Trip Reports:
Bill Reitsma Trip Report
"Just thought that you would enjoy this picture of an unnamed falls located around 500 feet from the Middle Fowler South campsite. It was taken on a trip just over two weeks ago (September 11). I call it Hidden falls because in years past I have met campers who have stayed overnight at the camp site and still did not know that the water fall was there. I have also talked to park employees who were unaware of the falls (and some who were). The source of the water for the falls is on the North side of Traveler Mountain, not upper Fowler Pond as most people would think.
Last year we dropped a line over the falls and measured it at more than 60 feet in height. Usually the water flows just a few feet down the dry wash to Middle Fowler before disappearing underground. This year the channel had water all the way to the pond and the falls itself was just amazing.
I have been going to middle Fowler off and on for between 25 and 30 years. It is my favorite Baxter destination. Although the normal water flow is far less than what you see in the picture, I have never seen it completely dry. On a hot day in July or August, the temperature in the small valley below the falls is usually about 10 degrees less than elsewhere. I also no longer recommend the Middle Fowler South camp site over the North camp Site. It has really grown in over the years, and has experienced a lot of erosion from running water.
PS: I do have to add that although the normal water flow is far less than what you see in the picture, I have never seen it completely dry. On a hot day in July or August, the temperature in the small valley below the falls is usually about 10 degrees less than elsewhere."
– Bill Reitsma
John Mirick, Princeton, MA Trip Report
"In 1961, our family group of 13 went into Russell Pond – 5 adults and 8 children. Our gear came mostly from the Army-Navy Surplus Store. Our clothes were cotton and wool. Our food included hamburg, onions, and some things in cans. We staggered along the trail carrying heavy and awkward packs. And we loved it!
Russell Pond was a great base camp for a week; lean-to #3, our favorite shelter. Grand Falls with the water rushing down the granite gorge was a destination in one direction. Wassataquoik Lake with the Pogy Mountain cliffs on the north side of the lake and Green Falls from the Wassataquoik saddle on the other side was another day trip. And lots of shorter expeditions to pick blueberries at the Lookout, swim and sun on the smooth rocks at the crossing of the North Peaks Trail, and poke for artifacts at New City.
For fifty years – and two more generations – we’re still making the annual trip. There’s a special bond that results from a week in the woods. It’s a blend of the self-confidence in learning to read a map and use a compass to bushwack up seldom-climbed mountains, the accomplishment of mastering the art of cooking and baking over an open fire, the pride in catching trout and salmon on flyrods, the awe of watching the Northern Lights, the thrill of hearing the coyotes sing at night, and the majesty of nightfall as Katahdin catches the last glow of the sun and then turns darkly purple. And it’s the quiet companionship that come from sharing the trail, admiring the moose, watching the loons with their chicks, and the spruce hen trying to draw us away from her chicks.
The oldest generation is no longer with us, but they came on the trip for almost four decades. We affectionately called them "the fossils" when at R.P. Last summer, 3 of the original children, and 3 of our children, and even 1 of our grandchildren, went into Russell Pond, along with various spouses and friends for a total of 12 in the group. We now have fleece and nylon and freeze-dried food and high-tech packs and collapsible walking poles. The trails are a little different, the woods grown up and engulfing New City. But Katahdin remains in all its glory, and the sense of companionship has only grown stronger through the years. Next year, perhaps 2 grandchildren will come along, and we can look forward to instilling in them our love for an annual week in the woods."
– John Mirick, Princeton, MA
Jym St. Pierre Trip Report
"In late July 2011, I went on my annual Katahdin Lake fishing extravaganza. My usual fishing partner could not go this year so another friend came. He is not an angler, so there was less fishing and more sightseeing than usual. However, we did paddle around and I did catch and release a half dozen or more trout in my favorite fishing hole. We also saw five moose, a bald eagle (several times), a great blue heron, loons, terns, ravens, a variety of songbirds, bear scat, and a spectacular sunset.
On Sunday, we paddled the lake at sunrise (5 am), teased trout (or vice versa), then got a late breakfast back at the cabin. In the afternoon, we hiked the Martin Ponds loop trail, which winds through a beautiful, old hardwood forest. It is about 4.5 miles roundtrip from Katahdin Lake Wilderness Camps (KLWC). A family who had camped at the Martin Ponds lean-to the night before had left by the time we arrived, but a resident moose grazing in the shallows provided a photogenic foreground for the Imax view of Katahdin.
