Sometimes in life a thing stops you dead in your tracks. It can be a bear in the trail. It can be an overdraft notice. It can be a job offer or someone being mad at you. Sometimes it’s something deeper, more rooted in your soul, and hard to articulate what it is you’re feeling and why.
I wrote that out, and now I’m not even sure what else to say. It feels like maybe I should just post the video of me speechless and overwhelmed by emotion. But the writer in me feels challenged to convey the experience. To give it a different life in words.
I tried to go to Acadia National Park on Sunday. I actually did go, but after one orbit I left Acadia absolutely pissed off. My mood was gravelly. One key thing I had not anticipated about my quick-planned trip was I would be venturing north into peak fall foliage; particularly in Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, and Upstate New York. The only adverse impact that had on me was my visit to Acadia. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.
I had enough foresight to look into access to Baxter State Park on Saturday when I stopped for the night in the Palmyra, Maine Walmart parking lot. Early Sunday I was able to call the state park and reserve a parking space for Katadhin Stream Trailhead for Tuesday. I had wanted Roaring Brook for Monday. I really wanted to do the Knife Edge. The problem with Monday was a 90% chance of rain, wind, and cooler temps. Tuesday’s forecast was marginally better. So I acquiesced and allowed the Tao of Pooh to direct my steps. I didn’t know it yet, but I would be entering the “hundred acre woods” soon enough.
When I got to the visitor center in Millinocket to pick up the pass the nice lady I’d spoken to on the phone had kindly printed for me I asked if there were any campsites available for that night and the next. The very helpful ranger booked me for two nights at Nesowadnehunk Fields (I still cannot pronounce that word). He informed me the campground was an hour and forty five minutes from the entrance gate, and it would be forty five minutes back to the trailhead from camp on Tuesday morning and he encouraged an early start. I bought a map and thanked them before heading out into the drizzly late afternoon in search of some place to fill my grumbly tumbly.
There’s a great pizza place across from the Millinocket Post Office called Angelo’s Pizza and More. I had a great and great big salad and an amazing pizza. The gentleman working (I presume Angelo or his commercial heir) was friendly. I left with half a pizza to keep me company in the great dark northern woods and the sad knowledge Angelo’s wouldn’t be open again until Friday but I would be much farther down the road by then hopefully.
I made my way into Baxter State Park. I was beginning to fully realize that Baxter is special in that they do limit the number of visitors. I think I was fortunate to have arrived at the end of a weekend, because my travels seemed to be sped along by a friendly universe. The ranger at the entry gate sat with his legs crossed as he casually filled out my camping pass and chatted with myself and someone on the radio in turns.
I asked about distances and he also encouraged an early start on Tuesday. He suggested I should leave Katadhin Stream Trailhead at 6:00am for the summit because at 6:30 they start letting day users in at the gate and I wanted to get on the trail ahead of “all of them.” Being the solo adventuring introvert I am I made sure to set an alarm for 5:00am on Monday night before I laid down.
But Sunday I eased into the park around 5:00pm and drove deep back into the Maine woods as dusk came gentle over the world. There was still just enough light when I got back to the Fields—as I’ll call them to preserve my own fingers from overtyping the actual name—with enough light to find the parking for campers and scope everything out. I backed the Jeep up to some thick underbrush and settled in for the night.
Once I rearranged everything for sleeping I ate some cold pizza and got out to go pee. The first thing I noticed was the quiet. Oh, I could hear the stream (which the fields were named after) and the wind swaying the trees around. But it felt quiet. There had been one car in the day use parking when I arrived but two hikers got in and left almost as soon as I arrived. As far as I could tell there was no one else around for miles.
The second thing I noticed was how dark it was. And again, it felt dark. Not in a scary or threatening way. I was peaceful, the absence of artificial light, and only the natural light of the world illuminating the night. The moon was still a sliver, and it was overcast, but there was a dim glow from the long set sun until the stars briefly came out. But it was so dark then, that I couldn’t even see the tall evergreens silhouetted against the ambient starlight. It’s like the only things that existed in that moment were the stars in my eyes. I didn’t think to get my camera and take a photo. It was too soul stunning to allow that kind of thought. Baxter had stolen my heart in that moment.
I eventually crawled back into the Jeep and slipped into my sleeping bag. It was cool but not cold. The wind swayed occasionally, but it was mostly still and peaceful. The comforting quiet and darkness must have lulled me, because I awoke later with a full bladder. I’d tried to drink plenty of water to stay hydrated for the big hike coming in a couple days. Not even! As I lay there trying to motivate myself to put on my shoes I saw lights playing on the ceiling of the car, and then I heard the low mumble of voices. The lights and voices passed the front of the Jeep and then I heard a car door open. I peeked over my window covers and saw two guys getting into a car two spaces away from me. I hadn’t heard them pull in which was startling to realize.
