Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1907-07-30
A Days Mountain Tramplng,

A Days Mountain Tramping.
"This trip ought to be written upp'
was the enthusiastic declaration of one
of the travellers at the close of the days
tramp.
But why? For it is only an ordinary
days tramp over the hills of one of the
wild sections of Oxford County, up one
steep hillside and down another, over
grassy pasture and rocky ledge, through
thicket and swamp, or under the archiug
trees of magnificent open hard wood
forest, and home at night, satisfied but
muscle-weary.
And again, why notp For such trip
puts us near to natures heart. We stop
to drink at purling mountain streams,
carrying the purest water, and giving
life to trout, safe for the day at least
from our hooks; we invade the baunts
of the deer, and look down from above
on the soaring eagle; We note afresh the
surprising beauty of leaf and flower, of
rock and tree; we stand on the heights,
and from that eminence where all the
cares of our everyday life seem so petty,
we look down upon magnificent piano.
rama; and we close the trip and the day,
filled with measure OF. that greatest
joy known to man, the joy of accom-
plishment. So If this brief chronicle
shall tempt even one out into the open,
to see more of that earth which God
has made as glorious palace for our
dwelling, it will have been worth while.
| Therefore it is to be prosaically stated,
after the statistical style in which An
obituary generally begins, that the start
was made from point somewhere in
the vicinity of Shagg and Washburn
Ponds, in the town of Woodstock. The
morning preparations involved SO much
hurrying to and fro that perhaps the
exact starting point would be difficult to
determine. The objective points were
the SUBMITS of Bald and Speckled
Mountains. which formed the sky line
at the north, and invited us to long and
considerably elevated journey along
| their crests.
1t had been planned to make the trip
on the first clear day, so as to get the
best view and in the morning it seemed
as If the weather clerk had prepared the
day especially for US. 1t had also been
planned to make as early start as the
necessity of leaving our camps in order
| would permit; but circumstances beyond
our control made it some after 10 o'clock
when the cavalcade got under way
There were in the party three men, of
varying ages and condition of athletic
development, and three of the supposed
ly weaker sex, who took the long tramp
very comfortably, and came in at night
fresh and vigorous.
Leaving the highway near the head of
Shagg Pond, we follow for something
like half mile the road which goes in
to Little Concord Pond, a spot sacred in
the true fisherman's mind. This is a
private road, following the course of a
former trail, and was built last fall by
Mr.. L. G. Bates of West Paris, after he
had purchased a large tract of land
around Little Concord. This season Mr..
Bates has built fine summer cottage on
Little Concord, which is now occupied
by the family of his son, Vernal w.
Bates, of New Haven.
At considerable height above our
starting place we leave the road and
strike into the woods, one of our party,
who is somewhat familiar with the
country, guiding us along what he calls
a trail, which he follows without diff
Guilty, though it looks pretty faint to the
rest of US. From point on the north
west slope of the mountain we look
down through the branches of the trees
below us into the water of Little Con-
cord, little gem of lake deep set
among the hills. At a ledgy opening in
the woods We get view of that part of
the country from which we have just
come, and as the path has been steep we
sit down to take few breaths.
A rumble causes us to glance in some
CONSERVATION at the northwest sky, and
we discover that the promise of the
morning is not to be fulfilled, and that
forenoon shower not only indicates more
wet later in the day, but threatens an
immediate downpour upon our shelter
less and poorly protected bodies. But
the spirit of the expedition is, "Sho! |
don't believe it's going to rain enough to
amount to anything" and on we go.
1t is only few minutes before the
shower begins to tumble down on us, and
we scramble to get under the thickest Of
the low evergreen trees which grow in
our immediate vicinity. Here we are
largely sheltered, and though during the
few minutes the rain lasts we get wet a
little around the edges, it is not severe
enough to induce us to open our packs
for the sake of the little extra clothing
they contain. On getting home at night
we learned that our camp neighbors had
drenching shower, and expected us to
show up badly soaked, but we were in
luck that time.
A fairly steep climb brings us to the
top of Bald Mountain, and we sit down
to enjoy the view. Bald Mountain is
mostly wooded, but it iustifies its name
by big ledge which forms its summit
| and juts out from its southern face with
an overhanging cliff. Down in the cup
at the foot of this cliff are some caves
| which, according to common report,
have never been fully explored-a state
ment, which, if true, the chronicler
hopes some day to put out Of date
Signs of deer, seen frequently during the
day, are here thicker than ever. Below
us at some distance an eagle wings his
way, and the wind brings to us family
the sharp and insistent cry of the young
eagles in their nest at some inaccessible
point down the cliff. The view, while
less extended than that from Speckled
Mountain, is well worth the climb.
A comparatively short descent from
the summit of Bald Mountain takes us
into nearly level walking in the "White
Valley" between that mountain and
Speckled. The way is through an open
growth of trees, mostly hard wood with
white and yellow birch predominating,
and containing some of the prettiest
timber to be seen anywhere. In this
part of our journey we cross the town
line, Bald Mountain being in Woodstock
and Speckled in that part of Peru which
was formerly Franklin Plantation.
At little ledge just under the west
end of Speckled Mountain proper we eat
hearty lunch and take our midday
rest, meanwhile surveying the country
with powerful telescope which a friend
has kindly lent us. Then on, down
through narrow tangled ravine and up
the steep lodges on the other side, with
occasional stops to take breath, or for
the bird lover to train her opera glasses
on some new bird, or the lover of flowers
to investigate some form of vegetation.
Speckled Mountain is great gray rock
dotted and lined with scrub vegetation,
thrown up in the middle of group of
wooded hills. In general its crest line,
running east and west, has rough re-
semblance to cancels back. Its north
L. Ia. . /,