Nine days ago, my frustration at not being able to climb Cadillac Mountain was clearly evident in the brash and hurried manner in which I
abandoned my summit
assault, descended Dorr Mountain and quickly drove off Mount Desert Island and sped home to Camden. I did not sleep very well that night. A few days later on an early morning hike up Ragged Mountain in the
Camden Hills, I paused to glance across the Penobscot Bay to the rolling peaks of Acadia. Cadillac rose above the others, snowy and majestic, seemingly mocking me, reminding me that I had lost our last battle. Yesterday, that deep frustration turned to a
supreme sense of satisfaction, as I battled 40 mph winds, frigid temperatures, crunchy snow and thick ice to stand at Cadillac's fabled summit, the highest point of land on the Eastern seaboard. In other words, I finally brought the mountain down! I had planned a route this time that steered clear of all obvious impediments. To go up Dorr Mountain, cross it's steep notch and reach Cadillac's summit was virtually
impossible, as I had found out last Monday. There was simply too much ice to navigate, and the pitch down the back side of Dorr was so steep that it would give any climber a nasty bout of
hesitation. But I was not going to be stopped, I had to step foot on the summit of Acadia's most famous peak, and I had to do it in the middle of winter, when the conditions are at their hardest and the elements at their most extreme. I decided to start at lovely Jordan Pond, where the East Side Trail connects to the Pond Trail, which crosses the Boyd Carriage Road and connects to Cadillac's South Ridge Trail. All in all, it would be a nine mile loop, but it was a loop that would give me the best
opportunity to summit. I left Jordan Pond around nine on a crystal clear February day. There was not a cloud in site, but the
temperature was 4 below zero, and the wind was whipping through the Park with a
ferocity that I had not yet faced all winter. The wind was downright nasty! It slammed into my face and swirled around my body as I began my hike. Only my eyes were not covered, as five layers of fleece and wool hugged my frame like wrapping paper hugged a
Christmas present. The snow was crunchy, and the trail had not been broken, so every step I took
required a great deal of energy. The trees towered above me and swayed in the morning wind. The sun illuminated the snow, turning the Pond Trail into a grand
theater of shadows and shiny ice. I crossed the
Carriage Road, the turnoff for the Triad, the trail for Pemetic
Mountain, and found myself staring at the entrance of the South Ridge Trail. This was it I thought, time to go get that summit. The South Ridge Trail is an easy hike at first, as you walk through beautiful forests and cross cold, trickling brooks. About a half mile in though, it becomes an
absolute monster. Almost out of nowhere, the path turns into a series of steep and
treacherous grades, in which I was forced to place one foot well ahead of the other, plant my poles deep into the snow and thrust my body up, all without losing my fragile sense of balance. Try this
maneuver thirty times over the course of an hour and you will find out how strong your hamstrings and quads really are! I was strong where I needed to be, and my drive to reach that summit was
bordering on the
obsessive. The snow
turned harder as I carefully made my way up the mountain. The massive amount of ice that covered the trail was becoming more and more apparent with every thrust and lunge I made. Now was not the time for idle thinking. My senses were
completely and utterly focused on the task at hand. My mind was clear, and my body was moving with a purpose. I breathed deeply as I
continued to attack the Mountain's icy pitches and steep grades. The wind continued to howl all around me, at times whistling past my ear like a tide of raging water. Almost to the top of the last pitch, I secured myself and
turned around to take in the stunning view that lay in front of me. The Triad and Pemetic Mountain rose to the north, with the cozy inlets of Seal Harbor and Northeast Harbor tucked in behind them, barely in view. Isle A Haut, Deer Isle and the Camden Hills shimmered under the bright sun to the west. Dorr Mountain sat directly to my left, it's icy Gorge trail looking ever more
treacherous than when I had peered down upon it eight days ago. Looking over the Gorge, I was pleasantly surprised at my
decision to not attempt it last
Monday. From my new angle of sight, I realized that it was more fit for a bobsled run than a
traverse at this time of year! Gathering myself, I reached the top of the trail, and made my final ascent over the famous Cadillac Mountain granite
towards the icy summit. The wind was relenting as it pushed my body left and right. I was was hiking directly into it, and had but only small boulders to shield me from gusty wrath. Step after step, I put my head down and pushed forward. As I came onto the last stretch of trail, I opened my backpack and quickly changed my wool hats. My previous one was now frozen solid with my sweat! I took my last steps onto the summit and slowly knelt down to kiss the snowy ground. "I got you" I whispered. "I won this battle." After a
brief stay on top, I snapped my faithful Nikon and headed down the mountain, my legs aching and my face burning from the stinging wind. I delicately navigated the descent, slipping and
sliding most of the way. When I finally
reached the bottom of the trail, the wind began to let up, and temperature seemed to soar. The whole way back to Jordan Pond I had a smile on my face. I had reached one of my most important hiking goals, and I felt great! Acadia can give and Acadia can most
certainly take away, but on this particular afternoon, It had
afforded me with one of the great hiking pleasures of my young life. The smell of the spruce trees, the cold island air that filled my lungs, and the surreal sense of being in my own wilderness had all washed over me in the past 5 hours. What pure unadulterated Joy! Reaching Jordan Pond, my legs were screaming to stop and my face was
positively frozen. I snapped my last shots of the day, got in my warm car and headed down to Northeast Harbor for a big fat cup of hot chocolate. Back Home in Camden, I sat down in my favorite chair and watched the sun fade from the sky. I kicked my feet up and threw on an old Muddy Waters Album. I didn't make it ten minutes before I fell into a deep sleep. I woke up about three hours later, a giant smile still covering my face. I had taken the mountain down!
