Date: 2016-07-15
From: Summit of Katahdin

To: Katahdin Stream Campground
Miles today: 5.2
Weather: broken clouds

Katahdin! Out of our room at 5 Lakes Lodge, I am watching the final minutes of sunset. Katahdin looms in the dimming light, massive and majestic. Clouds ring the summit halo-like. In the gathering darkness, the mountain takes the day's final bow to a loon's call.It was a stupendous day. Memorable. Physical. Intimidating. Powerful. Katahdin, the highest mountain in Maine, rises to 5,267 feet, and the AT climbs 4,150 feet in its run to the summit, the largest elevation gain on the entire trail. The mountain is a study in contrasts. The trails that cling to its sides are incredibly steep and heavily bouldered. But the summit, Baxter Peak, sits on one end of the beautiful Tablelands, a long, wide and gentle plateau that caps the mountain. And while Katahdin massively dominates the horizon, the Knife Edge, the ridge trail that connects Pamola, South and Baxter Peaks, is sharp, spiny and narrow. At the other end of the Tablelands, the AT emerges from a rough and tumble boulder field, winding its way past the serene Thoreau Spring and on to the summit.Baxter State Park, home to Katahdin, lies fifteen miles from Millinocket, the nearest town. The town's weather forecast for today was promising: partly cloudy, mid-eighties, gentle breezes and no rain. Of course, conditions on the mountain could be drastically different, but I remained hopeful as Alison drove me to the park and dropped me off at Roaring Brook Campground, where I would start my day on the Helon Taylor Trail. At 7:30 am, I was hiking. But as I soon found out, there is very little "hiking" on Katahdin. Instead, one climbs. A lot. Hand over hand, often above one's head. The Helon Taylor trail climbs to the top of the 4,900-foot Pamola Peak and provides stunning views to the east. More important, it will deliver me to the beginning of the Knife Edge, both a ridge and a trail, which connects Pamola Peak to Baxter Peak, the summit of Katahdin. As I climbed Helon Taylor, I reached a ceiling of clouds and fog, the temperatures dropped and the winds picked up. My optimism for blue skies and clear views was eroding. I had long packed away my hiking poles; it was simply too steep for them to be of any help. I was now well above tree line, with boulders and rocks covering every inch of the mountain. Two young women I met at the park office yesterday passed me on their way down. They had reached Pamola Peak and turned around due to vicious winds. They decided not to proceed onto the Knife Edge in such conditions. But I still had an hour of climbing on Helon Taylor and hoped for a different reality when I reached Pamola. I arrived on top just behind a fellow hiker. He decided to wait for a bit, not so much for the winds, which indeed had weakened somewhat, but because he hoped that the ceiling might lift to reveal the Knife Edge and its surrounding peaks in all their glory. I chose not to wait, thinking that that might be inviting worse conditions. I climbed down off of Pamola onto Knife Edge and started the 1.1 mile journey to Baxter Peak. Nothing I will now write will do Knife Edge justice. It was like climbing across the spine of a stegosaurus: sharp, jagged, and thousand-foot drops on each side. It was not so much a trail as a collection of boulders, strewn on top of a razor-thin ridge, mangled into place by gravity. The ridge was no more than two or three feet wide in places, and the gusting winds and steep drop-offs caused me to focus on keeping three points of contact at all times. The ceiling of clouds and fog enveloped the ridge, and any views existed only for seconds at a time. A heavy mist soon soaked my hair and my glasses became useless. I removed them halfway across, and relied on my uncorrected vision. A father and daughter preceded me across the ridge (photo), and I intently watched them maneuver among the boulders. It took me 90 minutes to move one mile across Knife Edge, which steadily climbed 400 feet as it approached Baxter Peak. I was never scared. Rather, I was on high alert. The footing was precarious and the wind would gust from time to time, requiring that I maintain good hold. I felt wholly alive. The Knife Edge finally released me onto Baxter Peak, where other of Katahdin's trails had delivered a few hikers. With celebratory photos taken in the wind, mist and fog, I found the familiar white blazes of the AT leading off of the summit and headed off across the Tablelands, thus starting my journey south on the trail, ultimately back to Harper's Ferry. The climb down the AT, also called the Hunt Trail, was difficult. The boulder field below the Tablelands took hours to negotiate. In the end, I could not tell which of the trails I had taken today was the easiest. There simply wasn't anything that remotely approached "easy". Rather than wait for me at Katahdin Stream Campground, Alison walked up a bit of the AT to surprise me. When I fell into her arms, I had been hiking/climbing for eight hours and was tired, spent and elated. Despite the low ceiling, mist and wind, it had been an exhilarating day, one that I will not forget. Climbing Katahdin was a true challenge and the hairiest thing I had ever done. Today made it clear that I had moved into a new chapter of my trek. I am thrilled to be in Maine.