Periwinkle
Active member
The Solo Purple Trail Snail Continues Her Adventures with a Hiking Family
So, we were off again. Garfield was such a great trip; the hubby started nagging me about hiking again. Okay, then...
I picked Cabot via the Bunnell Notch Trail. Since it doesn't appear that the Cabot Trail is going to legally reopen anytime soon, I figured this would be a good one for an overnight at the Cabot Cabin. The hubby likes overnighting. He's not opposed to dayhiking, but that's his preference. Works for me, especially if he's carrying the tent and stove.
The morning didn't start off well. In fact, the morning was long gone, and it was well into the afternoon by the time we hit the trail. A good deal of the delay was getting lost getting to the trailhead. I missed a turn, Jack misunderstood where I had said we were going, and gave me the wrong directions co-piloting blind. We took a nice scenic loop route to the trailhead.
We decided to go ahead and head up anyhow, late or not. We had what I refer to as "the heinous tent" along just in case we had to make camp before reaching the cabin.
Twenty minutes in, we're stopped at a junction debating the route. The comedy routine started here, with my DH cracking, "Would you just check the GPS? I'm only up for being lost once today." Route confirmed, we sent off down the logging road.
Shortly after finding the turn to the trail proper, we encountered our first Boot Sucking Mud Hole. Little Bear had told me about her experience with the mud holes on Bunnell Notch, so we proceeded with due caution. A wise choice! I planted a pole almost two feet deep searching for solid footing, bending the pole while wrestling it out. Further forays across these intermittent mud holes lead us to dub them the Boot Sucking Mud Fissures (just for the apt abbreviation of B.S.M.F.'s!) The BSMF's continued to appear with regularity along the trail, prompting the hubby to quip "This trail su@ks!"
We might have been joking about it the entire way, but I was seriously unamused to discover my dogs floundering the in quagmire. Both dogs had moments of flailing about trying to extricate themselves from sucking mud pits. Not fun for any dog, but both of my retrievers suffer from various degrees of joint disease. I had thought that they would like the trail because it was muddy and followed a brook. Not this time: the mud was like quicksand and the brook frequently dropped away from the trail.
By the time we reached the junctions with the Kilkenny Ridge & Cabot trails, I was losing my sense of humor. It takes a lot to make me cranky on the trail, but it was past dinner time, the dogs were tired, I was getting concerned about having to find a tent site if the cabin was fully occupied, and the tedious footing had put me on edge. The DH was still being a sport, but I was getting testy. I pushed the decision to skip the trip to Bunnell Brook to get water. I didn't want to haul it up the last thousand feet with a full pack. I offered to fetch water from the spring after we reached the cabin.
Once we reached the cabin and found it unoccupied, I dumped everything nonessential, down to a tube of Chapstick, and sprinted for the spring. I was very grateful to have heard about this water source from my fellow VFTT'ers. The trail down to the spring isn't a ton of fun, but it worked out very well. I was pleasantly surprised that the little pool held up very well to my pumping about seven liters of water out at one go so that we could skip a return trip.
I was back in time for a quiet cocktail hour, followed by a peaceful sunset dinner. While I was at the spring, the darling DH had organized gear and gotten everything ready for dinner. We enjoyed a relaxing evening, watching the distant lights of civilization twinkle below as daylight faded. Cabot Cabin was a comfortable refuge from the roar of Bike Week. The only sound was the rush of the wind past the cozy cabin.
This morning dawned spectacularly in the Northern Whites. I woke up with the birds, just in time to grab my camera, slap on my Tevas and making the less than .1 mile trek to the fire tower overlook. Just in time to catch the sunrise. Not quite the adventure of bagging Madison with the rising sun, but a better light show. And having the view so much closer meant that I could crawl back into my sleeping bag for a few more zzzzzzz's.
After breakfast and a few housekeeping chores, we decided to go out the Kilkenny Ridge Trail to Unknown Pond. Adding miles was preferable to pushing the dogs back through Bunnell Notch. Summiting Cabot seemed almost anticlimactic after such a peaceful evening at the cabin. We did the usual summit photo op, chased off by flies. Ah, those wooded summits....
The Kilkenny Ridge Trail was a breeze after the previous day's slog. We did skip the Horn. I know, I know... but the dogs weren't up to it, we were down to our last bottle of water until Unknown Pond, the skies were clouding up, and, yet again, I had to get home to work. What a drag....
We did get one last good laugh on the way out, when one of my poles damn near disappeared into a BSMF on the Unknown Pond trail. I thought I was never going to see that sucker again -- it was just going to keep plunging down into the ooze. We had been joking before that you might not just lose a boot to a BSMF, but that it might eat your foot as well. I offered to sacrifice my pole if I might be allowed back to the trailhead with all appendages intact. Fortunately, the BSMF's don't like trekking poles. I managed to pull the pole back to safety with a loud, wet smacking sound as the BSMF spit it out. We made it back to the trailhead without ever having made a deposit to the MF's. All equipment, boots, feet, and paws accounted for. Success!
