MadRiver
New member
With Kevin canceling due to a death in the family, I pretty much thought I would be going solo, except of course for the throngs of individuals who I believed would be doing Owl’s Head with the high winds being predicted for Saturday. As I got off the Lincoln exit I had a momentary thought of stopping at Mickey D’s for an egg McGrease sandwich, but decided to pass given the length of the hike and the havoc that grease can play on my intestinal fortitude, or lack there of, so I continued on to Lincoln Woods. When I pulled into the parking lot I half expected to see a few tour buses from the Northern provinces, yet there were only a few cars present. As I exited the truck I was immediately greeted by a black lab named Cinder and her owner a lovely woman named Nancy. She and her husband Joe, Oldmanwinter of VFTT fame, were doing Owl’s Head, so I asked if I could throw in with them.
Given the hardness of the Lincoln Woods Trail, we all decided to wear microspikes instead of snowshoes. Both Nancy and Joe had sleds so they loaded their packs onto the sleds and off we went. We made it to the Black Pond trail in less than a hour and after hiking in for about 10 minutes Nancy and Joe stashed their sleds and donned their packs for the bushwhack. I have never been to Black Pond before let alone do the bushwhack, so Joe became the navigator since he had all the GPS coordinates already loaded. I remember reading a trail condition report recently that said the bushwhack was broken out by a bunch of drunken sailors given the circuitous nature of the bushwhack, and they were not lying. There were times you could see the broken trail off to your left, yet the trail continued to the right. If you tried to cut the corner, you immediately sank up to your knees. I suppose we could have put on our snowshoes, however breaking trails wasn’t our idea of fun especially given we had a long hike ahead of us, so we followed the drunken sailor route.
Once we reached the Lincoln Brook Trail we decided to put on our snowshoes to maintain the integrity of the trail because there were a few inches of new powder that must have fallen in the last couple of days. As we continued along, we each kept an eye out to see if the Brutus bushwhack was broken out so we could avoid climbing the slide if at all possible. No such luck, we saw nothing. We finally arrived at the trail where someone had carved a huge arrow into a tree marking the entrance. Talk about overkill. I suppose it was in retaliation for all the cairns that were dismantled by the rangers, so I half expected to see this tree removed come spring.
I hadn’t climbed the slide since 2003, so my memory of what lay ahead was sketchy at best so we all just plodded along. About 10 minutes into the climb something happened that could have ended the hike and made for a very long evening. Nancy’ right foot became lodged between a bolder and a downed branch. To make matters worse, she lost her balance and fell backwards pinning her leg. As Joe and I tried desperately to free her my mind was racing through a check list of things we would have to do if her leg was broken. Because I was going solo, I took my overnight pack and I was loaded for bear. I had a sleeping bag, fleece liner, bivy sack, stove, 50 feet of accessory cord, and a complete change of clothing. The only thing I left home was the portable defibrillator. If I have to scream, CLEAR, in the backcountry, I’m sorry but you are on your own. After what seemed like an eternity, we were able to free Nancy’s leg with no ill effects. Just then Rocket21, Hikermaniac, and his wife Cathy came up from behind. After a brief chat, they passed us like a blur, which prompted me to mutter, just wait until you are in your mid-fifties little missy (Rocket), you will not be running up anymore slides.
To say the slide was a pain in the butt, is an insult to butts. This slide was demonic. The snow was Champaign so it didn’t pack at all. Couple that with the weight I was carrying and I would go up 5 feet and slide back 3 feet. This little scenario was repeated throughout the entire slide. Needless to say a few choice words were uttered during the climb. After what seemed like two lifetimes, I finally reach the top totally exhausted. Let the whining begin! I finally stumbled toward the first summit like the aforementioned sailors, and then continued on to the second summit where pictures were taken and hugs were exchanged. As in most long hikes, the revelry of reaching the summit is short lived once the realization kicks in that you are only halfway done. You still have to get off the bloody mountain in one piece.
I was not looking forward to descending the slide even with crampons on so when Rocket21 made the suggestion that we bushwhack down instead of taking the slide everyone was in agreement. I was totally exhausted at this point so my descent consisted of step, step, trip, fall, slide, and repeat all the way to the bottom. By the time we reach the river crossing and found the Lincoln Brook Trail I was totally soaked, so after saying our goodbyes to Rocket 21 et al Joe and I changed out of our wet clothing for the long walk out.
Most long and monotonous hikes involve longing for some indulgence that is waiting for you at the end of the journey. In my case, it was a large root beer from Mickey D’s that sustained me during the hike out. We had donned our headlamps when we changed so at this point darkness had fallen and we were using our headlamps to see. The hike out was uneventful so by 7:00pm we found ourselves on the Lincoln Woods Trail heading towards our trucks and salvation. Halfway down the trail the unmistakable vibration of my cell phone brought me out of my root beer fantasy and I heard Susan ask if I was ok. As much as I would have liked to have answered with the resolve of a seasoned warrior, the best I could muster was blowing spit bubbles into the cell and muttering, “wine, is there wine, there must be wine,” as I stumbled down the trail with the legs of a toddler seeking out his mommy. After I was assured there would be wine in my sippy cup upon my arrival, I continued my journey with a renewed sense of purpose.
