Tag: Solo trips

Western Connecticut or Eastern Europe?

Margaret Staller Trip Reports , , , ,

By Gregory Naigles

Date: 6/27/15

Location: Kent, Connecticut

Difficulty: 3.2

 

It had to be the right day. After suffering through two long weeks of temperatures in the 80s, I finally found a day where the temperature would be only 70 degrees – perfect. My choice of hiking destination wasn’t too difficult – I figured I’d return to a beautiful set of rugged hills in the western Connecticut town of Kent, located in a state park called Macedonia Brook.

 

I had done the 6.7-mile loop, climbing the highest hills in the park, once before, eight years ago. I wondered how much I would remember from then. The most salient facts that I remembered were that the scenery was incredible, and that the trail had, to quote the hike book, an “eight-foot ledge with minimal handholds” and a “thirty-foot sloping ledge” that were always interesting, and they proved to be this time as well.

 

And so it was at 10:15 AM on Saturday, June 27th that I pulled up to the trailhead in Macedonia Brook. It was located near a series of campsites, and the namesake brook babbled peacefully nearby. Without much hesitation, I started up the trail on the east side of the valley.

 

I hiked the first half of the loop in record time. This is the easier half, with relatively good footing (at least compared to the second half), and mostly gentle slopes. I enjoyed listening to the birds chirping and watching the ants crawling and the squirrels jumping. At one point, I crossed a road right next to a stream, and out of the stream flew a heron! Once I had joined the trail on the other side, the heron went back into the stream. I felt bad for disturbing it.

 

Twenty minutes later and one more hill conquered, I tumbled out onto another road, where a vehicle was parked. I noticed that the vehicle had a Georgia license plate, and briefly wondered why a Georgian would come all the way up to Connecticut just to hike Macedonia Brook. Then I saw that the license plate had Fulton County emblazoned on it. It all made sense to me now. Clearly Owens had come to do some hiking here, and I wondered briefly if I would bump into her. Of course, if she had started at the same place that I had, then she would probably have finished the entire hike already by the time I got to the vehicle, but that’s another story.

 

(The vehicle wasn’t actually Owens’. Her vehicle does say Fulton County, though.)

 

I then walked along a road that had been built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s, and mentally thanked FDR for it. I soon approached another road. However, as I did, I heard a strange noise from the other road, and looked down to see what it was. I could hardly believe it. It was a yeti.

 

I quickly hid behind a tree, hoping that the yeti would just continue along the road and not notice me. However, the yeti stopped moving, pointed its head in my direction, and started to growl. I got very nervous.

 

The yeti took a few meaningful steps toward my position. I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I run away as fast as I could? Should I yell and scream in the hopes that someone was there nearby who could fight off the yeti? Or maybe I should try to fight off the yeti myself. I did have my walking stick with me.

 

Suddenly, I heard a noise in the shrubs next to me, and a small child emerged. He waved at me, and then ran along toward where the two roads met. I realized that what I thought was a yeti was actually just a group of hikers coming up the road. I laughed it off, and we enjoyed witty banter.

 

One hill after that, and I was standing at the bottom of the eight-foot ledge with minimal handholds. I ultimately scaled the ledge without too much difficulty, but I needed all of my five feet and five inches to do so, and that left me wondering, “How on earth did I do this eight years ago?”

 

After I climbed the 30-foot sloping ledge, I suddenly felt exhausted, as if all my energy had just suddenly disappeared. I wasn’t too surprised, though. I had, after all, done the whole hike so far at a pretty quick pace. It reminded me of the Katahdin trip my junior fall, where I had plenty of energy to climb the Abol Trail, but as soon as I got to the Tableland I felt totally drained. However, I knew that the summit of Cobble Mountain, which has the best views in the area, was pretty close, so I summoned up my energy reserves and made it to the top.

