Morse Mountain

Morse Mountain is a very neat family outing.

From Bath, Maine, take route 209 to route 216 in Phippsburg (just past where 209 turns toward Popham Beach) and a left onto Morse Mountain Road (pvt.).  There is a parking lot up the hill on the left.  Just be aware that when the lot if full, they do not let anyone else in.  We arrived around 10am on a beautiful October Sunday morning, and the lot was roughly a third full, but when we left around 2pm, the lot was full.

The conservation area is managed by Bates College for conservation, research and recreational activity.  The one and three quarter mile "hike" is really an old road (paved many many years ago) that through a salt marsh, past beautiful ledge, through the woods, and goes up and over Morse Mountain (elevation 180ft). At the summit, are a few private homes, but the view over the marsh to the ocean is stunning, and on a clear day, you can see Mount Washington (it was pretty clear, but we didn't see Mt. W.).  Going down the hill, the road goes through marshy areas, some very old trees, and out to a nearly deserted beach with large rock outcroppings, healthy grassy dunes, and long stretches of pristine sandy beach.

We were there at low tide and the beach was wide and inviting.  The walk in is the only way to access the beach, and access to the walk is restricted, so the beach was basically ours to enjoy.  The water was chilly, but Leah and I did splash in the surf and we all enjoyed playing in the sand, looking for beach treasures, and running in the wonderful autumn warmth.

On our walk back, we saw a porcupine asleep in the sun, resting in the crook of a big old pine tree.

Borestone Mountain

We hadn't hiked Borestone in quite a few years, and are glad we remembered it!

About 8 miles east of Monson (up near Moosehead) on Elliotsville Road, is the Borestone Mountain Audubon sanctuary. This is part of Maine's one hundred mile wilderness. After the bridge over Big Wilson Stream, follow the signs left. The parking area is up the hill, over the railroad tracks, and on the left.

From the gate, the Base Trail leaves the access road and heads left, through piles of shale, climbs steeply through some really nice big old trees- hemlock, spruce, aspen, maple, birch, and other magical beings. The trail is filled with interesting staircases and can be steep. 

After about three quarters of a mile, the trail meets the access road and continues about a quarter of a mile to the Audubon visitors center and two small ponds.  It is very spectacular to see the autumn foliage reflected in the pond.

There is a donation box at the visitor's center.  There is an area that invites us to make fairy houses in the jumble of rocks and soft ground.   Leah loved this area; she loved finding the little houses that many others had tucked into thick moss, nestled in the duff, and perched against trees..  She and Andrew spent a long time perfecting their beautiful little spot. We decided not to bag the peak, but to turn back at this point,; we followed the access road about a mile and a quarter down to the car. Along the access road, there is a spur trail to a lookout. This makes a nice two-ish mile loop.

For a more adventurous day, the trail continues from the pond up the side with scrambles and some nice climbs (I remember iron handholds...) and up to the beautiful open peaks in about a mile.  The many mountains of the Moosehead area are visible, as are bunches of lakes and ponds.  This is a particularly sweet time of year for sweeping views. 

Lost, or Just Hiding?

Autumn is Baxter season!!!

Love the Lost Pond Trail.  We started at the AT trail head south of the Daicey Pond day use lot.  The trail starts out very exciting with some rock hopping and and slippery boardwalks over muddy sections.  In just a few minutes, the AT continues south and the Daicey Pond trail sneaks through some soft woods and down to the water's edge. I told Leah we were going to Lost Pond and she seemed worried that it was lost so I told her we'd find it; "it must be playing hide and seek" she reasoned.

Walking along the edge of Daicey, the views of OJI and  Katahdin are fantastic, awe-inspiring; it is hard to take everything in. The narrow trail is lined with cedars, mountain laurel, and moss-covered rocks. 

The earth smells delicious and the sound of the waves lapping softly against the shore remind us why we love the quiet of October.

The Lost Pond trail leaves about a half a mile from the junction of Daicey Pond and climbs gently up through spruce and cedar and the landscape is strewn with erratics big and small and huge!  It is a soft, quiet trail with few people but lots to look at.

Just as we reached the rise before descending to Lost Pond, Leah told us she was looking forward to getting to the car so she could nap.  We decided that we didn't need to reach the pond, it would be better for her to nap in the car than have a short nap in the pack.  The pond is a great hide and seek player!!!

Alas...

But since she was awake in the car, we stopped by Stump Pond and were treated to the sight of a moose family, bull, cow, and calf all enjoying the beautiful autumn afternoon.

Great Head - Acadia NP

This past weekend, we did another well-loved loop at Acadia.  Great Head above Sand Beach.

We access the trail "the back way" from a small parking lot off Schooner Head Road (left off Route 3 south of Bar Harbor).

From the lot, the trail goes through nice soft woods, out along the ocean.  After about half a mile, the trail climbs to the left, toward the ocean.  Once out on Great Head, the views out to the ocean are beautiful, walking along the height of land, you can see Otter Cliffs across the water.  Climbing, sometimes steep, sometimes scrambing up and down boulders, through some damp spots, across some precarious spots, and around the corner toward Sand Beach.  On a big open spot, there are great views way above Sand Beach.  Watching the waves hit the pocket beach from this vantage is amazing; when on the sand, the water comes and goes seemingly at our feet; but from above, the water undulates and is mesmorizing.

