Category Archives: Hiking

Huntington ravine and the Great Gulf

Two weeks ago now, Sweeney, Rob and I hit the road in search of some good hiking. Since Sweeney already did an excellent write-up, I’ll keep this short.

I wasn’t intending on hiking Washington again so soon, since we’d skied it back in May, but I’d never been up Huntington ravine, nor ventured into the Great Gulf.

It was a great day, and the hike made me want to stay on the trail overnight, but I’ll have to save my backpacking ambitions for later this year.

Again, you can read more about it on Brian’s Adventure Blog.

Acadia Part Two

Since Jon (Sukes), Mike and I had such a great time last fall up in Acadia National Park, we were eager to get up there again this season. The opportunity came sooner than we expected, since my family and some friends rented sites at MDI campground for 5 days. My family has made it up to Acadia almost every year I’ve lived in Mass., so meeting them up there for the weekend seemed like a great way to continue that tradition.

Acadia National Park takes up most of Mount Desert Island in the northern corner of Maine. It’s a beautiful place for all sorts of outdoors activity, from hiking, to running, biking, kayaking, canoeing–and it’s all in one spot.

This time it was Jon, Julian and I who made the trip. We hopped in my recently fixed Jeep and started eating up miles. Everything was going smoothly until this happened:

My Jeep, broken down (again?) on 95.

Just our luck, right? The Jeep made it 240 miles without any issue, then failed us only ~40 miles from Acadia. My only solace was that it wasn’t the Crankshaft sensor.

Luckily Jon had AAA and we broke down under 3 miles from Bangor, ME. We could’ve instead ended up miles from any repair shop. We grabbed a hotel for the night and barely made last call at a random bar nearby, which gave us a chance to experience Bangor nightlife (there wasn’t much).

Stretching our legs

The mechanics at ViP opened at 7 and made quick work on the repair. A tensioner pulley had sheared clean off and gotten my serpentine belt all tangled up inside. Not cool, Jeep.

We got on the road again by about noon, made it to the island, got our park pass, put together a hike, and were on the trail near the Jordan Pond House by 3ish.

The weather had been a bit wet the night before, so we figured Sunday would be the better day to climb.

In fact, things were just clearing up, and as we began our hike on the Jordan Cliffs Trail, the fog lifted and the sky began to clear. It was turning into a great afternoon!

Looking down at the fog on Jordan Pond. All photos credit Jon, since his camera is way better than mine.

I asked Jon to get a photo of me and the cliffside. I think the pond was more interesting.

Sukes on the trail.

From my experience, the Jordan Cliffs Trail is one of the more strenuous hikes in the park. I’d kind of forgotten that the trail actually was directly on the cliff-side–one of the reasons I love Acadia hikes. In some places, one misstep could send you off the edge.

Julian taking in the view

As we neared the summit of Penobscot, at 1194′, the last of the clouds were lifting.

The top of Penobscot, lots of granite and wisps of clouds

We ran around on top of the peak for awhile, and then Sargent Mountain emerged to the north. I convinced my friends to do a link-up over to Sargent, and we set off.

Approach of Sargent, which was much greener.

On top of Sargent at 1373′

From Sargent we made a quick descent via another cliff trail, which put us at the opposite edge of Jordan Pond. We walked back right along the pond’s edge. All told we had a nice jaunt, I put our mileage at about 6.3 miles in just under 2.5 hours.

At this point we were starving, and the Jordan Pond House wouldn’t seat some sweaty hikers just for pop-overs so close to dinner time. We made our way back to the campground, hitting the grocery store for steak and some delicious local brews on the way.

The evening view from our campsite. It was low tide, and my families kayaks are tied up at the dock.

Time to climb

Despite the car trouble, with a few minor issues driving on the island, I found it hard not to have a great time on the island. Literally everywhere you look are great views and exciting things to do.

Sunday we got up early and hopped in the car to head to Otter Cliffs. There is tons of traditional climbing in Acadia, along with some spots to set up top rope anchors, but since neither Jon or I have the right anchoring gear yet, we were limited to the routes we had been at last year. Not that this was really a problem, since climbing over the ocean at Otter Cliffs is so cool.

Sukes hanging out down by the water.

We were the first ones there, so we had our choice of routes. It had been awhile since we’d used a top managed belay, so we set on a 5.7 to make sure we had everything in order. Pretty much everyone belays from the top of the cliff, because it is safer, uses less rope, and to keep the ropes dry.