Not long there after we all arrived at the trailhead where hugs were once again exchanged and I headed to Mickey D’s to satisfy my root beer fetish. I truly enjoyed hiking with Nancy, Joe, and Cinder and I hope to again in the not too distant future.
Given the hardness of the Lincoln Woods Trail, we all decided to wear microspikes instead of snowshoes. Both Nancy and Joe had sleds so they loaded their packs onto the sleds and off we went. We made it to the Black Pond trail in less than a hour and after hiking in for about 10 minutes Nancy and Joe stashed their sleds and donned their packs for the bushwhack. I have never been to Black Pond before let alone do the bushwhack, so Joe became the navigator since he had all the GPS coordinates already loaded. I remember reading a trail condition report recently that said the bushwhack was broken out by a bunch of drunken sailors given the circuitous nature of the bushwhack, and they were not lying. There were times you could see the broken trail off to your left, yet the trail continued to the right. If you tried to cut the corner, you immediately sank up to your knees. I suppose we could have put on our snowshoes, however breaking trails wasn’t our idea of fun especially given we had a long hike ahead of us, so we followed the drunken sailor route.
Once we reached the Lincoln Brook Trail we decided to put on our snowshoes to maintain the integrity of the trail because there were a few inches of new powder that must have fallen in the last couple of days. As we continued along, we each kept an eye out to see if the Brutus bushwhack was broken out so we could avoid climbing the slide if at all possible. No such luck, we saw nothing. We finally arrived at the trail where someone had carved a huge arrow into a tree marking the entrance. Talk about overkill. I suppose it was in retaliation for all the cairns that were dismantled by the rangers, so I half expected to see this tree removed come spring.
I hadn’t climbed the slide since 2003, so my memory of what lay ahead was sketchy at best so we all just plodded along. About 10 minutes into the climb something happened that could have ended the hike and made for a very long evening. Nancy’ right foot became lodged between a bolder and a downed branch. To make matters worse, she lost her balance and fell backwards pinning her leg. As Joe and I tried desperately to free her my mind was racing through a check list of things we would have to do if her leg was broken. Because I was going solo, I took my overnight pack and I was loaded for bear. I had a sleeping bag, fleece liner, bivy sack, stove, 50 feet of accessory cord, and a complete change of clothing. The only thing I left home was the portable defibrillator. If I have to scream, CLEAR, in the backcountry, I’m sorry but you are on your own. After what seemed like an eternity, we were able to free Nancy’s leg with no ill effects. Just then Rocket21, Hikermaniac, and his wife Cathy came up from behind. After a brief chat, they passed us like a blur, which prompted me to mutter, just wait until you are in your mid-fifties little missy (Rocket), you will not be running up anymore slides.
To say the slide was a pain in the butt, is an insult to butts. This slide was demonic. The snow was Champaign so it didn’t pack at all. Couple that with the weight I was carrying and I would go up 5 feet and slide back 3 feet. This little scenario was repeated throughout the entire slide. Needless to say a few choice words were uttered during the climb. After what seemed like two lifetimes, I finally reach the top totally exhausted. Let the whining begin! I finally stumbled toward the first summit like the aforementioned sailors, and then continued on to the second summit where pictures were taken and hugs were exchanged. As in most long hikes, the revelry of reaching the summit is short lived once the realization kicks in that you are only halfway done. You still have to get off the bloody mountain in one piece.
I was not looking forward to descending the slide even with crampons on so when Rocket21 made the suggestion that we bushwhack down instead of taking the slide everyone was in agreement. I was totally exhausted at this point so my descent consisted of step, step, trip, fall, slide, and repeat all the way to the bottom. By the time we reach the river crossing and found the Lincoln Brook Trail I was totally soaked, so after saying our goodbyes to Rocket 21 et al Joe and I changed out of our wet clothing for the long walk out.
Most long and monotonous hikes involve longing for some indulgence that is waiting for you at the end of the journey. In my case, it was a large root beer from Mickey D’s that sustained me during the hike out. We had donned our headlamps when we changed so at this point darkness had fallen and we were using our headlamps to see. The hike out was uneventful so by 7:00pm we found ourselves on the Lincoln Woods Trail heading towards our trucks and salvation. Halfway down the trail the unmistakable vibration of my cell phone brought me out of my root beer fantasy and I heard Susan ask if I was ok. As much as I would have liked to have answered with the resolve of a seasoned warrior, the best I could muster was blowing spit bubbles into the cell and muttering, “wine, is there wine, there must be wine,” as I stumbled down the trail with the legs of a toddler seeking out his mommy. After I was assured there would be wine in my sippy cup upon my arrival, I continued my journey with a renewed sense of purpose.
Not long there after we all arrived at the trailhead where hugs were once again exchanged and I headed to Mickey D’s to satisfy my root beer fetish. I truly enjoyed hiking with Nancy, Joe, and Cinder and I hope to again in the not too distant future.
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