Mountains, Tall and Small

It was not your typical group of hikers for a bushwhack through uncharted territory. As we weaved our way through the alders and beech, resolutely focussed on the top of the mountain, two of our members stopped to examine a patch of ice that had formed on a granite outcropping. Apparently passing their quality inspection, they proceeded to sit and slide down the length of the frozen flow. Such are the distractions when your hiking partners include a collection of 7 to 12-years-olds.

It was the day after Thanksgiving, and our ragtag collection of hikers were on a mission. Well, some of us anyway. For three of us, it was a "warm up" for a much bigger challenge to come in less than a month. Or a "cool down," as the case may be, since this post-holiday Friday greeted us with temperatures in the low 20s and a couple of inches of snow on the mountain. Calling Mount Waldo a "mountain" is a bit of an exaggeration, but who am I to argue with those in charge of naming such things? A hundred or so years ago, Mount Waldo was a much more crowded place than it is today, with scores of workers carving granite blocks from it's face for use in building and monuments in New York, Washington D.C. and scores of other places around the country.

But on this day, it appeared that the only humans cavorting about this mountain were the 11 of us, ranging in age from 7 to 60, trying in vain to find some sort of trail. One hundred years ago, there were likely few, if any, trees on this mountain. But given half a chance, nature has a way of taking back what was taken from her, and the mountain is once again forested. In fact, from the looks of things, it has probably been cut over on a regular basis since it was abandoned as a working quarrying endeavor As is typical of forest regrowth in Maine, the "underbrush" is thick with alder and beech saplings, making it difficult to work one's way under the canopy of the larger trees. Following too close to the person in front of you as you meander through the thickets can be a painful experience, as the saplings are wont to snap back and smack you in the face, arms, and chest.

We steadily made our way towards the summit, suffering the occasional sapling snap to the body despite our best attempts to avoid them. Or at least we hoped we were heading towards the summit, as it wasn't visible from our vantage point. We were heading "up," however, so we knew the summit had to be there somewhere. And, indeed, about halfway up the mountain, we caught a glimpse of one of the radio towers that has been placed on the top. In my opinion, it is a sad commentary that many of the highest points in the countryside have been littered with towers so that we can make phone calls from anywhere, but people seem to accept it as the price of "progress." I suppose I could have bought Mount Waldo about 10 years ago when it was for sale and prevented the towers from ever rising, but I lacked a key ingredient at the time - money.

Another unfortunate fact presented by the presence of the radio towers was that it meant that somewhere on this mountain there was at least a rudimentary road to the summit. If only we know where that was, we could have kept our bushwhacking to a minimum or perhaps eliminated it altogether.

As we rose, the views that were afforded through the breaks in the forest canopy grew more spectacular. The surrounding countryside, and rolling hills (mountains?) spread out before us. Much of this was lost on the younger members of the lot, who had to be bribed with the promise of a trip to the candy store on the ride home if they could make it up and down the mountain without complaining.

Near the top, we managed to amble into a few tricky situations where the quarrying of yore left sizeable cutouts in the side of the mountain. The ice and snow cascading over the granite left few alternatives as to how to get past the obstacles, but with a bit of teamwork and finesse, we all managed to get beyond these sticking points.

When we at last reached the summit, we were greeted with noticeably sharper winds. Not sharp enough, however, to prevent the parents in the group from bringing out the snacks, eliciting sighs of relief from the miniature members of the hiking clan.

From one summit lookout location, we peered down the coast, to the ocean, Swan Lake, and the distant mountains of Camden, about 35 miles to the south. For me, Denise, and Louisa, who were using this hike as a small training run for our attempt at summiting Mount Kilimanjaro at the end of December, we could only wonder how this would compare, if at all, to what we would be witnessing in just about a month from now. It would no doubt be just as cold, if not colder, from what we had read. Well, at the top, anyway - at the start it will be in the 80s and 90s - quite a contrast from what we were now experiencing.

The hike down was not without a small bit of drama. We tried, without success, to find the road or path down so that we would not have to repeat our bushwhacking experience. As a result, we ended up taking a path down that was entirely different from how we came up. Not a very smart thing to do as darkness is approaching and your hiking party includes a large collection of children. The children, of course, were oblivious to the fact that there was a possibility of something "not very comfortable" occurring, and they blissfully carried on with their ice sliding and snowball throwing antics. Somehow, we did eventually manage to stumble upon the tracks from our earlier ascent and followed them down and back to our cars, none the worse for wear.

In retrospect, the hike up Mount Waldo probably didn't offer a whole lot as far as preparing us for the hike up Kilimanjaro, especially when you consider the summit of Waldo is around 1000 ft. above sea level, whereas Kilimanjaro is 19,300 plus. It is said that at least half of those who attempt to summit Kilimanjaro fail, primarily due to difficulties with altitude. There's precious little we can do from here to help acclimatize for that height. So, instead, we run our seven mile route up and down the hills of Northport every morning, knowing that the ultimate fate of whether or not we can make it to the top of Kili lies in the hands of the mountain gods. If all goes well, we will spend Christmas morning looking down at the African continent.