One of my favorite ways of exploring is by hiking. I had always wanted to see a New England fall and now that I was here I planned on taking full advantage of it. The following is a reflection of several fall hikes I did in my first season in Maine.
I always had a hard time teaching the seasons in California and now I think I understand why. Seasons are something you experience not something you can learn. The season I missed most in CA was fall and I’m doing my best to make up for missing the last 16 autumns. Unfortunately, the warm weather late in the season has thrown the normal fall cycle off kilter but it’s still as spectacular as I remember.
Certainly the visuals are what stand out most in late September and October but fall appeals to all your senses as well as your sense of being. That feeling was reawakened in me on my very first ‘fall hike’ back in mid-September. Besides the changing trees, two things really stood out for me. First was the sound of fall. As the leaves dry out they become more boisterous and all the sounds of the forest are amplified. I never would have spied the little frog, camouflaged so well in his leaf costume, if it weren’t for the racket he made when he jumped out of the pathway and crashed into the dry leaves. Even the grasshopper creates a ruckus as he hops along. At one point I stopped and closed my eyes and the day’s light breeze came across like a mighty wind with the rustle of the leaves. Though I had to admit I was surprised I heard any of these sounds considering the amount of noise my big feet were making as I crackled and crunched along the path.
The second reawakened sense was the smell of fall; three smells stand
out for me. Occasionally, while meandering down the path, I’d get a strong
whiff of apple cider, the first aroma. Sure enough, I’d look down and see where
an apple tree had unloaded its burden and a large batch of apples lay baking in
the sun. The second smell is that of the leaves themselves and, though present
on this first hike, was much more pungent on later hikes when more leaves had
fallen and the air was much damper. I didn’t know if I’d get to experience the
last scent of fall at all – in many places it is now illegal. However, on one
occasion as I was driving down the highway I spotted some smoke drifting across
the road. I opened my window and sure enough someone was burning leaves.
Normally I hate any kind of smoke but this is one of the few exceptions. The
fragrance brought me right back to Elmwood Park, my hometown, and raking leaves
to the curb and then setting them afire, a practice subsequently outlawed as it
posed an obvious threat to the cars sharing the curbside. If only they could
make fake fireplace logs that smelled like that.
September and even much of October
were unusually warm, so I was told, this year. Therefore, many of the hikes,
especially early on, didn’t have the normal ‘feel’ to them. Cool and crisp, or
dreary and damp best describe my impression of how fall days should feel. Later
hikes illustrated these better so I will put off the discussion until I get to
them. Apple cider, maple-nut anything, pumpkin pie represent the tastes of fall
but really don’t have much to do with hiking so I won’t go into that. Except to
say that a cup of coffee and a maple frosted scone or muffin usually started
the day and I usually carried a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (since I knew
it would sit in my backpack for hours and didn’t want something that would
spoil) and an apple for lunch. So now I associate those with my fall hikes.
The second trail proved to be difficult to find, climb and follow but
was well worth the trouble. I am using a particular guidebook to find trails in
Maine and New Hampshire. Often the directions to the trailheads read: start in
downtown Smallville, go 6.3 miles along Hwy 43, make a right on the dirt road
after the cemetery, continue 1.2 miles, etc. On this particular hike I learned how careful you have to be
following these kinds of directions and how one small oversight can mess you
up. I got to the general area and thought I was doing everything right but
ended up spending over an hour circling around, going down dirt roads that led
nowhere, and backtracking but couldn’t find the trail. Finally, I went all the
back into town and started all over again at which point I realized that the
highway I started on makes a sharp left at a stop sign (very typical for these
country roads), I had missed that road marker and continued on straight
instead. The trail itself started out at a gradual climb but then got very
steep – in parts I felt I was really ‘climbing’. It was an arduous climb up
Tumbledown Mountain but the view at the top was spectacular. It was a moment I
would have loved to share with others. One of my favorite pictures in the fall
collection is that view from the top. Though it came out well, it’s no
substitute for the real thing. You can’t capture with a camera the thrill of
standing on a mountain looking 1500 feet down at an expanse of color.
From the top of the mountain you could see for miles in many directions.
The trees far below looked like shrubs. The evergreen trees were speckled with
the yellow, orange and red from the deciduous trees mixed in. I sat for quite
awhile before continuing on – I couldn’t get enough of the view and didn’t want
the moment to end. My guidebook features loop hikes so you shouldn’t have to do
much backtracking but in this case I just couldn’t find the connection to the
other trail that I was to take back. A wiser person probably would have noticed
that everyone else just backtracked to the parking area but not me - I spent a
long time fighting shrubs and tree branches, bound and determine to find the
loop. Ultimately, I did head back the way I came. I was never lost but did get
pretty scratched up in the process. After the hike I was going to continue on
to the town of Rangely along a designated national scenic highway but the
delays caused me to be way behind schedule and I had a two to three-hour drive
home. I just headed back instead.