From this point, the trail goes either toward the beach or back toward the parking lot.  We love descending to the beach, kicking off shoes, and playing in the waves, as chilly as they may be! It was high tide when Leah ran though the sand and let the autumn waves tickle her toes.

In the Beginning

At the river crossing, the bridge is out. Aspen and maple leaves are floating down over smooth stones and swirling in eddies like a kaleidoscope of yellow and red. My wife and I scout around for a place to cross without having to take our shoes off and wade across. On the inside bank the water is shallow and we pick our way out over rocks slippery with algae and wet leaves. Things are looking easy enough, but on the outside bank the water is deeper and churns up white foam as it rushes over boulders. We eye a fallen tree that crosses the entire expanse and would make a fine bridge with limbs to hold onto for balance. Normally this would be the way to go, but today we’re toting our two month old daughter with us. Neither of us have had much sleep in the last eight weeks and a sense of balance is not a given. I’m especially wary of my own footing with an infant swinging in a sling across my belly.

We ditch the idea of a dry crossing and look for a shallow place to wade across. It’s mid October, but today is in the low seventies and sunny. We walk downriver where the terrain levels off and find a place that looks suitable to cross. Here the water gurgles over smaller rocks and stones. From experience though, we know the stones are slippery. I tell my wife we could just go back the way we came, forget crossing the river today. After reminding me that the return trip on the trail we’d taken would be mostly uphill and that the one across the river is flat and gentle, she takes her shoes and socks off ready to cross. I bend down on one knee balancing our daughter in the sling so her body stays against mine. She gives a slight squeal and moves an arm but doesn’t wake up. My wife and I both laugh and comment on the complete but apparently misguided trust she places in us. She’s comfortably asleep in her hammock, oblivious that at any moment now she could have her first swimming lesson.

     

My wife starts her way across taking a few even steps before slipping on a rock, swaying back and forth, circling her arms and finally regaining her balance. She gets even footing and stands very still with her arms out. She’s carrying her shoes in one hand and I’m just about to tell her to toss them over to the other side so she has extra balance when I realize the ramifications of such action. I have my own shoes in one hand and a very small baby rocking gently with each step. The day is getting late, we both realize our priorities, and decide to bag the river crossing and return the way we came.

We climb back up the river bank and stand barefoot on the forest floor of autumn leaves, which make a cohesive pattern of varying shape, size and color. Even in their fallen leaves the interrelationship of the trees is evident. Our daughter gives a little squeak as I bend to put my shoes and socks on and I wonder if it’s her thanks to us for not attempting to cross a wet cold river in autumn with her in my arms.

The return trail is not as steep as we’d thought, and we quickly rise out of the drainage where the sun is still high enough to warm us. Against the backdrop of massive gray talus mountain slopes, we move through intervals of flaming and then paler yellow stands of aspens, our feet noisily crunching and shuffling through leaves. We pass over a beaver dam, the world above shimmering in the ripples and the rattle of leaves in light breeze.

Back at the car, we’re both exhausted. Normally, the river crossing would have been as easy as jumping over a mud puddle in the trail, but with our infant daughter and sleep deprived heads, the attempt felt on par with crossing a raging torrent of spring runoff. We sit in the car and feed our daughter, glad to be sitting down. I read aloud from Desert Solitaire thinking that everything is relative.

-written by Andrew almost three years ago.

Big Feet

When I was pregnant with our daughter, an ultrasound showed two big strong feet; we were excited to have a hiker in the works!

Even before Leah was walking on her own, she was hiking fun places like Baxter and Acadia.

 

Now that she is three, she is a fantastic hiker! We get out and hike as often as possible and love to share good spots.  At the suggestion of my friend Jen, I'm going to try to chronicle our hikes - thanks for the idea, Jen.

Beech Mountain, Acadia National Park

This is a great little mountain to hike.  There are several access points, Echo Lake parking lot on Route 102, Beech Hill Road in Somesville, and the southern end of Long Pond outside of Southwest Harbor.  We like the less traveled Long Pond access point (and this trail is longer, too, about two and half miles.  I think the trail from Beach Hill Road trailhead is about a one mile round trip hike).  Acadia NP Map can be found at: http://www.nps.gov/acad/

The pond is nestled between Beech Mountain and Mansell Mountain.The hike slides along the lakeshore for a ways, and then climbes steeply up the western cliffs of the mountain overlooking the lake and Mansell.  There are some large open areas, scrambles through tumbled boulders, through wild cranberry bushes, and up to the small, but open summit at 839 ft above Somes Sound.  There is a tower at the top so we can take advantage of views from an even higher perch!

The loop trail continues south, crossing the open slabs of the summit, with beautiful views of the Atlantic and Somes Sound.  We were lucky enough to see an Eagle playing in the currents and follws the southern shoulder of the mountain through some very magical places!

We love this hike; it has varied terrain, some steep sections, fabulous views, and  we always feel like we had a great hike!  Then off to Thurstons for a late lunch!