Old Speck: A winter sunrise

Sometimes crazy good things come of not so great things.  I consider this such an instance.  The original plan was simple: a nice winter hike of Old Speck in an attempt to summit where in 2014 Eliot and I had turned around after three miles in hopes of survival.  Old Speck has been a special mountain to both of us since we both first climbed in summer of 2011.  I have been back a few more times than he, but I think we can agree it holds a special place in both of us.

The proverbial monkey wrench in the situation is of course being asked to attend work the day that this adventure was planned.  I agreed to an afternoon of work in hopes that I could squeeze in a small hike in the morning in lieu of Old Speck.  As I drove home on Tuesday evening, my frustration of the day's plan being squashed brought me to the conclusion that I was still going to get my summit in…just much earlier.  I would do a sunrise summit of Old Speck.  As any guy with a pal would do, I called Eliot up to see the interest level.  Within seconds, there was agreement, though I had to emphasize my choice of mountain to him.

With Baldpate under our belts from last week, we assumed a similar ascent time of 6 hours.  Sunrise was at 7:20am.  That meant starting the hike at 1:20am.  That meant driving out at 10:20pm that night.  That meant hiking a 4000 footer on no sleep.  My insanity was confirmed.  But sometimes you just need to take life my the throat and climb that goddamn mountain for sunrise.

We met in Belfast in case I would need to go directly from the hike to work.  In order to get to work by 1pm, we'd have to be off the mountain by 10am at the latest.  That is cutting it close, but I knew we could descend faster than we could ascend, so I assumed we could pull it off.  I had Eliot drive because he was raging with energy.

Three goofy hours later, we arrived at Grafton Notch once again.  We began getting our stuff together, and it was then I realized a crucial error on my part.  I had left my water bottles filled with boiling water at home.  And my gaiters.  Eliot had a stove to melt snow, thankfully, though soon that was a dead end because we had no pot.  In such a situation, it is hard to balance reason with my severe case of summit fever.  Eliot had 2.5 liters of water, which in the end we decided would be enough for both of us to make it to the top.  We finished with gearing up despite wasting nearly an hour trying to figure out how to deal with the water problem.  I was expecting that we would not get sunrise, but I was okay with that.

Eliot climbing the lower part of the trail

We began the climb with crampons on from the start, and the ease that they provide it staggering.  No slipping whatsoever, and all the energy goes into up, up, and up!  It was not long before we made it to the Eyebrow Trail junction, roughly 1.1 miles in.  The ledges appeared, and we turned off headlamps to look at the stars.  If you ever hike on a clear night, just turn off the light for a bit and look up.  You won't regret it.  We have an incredible sky.

It was around now that I began to notice the effects of the canned coffee Eliot had downed at the start.  There was a raging animal of speed and precision ahead of me instead of an Eliot that I was coercing into every next step, which was the situation on our previous -20°F winter attempt on Old Speck.  In any case, the energy between us was bubbling, as we wanted our sunrise quite badly.  We did some quick math at this trail junction to determine our ETA for the summit.  Assuming a relatively constant pace, we were going to be nearly two hours EARLY.  Which is a tricky problem because staying warm even at 16° means staying moving.

We pushed on with some speed because we didn't want to miss it in case the going got hard, but not 100% because of the aforementioned problem.  There were periods of mostly calm in the forest mixed with some worrying bouts of wind, warning us of what was to come later.

The spot we had reached in the winter of 2014 was still stuck firmly in our minds.  It is a clearing with one rock and a small tree.  We had bashed a semi-frozen water bottle on that very rock to break up our remaining half a liter of water and put some melted snow in it.  It was nearly evening on that day, and I had not be so afraid of frostbite in my life.  Ten seconds of exposed skin was enough to cause numbness and pain.  The thought of passing this spot was overwhelming as we climbed.

Crescent Moon over "the Nubble" (as coined by Nathan)

Like many places on this mountain, that very clearing (we call this the Nubble) appeared out of nowhere.  We had made it to our turn around spot.  It was 4:50am.  A crescent moon had risen in front of us with a planet just below it.  I felt alive; I felt like perhaps there was a connection to the universe, whether we call this spiritual or not.  There is no way I can accurately describe how it felt to arrive at this location.  It's not the summit, but it has such vivid memories of frigidness, pain, battling of decisions, and utter survival from winter of 2014.