The next hike was truly the
most memorable. I should start by telling how I picked this particular place to
hike. I wanted to head back to the western mountains (site of the last hike)
and was considering a few different options when I happened to get an email
from a friend containing an internet article about a restaurant in Greenville,
Maine. The place is located on a lake and has a peer right outside the window.
It features a sandwich called the Skinny Dip which you can get for free if (you
guessed it) you run down the peer naked and jump in the lake. Patrons only see
your backside as employees have towels for you before and after the dive. As
always, there were some killjoys in town that questioned the ethics of such a
practice and that was the gist of the article. Still unresolved the Black Frog
said they would end the practice if the town asked them to. One of the trails
was located near Greenville; I saw that as a sign and went with it.
I drove a little out of the way so I could drive up Highway 201 to
Jackman, another national scenic highway that takes you to Canada (I didn’t go
quite that far but was close). It was a cool, damp day which just served to
make the fall colors stand out more so my initial disappointment in the weather
was soon turned into appreciation for the different perspective – the other
hikes had been on warm, sunny days.
The drive, though long, was spectacular. It passes along some lakes and
runs along a river in parts. The colors I witnessed that day were by far the most
incredible of the entire season.
I found this trailhead without any
trouble. The dirt road that brought me there was lined with uniformly yellow
trees that absolutely glowed in the dreary day. I got geared up and started off
on the hike. Right away it was clear that I was going to be all alone today. I
passed along some campsites that had long been abandoned for the season and
there were no other hikers to be seen. Unlike the last hike that I wanted to
share with everyone, this was my hike and I would have resented any
interruptions in my aloneness. I owned that space for a few hours and I was a
million miles away from the rest of the world. Again, a more intelligent person
would see this as a bad thing but there is something thrilling about being all
alone, no one knows where you are and it would be a day or two before anyone
would even notice you were missing. I’m not the devil-may-care type as a rule
but once in awhile I just have to get out of my comfort zone and take a chance.
As I mentioned earlier the colors were beyond any I’d ever seen before.
The trail weaved through the dark green of the pines then suddenly was aglow in
yellow and orange. I hate repeating the word ‘glow’ but there is just no better
way to describe the combination of color and light especially in contrast to
the overcast sky and darkness of the pine forest. Every now and then I’d come
across a blast of red like a firework display that didn’t dissipate after a few
moments. The trail wound around Big Moose and Little Moose Ponds. At one point
it climbed to a point overlooking both and a panorama that I have never seen
the likes of before. It was like looking at an Impressionist painting though
should an artist ever attempt such a work, people would accuse him of exaggerating.
I absolutely could not take my eyes off it. A couple times I started to
continue on the path only to turn back and watch a little longer. Finally, I
tore myself away but I wonder if I will ever experience color like that again.
I worked my way back down to the shore of the pond. It was a very still
day and I was very aware of how quiet it was – the complete opposite of my
first hike. The pond was surrounded by hills that protected it from breezes and
outside noises. For several minutes I just stood watching over the pond in
absolute silence. I have never experienced such a complete lack of sound
outdoors as I did at that moment. I swear I was in another world then suddenly
a duck, or other water bird, called out, it echoed through the whole valley,
then silence again. That happened a couple more times. It sounds so trivial and
yet I was so completely moved by it. It was a sign to me that there was some
purpose in my being in Maine and not some foolish whim. It was getting late and
time to move on but I’m sure I could have stood there for hours. I got back to
the car, was knocking the mud off my shoes, looked down and saw a set of leaves
arranged it what appeared to be a smiley face – yes, it was a good day. By the
way, I did stop at the Black Frog Restaurant afterwards but unfortunately they
were out of the Skinny Dip. Oh well – it was pretty chilly out anyway.
The next two hikes took place in New Hampshire. The White Mountains are
about two hours west of Portland. There are lots of more challenging hikes
there and I hope to get to many of them. Hike four took place there. It was a
continuation of the good colors and mountain-top views theme. The one
noteworthy detail of this hike is that I was on the wrong trail pretty much the
whole time. Early on in the hike I missed a turn off and never got back on the
intended trail. The alternate trail was easy to follow so I was never really
lost but, the best I can figure, what should have been a 6.5 mile hike was more
like eight. The trail was pretty quiet until I got to the top. There were all
sorts of people at the summit, that had a wonderful view of the entire area.
