Sample Chapter from HOAW

There were many portions of this venture when I wished others were along to share the enjoyment of my quest, but the trip from Mt. Washington to Mt. Katahdin was not one of those. The ride was cold and wet most of the way to Baxter State Park. After a long day in almost constant rain, I checked into a motel for the night in Millinocket before continuing to the Park.

Mt. Katahdin (Abenakis Indian word for greatest mountain) is approximately 20 miles northwest of Millinocket within the Baxter State Park. It is the northern terminus of the famous 2,025-mile Appalachian Trail, which was completed in 1937. The highest point on Mt. Katahdin is named Baxter Peak and is the first place the sun hits the continental US on a clear morning.

Former Governor Percival Baxter had been unable to convince the Maine Legislature that preservation of Katahdin and its environment was a worthy public goal, so he purchased the lands with his own money and donated them to the state through 28 deeds over a 32-year period. One term of acceptance of his gift was that the state agreed to maintain the park as a wilderness area. That explains why there are no telephones or piped water and only a few narrow gravel roads. He also required that motorcycles not be allowed to enter the park. That restriction would have only been a slight problem for me on this trip if things had gone as planned.

There may be no logical reason I felt as I did upon arriving at the Togue Pond entrance to Baxter State Park. Maybe it had something to do with spending a long day on a motorcycle in almost constant rain. I knew from several sources that motorcycles are not allowed in the Park and the Director’s reply to my request for a special permit made it clear that his hands were tied. So why did I feel revenge was the next step? That’s not like me! I know that most rules are for our benefit.

During the several mile ride back to Millinocket, thoughts raced through my mind. Did the former Governor have a bad experience with motorcyclists? Was he trying to limit vehicle travel to the roads and didn’t trust motorcyclists to obey rules? (He couldn’t have guessed that touring motorcycles as we have today are less likely to go off the road than the family sedan – or today’s ever more popular Sport Utility Vehicle.) Maybe it was a restriction because he thought motorcycles are noisy. But there are only restrictions on radios, not exhaust systems. In fact, the noise of the Jeep Grand Cherokee entering the Park as I was leaving drowned out the whisper of our Wing. In an effort to provide a peaceful wilderness experience, they do restrict radio use to a volume that others can't hear.

I can understand if Mr. Baxter’s desire was to preserve its wilderness character -- free of chain saws and clear-cuts -- but the presence of motorcycles in the park does not in itself change the character, except to beautify it while there. There are a few cabins and bunkhouses, but evidently that’s considered wilderness.

Since the restriction is not “motorcyclists,” we can’t claim discrimination, but I now have a better idea how the Negroes must have felt a few years ago when told they had to go to the back of the bus or couldn’t use the white man’s restroom.

I was seriously considering getting a copy of the deeds to see the verbiage of what stipulations he set. I have no doubt he didn’t like motorcycles and did want people to experience nature. No telephones, but would he object to cellular phones? Whether or not it was Mr. Baxter’s intent, visitor's are asked to not use their cell phones except in an emergency. No piped water, but why not restrict the use of outside water which was brought in? Did he just want people to see the wilderness and not have to experience it? Bring chlorinated water, bug spray, ambulances and helicopters to rescue people when they have an accident, etc. Where’s the wilderness experience? Marked trails? Improved hiking equipment? Do you see where my mind was going?

Maybe part of the anger was that the Director of the Park had offered to meet me at the Togue Pond entrance to Baxter State Park. I could leave my motorcycle at the entrance and have a ride anywhere in the Park so I could make my hike. I had accepted his offer and sent word about when I planned to arrive. I arrived a couple of hours early but figured the ranger at the entrance would have expected me. The ranger at the gate said the Director was giving a class at the time I arrived and she was given no information about my arrival.

Correspondence had been slow going back and forth between me and the Park’s Director before I left home. Later I received a letter saying that he had received my acceptance to his offer some time after I had been there. The weather would have prevented me from making the climb, but I was hoping to at least get a better view and picture of the summit.