We took a moment to take it all in, and realize that from here, we were pushing further than we had as a team before.  I had ascended to the summit in another winter trip up here, but to go with a climbing partner with whom there is a rich history makes it different; it makes it better.  I had Eliot lead the way from here to the top, as it is his honor to make his first winter ascent of the mountain.

There is a ledge that the trail passes on the left, and immediately after a lefthand switchback.  This had been completely snowed in when I summited in March 2014, and one of the my climbing partners for the day had sunken in to his chest, and we had to pull him out by packing the snow around him with snowshoes first.  On the descent, we slid down the slope instead of taking the switchback, which was truly fun with there are feet and feet of snow beneath you.  This spot is just below an exposed section, so we bundled up with extra layers.  (See, we've learned to do this before getting cold, as opposed to once we were already cold like in the past, and the payoff is immense.)

The time was 5:50am, and we made it to the summit of the mountain.  My seventh time standing here, and Eliot's second.  The summit tower also comes out of nowhere, and we were surprised at how close it seemed to the turn-around spot from 2014.  Could it have been possible to summit on that very cold day?  Perhaps conditions can make that much of a difference.

Tower in range...

We could hear the winds howling on top of the tower as we celebrated having completed our goal of summiting Old Speck in the winter, and not missing the sunrise.  It was still mostly dark, but with the slightest tinge of lighter blue on the southeastern horizon.  And of course the crescent moon.

We wanted to check out the tower, but first we applied some layers because of the ferocious winds we could hear.  Slowly, we made our way up the ladder, crampons on because all the ice.  Once above the trees, I couldn't hear a thing from Eliot.  He had gone first, with a ski mask, and opened the door to the platform on top.  I followed, and soon discovered I needed a ski mask.  I could hardly hold on, the winds were so strong.  The strongest I've experienced, I believe.  We did not stay long, though by shouting at whisper distance, I was able to say I'd like a few photos of each other.

(I borrowed Eliot's mask)

After coming to the ground, the issue now was how to stay warm for an hour and a half until the sun rose.  We debated going to check out Speck Pond, which was 1.4 miles along the back side of the mountain, but I didn't feel like potentially missing the sunrise, so I voted that we go past the summit on the Grafton Loop Trail just a little bit to keep ourselves moving.  No one had been here and the snow was soft and powdery.  After a bit, we turned back toward the summit, just now realizing the slope we had just descended was significant.  But it kept us warm.

We alternated jumping around, eating some snacks, and running in circles, and going up and down the tower, to stay warm, since the sky had grown a bit brighter to include some of the brightest reds I've ever seen in nature.

The snow bits falling off the tower looked like a meteor shower in my photos because the flash was on.  I found that gave the best results of the colorful sky and getting the snowy trees in the foreground.  I was also occasionally hit was some of these small bits of snow and ice.

I was in awe, not merely because it was filled with beautiful colors, but because I had finally outsmarted nature to summit a mountain without being socked in with clouds.  Being able to see so far from a mountain is special.  Everything felt special.  I had gone out of my way to do a crazy hike, and this was the payoff.

Moon and Planet

As it neared 7:20, we decided to get ready and climb the tower.  I went first this time, but I was too late.  I topped the trees and found the sun partially above the horizon.  I was dazzled with pinks and oranges and reds as I climbed.  All I could manage was shouting "we're late" to Eliot before I stopped mid-climb just to gaze and let the sun engulf me.  Eventually, I gained control and made it to the top of the tower.

Sun was early to the party

I looked in all directions toward mountains that I have been on, mountains that I would like to be on, and of course the first light hitting all of these peaks.  Mount Washington was initially one idea I had had for hiking that day, and to look over at it was stunning.  Between the gusts of wind that nearly knocked me over, I shouted to Eliot what the mountains were, and I think it was here that we decided that we will do Washington in the winter, perhaps next season when we are both around.  The air was so crisp and clear that it appeared so close.  We had seen a haze of the Presidentials in 2011 when we first climbed Old Speck, but it was clear to us now that it was indeed.