Nine days ago, my frustration at not being able to climb Cadillac Mountain was clearly evident in the brash and hurried manner in which I abandoned my summit assault, descended Dorr Mountain and quickly drove off Mount Desert Island and sped home to Camden. I did not sleep very well that night. A few days later on an early morning hike up Ragged Mountain in the Camden Hills, I paused to glance across the Penobscot Bay to the rolling peaks of Acadia. Cadillac rose above the others, snowy and majestic, seemingly mocking me, reminding me that I had lost our last battle. Yesterday, that deep frustration turned to a supreme sense of satisfaction, as I battled 40 mph winds, frigid temperatures, crunchy snow and thick ice to stand at Cadillac's fabled summit, the highest point of land on the Eastern seaboard. In other words, I finally brought the mountain down! I had planned a route this time that steered clear of all obvious impediments. To go up Dorr Mountain, cross it's steep notch and reach Cadillac's summit was virtually impossible, as I had found out last Monday. There was simply too much ice to navigate, and the pitch down the back side of Dorr was so steep that it would give any climber a nasty bout of hesitation. But I was not going to be stopped, I had to step foot on the summit of Acadia's most famous peak, and I had to do it in the middle of winter, when the conditions are at their hardest and the elements at their most extreme. I decided to start at lovely Jordan Pond, where the East Side Trail connects to the Pond Trail, which crosses the Boyd Carriage Road and connects to Cadillac's South Ridge Trail. All in all, it would be a nine mile loop, but it was a loop that would give me the best opportunity to summit. I left Jordan Pond around nine on a crystal clear February day. There was not a cloud in site, but the temperature was 4 below zero, and the wind was whipping through the Park with a ferocity that I had not yet faced all winter. The wind was downright nasty! It slammed into my face and swirled around my body as I began my hike. Only my eyes were not covered, as five layers of fleece and wool hugged my frame like wrapping paper hugged a Christmas present. The snow was crunchy, and the trail had not been broken, so every step I took required a great deal of energy. The trees towered above me and swayed in the morning wind. The sun illuminated the snow, turning the Pond Trail into a grand theater of shadows and shiny ice. I crossed the Carriage Road, the turnoff for the Triad, the trail for Pemetic Mountain, and found myself staring at the entrance of the South Ridge Trail. This was it I thought, time to go get that summit. The South Ridge Trail is an easy hike at first, as you walk through beautiful forests and cross cold, trickling brooks. About a half mile in though, it becomes an absolute monster. Almost out of nowhere, the path turns into a series of steep and treacherous grades, in which I was forced to place one foot well ahead of the other, plant my poles deep into the snow and thrust my body up, all without losing my fragile sense of balance. Try this maneuver thirty times over the course of an hour and you will find out how strong your hamstrings and quads really are! I was strong where I needed to be, and my drive to reach that summit was bordering on the obsessive. The snow turned harder as I carefully made my way up the mountain. The massive amount of ice that covered the trail was becoming more and more apparent with every thrust and lunge I made. Now was not the time for idle thinking. My senses were completely and utterly focused on the task at hand. My mind was clear, and my body was moving with a purpose. I breathed deeply as I continued to attack the Mountain's icy pitches and steep grades. The wind continued to howl all around me, at times whistling past my ear like a tide of raging water. Almost to the top of the last pitch, I secured myself and turned around to take in the stunning view that lay in front of me. The Triad and Pemetic Mountain rose to the north, with the cozy inlets of Seal Harbor and Northeast Harbor tucked in behind them, barely in view. Isle A Haut, Deer Isle and the Camden Hills shimmered under the bright sun to the west. Dorr Mountain sat directly to my left, it's icy Gorge trail looking ever more treacherous than when I had peered down upon it eight days ago. Looking over the Gorge, I was pleasantly surprised at my decision to not attempt it last Monday. From my new angle of sight, I realized that it was more fit for a bobsled run than a traverse at this time of year! Gathering myself, I reached the top of the trail, and made my final ascent over the famous Cadillac Mountain granite towards the icy summit. The wind was relenting as it pushed my body left and right. I was was hiking directly into it, and had but only small boulders to shield me from gusty wrath. Step after step, I put my head down and pushed forward. As I came onto the last stretch of trail, I opened my backpack and quickly changed my wool hats. My previous one was now frozen solid with my sweat! I took my last steps onto the summit and slowly knelt down to kiss the snowy ground. "I got you" I whispered. "I won this battle." After a brief stay on top, I snapped my faithful Nikon and headed down the mountain, my legs aching and my face burning from the stinging wind. I delicately navigated the descent, slipping and sliding most of the way. When I finally reached the bottom of the trail, the wind began to let up, and temperature seemed to soar. The whole way back to Jordan Pond I had a smile on my face. I had reached one of my most important hiking goals, and I felt great! Acadia can give and Acadia can most certainly take away, but on this particular afternoon, It had afforded me with one of the great hiking pleasures of my young life. The smell of the spruce trees, the cold island air that filled my lungs, and the surreal sense of being in my own wilderness had all washed over me in the past 5 hours. What pure unadulterated Joy! Reaching Jordan Pond, my legs were screaming to stop and my face was positively frozen. I snapped my last shots of the day, got in my warm car and headed down to Northeast Harbor for a big fat cup of hot chocolate. Back Home in Camden, I sat down in my favorite chair and watched the sun fade from the sky. I kicked my feet up and threw on an old Muddy Waters Album. I didn't make it ten minutes before I fell into a deep sleep. I woke up about three hours later, a giant smile still covering my face. I had taken the mountain down!
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