 

The summit of Cobble Mountain is exposed to the west, and thus has an unobstructed view in that direction. I could see the Taconics in New York, and beyond that the Catskills. When I opened my lunch, I suddenly remembered that, along with my standard peanut butter and Nutella sandwich, I had also brought a special strawberry from the garden at my house. I named this strawberry BERR, and for the remainder of the hike I carried it in my pocket, wrapped in a spare sock that I had brought. From this exposure, Berr clearly learned a lot about the outside world that most strawberries don’t have the opportunity to learn. Unfortunately, once I reached the trailhead again, I found that Berr had started to turn colors from internal and external bruising, and that the leaves were going brown. Berr clearly needed immediate medical assistance. Luckily for Berr, I did just earn a diploma from a particularly fine institution, so I used the knowledge and skills represented by the diploma to tend to Berr. I opened my mouth and my stomach’s fluids welcomed Berr’s not-particularly-doughy substance with great pleasure. He had a good home in my digestive tract for a few hours.

 

At the summit, I also briefly considered holding a flag behind me in a pose that Eric knows well, however I was deterred from this by the fact that 1) there were other people on the trail, and 2) it started to rain. I hiked the final 1.5 miles downhill through a light rain, which was refreshing. As Sam knows, it wasn’t my first hike where precipitation began while at the summit.

 

The hike was pretty close to perfect. The weather (mostly) cooperated, the trail was a mix of easier and more difficult sections, and the scenery was classic Litchfield Hills. I hope that all of you are going on lots of hiking trips (or, in Owens’ case, sea kayaking trips), and I’d love to hear about them!

I Return… To the Place Where I Almost Fell Off an Ice Cliff

Margaret Staller Trip Reports , , , , , ,

By Gregory Naigles

 

Location: Salisbury, Connecticut

Difficulty: 3.0

 

I wanted to find the perfect day for a hike. All last week was insanely hot, and over the weekend and in the first part of this week, it rained. However, I could see that June 3rd would be both sunny and not too hot, so it was the clear choice for my hike. I then had to figure out where to go. After thinking about this only briefly, the logical decision seemed to involve visiting the place where, only 14 months ago, I almost fell off an ice cliff. This hike also involved ascending the highest peak in Connecticut, Bear Mountain, located in the extreme northwest corner of the state. Driving up from home, I passed through Spencer’s old stomping grounds in Barkhamsted, and briefly wondered what he did in his spare time when skiing wasn’t possible.

 

(Just FYI – interesting fact. Bear Mountain is the highest peak in Connecticut, but it is not the highest point. Just northwest of Bear Mountain is Mount Frissell, whose summit is in Massachusetts, but whose south slope extends into Connecticut. The point at which the south slope of Mount Frissell hits the border with Connecticut is at an elevation of 2,380 feet, while the summit of Bear Mountain is only 2,316 feet. Thus, the south slope of Mount Frissell is the highest point in Connecticut, while Bear Mountain is the highest peak in Connecticut.)

 

There were three other cars at the trailhead on Undermountain Road (Route 41) in Salisbury when I arrived. I set off just before 11. The last time I had done this trail was that time 14 months ago, during Spring Break 2014. The trees and shrubs hadn’t bloomed yet, so I could see the countours of the area around me. Not this time. Everything was green and in bloom, and it pressed in against me, so that I could barely see off the trail. But I had hiked this trail, the Undermountain Trail, several times before (this was actually my sixth ascent of Bear Mountain), so I knew what to expect. I made good time up the first part of the trail, and made it to the junction with the Paradise Lane trail, a 1.1-mile distance, in almost exactly a half hour. This is pretty fast by my standards, although I’m sure Owens would have left me in her dust if she had been there.

 

At the junction, I knew that the Paradise Lane trail would be a right turn, so I took the first right turn that I saw. In not too long of a distance, I found myself in a camping area. This was unexpected, since I had used the Paradise Lane trail at least twice in the past, and neither time did I encounter a camping area. I assumed the trail must have been rerouted. But then the trail just seemed to end at the camping area. There were a few side trails there, but they were just to the wash area and the privy. The woods road that the trail had followed to get to the camping area quickly became overgrown and unblazed past the camping area. I was briefly confused, since I had never had this problem before, but then I saw a sign that said ‘Trail’, and a trail that went up the steep hill just west of the woods road. My confusion was only slightly allayed, since I did not recall this steep ascent on this trail either, but I followed the trail up the hill.