Mahoosuc Arm, Baldface, Carter Range, Presidentials (close to far)

We looked behind us to see the triangular mountain shadow.  The same very phenomenon that I had seen on Katahdin in October.  It was so cold that my camera battery could only manage a few photos before dying, then I'm place it on my skin to warm up for a few minutes.  Eliot got the shadow on his camera thankfully, though it will be forever stored in my memory.

Mountain shadow

We stayed long enough for the sun to hit eye level on the ground, and we could feel its warmth even on a cold day like today.  The color of light cast on the trees behind us as we faced the sun was unique.  Perhaps just that it was the first light of the day to light up these trees.  Eliot went up once more to the tower to get some photos.  I warned him to keep his gloves on this time, since I had to blow on them to get the feeling back last time because he left them out for too long.  Lessons, lessons.

Looking east

The sun

The morning sun gave a boost of energy that brought us down the mountain with considerable speed.  Even having climbed up all night, now in the light, we felt fresh.  (I think?)  We were doing well on water, likely because it's so hard to get enough in when it's cold out.  I had eaten some frozen croissants on the summit, which were nearly tasteless, but felt good to eat.  And some chocolate.  Always chocolate.

Beside the mountain being relentless in its descent, things went smoothly, and we kept looking back as the sun was rising over the mountain, making all the snow-covered trees glint like nothing ever does.  I tell you, that's my favorite part of winter hiking - it's the glint on the snow when the sun is out.

Baldpate Mountain, Table Rock toward the bottom

All the places we remembered on the way up flew by as we rocketed down.  I took off the crampons as I found it very challenging to walk without catching them on rocks under the not-so-deep snow.  I proceeded to slip and slide most of the way, which was killer fun.  We had the clock ticking, hence the motivation to go so quickly.

Looking up toward the summit from the ledges

Eliot at the ledges near the Eyebrow Trail jct.

We saw a few people on their way up as we neared the bottom, some more prepared than others it looked.  We hoped that they had some warmer layers for all body parts because it was quite unpleasant on exposed skin for us.

The Eyebrow

At 10:10am, we got to the base of the mountain, exactly 8 hours after we set off the night before.  The satisfaction of doing such a hike is just the best.  I got to see the best sunrise in my life, with my favorite climbing partner, on my favorite mountain.  All on a day that I was asked to work.  The celebration continued in the car as we removed the gear and began the drive east.  The ETA on the GPS was giving us mere minutes to spare before 1pm, my scheduled time to work.

For some reason, Eliot was still raging and awake, so I let him drive back.  I however, despite normally being the one with excess energy, did not last very long in the conscious world.  I slept on and off during the drive.

I arrived at work with 1 minute to spare, which I used to get out of climbing wear and into EBS wear.  I'll be honest, I was not the most enthusiastic that afternoon.  The simplest tasks were a mental challenge, but I declare it all worth the trip.  As Eliot made me aware, I had picked a task that used every last minute of my free time that day, and that is something I am proud of.  I promptly fell asleep after making it home that evening.  Yes, 35 hours is a long time to be awake, even with some breaks while your pal drives you to work.  No, I would not have rather done anything else.  WIth this hike, I officially declare the 2016 hiking season here!

Hike Details

Miles hiked: 7.8 (including going passed summit a bit)

Time elapsed: 8 hours

Total ascent: 3000'

(Old Speck Trail both ways)

A Final 2015 hike: Baldpate Mountain

This is an exciting hike to write about primarily because it is on this hike that I rolled over 400 miles on my 2015 hiking odometer.  Secondly, it is a new destination, which in itself presents some excitement.  It has come to my attention that there are infinite destinations even within the state of Maine, never mind the country or the world.  So forget list-hiking for me.  I know I won't ever come close to "doing them all", whatever that means to a given person.  For me, it's more about enjoying the experience, ideally having some nice views along the way or at the summit.  (In my case, imagining a good view because I get socked in with clouds.)

