Tucked into the corner of Northwest Maine, the 36,000 acre Bigelow Preserve is one of the state's hiking and camping gems. Recently, Macy and I traveled to this remote area with the goal of climbing the 4,150 West Peak of Mt. Bigelow - a rugged alpine wilderness often described as Maine's "second mountain" (after Katahdin).
To be clear, the Bigelow Preserve is not far from civilization. In fact, throughout its history, the region has been impacted and shaped by man on numerous occasions. The mountain is named after an American army major, Timothy Bigelow. Bigelow climbed the mountain in 1775, "for purposes of observation." He was part of an ill - fated expedition led by Benedict Arnold through Maine's wilderness during the Revolutionary War. Arnold's objective was to march a detachment of troops from Massachusetts to Quebec, by way of Maine. He hoped to drive British out of Quebec, and form an alliance with the French. By the time he reached Quebec, the Maine Wilderness had exacted a tremendous toll on his men's health and morale. This arguably led to their hasty defeat at the Battle of Quebec in December 1775.
Maine's lumber and paper industries have long been a part of the region. The Dead River, which forms just beyond the preserve's northern boundary, was used as a thoroughfare for the famous "River Drives," when millions of freshly sawed logs would be floated downriver, towards the sawmills and paper companies.
On the Northern side of the preserve sits Flagstaff Lake, a massive body of water which despite its size, is remarkably quiet. Few people realize that the lake is actually quite young. It was formed in 1949, when the Central Maine Power company constructed Long Falls Dam on the Dead River. The resulting lake flooded the town of Flagstaff, which had been abandoned to make room for the project. Because of its unnatural origins, the lake is quite unique. It is deep in places, but randomly shallow in others, often in places one might now expect (maybe say, the middle?). The lake's boundaries are littered with evidence of civilization - be it rusted out farm of logging equipment, old fencing, etc. If you are canoeing on the lake, you might come across and old pot - bellied stove sitting just beneath the surface!
Finally, the preserve sits directly adjacent to the massive Sugarloaf Ski resort. Opened in 1951, the resort has transformed itself into a four season operation. Thousands of people travel north every winter and spring to use its numerous trails, which cover the mountainside. Many people also enjoy its premiere 18 hole golf course during the warmer months. Condominiums, ski lifts, and a hotel perch on the mountain's land, and a massive communications tower sits at the top.
Had it not been for the foresight of some individuals in the 1970s, it is speculated that Bigelow Mountain may have met a similar fate to sugarloaf. A developer sought to transform the area into an "Aspen of the east." Environmental advocates organized the opposition, and in 1976, the citizens of Maine voted to incorporate nearly 40,000 acres of land surrounding Bigelow Mountain, to form the Bigelow Preserve, maintaining the land in a natural state.
Exploring this ruggedly pristine environment set against the backdrop of civilization's influence makes one appreciate the beauty and fragility of our natural world.
So it was that on a beautiful day in early September, Macy and I packed up her Volkswagen Jetta wagon, and headed north. Our destination was the Round Barn camping area, a spot I had read about while researching the trip. It is managed by the preserve, includes eight secluded campsites, along with a large group site that can accommodate up to thirty people. It sits on the shore of Flagstaff lake, includes one central privy, and is free for anyone to use. There are no entrance fees.
We drove north from my parents' house in Woolwich on Route 27. After about two hours, we reached a small (and I mean, SMALL) town called Carrabasset, just south of Sugarloaf. We turned right onto a tiny road, called the Carriage Road. This road was derelict for a number of years, and as such, does not appear on older maps. It crosses land owned by the Penobscot Indians. A deal was recently struck, and they agreed to improve the road to make it more suitable for public use.
Despite its improvements, the road is still quite rough. There are many potholes and frost heaves, and rocks protrude from the road bed in places. Our vehicle had a relatively low ground clearance and did OK, but we had to drive very slowly. I would not recommend attempting this road in a car with a lower ground clearance. A sure indicator of the road's remoteness was the fact that it included signage intended for snowmobiles and ATV's, but not cars!
After about five miles of bumpy driving, we turned left onto the East Flagstaff Road, and continued on. This road was marginally better - wider and more graded, but still rough enough. The Preserve has added some signage to help visitors locate Round Barn, and we were appreciative of the help. After several miles, we turned off into the Long Barn Camping Area's lot. To our surprise, there were three other vehicles there, including a state - owned pickup truck.
After using the privy and stretching our legs, a fellow wearing a Maine DOC (Department of Conservation) uniform approached us. He introduced himself as Steve, the Preserve Manager. He was a cheerful, affable fellow, and welcomed us to the area. He explained that he was based out of Farmington, which is over thirty miles to the south. He periodically travels up to check on the Round Barn Area, but is also responsible for the maintenance and coverage of the whole preserve. The fact that our paths crossed was a chance occurrence indeed.
The only way into the camp sites was by foot. We poked around for a few minutes and identified a wonderful camp site, on a point looking out at the lake. We carried in our gear packs, and made camp.
A few minutes later, Steve reappeared to check which site we had picked. He asked us about how we had learned about the preserve and the camping area, and what we were planning to do. I had originally planned for us to hike the mountain from the western side. However, the long bumpy drive, combined with the proximity of another trail to our camping area, led us to decide on a different route. Steve recommended that we ascend on the Safford Brook trail, which left directly from Round Barn. This trail leads to the Appalachian Trail, which you can follow to the peaks. He even suggested that if we felt ambitious, we might backpack our gear up the Safford Brook Trail, and camp at a site near the end. From there, we could day hike a significant chunk of the mountain.
