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Foot and Paddle: A spring hike on Blueberry Mountain

19 mins read
Blueberry Mountain summit

Spring is here! Join me on my first hike into high country in this new, always promising, season. I choose Blueberry Mountain in Township 6 North of Weld for this trek. The upper terrain of Blueberry Mountain, including its 2942’ open summit, is within the Tumbledown Mountain Unit of Maine Public Lands. This mountain should not be confused with another Blueberry Mountain in Western Maine, located in Lovell near the New Hampshire border. The approach trail, signed as the Blue Trail, starts on private land of the Blueberry Mountain Bible Camp, whose staff and volunteers maintain the estimated 2.0-mile trail.

I typically hike Blueberry once each winter, and at least once during the other three seasons. For a mountain of sub-3000’ elevation it offers extensive views that include the Presidential Range and Mt. Washington, the Camden Hills that rise by Penobscot Bay, and even Katahdin. By my observation on this spring hike, the views include at least a portion of 12 of the 14 peaks in Maine that rise above 4000’. That opportunity, and the fact that Blueberry receives fewer hiker visits than the more well-known Weld region peaks – Tumbledown. Mt. Blue, and Bald Mountain, as examples – means that those who hike here may experience a good deal of solitude along with those extraordinary views.

Let’s hike! A weekday morning dawns bright and clear, with early temperatures in the 30’s, and a forecast for high 40’s by mid-afternoon. Promising hiking weather. Yet, I know that although the snow has disappeared from open ground in most of Southern Franklin County, winter conditions may persist at higher elevations. In April, and even into May, I expect the unexpected. So it is that I pack for winter conditions,

My gear includes Microspikes – flexible boot crampons which fit snugly on the winter hiking boots I have chosen for the day. These are not ice-creepers (More on that later) but rather are rugged with heavy-duty rubber binding, and aggressive triangular points. Inside my day pack go a hooded down jacket, a wind-rain shell, winter mitts with liners, a balaclava, a closed cell foam mat for sitting, and two insulated bottles – one with hot minestrone soup, the other with hot mint tea. For grip on snow, soft or crusted – or on ice – I have a set of metal-tipped trekking poles equipped with snow baskets. Sounds pretty much like a winter kit – and that is what it is.

The trailhead is at a hiker parking lot, 1.5 miles up a graveled approach road, the Blueberry Mountain Bible Camp driveway, at 716 Phillips Road (Maine Highway 142). This address is north of Weld Village, and west of the intersection of Maine Highways 4 and 142 in Phillips. I get an early morning start, my preferred method of operation, to allow for the unexpected – and the unexpected appears soon in my day. The season is spring, yes; but it is also “Mud Season”. The driveway is closed to vehicles to protect the it. Either I opt for a hike elsewhere, or I add 3.0 miles of round-trip driveway walk to my day.

It is an easy decision. I am here to hike. I will have a longer hike, but a hike nevertheless, to a peak I know will be an exceptional spot on this bright day. Parking my truck so as not to block the driveway, I shoulder my pack and head up towards the trailhead. As I ascend, I soon leave sight of the highway, walk in supreme quiet, and ease into observation mode. Circles have formed in the snow at the base of the trees, revealing surrounding bare ground as the ever-higher sun of spring reflects off the trunks to melt the snow. Between the fir and spruce, rock maple, ash, and white birch, there are broad patches of open ground, revealing the leaf litter of the previous fall. I am on the watch for trout lilies, coltsfoot, and such spring wildflowers, but the season is a bit early for these which are among the first to appear in spring.

Trailhead for the Blue Trail

At an estimated 1.5 miles I reach the parking area for the Blue Trail on the left side of this long approach road/driveway. I enjoy a view of the high elevation ridge on the mountain, but the peak itself is beyond my view. This is a relatively new trailhead, created in or about 2015 to separate hiker parking from parking pertaining to the Blueberry Mountain Bible Camp. The camp headquarters, and a private residence are 0.25 miles farther up the driveway. The start of the Blue Trail is marked a sign with the image of an owl and the words “Blue Trail”. The blue-blazed route heads north through mixed softwood-hardwood forest, swings to the east, and ascends gradually to an intersection with an old woods road by the north end of an athletic field.

As I hike this short section, I am gifted with the soft “gurgle” and “pop” sound of a run-off stream – running water! This is a sweet sound I have not heard in months. Snow melt is making its way down the southern slope of the mountain. This flow is heading west, towards Rand Brook, which empties into the north end of Webb Lake. From there the waters flow south as the Webb River, into the Androscoggin River at Dixfield. Imagine that!

At the above intersection the trail turns left, follows the old road for 100 yards, heads right at a “Y” intersection (well-marked), and begins a steady, moderately steep ascent. At the parking lot I donned the Microspikes, and am glad to have them, as I make good progress over firm and, occasionally, icy, crust. I am mindful of the predicted rising temperatures, and aim to be on the descent before the crust softens, and the likelihood arises of “post-holing” – plunging one-two feet into the snow with every step.

Step-by-carefully-planted step I head up a steep section through a hardwood forest – rock maple, ash, white and yellow birch, and an occasional beech clinging to the very last of its parchment-like leaves. Utter stillness abides. The sun is bright on the snow, and the sky an electric blue. On this southeast side of the mountain there is no wind. A welcomed stillness continues to abide. Nothing moves – except me, taking a step, planting a pole, soft crunch of boots on snow, heading upward.