Though this hike took place on December 30, I consider it a New Year's celebration for the year of 2016, a tradition I have had going with my friend Eliot for three years now.  The temperatures have steadily climbed about 20°F each year, with our first attempt up Old Speck in January of 2014 in the neighborhood of -20°F.  Twenty above is quite balmy in comparison.

The Baldpate expedition commenced at 3:11am, after a good scraping of the windshield.  Off to pick up Eliot, then heading westward to the mountains.  Baldpate Mountain is accessible via Grafton Notch State Park, exactly opposite the trail for Old Speck.  Baldpate is known for open granite faces on the summit dome, and is potentially a good observation point because of this.  We arrived at the trailhead somewhere in the 7am zone, and took a meaty amount of time to get our gear all packed and our bodies warm enough to consider venturing into a winter wonderland.

The Eyebrow of Old Speck

Both of us were unsure of the optimal footwear, with the option of mid-height shoes or boots.  I had brought my new mountaineering boots and crampons along in hopes of trying them out on a relatively tame trip.  I thought there was no harm in bringing the crampons, but it would be silly to do that without wearing the boots because the crampons install exclusively on my new boots.  So we went with the boots all around.

The trail to the summit is a section of the AT, so as per usual, the snow blown on the tree trunks made finding white blazes a good challenge. The trail was wide and easy to follow to start off, though we were first to venture out after the storm had blown through.  Not enough snow for snowshoes, so we left them in the car.  There is nothing quite like kicking into fresh powder in the mountains.  The coziness that exists because of the snow's insulating properties is unmatchable elsewhere. This is one of many reasons why I am now a four-season hiker.

There is a fair bit of up and down in the trail, as you meander between bumps on the western side of the mountain.  The AT does summit the west peak of the mountain, with views eastward toward the main summit.

The Table Rock Loop is a popular short loop that is partially congruent with the Baldpate Trail.  I have gone up to Table Rock in summertime, though it was via the much steeper Table Rock Trail, and then down the AT that we were ascending on this trip.  The trail out to the overlook is a 0.5 mile spur from the AT, and for purposes of summiting, we did not check it out...slight regrets, maybe.

In the final col between the unnamed bumps to the west and the West Peak of Baldpate, there is a lean-to, directly after which the trail ascends steeply with meager attempts at switchbacks.  It was here we first encountered ice flow along the trail, and broke out the axes for stability. Crampons seemed a bit much for here, since it was such a small section.

The lands flattens, and you can sense you are close to the top of West Peak.  The top is wooded, however a short walk past it will give phenomenal views into the upcoming saddle before East Peak.  In the wintertime, the bald granite slabs up the opposite side of the saddle are covered with ice and stand out well from the forested areas.  I was surprised at the calmness of the air around the west summit, albeit thankful since it allowed for easier munching of snacks.

Nearing West Peak

Eliot on West Peak

After seeing the first sign of ice flow on the downhill, I decided crampons were a good idea.  I struggled a little as it was my first time installing them in the field.  I had practiced inside before, and gotten the size calibrated, but in the field, everything kinda goes wrong.  Eventually, they were on, and boy, did we feel invincible with many spikes per footstep.  Any ice was completely in our control.

One of two ladders between the two peaks (just before applying crampons).

In the saddle between the peaks, there was some epic crunching of crampons on ice, perhaps one of the best sounds in mountaineering. Passing through intermittent krumholtz, we got to the base of the steeper climbs ahead to the east summit.  I was excited to try the front points on the crampons in combination with the rigid sole that allows for the front points to actually stay embedded in the ice as you climb.  The ease with which you can climb with the proper gear is staggering.  It is no harder than walking up stairs to be honest.  Even with glare ice underfoot.  I was impressed, and very excited to try another trip to get the hang of the walking style that is required by the rigid boots.

Equipped

Climbing!

The rime up near the top was thick, and made it hard to look for the summit sign that we were searching for.  The short stubby trees looked much like a rime-covered signpost.  With help of a GPS to guide us in the cloudiness, we did make it completely to the summit, which is self-advertised as 3812'.  Interestingly, this mountain has more gain than Old Speck, at 4170' feet just across the notch.  This is because of the up-down-up characteristic of Baldpate.