Ultimately, we decided to make Round Barn our base camp. It was a beautiful spot, and we reasoned that with an early start, we could hike to the top and back in one day, easily. We spent a lazy afternoon lounging on the sandy beach nearby, staring up toward the mountain's peaks. One other couple arrived late in the afternoon, with a golden retriever and an infant. They had hiked on the mountain earlier in the day, and planned to camp there for the night. They were very good neighbors. Aside from their camp fire, we wouldn't have known they were there.
As the sun set, we made our supper. The breeze died, and we built a small fire, and sipped hot chocolate. Later on, after hauling our food and toiletries back to the car (didn't want to deal with mice, raccoons or bears), we sat on a rock by the shore and watched an absolutely perfect moonrise over the mountains on the far shore. I'm ashamed to say I didn't photograph it, but we just felt like sitting there and admiring it. The beautiful, mournful calls of loons echoed across the lake, and we quietly sat and enjoyed it, until the night grew too cold.
The next morning, we rose before sunrise, and were treated to yet another beautiful view.
After a leisurely breakfast of oatmeal and cocoa, we loaded up our day packs, changed into our hiking clothes, and hit the trail.
The Safford Brook trail gradually works its way up the mountainside for about 2.2 miles, gaining some 900 feet in elevation. We found the terrain very easy, and reached the Appalachian Trail in a little over an hour. The A.T. traverses the entire mountain Ridge, which runs some 14 miles and includes several peaks.
After a brief rest and some water, we set off on the Appalachian Trail, bound for Avery Peak, a distance of 1.9 miles, but with a 2000 foot elevation gain. It was tough.
Many people say that Maine and New Hampshire are the toughest sections of the A.T., and after hiking in the Bigelow Preserve, I can see why. The ground is very rough, rocky, steep, and covered with roots. The undergrowth is thick, and the forest canopy keeps the ground dark, even in daylight. I imagined Benedict Arnold's men struggling over this land, carrying heavy gear, wearing cold, wet clothing, clad in poor footwear. In short, I felt sorry for them.
Despite the rough trail, we enjoyed ourselves immensely. There were numerous viewpoints along the trail where we could stop and enjoy the scenery.
Additionally, we crossed paths with many AT hikers along the way. We met one older gentleman who was section - hiking all the way to Katahdin. He had started in Hudson Valley, New York. We admired his determination. We also passed two younger men, roughly our age. They were trying to find a water source. We directed them to Safford Brook, which would be a small detour for them. Despite their lack of water, they moved over the rugged terrain with remarkable swifness. We passed another young woman hiking alone, and another young couple hiking south. As we approached Avery Peek, we passed another older man carrying a heavy pack. He had a large strip of duct tape, a backcountry band - aid, on one of his legs. Still, he looked cheerful.
Finally, after a little less than two hours of rough climbing, we reached Avery Peek, which sits at 4088 feet. The peek is named after Myron Haliburton Avery, a native Mainer who, with Benton MacKaye, helped create the Appalachian Trail.
He was the first hiker to complete the 2000 mile trek, in an era when the trail was poorly marked, and hardly mapped. His through hike was undoubtedly harder than those attempted by people today. There is a plaque bearing his name on the peak. My heart goes out to the poor soul who lugged it up there.
Sitting atop the peak is an old wooden shack sitting on a stone foundation. It served as a fire lookout tower until the old manned tower system was replaced by airplanes. According to records, the current tower on Avery Peak was built in 1965. It is hard to imagine Maine's fire wardens trekking to these alpine perches nearly every day, let alone roughing it out in the Maine wilds in their small cabins for extended periods.
We rested briefly. I treated a hot spot in one of my boots with some mole skin. We decided to push onward for the West Peek, which sits a little higher than 4,100 feet - the mountain's high point. We wanted to get to the top!
Shortly after leaving Avery Peak, we started making our way down into the col on the mountain's ridge. The total distance from Avery Peak to West Peak is just 0.7 miles, but it was tough. This was probably the hardest part of the whole hike - lots of boulder scrambling was necessary, and we needed to look for hand and foot holds carefully. At one point, it was so rough that I wondered if it would be worth it - I did not wish to dilly dally on the top since we only had daypacks. We decided to push on a little more, to see if the trail became easier. Sure enough, it did. We passed through the Bigelow col's camping area, and reached the West Peak a short time later. In total, it took us 3 hours and 50 minutes to reach the top from the trailhead.
We enjoyed our lunch, and some amazing panoramic views of the region. After resting for about a half hour, we repacked, and started hiking back to our camp site.
As we passed Avery Peek again, we crossed paths with another older section hiker. He was from Florida, and had started hiking on the A.T. for his 50th birthday. His goal was to finish when he was 60 - next year. He asked us to snap a picture of him on his blackberry, so he could send it to his wife, because, he said jokingly, "she didn't believe he had made it out here." He took a picture of us too. We wished him well, and parted ways.
The trip down was hard. Our muscles grew achey from the pounding, but the air was cool and pleasant. We reached our campsite at 4:15 in the afternoon, some 3 hours and 15 minutes after leaving the top. We spent a relaxing evening on the lake shore, hearing the loons call until dusk. I even went for a swim! We both slept like logs that night.
The next morning, we ate breakfast and broke camp early. After loading up the car, we drove back out via the East Flagstaff and Carriage Roads, which took almost 40 minutes all told. We enjoyed a leisurely drive through the Rangely Lakes Region on the way home, stopping at several gorgeous viewpoints.
I hope we return to the Bigelow Preserve some day. In many ways, it is the perfect place for campers of our experience level. It is remote and wild enough to feel like a real wilderness experience, but close enough to civilization to make access relatively easy. Additionally, it includes things - a privy, maintained camp sites, and well - marked trails, which make the great outdoors easier to manage and less intimidating. I highly recommend that you visit it some day!
9 comments:
Post a Comment