our New England Trip!
|