Me on belay

Eventually some guided groups showed up to climb the 5.4/5.5’s as we alternated climbing the route.

Julian making quick work of the cliff

It truly was a beautiful clear day, just like the last time we’d climbed the cliffs. The only thing was the wind was pretty strong. Eventually we moved our anchor over, letting Sukes have a go at a tricky 5.10d.

Jon, part way up the 5.10d

He gave it a great shot, but eventually I let him down and we moved over to “The Flake” a 5.7/5.10.

Me taking my time on the Flake

Julian, nearing the crux

I took my time–too much time–getting up to the roof, the crux of the route. I again pumped out, and went around it to the left, my only real disappointment. Julian and Jon climbed quickly and with a bit of searching, found the holds to get over the left side of the roof.

Sukes belaying next to a guided group of climbers.

We were worried about the Jeep still, so we headed out around noon to grab lunch, pack up and head back to Boston. Luckily the Jeep pulled through and we made good time getting back. All in all, it was a great weekend, and we’re already planning our next trip up there.

Pack Weight

I haven’t been out on a serious hiking trip yet this season, but I figure it doesn’t hurt to prepare. With the addition of my new gear, I’ve put more thought into my overall pack-weight recently. I was astounded by the weight Ray Jardine carried on his thru-hikes–an unfathomably low 8 1/2 lbs sans food and water. He hiked with his wife, so they were able to share some of their gear.

Here’s a rough outline of my current gear:

Pack 73 liter capacity: 5lbs 4 oz
45 degree sleeping bag: 1 lb 3 oz
2 man tent: 3lb 6 oz
Tent footprint: 8 oz
Knife: 2.8 oz
Stove: 2 oz
2 person cookset and pot: 17.8 oz
Camera: 4.4 oz
Headlamp: 3.1 oz
Water purifier: 14 oz

Total Weight: 13 lbs 1.2 oz

Edit: I forgot about my sleeping pad which weighs 27 oz, and brings the total to 14 lbs 12.2 oz.

This doesn’t include a few variables like fuel, first aid, rope, stuff sacks, clothes, a journal, or maps, but I think its fairly representative of my base pack weight without food or water. I don’t have scales that can measure in ounces so you’ll have to cut me some slack. While this isn’t 8.5 lbs, it’s not bad, considering I’d be able to share some of that gear if I was with someone.

The first thing I noticed is that my pack alone weighs more than any other item I put in it, and that it’s close to 1/2 my total weight. This is probably an issue, and while I don’t think I have a bad pack, I immediately went and removed the “lid” from the top, figuring I don’t need the extra space when my pack is so large, and I could shave a good couple ounces. The lid on my Osprey pack is meant to be removable and used as a lumbar pack, so it’s sturdy and has its own foam padding inside. I’ve never used it as a lumbar pack–nor do I plan to.

I might also try the pack as a day pack and remove the hip belt to see how that feels, though I’m not sure it weighs enough to really be worth removing.

I’m not planning to start counting ounces, and cutting inches of canvas straps from my pack–yet, but it’s nice to have a reference for how much gear I’ll be hauling around, and to think twice about whether an item is really essential.

While Jardine’s pack-weight might seem a little extreme, it’s certainly an interesting approach to backpacking, and his mileages (he quotes averages over 25 every day of every thru-hike) prove that even if you’re strong enough to carry a huge pack, maybe less is what you need to get where you’re going.

Guyot Backcountry Skiing Recon

Rumor has it, that there is some truly great backcountry skiing nestled deep in the
Pemigewasset Wilderness of the White Mountains. My partner in crime Rob, did much of the background research, citing viewsfromthetop and the TGR forums as his main sources. Two sizable and steep bowls punctuate the southwestern flanks of Guyot. Unfortunately the nearest road (in winter at least) is no less than 8 miles away from the either of the bowls. In winter it would likely take the better part of a day to get there, making the minimun reasonable trip length 4 or 5 days: one to get in, one to get out, and 2 or 3 days spent skiing and camping at the base. The goal for the weekend was to ‘swing’ by Guyot, scope out the skiing and assess the whole plan for feasibility unencumbered by winter gear and while conditions are still mild.

View Guyot Recon in a larger map
In order to fit this whole thing into one of the shortening days we’ve been experiencing, we came out of hibernation at the ripe hour of 4:30 on Saturday morning. (Actually the plan was to get up at 4, but my alarm happened to have AM and PM reversed and Rob’s had some similar problem. I just happened to roll over and see that time around 4:20 AM.) We arrived at the trail head around 6 AM and were on the trail shortly thereafter. The sun had just recently crept over the mountaintops.

