McRat
New member
When Noah had finished building the ark, the animals began to arrive in pairs and he watched in amazement as they entered in pairs. The parade of Elephants, lions, bears, hippos, marmots, ocelots, and orangutans all pleased Noah. He reveled in the ostriches, rabbits, moose, chipmunk and sloth. He watched bemused as the field mice, otters, and armadillos jockeyed for position up the ramp.
Towards the end of the line there came the horseflies, blackflies, deer flies, and mosquitoes greatly disturbed Noah and he began to protest their entry mightily. As the rain began he finally relented for verily they were on the list…
As I enjoyed the long winding drive up Route 26 in Maine, I wondered if an Ark would be necessary. I knew the heavy rain before a bushwhack was not. I called Steve and found that they too were experiencing “wrath of God” –type rain and neither of us we resigned ourselves to what would be a soggy trip.
Within 10 minutes of walking through the grasses, we were soaked from the thigh down. In another 20 minutes we would find ourselves completely soaked. We followed whatever herd paths we could find and wound up in some nasty spruce and blowdown infested section that seemed to take the majority of the time. Eventually we worked through and continued to the summit.
By the time we reached the summit, our boots felt like ankle weights and made a squishy noise with every step. Nature saw fit to rain on us again, but we managed to shrug it off as meaningless after Glenn pointed out that there really wasn’t any way of getting any more wet. We signed the register and Steve led us back down, somehow finding a decent route around the ugly stuff and before long we were back in the car, dry clothes, and on our way to the campground.
The rain had picked up and after registering and finding the group site a collection of small ponds, we decided to set up tents later in the hopes of dry ground. We headed back into town for a bit to eat.
Back in the thriving metropolis of Oquossuc, we three soggy and malodorous hikers arrived in T-shirts to the local restaurant. We walked in and they immediately asked if we had reservations. Suddenly we did. The hostess led us over to a sofa before conferencing with management. We were increasingly unsure and out-of-place among the well-dressed diners, but were offered a table. We took a quick look at the menu – prices suggested we could all enjoy an appetizer, entrée and beverage at a collective cost of $150+.
We realized this was not for us and decided to depart. The hostess looked a combination of shocked, confused and disappointed. “But… we’re willing to seat you!”
If my bright orange Moxie T-shirt wasn’t enough to inform them of my position, I clarified it with a cocky smile and one sentence as we headed for the door, “talk is cheap, and so am I.”
The rain had stopped and we hit the general store, ordered some pizzas and subs, and looked much more in our element as we enjoyed them on the front porch.
We set up our campsite and Glenn got the fire started. We sat up talking and joking as we watched the steam rise from our hopelessly soggy boots by the fire.
Day 2
While we got some rain in the night to pre-moisten the trees for us, we woke to drier conditions and ate breakfast just before Windy pulled up. We loaded into the Stevemobile and were off to explore the logging roads. Things change quickly in the area and we wound up discovering that little of the maps, beta, and logic applied to the terrain at hand. Somehow, in spite of this problem and my attempts as navigator, we found our way each time.
The slightly cool and damp clothes we had worn yesterday soon got a fresh coat of water as we trudged up towards White Cap. While yesterday’s rains were still on the plants, the drier weather brought out the bugs. A metric assload of bugs to be specific.
I have seen what I thought were bad bugs, but these beat them all combined. I swear there was one bug who just rode up on my ear, buzzing contentedly the whole day. Blackflies, deerflies, mosquitoes and horseflies were on the direct assault, while legions of noseeums and gnats ran interference occasionally landing in the nose, eyes, and throat. The group held up it’s good humor, but there were times I thought if anything was going to prevent us from summiting, it would be the bucking fugs.
If not for the bugs, the trip would have been fairly easy. While there was a bit of ‘whacking we found some decent herd paths and even ran into several long sections of what I guessed were snowmobile trails. With occasional checks of the GPS we made it to the summit and soon headed back down to the col.
On the way up we had found a lovely 4 way intersection which seemed to head towards the North Peak of Kennebago divide. Unfortunately, my guide skills managed to completely miss this point and we found ourselves back near the start of our whack to White Cap. If I wasn’t with such a forgiving group, I’m sure my route finding skills would have been criticized.
We wandered along and found some herd paths, many of which would lead to a small but defensive phalanxes of spruce. Windy proved good at following the herd paths and led much of the way, occasionally working trough some tangles that were less forgiving to the larger framed members of the group.
Soon we were at the summit and Steve’s boots delaminated with an audible pop while we had a snack and signed the register. Such was the damage that even duct tape couldn’t hold them together – another Maine first.
We followed the herd paths back where we could, and met some familiar spruce, some new as we found our way back to the logging road with our insect escorts ever at hand.
With two ‘whacks down for the day, we headed for Cupsuptic Snow. Once again, navigating the logging roads proved amusing and almost all directions I offered had the added caveat “If we are where I THINK we are…” After missing the correct road we made an extensive tour of the logging roads, before heading back to the Lincoln/Tim Pond Road. We decided to take Burnt Mountain road and found that it came within 50 feet of a point that required a 15-20 mile detour. After comparing the map to the topo on the GPS, we decided that we were in the right place.
We stepped out of the car and immediately the insect air force had locked onto us. There were a few more biters than swarmers, but it was fairly maddening none the less. We made it up the road and began the bushwhack, or should I say fernwhack up to a point where we found the remains of some old logging road that took us to a point just before the summit. We followed several paths until we found the canister in a small cluster of trees. We headed back down uneventfully except for the regular slapping at bugs and occasional obscenity at the bites.
We were delighted to find MadRiver had set up the chuck wagon, and after a shower, change of clothes, and a fine meal, we all felt vaguely human again, nay conquerors of bugs and spruce.