On the way back to Katahdin Lake, we met an old fellow from Millinocket, who was backpacking alone. He said he had worked in the paper mill, been a bush pilot in Alaska, and driven trucks all over the country, but he always returned to Katahdin where he has camped for decades. Later we paddled to Painter's Beach and the Katahdin Lake outlet, then walked to Rocky Pond. Somehow we each managed to slip into the muck while searching for a dry place to stand to get a photo of the magical, late-day light on the pond. We arrived back at the canoe in time to skim across the glassy lake, passing a trio of loons, to the inlet to cast a dry fly and to gawk at another spectacular sunset. That night, I sat on the beach for awhile and fell deep into the Milky Way.
Last year, on the same weekend, a family reunion at KLWC got a bit rowdy for a wildland getaway. This year, it was the opposite. Though it was the peak weekend of the summer season, we were the only ones staying at the camps both nights. Holly Hamilton, the camps manager, said they had been full (including people from three foreign countries) a few days earlier and that August was nearly booked. Maybe my mild complaints about loud visitors last year sent karma alarms to ward off everyone this time. Yikes. I did not mean to scare away other visitors. I just wanted everyone to respect the peace and quiet of such a sacred place.
I brought both the new National Geographic and Map Adventures maps of Baxter Park. I also used a map of local sites prepared by Holly's husband, Bryce. Each of the maps had advantages, but I found myself dreaming about the perfect map of the area I would create. Maybe in the next life.
We hiked out Monday just before thunderstorms arrived, drove up along the Penobscot West Branch to watch rafters and kayakers try to defy the laws of gravity and hydrology, then got a late lunch at the AT Cafe in Millinocket and stopped in at Marsha Donahue's North Light Gallery. I wanted to go into Brad Viles new Maine Woods Gear store in the same building, but he was closed, probably off hiking. He has climbed Katahdin 99 times already.
It was another terrific trip to one of my favorite places. You outta go. But if you show up on the summer weekend when I am there, please stay out of my fishing spot and keep the noise down. The moose and I will thank you."
– Jym St. Pierre
Martin Coleman and Loren B. Fisher, New York, NY Trip Report
"Maine has always been a very special place for me. My great grandparents immigrated to Waterville from Krov, Lithuania, in the mid 1890's and were one of a few families who helped establish the Beth Israel Congregation at the turn of the 19th century in Waterville. I have spent every summer of my life at a camp on Lake Messalonskee that my grandfather bought my grandmother in 1951 so she could spend her summers near her childhood home. With my father's sudden death last winter, I have felt an even deeper connection to my Maine roots and a true desire to make sure Maine and places like Baxter State Park will be around for my children to cherish and enjoy.
My first attempt at climbing Mt. Katahdin was a number of years ago with my good friend, Howard Whitcomb, his son Gerry, and daughter Amy. Thunderstorms forced us to take shelter at Chimney Pond and turn back. The second attempt came a number of years later, when my girlfriend at the time panicked at the first set of boulders on Cathedral Trail. This second failed attempt even further fueled my desire to make the summit one day.
With the pending threat of Hurricane Danny winding its way up the Northeast in August 2009, my fiancée Loren and I decided to make our way up to Millinocket a day earlier than we planned to embark on what would be my third attempt at making the elusive summit. Being startled awake by the sound of a bleating alarm clock at 4:40 AM was well worth every tearing yawn once Loren and I saw the mist rising from the roadside bogs and the first red, orange, and golden sun rays piercing through the thick evergreen treeline of the eight-mile dirt road leading to the entrance of the Park. Loren and I excitedly signed into the ranger's log on the cabin porch and slowly shed our warm layers as we steadily made our way up to Chimney Pond. We enjoyed the first vista lookout on what was shaping up to be a fabulous "Class 1" day.
After making a short lunch stop at the summit, we pressed on to Knife's Edge. Loren showed a lot of grit and heart as she carefully navigated the boulders along the ridgeline. I think I actually fell even more in love with her on this adventure. Seeing the mountain through her eyes made it very special as we had recently gotten engaged in June. Making the climb to the summit of Mt. Katahdin brought us closer together, looking after one another as we made our way up the rock scramble. I cannot think of anyone else with whom I would have wanted to finally share the summit on this special day than my beautiful fiancée.
While we did not plan for quite enough water as we took the dry Helon Taylor trail down the mountain, it was perhaps the only real snafu on what otherwise was a picture perfect and rewarding day. We were elated to hear Roaring Brook off in the distance as nightfall rapidly ensued. A much-needed night of sleep followed after a hearty meal, and ice for Loren’s knees, at the xx diner.
Loren and I are looking forward to spending even more time in Maine this summer on Snow Pond and marrying at Beth Israel this October 2nd in Waterville surrounded by our family and friends."
– Martin Coleman and Loren B. Fisher, New York, NY