Katahdin: A Guide to Baxter State Park by Stephen Clark was highly recommended as a source of information on access routes, trails and park history, but it was difficult to get excited about somewhere I was not allowed to take our Gold Wing.

Although Mt. Katahdin is a Class 1 hike (hands in pocket), the first newspaper article I read on it was about Jeffery Rubin, an experienced hiker, who lost his life attempting to climb it. I took three lessons from the article, which were not necessarily the intentions of the author: 1) don't hike alone; 2) don't be pushed by a schedule; and 3) not all class 1 highpoints are easy to climb.

When they found Mr. Rubin, he had several abrasions, his jacket appeared to be placed so that others would be helped to find him, etc. Maybe he recognized early signs of hypothermia: being sleepy, lethargic, just wanting to lie down, surprisingly not feeling very cold. He was alone and trying to complete the hike before meeting someone in another state. He may have pushed the envelope instead of accepting the fact that conditions were not good for the challenge. Conditions dictate everything; in his case bad weather should have caused him to back off on that day.

Pamola has been blamed for the weather many find at Mt. Katahdin. According to native Abenaki Indian lore, Pamola, a vengeful Indian god -- part giant bird, part moose, part human -- uses his power over the elements to keep man off the summit of Katahdin. Many early explorers, including Henry David Thoreau, reported that Indian guides were extremely reluctant to venture to the top. According to the September 23, 1996 New Yorker, Mr. Thoreau climbed Mt. Katahdin on September 7 and 8, 1846 and described it as "something savage and awful." That was 12 years before he made it to the summit of Mt. Washington. I don’t know how he compared the two.

During the 2-hour descent from a failed attempt, D. C. Denison and his 10-year-old son Tom were chewing over their defeat. Mr. Denison's theory was that it is presumptuous to assume that they could climb Katahdin on the one Saturday that's convenient for them. Climbers must be willing to devote a few dates to the project, so they can wait for just the right conditions. Tom thought that Pamola got angry because of a gum wrapper he had seen under a rock along the trail.

Before this six-week trip began, I listened to one hiker telling that his group had given up on one climb when they were within 100 feet of the summit of another highpoint. Before I knew better, I thought it a shame to not leave the injured hiker, complete the climb and pick him up on their way down. I have become aware that a schedule can push us beyond safety and fun. Some Highpointers have made several attempts at the more difficult climbs -- spending weeks at different elevations, waiting for weather to clear -- only to call it off without making it to the top.

This might be a good place to talk a little about locating and measuring highpoints. According to Third Quarter 1995 A to Z Newsletter, in August 1874, University of Maine (UM) professor Merritt Caldwell Fernald used barometers to measure Mt. Katahdin at 5,215.5 feet (plus or minus 4.2 feet). According to Fernald's original report, his party made six or seven trips to the Summit on August 15, 17, and 18, 1874. They carried mercury barometers and recorded changes in atmospheric pressure from the bottom to the summit. Fernald then calculated the altitude by taking the average of the measurements.

Professor Fernald’s grandson John A. Pierce was a part of a recent UM team who checked that figure using satellites, signals and computers in 1993. A satellite receiver and antenna system was carefully placed on the highest point. The receiver captured signals from four or five Global Positioning System satellites during a two-hour period. Twenty miles away at a base station in Millinocket, at a federal geodetic altitude marker, another receiver was receiving signals. The series of signals from the satellites provided information to be analyzed using geometrical calculations. Results: 5,271.13 feet (plus or minus three inches). But is it official? Not that quickly.

In 1941 the peak's altitude was calculated by the USGS using a process called triangulation -- same basic idea of the satellites. The USGS came up with 5,267 feet. Whether it is actually 5271 or 5267 or even something else might not matter much unless another place in the state was close to that. Since there needs to be one authority, most are satisfied with waiting for the USGS to make it official.

ROUTE: From Mt. Washington in NH: Mt. Washington Auto Rd to SR16 to Gorham. US2 to Maine. US2 through Farmington Falls to Skowhegan. SR150 to Guilford. SR16 to Milo. SR11 to Millinocket then northwest out of town to Baxter State Park (228).