The first leg of the approach is literally pretty straight forward. You head north along the Lincoln Woods Trail and eventually the Franconia Brook Trail. These trails are formerly a railroad bed used for logging in the late 1800s. The remaining ties and several bridge footings can still be seen for most of the way. As you might expect this part of the hike isn’t that challenging, however it is a pleasant walk alongside all sorts of rivers (notably, the Pemi and Franconia Brook), ponds, and marshes. It’s prime moose country and we even saw some tracks on the trail, highlighted by the light dusting of snow and frost.

View Guyot Recon in a larger map
Redrock Brook marks the cutoff point for leaving the trail and heading off toward Guyot, at which point you turn Northeast and follow the brook into the bowls. We made fair time on the 7 mile approach, arriving at the cutoff point in about 3 hours. Having achieved only several hundred feet of elevation, the brunt of the trek was still ahead of us. We had several miles of bushwhacking and about 2000′ of vertical remaining – none of it was on proper trail. There are several abandoned logging roads and rail beds, however all of them are grown in and eroded. In the winter the best route would likely be simply skinning up the brook. We varied our approach, following the stream bed, animal paths, water runoffs and abandoned roads according to whatever seemed easiest. At one point the stream runs almost entirely underground and you can just walk right up the middle of it. However, for the great majority of the slog, you’re plowing through a morass of underbrush. It was a challenge to say the least and our pace slowed considerably.

View Guyot Recon in a larger map
We started the day under cloudy skies, and as the day progressed it became party cloudy with enough sun to warm us whenever we stopped for food and water, however as we gained elevation and got closer to the bowls it was an entirely different story. The wind seemed to funneling up the ravine into the bowls bringing with it plenty of cold and apparently moist air. We made it within 300 vertical feet of souther bowl but by this time virtually all horizontal surfaces were coated in fresh snow. The winds were outright howling and and snow was coming down pretty thick. I was tempted to pull out some of goggles. As we looked up the stream bed we could see that it became increasingly challenging: running water, snow, water ice, boulders, fallen tree…the banks of the stream were dense pine and spruce. It was now past noon and we’d been on the trail for over 5 hours. We had no idea what the weather was outside of the bowls, but it was a full blown blizzard where we were. We decided to call it quits and head back just short of our goal. It would take us another 5 hours at least to ex-filtrate and we would be lucky to be out before sunset.

The slog out was basically the same as the slog in since we mostly just retraced our steps in the snow. We tried to pick up some the abandoned roads which were reputed to be in the area but were not entirely successful in this endeavor. We picked up the actual hiking trail around 3 or 4 and hauled back out to the parking area, just off the Kancamagus. We finished around 4:30 PM after about 17 miles.

While we were unable to get a really good look at the skiing terrain, I have to claim that we accomplished our overall goals. We know the skiing will be great just from looking at topo maps and satellite imagery. The real unknown quantity was the hike into the area, which we now have a very good feel for and have learned many things from. Given the length of time required to get there we can’t really consider going for less than 4 days. Three would work technically, but it seems like a lot of work for only one full day of skiing. Given the duration of our stay in the this exceedingly remote area and the amount of food and other supplies we’d need while there, using sleds or ski-pulks would be mandatory. We’d skin nearly the entire way in. By storing the gear in a duffel lashed to the sled, we would have the ability to carry the entire apparatus short distances for any areas that prove unskinnable, though those would seem to be infrequent given a deep snowpack. An ultralight touring setup would go a long way toward easing our efforts on the way. Something to seriously consider would be purchasing cheap X-country gear and using some kick-wax for the entire approach and hauling the alpine ski gear in the ski-pulks.

Some obvious safety concerns surround the entire trip. It’s considerable remoteness would really force us to be completely self sufficient – if something were to happen we’d be a day away from help in good conditions. Avalanches are a real concern as well, especially with no formal forecasting for that area. We’d have to rely on our own limited forecasting skills and be prepared to make decisions accordingly. We’d also have to be ready to prepare some really weather-proof shelters if the wind and snow are anything like what we witnessed on Saturday. If we were to attempt such a trip, we’d have to wait for an ideal window of weather and avalanche conditions, free up an extended long weekend, prepare the pulks, maybe get X-Country gear, brush up on avy skills, be in seriously good physical condition and finally hope for the best along the way. It would be a pretty serious undertaking but would probably be incredibly fun if well executed.

Gear List (click links for more product info):