The rest of the night passed without incident. I lingered in my warm bag in the morning; in no rush because I had all day to figure out what I would do. I looked at the map and decided I’d check out the AT south of the Daicey Pond area. There were two waterfalls labeled on the map and it looked like there was little elevation gain on the trails in that area.
I had to take care of two chores first. The primary concern was food. I was really hungry. But almost as pressing was the need to find a hole of cold water to sink myself in. I hadn’t had a shower since Friday morning and I’d been folded over in the car or walking hard for most of the previous three days. I needed clean and to soak sore joints and muscles.
I’d seen covered picnic tables at the Foster Fields Group Area on the drive in, so I left the campground and made my way south. I only saw a couple other cars at a different area of the campground and once I was moving down the road it felt like I had the whole place to myself.
It was cool, maybe 40°, and I kept an eye on the rushing stream along the road. Eventually I saw an area where the creek made a bend away from the road far enough I couldn’t see it, so I stopped and grabbed a towel and got out. After a nice cold soak including my head I was moving on to find a place to make breakfast with maybe a little heat coming out of the dash. As I turned into Foster Fields the rain picked up. But I took it in stride. I was in no hurry, so I sat in the car reorganized things a bit until there was a lull. Then I grabbed my food and cooking gear and made for the tables.
I brewed a big thermos of coffee first, then I toasted a couple of bagels in my backpacking pot. I munched on one with cream cheese while I mixed up Ova Easy egg crystals for the first time, and cooked up some eggs and bacon bits to eat on the second bagel. I highly recommend the Ova Easy eggs. They were just eggs!
It was nice to just hang out, sip coffee, enjoy the quiet, the lack of cell service, and think about the deeper things going on in my soul. I’d walked out of my old job straight into this trip. It was somewhat surreal. But then Baxter felt like this alternate dimension I had teleported to. Time slowed down. Colors had become brighter. The air was nourishing and crisp.
I moved over to Daicey Pond with the intent of hiking to Sentinel Mountain. It looked casual which was good because I intended to keep it easy the day before tackling Katadhin. I wanted my full energy and attention for the big peak. I had no idea what kind of effort (maximum!) or weather I’d face. When I got to the start of the trail to Sentinel it was apparent I would not be going there that day. There was a deep stream crossing right off the bat. So I switched back to the AT and Little and Big Niagaras. I paused at the AT sign pointing toward Baxter Peak (Katadhin): 7.5 miles from that spot. I stood in silence looking at that sign, feeling the weight of thousands of hearts seeing that sign and knowing they had the long trail mostly behind them, but one last trial still ahead. For the rest of my time in Baxter that weighty presence stayed with me. I turned south and followed the AT into the woods toward Springer Mountain.
It was a beautiful hike along Nesowadnehunk Stream. The sound of the water rushing over granite, the fall colors contrasted against the otherworldly greens of the spruce, and fern and moss…the cool damp of the autumn air…all spoke to the tiniest wrinkles of my soul.
Both falls were impressive. I took a lot of photos. But then eventually people started to show up, so I made my way back to the trail and strolled through the magical forest back toward the trailhead.
As I walked along, the persistent noise in my head roaring as usual, I was stopped dead in my tracks. It wasn’t a bear in the trail. There was no overdraft notice. I didn’t have a new job offer. No one was mad at me. Something had happened: I was hiking and doing my typical fantasizing about a future for myself, telling myself a big story about some fictional future I’d like for myself, and I realized I wasn’t listening to the forest around me. I wasn’t seeing the vibrant landscape I was passing through. I was just walking and moving on autopilot. And I stopped my mind. I silenced my thoughts. I don’t know if I have ever done that in my life before. Suddenly I could see everything. I could hear everything. Colors became more saturated. Everything jumped out in stark relief, three dimensional and high definition. I could hear every drop of water falling from the trees and the stream off in the distance. Squirrels chittering and complaining and one even ran almost over my foot. It’s like I was hearing the soundtrack of life for the first time. How had I never done that before?
My heart and soul were weightless as I travelled back through Baxter and made my way to the lean-to I’d reserved for Monday night. It rained some, and the wind picked up. I felt at peace and content. Baxter was just an autumn dreamscape that I didn’t want to wake up from. In a few hours I’d step deeper into the wilderness to seek another summit. I fell asleep listening to the quiet and embraced by the comforting darkness.
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