alexmtn
Member
This hike had beckoned to me for quite some time before I put thoughts into action. Opportunity #1: Attempt Katahdin from Daicey on the day after what proved to be a brutal (cold, wind, deep snow) North Brother/Fort hike; I quit while still on the Tote Road – no gas in the tank. Opportunity #2: Hike Katahdin as a day hike from outside the park; despite a promising forecast, low visibility and 70mph winds at ~4000’ forced my group to turn around.
Would Opportunity #3 be the charm? Two days ahead, the forecast had turned from lousy to very good, my schedule was clear, and the necessary Baxter State Park arrangements were in place. Unfortunately though, none of the fairly large number of friends whom I thought might be interested in the enterprise could come. I was both surprised and bummed – I had been sure I’d end up with at least a couple of folks. So... was it going to be “oh well, I’ll just forego this prime last-day-of-winter opportunity and hope for things to come together next season,” or “No, screw that , I’m not getting sidelined with such great conditions likely there for the taking. I’ll do it solo.” In this instance, Option 2 won out.
After I established with my family that I had the necessary equipment and skills, that I would keep them updated via SPOT, and that I would suppress any tendency toward summit fever in the event of threatening weather and/or hazardous conditions on the slide and turn around without hesitation, they said OK.
I headed up to Millinocket on Saturday afternoon, readied the 31 pounds of gear and food necessary to be contingency-ready on a remote 21-mile solo winter Class 3+ above tree line trip with 5600’ of elevation gain, downed some dinner, and snoozed until it was time to warm my water and head to Abol Bridge for a pre-dawn start.
Despite the recent snows, the Tote Road was consolidated enough to offer a smooth ride on snowshoes. Because of my pack weight, the presence of Abol Hill on the route, and the fact that all my road travel was likely going to be in the dark, I decided that snowshoeing to Abol Campground would be less of a hassle than skiing. The walk was pleasant, and I was especially heartened that the moon was out to light may way without the need to have the headlamp on most of the time. On some occasions, there was actually moonlit scenery to enjoy – the most notable spot was Abol Beach. Temps were frostier than anticipated though, with pockets in the single digits, causing me to add a layer.
Upon arriving at the Abol Slide Trail, I was happy to see that it was fairly consolidated, and the brisk temps made it quite firm. The problem was that it had been totally trampled by what I estimated to be 2-4 bare booted post holers in the sunny, above-freezing conditions of the prior day. It was a rough ride, even with snowshoes. As the incline increased and the sun rose, it was time to stow the extra layer I’d added. When I got to the slide, I continued to follow yesterday’s tracks, which took me up the bypass rather than the lower portion of the slide. I was familiar with the route from my last attempt, and once out of the trees, was really happy to experience a completely blue sky, crisp views of the mountain, and an almost imperceptible breeze. Such a difference from a few months ago!
As the trail gradually took on the qualities of a slide (though I was not yet on THE slide) and I switched from snowshoes and poles to crampons and ax, I was relieved and delighted to see lots of exposed rock and styrofoam snow, rather than profuse amounts of blue ice covering everything. I wasn’t leading or following with ice pro and a partner, and in the latter case would have had to turn around then and there.
As the trail merged with the upper portion of the Abol Slide, I was impressed. While familiar with the Flume Slide and Tripyramid North Slide, this was of a different order. Looking down at the lower 2/3 or so of the slide, it was on quite a scale, and I could also see why the rangers had believed a bypass of the bottom pitch to be in order. Looking and heading up, I found myself negotiating an ever-steepening series of boulder after boulder. With so much below me, it was a continuing surprise how seemingly endless the ascent was. Seemingly endless and steep though the upper slide was, I continued to be heartened by the absence of profuse, serious ice on the route.
I reached the Table Lands shortly before 10am, and enjoyed the transition to the relatively flat terrain there. I also loved the way Baxter Peak was just sitting in front of me, seemingly yelling “Hey! This is the home stretch! You’re almost here!” Everything was intensely white and bright, however. Because it had been early morning on the west-facing slide, I hadn’t felt the need for sunglasses to this point. Here though, they went on quickly.