A discovery – an orange object hangs from a tree branch well above me along the trail. Drawing closer, I find it to be a single ice-creeper, long separated from the hiker who once wore it. I hope that hike went well! Ice-creepers are not designed to provide grip on angled surfaces, and the lightweight binding often separates from a hiking boot – as apparently happened here. It would be difficult going on this slippery terrain with no grip at all. (The lesson? Carry the right gear for the conditions.)

The trail is characterized by a series of steep ascents, interspersed with level sections that in the Rockies and Sierras might be called “benches”. The trailside woods transition to all softwood – fir and spruce – as I gain elevation. I notice that there is no longer open ground among the trees. Essentially, I am hiking into winter. Exploring the snow depth with a trekking pole, I poke down two feet before I touch a hard surface. I encounter steep pitches covered in ice – requiring the most intentional foot placement, testing whether my boot crampons will hold on slick and angled surface. I choose carefully where to plant my poles. No rush. Take time. This is no place for a rolled ankle, a twisted knee, or a blow to the head!

I have company – of a sort. Moose tracks enter from adjacent woods, and proceed along the trail. There is more than one set, which I take to mean the same moose has come this way repeatedly. I have seen moose sign – tracks and scat –on previous winter hikes here. The interspersed level ground may provide moose with good shelter from winter winds. There may be more to the story than that, for when I reach the summit, I will find tracks nearly to the highest point. Oh, to know the mind of a moose! Perhaps they enjoy a long view as much as we humans do.

Webb Lake from trail lookout point.

A break in the trees offers a fine view south over Webb Lake and east to Mt. Blue. The lake itself remains snow -covered. Mt. Blue, in full light of the spring sun, takes on the dark blue hue that accounts for its name. At one point my Blueberry Mountain route descends into a draw, an appreciated relief to the legs from the steady uphill work. The moose tracks inspire and amuse. I follow them, as they follow the trail.

The summit ridge! I come to this rather suddenly, as I have been moving deliberately upward, thick fir and spruce blocking lateral views, and twists in the trail limiting what I see above me. Here I am – in a new world. In contrast to the thick cover immediately below, the ridge is characterized by a snowfield, perhaps 20-30 yards wide, interspersed by stunted and wind-shaped conifers, most no more than five feet high. The bright snow dazzles. I am wearing sunglasses and am mighty glad I have them. (So vital is eye protection on such days that I pack a spare pair.)

Big Jackson from Blueberry summit.

I hike 100 yards, reach a cairn marking the way above, continue another 30 yards to a second cairn. A few more feet and I spy the summit cairn, rising in a rocky clearing. The moose turned off an intervening point on the ridge. No more moose tracks, but the cairns and occasional blue blazes marked way. Welcome to the summit of Blueberry Mountain!

To the immediate west loom Big Jackson and Little Jackson; beyond these rise Old Speck and the Baldpates by Grafton Notch. On the western horizon soar the snow-draped peaks of the Presidential Range in New Hampshire – all white. Much as I enjoy taking in this view, I need a clothing adjustment. Blueberry Mountain summit is exposed to the prevailing northwest winds. A strong breeze buffets the high ground. Finding a lee behind a nearby clump of spruce, I don my down jacket, wind shell, mitts, and balaclava, return to the summit, plunk down on its lee side, my foam pad keeping me off the snow, and bring out the hot soup and tea.

My lunchtime view extends south over Webb Lake to Bald Mountain and Saddleback Wind, and southwest towards Rumford Whitecap, Mt. Zircon, and the series of ridges and low peaks of central and southern Oxford County. To the southeast, Mt. Blue and its junior companion, Little Blue, stand out; and beyond these, more eastward are the hills of Temple and Strong, and the New Vineyard Mountains. In the intervales of northern Phillips and Salem I see open fields, devoid of snow; while above them, the great north-south multi-summit mountain mass of Mt. Abraham sports snow covering all along its rocky ridges.

Matters become more than interesting as I peer northeast, and far to the northeast:
Spaulding Mountain and an edge of the Sugarloaf snowfields, Moxie Bald, and far, far in the distance, a solitary white-topped peak rising against the horizon – Katahdin. The viewing conditions are excellent – the snow cover on the highest ground gives distant peaks a sharpness rarely present on summer days. Such a look!

Not done! As I swing my gaze more northward, I see the twin peaks of Avery Peak and West Peak in the Bigelow Range; North and South Crocker, the impressive sweep of the Saddleback Range with its main peak and the prominent companion, The Horn. Of all of Maine’s 14 mountains over 4000’, only Hamlin Peak and North Brother in Baxter Park escape my view. For all of the magnificence of the high country, notice as well the series of seldom-visited east-west running low ridges, and intervening valleys, that stretch northward between where I stand and the Four Ponds Range bordering Rangeley Lake.
All this – and the persistent quiet, broken only by the rise and fall of the wind. Quite a time.
I linger here for quite a while, regard the low spruce, notice how it has been sculpted by the wind, more growth tending to the south and east. In their extreme form these are dubbed “flag trees”,

Time to go. Mindful of the possibility of soft snow on the descent, I make my way back along the ridge, drop down into the woods, pick my way down the icy sections, descend to the trailhead. The snow has softened at lower elevation, but I am able to choose my boot plants successfully enough that I post-hole no more than a half-dozen times. On the way I remove the winter clothing, and am down to a long sleeve t-shirt by the time I reach my truck.

A person could travel a long, long distance, and spend a fair amount of money doing so, to find a spot like this elsewhere in the world. Here this mountain rises, my friends, in the Weld Mountains, of the Western Mountains of Maine. Pack right, dress right, come and see.

Many thanks to the people of Blueberry Mountain Bible Camp for permitting access, and for their good work maintaining the trail!

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