It was up here that the wind did make an appearance on stage.  But like semi-smart climbers, we had acted in advance and applied extra layers. There is certainly something to be said for anticipating your environment.

The descent was nearly the same, though we kept crampons on until before we had applied them on the ascent - just until the ice flow that we first saw.  Descending on rocks buried on snow was tiring and dangerous for our ankles, so we bare-booted it from there to the bottom, sliding a good portion of the way.

Just before descending the bald patches of rock and ice

Alpine Sandwich, nothing like it.

Heading back to West Peak

A final look at East Peak

It was getting quite dark as we changed out of the crampons.  The temperature oddly had risen throughout the day, so some adjustment of layers was necessary...until we stopped for snacks, and then got instantly cold.  The joys of winter hiking.

We discovered fresh tracks on the Table Rock loop, so sadly we did not encounter them, but their essence continues on until it snows again. The parking lot was soon in view, and the removal of boots was already being anticipated.  I can only speak for myself, but I found I was not overly sore in the ankle/foot department considering I was in completely new footwear.  It seems I made a good choice on boots.

Here is the elevation profile and track from Google Earth.  Eliot's GPS claims it was 8.2 miles, so perhaps that is what it is?  The map says 7.6, but I trust a GPS a bit more since it was with us the whole time.

Hike Details

Miles hiked: 8.2

Time elapsed: 10.9 hours

Total ascent: 3300'

Highest drivable point in Maine + night hike of Bald Mtn. (Rangeley)

With my buddy Eliot in town before celebrating Christmas with his family out west, we took advantage of a beautiful clear sky on Dec. 16 to try and access the highest drivable point in the state of Maine.  This is not simple like it is in New Hampshire.  There, you could just drive up Mt. Washington.  In Maine, our highest point is Katahdin, which is not car accessible.  Neither are any of the 4000 footers, so that leaves out the 14 mountains above that threshold.  After scanning the Maine atlas for logging roads that seemed to at least get above 3000 feet, I think I may have stumbled across the highest "road" in the state.

This project was inspired by a youtube video made by The Fast Lane Car, linked here if you're interested.  They were high-pointing in various states, and they found a place in Maine that was 2400 feet or so, and I was convinced we could do better. With a Jeep at our disposal, we commenced the journey to western Maine, where many a mountain exist.

Somewhere near Embden, we missed a turn due to my not-so-prompt navigation skills.  Several attempts at taking a less improved road back to pavement led to gates not marked on the atlas (community service is what we're doing essentially), a logging area that was several feet deep in trees, and a confusing network of logging roads with more gates.  Nothing like getting out there right off the bat. Fun was had as we negotiated the different options and bumped along gravel and mud and ponds etc.

Our "tree graveyard" that we ended up driving up...
and going back because the trail ended

Deciding to focus on our goal at hand, we backtracked to the pavement and headed up to Stratton, where Rt. 16 would bring us to East Kennebago Mountain.  It is the west peak of this mountain that had an alleged road up it without any gates.  If successful, we would reach over 3600 feet, smashing the old record by over 1000 feet!

Mt. Abraham, ME

The beginning of this road to East Kennebago West Peak was fairly benign, just a gravel road with occasional puddles.  Two-wheel drive could negotiate this part with some good placement of the wheels.  Even after a few miles, the views just under the increasingly overcast skies were very nice into the valley below.

The road to success?

Five miles in, there is a distinct right turn into a grassy area, where we immediately encountered waterbars made presumably for drainage purposes.  These got old quickly as everything bounced around in the rear of the Jeep.  Diffs didn't need to be locked for any portion of this climb, though as we got higher, rime and ice started to appear around us.  We encountered a tree fallen in the path, which of course needed to be removed for passage.  Thanks to Eliot, we had a powerful winch on the Jeep and some pulleys to guide the tree off the trail for future off-roaders. Though I admit it took much too long for me to untie the knot that was looped around the tree.

The tree that was winched out of the trail

Soon the ice became very slick and the road steepened.  The ice on puddles did not break as we passed, and the temperature hovered around 29°F as we entered the 3000 foot range.  Already, we had surpassed the record of TFLCar.