So, we were off again. Garfield was such a great trip; the hubby started nagging me about hiking again. Okay, then...
I picked Cabot via the Bunnell Notch Trail. Since it doesn't appear that the Cabot Trail is going to legally reopen anytime soon, I figured this would be a good one for an overnight at the Cabot Cabin. The hubby likes overnighting. He's not opposed to dayhiking, but that's his preference. Works for me, especially if he's carrying the tent and stove.
The morning didn't start off well. In fact, the morning was long gone, and it was well into the afternoon by the time we hit the trail. A good deal of the delay was getting lost getting to the trailhead. I missed a turn, Jack misunderstood where I had said we were going, and gave me the wrong directions co-piloting blind. We took a nice scenic loop route to the trailhead.
We decided to go ahead and head up anyhow, late or not. We had what I refer to as "the heinous tent" along just in case we had to make camp before reaching the cabin.
Twenty minutes in, we're stopped at a junction debating the route. The comedy routine started here, with my DH cracking, "Would you just check the GPS? I'm only up for being lost once today." Route confirmed, we sent off down the logging road.
Shortly after finding the turn to the trail proper, we encountered our first Boot Sucking Mud Hole. Little Bear had told me about her experience with the mud holes on Bunnell Notch, so we proceeded with due caution. A wise choice! I planted a pole almost two feet deep searching for solid footing, bending the pole while wrestling it out. Further forays across these intermittent mud holes lead us to dub them the Boot Sucking Mud Fissures (just for the apt abbreviation of B.S.M.F.'s!) The BSMF's continued to appear with regularity along the trail, prompting the hubby to quip "This trail su@ks!"
We might have been joking about it the entire way, but I was seriously unamused to discover my dogs floundering the in quagmire. Both dogs had moments of flailing about trying to extricate themselves from sucking mud pits. Not fun for any dog, but both of my retrievers suffer from various degrees of joint disease. I had thought that they would like the trail because it was muddy and followed a brook. Not this time: the mud was like quicksand and the brook frequently dropped away from the trail.
By the time we reached the junctions with the Kilkenny Ridge & Cabot trails, I was losing my sense of humor. It takes a lot to make me cranky on the trail, but it was past dinner time, the dogs were tired, I was getting concerned about having to find a tent site if the cabin was fully occupied, and the tedious footing had put me on edge. The DH was still being a sport, but I was getting testy. I pushed the decision to skip the trip to Bunnell Brook to get water. I didn't want to haul it up the last thousand feet with a full pack. I offered to fetch water from the spring after we reached the cabin.
Once we reached the cabin and found it unoccupied, I dumped everything nonessential, down to a tube of Chapstick, and sprinted for the spring. I was very grateful to have heard about this water source from my fellow VFTT'ers. The trail down to the spring isn't a ton of fun, but it worked out very well. I was pleasantly surprised that the little pool held up very well to my pumping about seven liters of water out at one go so that we could skip a return trip.
I was back in time for a quiet cocktail hour, followed by a peaceful sunset dinner. While I was at the spring, the darling DH had organized gear and gotten everything ready for dinner. We enjoyed a relaxing evening, watching the distant lights of civilization twinkle below as daylight faded. Cabot Cabin was a comfortable refuge from the roar of Bike Week. The only sound was the rush of the wind past the cozy cabin.
This morning dawned spectacularly in the Northern Whites. I woke up with the birds, just in time to grab my camera, slap on my Tevas and making the less than .1 mile trek to the fire tower overlook. Just in time to catch the sunrise. Not quite the adventure of bagging Madison with the rising sun, but a better light show. And having the view so much closer meant that I could crawl back into my sleeping bag for a few more zzzzzzz's.
After breakfast and a few housekeeping chores, we decided to go out the Kilkenny Ridge Trail to Unknown Pond. Adding miles was preferable to pushing the dogs back through Bunnell Notch. Summiting Cabot seemed almost anticlimactic after such a peaceful evening at the cabin. We did the usual summit photo op, chased off by flies. Ah, those wooded summits....
The Kilkenny Ridge Trail was a breeze after the previous day's slog. We did skip the Horn. I know, I know... but the dogs weren't up to it, we were down to our last bottle of water until Unknown Pond, the skies were clouding up, and, yet again, I had to get home to work. What a drag....
We did get one last good laugh on the way out, when one of my poles damn near disappeared into a BSMF on the Unknown Pond trail. I thought I was never going to see that sucker again -- it was just going to keep plunging down into the ooze. We had been joking before that you might not just lose a boot to a BSMF, but that it might eat your foot as well. I offered to sacrifice my pole if I might be allowed back to the trailhead with all appendages intact. Fortunately, the BSMF's don't like trekking poles. I managed to pull the pole back to safety with a loud, wet smacking sound as the BSMF spit it out. We made it back to the trailhead without ever having made a deposit to the MF's. All equipment, boots, feet, and paws accounted for. Success!
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