 

The short ascent took me up to the Riga Plateau, where the trail quickly ended at a T-junction. There were no signs at all, and only the trail to the left had blazes. However, I knew that I wanted to go to the right instead, so I took a right, and followed the unblazed but well-maintained trail for at least a mile. I suspected that this was the Paradise Lane trail, but I couldn’t be sure. However, gradually my suspicions were confirmed. The east side of Bear Mountain became visible from the trail, something that I remembered from past uses of this trail. In addition, the trail gradually became more blazed, and ultimately I arrived at the junction with the AT north of Bear Mountain, 2.1 miles from the junction with the Undermountain Trail.

 

I turned left and started the ascent of Bear Mountain. Just before the mountain reared up ahead of me, I passed through a flat area, where the trail to the cabin on the northwest slope of Bear Mountain meets the AT. The trail goes sideways up the mountain a bit, but then turns and goes straight up. The rock ledges were everything that I remembered them to be – big, tough, and fun. About halfway up, I saw a particularly high ledge, and a tree right at the edge of it, and recognized it as the place where I had almost fallen off an ice cliff 14 months ago. I remembered what happened – I had lost my balance on the ledge (not hard when the trail is icy and you’re wearing a backpacking backpack), and ended up sitting right at the brink of the ledge, straddling the tree, with it being the only thing preventing me from falling off the ice cliff. I couldn’t move because my backpack was heavy and my snowshoes couldn’t get any traction. If I had fallen off the ice cliff, I could easily have broken some bones. So instead, I took my backpack off and let it fall down the mountain, and without that weight I was able to get up and find a safe way around the cliff. Luckily, this time there was no ice or snow, so I was able to ascend the ledges without much trouble.

 

I always enjoy the summit approach on Bear Mountain. Finally the open sky comes into view, and gradually the monument as well. From the top of the monument, the views are amazing in all directions, but particularly north and east. Two people were there when I arrived, and I learned that their plan was to go back down the way I came up, and take the Paradise Lane trail back around to the Undermountain trail. They left about five minutes after I arrived.

 

While enjoying the views, I ate lunch, which was, as usual, a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich. I encountered a bunch of people at the summit – one thru-hiker, two people who looked like section-hikers, and a few others who were waiting for the rest of their group to show up (they never showed up – at least not while I was there). After spending a half-hour at the summit, I went down the much-more-gradual north slope of the mountain. I encountered a bunch of people on that section of trail as well, and they were all asking how far it was to the summit; this is the kind of trail where you always think that you’re almost there but never are. I made good time to the junction with the Undermountain Trail, which I took back down.

 

Just as I was approaching the junction with the Paradise Lane trail, I saw a pair of hikers on the Paradise Lane trail also approaching the junction. Sure enough, it was the two people who had left the summit five minutes after I arrived. We exchanged pleasantries, and as they continued down the mountain, I looked around briefly at the junction. It was not the same junction where I had joined the Paradise Lane trail going up.

 

I suddenly realized what had happened. On the way up, the first right turn that I saw, which I took, wasn’t actually the Paradise Lane trail; it was just the trail to the camping area. The actual Paradise Lane trail junction was a few hundred feet up the trail from that first junction, at the place where those two people had come out from. The trail that I had taken up the hill from the camping area was clearly just a connector trail. And the trail at that T-junction clearly was, in fact, the Paradise Lane trail, which explained why it went in both directions.

 

Now that I understood all of this, I was content to continue my descent. I hiked down the rest of the trail about 500 feet behind those two hikers. I made excellent time going down, taking only 80 minutes to descend from the summit to the trailhead. Thus, I spent a total of 3 hours and 20 minutes hiking (not including the half-hour I spent at the summit eating lunch), which isn’t bad for a 6.4-mile hike that ascends 1,600 vertical feet.

 

At the end, I felt satisfied, which is always the right feeling to have at the end of a hike. Bear Mountain had never failed me in the past, and it certainly didn’t fail me now.