The route was marked in a few spots by “re-vegetation” strings, but other than that it was a challenge to follow because the cairns were both snow-covered and largely buried. Why did this matter when the summit was beckoning so vividly? Because the odds were high that an off-route step would plunge through the crust.
The closer I got to the summit, the better the views of the spectacular southern ridge, with Pamola, Chimney, Knife Edge, and South Peaks. And once at the summit, the view down to Chimney Pond or across to Hamlin and the peaks north of it were only slightly less breathtaking on this dazzlingly bright day. Even with Hamlin in between, the views of the Brothers and their companion peaks were great. I thought of a group of my friends who were on their own mission in that playground this weekend, wondering how they fared.
Once I finally stopped gawking at everything and grabbing a quick bite, I was on my way down to the Saddle and across to Hamlin. Unfortunately, the bright sun and a diminished breeze had started to take its toll on the snow crust despite temperatures that were barely 20F. Combined with continued difficulty actually following the trail, waist-high plunge-throughs became more frequent – although not to the point of going to snowshoes from crampons, which were of some value on a number of small ice patches on the slope down into the saddle.
To this point, I hadn’t seen another soul anywhere on the trip, until I noticed a 4-some of youthful guys coming at me from Hamlin. One of them passed within 200’ of me. I waved, but everyone pretty much stuck to mission. As I headed up Hamlin, I noticed that the others weren’t coming back down from Baxter. My guess was that they had headed up Hamlin Ridge from Chimney Pond, and were looping around to the Dudley Trail. I had assumed that the route between Baxter and Hamlin would have been fully broken out by parties from Chimney Pond – but no, it wasn’t, and those were the only Chimney Pond folks up there, at least today.
Unlike their dispersed assault on Baxter, the other group’s tracks on Hamlin were more concentrated and worthwhile to follow. The most noteworthy aspect of this climb was the spectacular view across the South Basin, with Pamola, Chimney, the Knife Edge, South Peak and Baxter Peak, successively more breathtaking with each eastward step I took. Once at Hamlin I took the better part of an hour to enjoy everything, adjust gear, nosh on a sandwich in a 3 season-like manner, and then get organized for the longest above tree-line segment of the day – 2+ miles back partway up Baxter and over to the far lip of the Table Lands where I had come up off of Abol Slide.
In aviation lingo, I was definitely doing VFR navigation. Had IFR conditions been in effect (i.e., everything in the clouds), navigation would have been very tough unless GPS equipped. The cairns were the least visible that I can remember vs. any of my other above tree line outings. I think I would ultimately have been OK with just a compass, but wouldn’t have had enough wands to feel comfortable including Hamlin in my day.
The transit back to the Thoreau Spring area was largely cross country rather than on the [pretty much invisible] Baxter Cutoff Trail, and the afternoon sun continued to play its pranks on the crust – so the number of annoying and energy draining punch-throughs increased.
It took me almost as long to descend the slide as it did for me to climb it – I was doing a lot of dry tooling, I was carrying a heavy pack, and I had very little desire to get tripped up as I maneuvered down off of each successive boulder. I was impressed all over again with how a slide could be THAT steep still be stable. Once in the trees and back on snow, the previously solid trail had softened. The snowshoes would have been a slip-slidy affair in the wet, mashed potato snow, so I kept the crampons on, making my own contribution to choppy conditions tomorrow morning. Once I reached the junction at the base of the slide and the slope angle eased, I switched back to snowshoes.
Between the heavy pack, the extended isometrics on the slide, and the above tree line punch-throughs, the batteries were running substantially lower than would otherwise have been the case after just 16 miles and under 6000’ of elevation gain. I took it really easy on the way out. The moonlit night before had been a pleasant surprise. After dark on the way out, the moon hadn’t yet come up, and I was treated to another surprise: large, brilliant stars, complete with a vivid, unobstructed Milky Way view in all its nuanced splendor. During the walk, numerous rest breaks were inevitable. So too was where to look during those breaks.