Turns out there was a much shorter path that everyone else took; I didn’t mind,
I was in it for the exercise anyway. It wasn’t the mountain I was supposed to
be climbing but still a satisfying reward for the effort. On the way back down
I never connected with the original path and ended up in a neighborhood of
fairly nice, mountain homes. Off track, but not completely lost, I did soon find
my car. One day I’ll go back and do the right/other trail.
The
second New Hampshire hike took place in Miller State Park in the southern end
of the state. The hike was very nice but the interesting part is what came
afterwards. I ended up staying with friends of a friend in Keene, NH that
night. The town was having its annual Pumpkin Festival which was a big deal for
the area. I missed most of the daytime activities but after dinner we walked
downtown to catch the tail end of the celebration. I now know what 24,000
lit-up pumpkins looks like; and I have to say, it was impressive. We walked
around and admired how the pumpkins were carved. Some were typical, some were
clearly made with a stencil, and some were actually advertisements but there
were quite a few that were very creative. The evening ended up with a fireworks
display. It turned out to be one of those times where you’re really not
expecting much but it turns out to be a very memorable moment.
The last weekend of October looked
like it was going to be the last of the fall hikes. Sunday was forecasted to be
nice but Saturday was stormy and the leaves were falling as abundantly as the
rain. I wasn’t sure I’d get this last hike in, but the weather cleared as
promised. This time I headed north on Highway 1 which, like California’s
Highway 1, follows the coast along the entire state. At some point I hope to
take it all the way to Canada. The Portland area is pretty flat but as you head
north the mountains reach all the way to the coast and drop into the ocean;
that’s were I was heading.
The bright yellows, oranges, and fiery reds had been replaced by burnt
yellow, rust, tan and brown as the season was coming to an end. Still plenty of
color though there was as much on the ground as in the trees. The trail
ascended up a hill to an overlook of Lake Megunticook, the first of two scenic
spots. Then the trail turns and heads towards Mt. Megunticook and a scenic
overlook of the ocean. Somehow I got off track and ended up back at the parking
lot. Thank god Lewis and Clark didn’t have my sense of direction, Washington
and Oregon would still be territories and there wouldn’t be Starbucks or
Microsoft, hmmmmm. I was really annoyed with myself so I ran back up the hill.
That worked off the frustration but I did pay for it later. I finally made it
to the ocean view and it was wonderful. You could see up and down the coast for
miles and all the islands as well. I had my lunch then worked my way down the
mountain. The trail back led through a patch of forest that had pretty much
lost all its leaves. Walking along a brilliant carpet of color you look up at
the white poles that reach up to a bright blue sky. Not the colors you think of
for fall but very much part of the season. I also had forgotten how intense the
sun gets when it sits lower in the sky and you don’t have the leaves to block
it out. It can be blinding. On the way back I stopped in the nearby town of
Camden. It’s a charming little town and I wondered what it would be like to
live there. I later expressed that thought to a friend who commented that it
would be nice in fair weather but feel desolate and lonely in the winter. I’m
guessing he’s probably right.
As I study the trees, I think about the rings in the trunk and how the tree earns each one of them. Starting with the dormant, winter season, waking from its sleep with buds and blooms in the spring, in its full glory all summer long, and ending the cycle with a brilliant blast of color before it hibernates for the winter once again. Growing up in the north, I can relate to the moods of the different seasons. In winter one spends more time in the warmth of the indoors. We venture out to play in the snow but quickly rush back in to warm up with a cup of tea or hot cocoa. More effort is put into the evening meals and afterwards the table is cleared and friends spend the evening playing cards or board games. In the spring, we rush to get outside and temperatures that seemed so chilly in the October feel like heat wave in April. We take down the storm window and air out the house that was closed up all winter. Out of the gray drabness colors begin to appear and we are drawn to the outdoors. It’s difficult to focus on our jobs in the summer. We are consumed with making the most of the warm weather: outdoor sports, gardening and vacations become our top priorities. When hot-humid August rolls around we slow down and head to the water. Whether it be a beach on the ocean or a sprinkler in the backyard, staying wet seems to be the only way to beat the heat (OK – that was before air-conditioning became so prevalent). Suddenly, the days start getting shorter, the nights get chilly, and the leaves begin to change. We snap out of the late-summer doldrums and make a last ditch effort to get outdoors before we settle in for winter. Now we have completed another cycle and have earned our ring for the year.
I’ll wrap up by saying how nice it is to experience fall again. It is pretty colors but also so much more. It appeals to all your senses as well as your sense of being. It’s like being home again. It’s easy to get drawn up in the lure of perpetually nice weather but there is a lot to be said for experiencing the seasons. The most rewarding things in life take some effort, right? Or am I just full of crap.
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