At 6.25 miles, there is a bear right to a slightly steeper climb that is cut into the hill and circles upward to the summit.  The in-dash nav system was of no use at this point, aside from telling us elevation.  A handheld GPS with trails and roads was more useful, giving us a hint of road to follow.

Looks like the Black Forest of Germany

After 8.1 miles, we reached the top of the hill, with no broken parts on the Jeep, and plenty of good spirits.  The views would have likely been great to the southeast, as a sharp drop-off was visible, though shrouded in clouds currently.  There was a memorial on the summit of a snowmobiler who had died a few years ago, as well as a small building of unknown use with a short tower nearby.  Our elevation at the summit was measured by the Jeep to be 3664', and 3654' by the handheld.  The elevation gain from Rt. 16 was 2330', in just over 8.1 miles.

Summit of East Kennebago West, 3650'

After some lunch munching, we headed back down, where we encountered ice, and the ineffectiveness of the brakes was shown all too clearly here.  No animals were harmed during out descent, so all was good.  The descent was uneventful, though once we hit gravel, speeds of 25mph felt blisteringly fast after a period of crawling around at 7mph.

Elevation Profile of East Kennebago West

The next stop was to visit what's marked as a B-17 Memorial in the Maine atlas. This was out in Lower Cupsuptic Twp., just one town west of Rangeley.  The memorial is between Cupsuptic and Aziscohos Lakes on Deer Mtn. Road according to Google Earth.  Down these roads, there were many logging trucks, and a slight dusting of snow on the ground, which made things pretty in the dwindling light of evening.  I will break it to you: the memorial is a small display of a shirt, a few small plane bits, and a story handwritten on a piece of paper near the road.  We took a short walk through the woods in hopes of finding more plane bits, but there were none that we could see.  Mostly a disappointment, though I fully enjoyed exploring all the roads out in this area.  It shows that you could spend months out here and not drive all the roads.

Overview Map: Pink=offroading, Red=hiking

Next, I convinced Eliot into taking a short night hike up Bald Mountain in Rangeley on our way back home.  It is a short hike, just 2.5 miles, but with a tower on the summit!  This is exciting for both of us, so with some snacks in our packs, we set off under the setting crescent moon.  It was a beautiful night that I seem incapable of capturing with my camera.  Oh well...I hope you believe my story.

The climb got progressively steeper and icier.  I had brought along my micro-spikes in the event of such ice, though I thought I would need it much more on the way down.  In about 45 minutes, we reached the summit, which came upon us suddenly since our headlamps were the only light source.  It was a slightly rickety staircase up to the top, though the structure seemed intact.  Boy, it was cold and windy on top, but the reflection of the moon on the surrounding lakes made a tower climb very much worth it for both of us.

Summit of Bald Mtn., 2443'

I came down to ground level to have a sandwich.  (There is a website called alpinesandwiches.com which is, as you might guess, devoted to pictures of sandwiches in alpine environments.)  Due to cold hands, I did not whip out my camera for the instance.

Elevation Profile of Bald Mtn.

Hike Details
Miles hiked: 2.5
Time elapsed: 2.1hr
Total ascent: 910'

The drive home presented a challenge, as we were faced with a several hour road block as a car was being extracted from a gorge near Madrid, ME.  It was decided that pavement was not required.  Crosstown Road in Rangeley led us to Rt. 17, which was the nearest available route back east.  Out on this "road" we found ourselves once again in the back woods of Maine (a glorious place to be, of course).  Several miles in, we found a bunch of logging equipment, and most interestingly, an old 6x6 fuel truck that looked like it was from Russia many decades ago.  We could both fit in a wheel arch with no issue.  But then the skidders....with wheels as high as I am, and a claw that could, well, pick up a large tree, I was thoroughly impressed.  It was strange to come upon a scene like this at night, when it appeared out of no where as we rounded the bend.

We found the pavement of Rt. 17, and successfully made it to our homes that night, though it was into the morning hours by the time that happened.  The day was conquered, with most likely the highest drivable road in Maine driven, and a tower hike in Rangeley under our belts.