An Amazing Hike up Windswept Little Jackson Mountain

Margaret Staller Trip Reports , , , , , ,

By Gregory Naigles

 

Location: Weld, Maine

Difficulty: 3.2

 

I got bored during Senior Week; no more work, graduation preparations haven’t begun yet. Thus, I figured that the natural thing to do was to go hiking. I debated a bit about where to go – I wanted to climb Mt. Abraham (which I will do on Thursday), but I wasn’t sure about the snow and ice situation at the tops of those mountains. Thus, I decided to climb a slightly lower mountain before doing Mt. Abraham. I eventually chose Little Jackson Mountain, which is just east of Tumbledown, and about 400 feet higher, and has lots of open ledges at the summit and great views (on nice days, at least). Thus, Wednesday morning I left Colby eager to climb a great mountain (and do my first solo mountain climb in Maine).

 

I had waited until Wednesday because of the rain on Tuesday, and the weather forecast said that Wednesday would be partly cloudy but without any rain. However, this forecast proved to be a bit optimistic, as twice during the drive to Little Jackson there were brief periods of rain. However, the temperature was excellent (not too hot and not too cold), and there were very few insects to annoy me.

 

I decided to park at the trailhead on Morgan Road, rather than at the Brook Trail area and have to walk an extra mile. This isn’t recommended by Maine Trail Finder or the AMC Maine Mountain Guide, however it worked just fine. Morgan Road is a dirt road that is more rugged than the dirt road where the Brook Trail trailhead is located, however my tiny vehicle still managed to traverse it just fine, so it would be a piece of cake for Big Red or the Bossi-van.

 

The trail was easy to follow. The only unsigned junction is the first one, maybe 0.2 miles from the trailhead, where the Parker Ridge Trail goes left and the Little Jackson Trail, which I took, goes right. There’s a sign for the Parker Ridge Trail, but not for the Little Jackson Trail. The trail then ascended at a moderate grade. It includes two well-blazed detours around the dominant woods road where the road was washed out. The Pond Link junction was well-signed, and I continued to the right at that junction toward Little Jackson. The next part of the trail involved crossing several streams (very easy) and then went up a short, steep section on rocks and dirt. This part certainly requires exercising caution, but it wasn’t that hard.

 

The steep section leveled out at same time as the trail finally reached above the trees and onto the open ledges. From here, it was a very windy 0.8 miles to the summit. So windy, in fact, that I put on the extra layer that I brought just in case, and took off my hat since I was concerned that it would blow away. The day was a bit foggy, so the views weren’t quite as amazing as they would be on a clear day, but they were still excellent. The trail was a mix of open rock, and the kinds of vegetation that Sam is named after. It took me, a relatively slow, solo hiker, almost exactly 2 hours to hike the 3.4 miles and 2,300 vertical feet to the summit.

 

The summit had a large cairn and a USGS marker, and helpfully also had a small rock structure that offered some protection from the wind. If Eric had been there, we all know what he would have done, however I didn’t do that, since there really isn’t much point if there’s no one else there to document it.

 

I headed down relatively quickly, since I wanted to eat lunch somewhere that wasn’t quite as windy. On the way down the open ledges, the wind picked up, and my ears started to get very cold. I began to think that a hat like Lydia’s yeti hat might have been useful. I ultimately ate lunch just before the trail went under the trees – there were great views of Webb Lake and the mountains to the south.

 

I then ducked under the trees and went down the same way. It took slightly less time for me to go down. Ultimately, the whole hike took 4 hours and 10 minutes – 2 hours to go up, 20 minutes for lunch, and 1 hour and 50 minutes to go down. By this point the weather had improved, and the 90-minute drive back to Colby went smoothly.

 

I highly recommend this hike for people who want an alternative to Tumbledown in the same area, that is a little higher, a little longer, and still has lots of open ledges. The views were pretty good even today; I can’t imagine how nice they would be on a clear day. Additionally, Little Jackson is much less crowded than Tumbledown – I didn’t see a single other person on the trail today.