The drive out was routine, save for the stiffness in extricating myself from the car at each stop.
Thanks both to the people around me and to Mother Nature for permitting this epic outing to happen!
Photo set is here.
Alex
a l e x m t n 1 [at] o u t l o o k [dot] c o m
Would Opportunity #3 be the charm? Two days ahead, the forecast had turned from lousy to very good, my schedule was clear, and the necessary Baxter State Park arrangements were in place. Unfortunately though, none of the fairly large number of friends whom I thought might be interested in the enterprise could come. I was both surprised and bummed – I had been sure I’d end up with at least a couple of folks. So... was it going to be “oh well, I’ll just forego this prime last-day-of-winter opportunity and hope for things to come together next season,” or “No, screw that , I’m not getting sidelined with such great conditions likely there for the taking. I’ll do it solo.” In this instance, Option 2 won out.
After I established with my family that I had the necessary equipment and skills, that I would keep them updated via SPOT, and that I would suppress any tendency toward summit fever in the event of threatening weather and/or hazardous conditions on the slide and turn around without hesitation, they said OK.
I headed up to Millinocket on Saturday afternoon, readied the 31 pounds of gear and food necessary to be contingency-ready on a remote 21-mile solo winter Class 3+ above tree line trip with 5600’ of elevation gain, downed some dinner, and snoozed until it was time to warm my water and head to Abol Bridge for a pre-dawn start.
Despite the recent snows, the Tote Road was consolidated enough to offer a smooth ride on snowshoes. Because of my pack weight, the presence of Abol Hill on the route, and the fact that all my road travel was likely going to be in the dark, I decided that snowshoeing to Abol Campground would be less of a hassle than skiing. The walk was pleasant, and I was especially heartened that the moon was out to light may way without the need to have the headlamp on most of the time. On some occasions, there was actually moonlit scenery to enjoy – the most notable spot was Abol Beach. Temps were frostier than anticipated though, with pockets in the single digits, causing me to add a layer.
Upon arriving at the Abol Slide Trail, I was happy to see that it was fairly consolidated, and the brisk temps made it quite firm. The problem was that it had been totally trampled by what I estimated to be 2-4 bare booted post holers in the sunny, above-freezing conditions of the prior day. It was a rough ride, even with snowshoes. As the incline increased and the sun rose, it was time to stow the extra layer I’d added. When I got to the slide, I continued to follow yesterday’s tracks, which took me up the bypass rather than the lower portion of the slide. I was familiar with the route from my last attempt, and once out of the trees, was really happy to experience a completely blue sky, crisp views of the mountain, and an almost imperceptible breeze. Such a difference from a few months ago!
As the trail gradually took on the qualities of a slide (though I was not yet on THE slide) and I switched from snowshoes and poles to crampons and ax, I was relieved and delighted to see lots of exposed rock and styrofoam snow, rather than profuse amounts of blue ice covering everything. I wasn’t leading or following with ice pro and a partner, and in the latter case would have had to turn around then and there.
As the trail merged with the upper portion of the Abol Slide, I was impressed. While familiar with the Flume Slide and Tripyramid North Slide, this was of a different order. Looking down at the lower 2/3 or so of the slide, it was on quite a scale, and I could also see why the rangers had believed a bypass of the bottom pitch to be in order. Looking and heading up, I found myself negotiating an ever-steepening series of boulder after boulder. With so much below me, it was a continuing surprise how seemingly endless the ascent was. Seemingly endless and steep though the upper slide was, I continued to be heartened by the absence of profuse, serious ice on the route.
I reached the Table Lands shortly before 10am, and enjoyed the transition to the relatively flat terrain there. I also loved the way Baxter Peak was just sitting in front of me, seemingly yelling “Hey! This is the home stretch! You’re almost here!” Everything was intensely white and bright, however. Because it had been early morning on the west-facing slide, I hadn’t felt the need for sunglasses to this point. Here though, they went on quickly.
The route was marked in a few spots by “re-vegetation” strings, but other than that it was a challenge to follow because the cairns were both snow-covered and largely buried. Why did this matter when the summit was beckoning so vividly? Because the odds were high that an off-route step would plunge through the crust.