After finishing the good beers, I fired off a few silver bullets in case of werewolves, before everyone eventually drifted off to their tents and sleep.
Towards the end of the line there came the horseflies, blackflies, deer flies, and mosquitoes greatly disturbed Noah and he began to protest their entry mightily. As the rain began he finally relented for verily they were on the list…
As I enjoyed the long winding drive up Route 26 in Maine, I wondered if an Ark would be necessary. I knew the heavy rain before a bushwhack was not. I called Steve and found that they too were experiencing “wrath of God” –type rain and neither of us we resigned ourselves to what would be a soggy trip.
Within 10 minutes of walking through the grasses, we were soaked from the thigh down. In another 20 minutes we would find ourselves completely soaked. We followed whatever herd paths we could find and wound up in some nasty spruce and blowdown infested section that seemed to take the majority of the time. Eventually we worked through and continued to the summit.
By the time we reached the summit, our boots felt like ankle weights and made a squishy noise with every step. Nature saw fit to rain on us again, but we managed to shrug it off as meaningless after Glenn pointed out that there really wasn’t any way of getting any more wet. We signed the register and Steve led us back down, somehow finding a decent route around the ugly stuff and before long we were back in the car, dry clothes, and on our way to the campground.
The rain had picked up and after registering and finding the group site a collection of small ponds, we decided to set up tents later in the hopes of dry ground. We headed back into town for a bit to eat.
Back in the thriving metropolis of Oquossuc, we three soggy and malodorous hikers arrived in T-shirts to the local restaurant. We walked in and they immediately asked if we had reservations. Suddenly we did. The hostess led us over to a sofa before conferencing with management. We were increasingly unsure and out-of-place among the well-dressed diners, but were offered a table. We took a quick look at the menu – prices suggested we could all enjoy an appetizer, entrée and beverage at a collective cost of $150+.
We realized this was not for us and decided to depart. The hostess looked a combination of shocked, confused and disappointed. “But… we’re willing to seat you!”
If my bright orange Moxie T-shirt wasn’t enough to inform them of my position, I clarified it with a cocky smile and one sentence as we headed for the door, “talk is cheap, and so am I.”
The rain had stopped and we hit the general store, ordered some pizzas and subs, and looked much more in our element as we enjoyed them on the front porch.
We set up our campsite and Glenn got the fire started. We sat up talking and joking as we watched the steam rise from our hopelessly soggy boots by the fire.
Day 2
While we got some rain in the night to pre-moisten the trees for us, we woke to drier conditions and ate breakfast just before Windy pulled up. We loaded into the Stevemobile and were off to explore the logging roads. Things change quickly in the area and we wound up discovering that little of the maps, beta, and logic applied to the terrain at hand. Somehow, in spite of this problem and my attempts as navigator, we found our way each time.
The slightly cool and damp clothes we had worn yesterday soon got a fresh coat of water as we trudged up towards White Cap. While yesterday’s rains were still on the plants, the drier weather brought out the bugs. A metric assload of bugs to be specific.
I have seen what I thought were bad bugs, but these beat them all combined. I swear there was one bug who just rode up on my ear, buzzing contentedly the whole day. Blackflies, deerflies, mosquitoes and horseflies were on the direct assault, while legions of noseeums and gnats ran interference occasionally landing in the nose, eyes, and throat. The group held up it’s good humor, but there were times I thought if anything was going to prevent us from summiting, it would be the bucking fugs.
If not for the bugs, the trip would have been fairly easy. While there was a bit of ‘whacking we found some decent herd paths and even ran into several long sections of what I guessed were snowmobile trails. With occasional checks of the GPS we made it to the summit and soon headed back down to the col.
On the way up we had found a lovely 4 way intersection which seemed to head towards the North Peak of Kennebago divide. Unfortunately, my guide skills managed to completely miss this point and we found ourselves back near the start of our whack to White Cap. If I wasn’t with such a forgiving group, I’m sure my route finding skills would have been criticized.
We wandered along and found some herd paths, many of which would lead to a small but defensive phalanxes of spruce. Windy proved good at following the herd paths and led much of the way, occasionally working trough some tangles that were less forgiving to the larger framed members of the group.
Soon we were at the summit and Steve’s boots delaminated with an audible pop while we had a snack and signed the register. Such was the damage that even duct tape couldn’t hold them together – another Maine first.
We followed the herd paths back where we could, and met some familiar spruce, some new as we found our way back to the logging road with our insect escorts ever at hand.
With two ‘whacks down for the day, we headed for Cupsuptic Snow. Once again, navigating the logging roads proved amusing and almost all directions I offered had the added caveat “If we are where I THINK we are…” After missing the correct road we made an extensive tour of the logging roads, before heading back to the Lincoln/Tim Pond Road. We decided to take Burnt Mountain road and found that it came within 50 feet of a point that required a 15-20 mile detour. After comparing the map to the topo on the GPS, we decided that we were in the right place.
We stepped out of the car and immediately the insect air force had locked onto us. There were a few more biters than swarmers, but it was fairly maddening none the less. We made it up the road and began the bushwhack, or should I say fernwhack up to a point where we found the remains of some old logging road that took us to a point just before the summit. We followed several paths until we found the canister in a small cluster of trees. We headed back down uneventfully except for the regular slapping at bugs and occasional obscenity at the bites.
We were delighted to find MadRiver had set up the chuck wagon, and after a shower, change of clothes, and a fine meal, we all felt vaguely human again, nay conquerors of bugs and spruce.
After finishing the good beers, I fired off a few silver bullets in case of werewolves, before everyone eventually drifted off to their tents and sleep.