The closer I got to the summit, the better the views of the spectacular southern ridge, with Pamola, Chimney, Knife Edge, and South Peaks. And once at the summit, the view down to Chimney Pond or across to Hamlin and the peaks north of it were only slightly less breathtaking on this dazzlingly bright day. Even with Hamlin in between, the views of the Brothers and their companion peaks were great. I thought of a group of my friends who were on their own mission in that playground this weekend, wondering how they fared.
Once I finally stopped gawking at everything and grabbing a quick bite, I was on my way down to the Saddle and across to Hamlin. Unfortunately, the bright sun and a diminished breeze had started to take its toll on the snow crust despite temperatures that were barely 20F. Combined with continued difficulty actually following the trail, waist-high plunge-throughs became more frequent – although not to the point of going to snowshoes from crampons, which were of some value on a number of small ice patches on the slope down into the saddle.
To this point, I hadn’t seen another soul anywhere on the trip, until I noticed a 4-some of youthful guys coming at me from Hamlin. One of them passed within 200’ of me. I waved, but everyone pretty much stuck to mission. As I headed up Hamlin, I noticed that the others weren’t coming back down from Baxter. My guess was that they had headed up Hamlin Ridge from Chimney Pond, and were looping around to the Dudley Trail. I had assumed that the route between Baxter and Hamlin would have been fully broken out by parties from Chimney Pond – but no, it wasn’t, and those were the only Chimney Pond folks up there, at least today.
Unlike their dispersed assault on Baxter, the other group’s tracks on Hamlin were more concentrated and worthwhile to follow. The most noteworthy aspect of this climb was the spectacular view across the South Basin, with Pamola, Chimney, the Knife Edge, South Peak and Baxter Peak, successively more breathtaking with each eastward step I took. Once at Hamlin I took the better part of an hour to enjoy everything, adjust gear, nosh on a sandwich in a 3 season-like manner, and then get organized for the longest above tree-line segment of the day – 2+ miles back partway up Baxter and over to the far lip of the Table Lands where I had come up off of Abol Slide.
In aviation lingo, I was definitely doing VFR navigation. Had IFR conditions been in effect (i.e., everything in the clouds), navigation would have been very tough unless GPS equipped. The cairns were the least visible that I can remember vs. any of my other above tree line outings. I think I would ultimately have been OK with just a compass, but wouldn’t have had enough wands to feel comfortable including Hamlin in my day.
The transit back to the Thoreau Spring area was largely cross country rather than on the [pretty much invisible] Baxter Cutoff Trail, and the afternoon sun continued to play its pranks on the crust – so the number of annoying and energy draining punch-throughs increased.
It took me almost as long to descend the slide as it did for me to climb it – I was doing a lot of dry tooling, I was carrying a heavy pack, and I had very little desire to get tripped up as I maneuvered down off of each successive boulder. I was impressed all over again with how a slide could be THAT steep still be stable. Once in the trees and back on snow, the previously solid trail had softened. The snowshoes would have been a slip-slidy affair in the wet, mashed potato snow, so I kept the crampons on, making my own contribution to choppy conditions tomorrow morning. Once I reached the junction at the base of the slide and the slope angle eased, I switched back to snowshoes.
Between the heavy pack, the extended isometrics on the slide, and the above tree line punch-throughs, the batteries were running substantially lower than would otherwise have been the case after just 16 miles and under 6000’ of elevation gain. I took it really easy on the way out. The moonlit night before had been a pleasant surprise. After dark on the way out, the moon hadn’t yet come up, and I was treated to another surprise: large, brilliant stars, complete with a vivid, unobstructed Milky Way view in all its nuanced splendor. During the walk, numerous rest breaks were inevitable. So too was where to look during those breaks.
The drive out was routine, save for the stiffness in extricating myself from the car at each stop.
Thanks both to the people around me and to Mother Nature for permitting this epic outing to happen!
Photo set is here.
Alex
a l e x m t n 1 [at] o u t l o o k [dot] c o m
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