Big Jackson Mountain, in the Tumbledown-Jackson Range and the Tumbledown Public Lands Unit, is the highest of the Weld-area hiking peaks that ring Webb Lake – but is lightly visited by hiking parties. At an elevation of 3568’ it surpasses iconic Mt. Blue, 3187’, and is one of the highest summits south of the Appalachian Trail-crossed ranges such as Saddleback. Mt. Abraham, and Sugarloaf. By contrast, nearby Little Jackson, nearly one hundred feet lower at 3470’, and with a bare summit, is a very popular hike.
Two factors dissuade hikers from ascending Big Jackson (which is known locally with “Big” as prefix but on many maps is designated as “Jackson Mountain”). One is that the summit is wooded, with limited views. The other is that the approach trail is not regularly maintained and is essentially unmarked. There are no paint blazes on the route, and the pathway is not regularly cleared of blow-downs and encroaching brush. Often termed a herd path, such routes have become visible over time by the passage of bushwhacking hikers.
I have reached the summit of Big Jackson many times, but until the day of this hike, not in winter. The rough quality of the trail has its appeal, as it snakes a narrow way through thick fir up a western buttress. In the process, the pathway, such as it is, skirts a watch-your-step, steep ledge drop-off from which there are exceptional views of Little Jackson, a crow-fly mile to the west, far-off Webb Lake to the south, and the seldom visited interior forest that serves as headwaters for the Swift River, to the north.
To the Trailhead
To reach the trailhead I drive to the Byron Notch Road, 0.5 mile west of Weld/Webb Corner, on Highway 142, north of Weld Village. This road is not maintained for winter travel, but bears only a dusting of snow on the day of my hike, and has not yet been closed. (It is closed at this writing.) In 2.0 miles I turn north on the Morgan Road (sign-missing) a one-lane road heading 0.8 miles to a small parking area for the Little Jackson and Parker Ridge Trails. (An alternate trailhead is at the Brook Trail, 1.6 miles west of the Morgan Road, where the Little Jackson Connector Trail leads 1.1 miles to meet the Little Jackson Trail.)
A posted notice stands by the Morgan Road entrance announces that only hikers with winter mountain experience should attempt an ascent at this time of year. The notice warns of ice-covered rock, and alerts the reader that rescue services may be difficult to contact, and may take many hours to reach a hiker in difficulty. Readily reached in summer, the Tumbledown-Jackson Range becomes functionally remote in winter.
I carry winter gear and supplies to manage a mishap – cord and heavy duty tape for snowshoe repair, extra clothing in the event of slowed progress from an injury – a foam mat for insulation form the snow if I need to sit, and a compact emergency bivouac bag about the size of a softball. For emergency communication I carry an In-Reach device that enables me to contact emergency personnel when in the backcountry. To give myself plenty of daylight, I make an early start, and am on trail soon after first light.
Such preparations may seem surprising to anyone who has hiked in this region in summer. But in winter there may be few, if any, other hikers on the trail to assist in an emergency. Prevailing winter weather patterns bring frigid air to this region from southern Canada – which lies only 40 miles to the northwest. Snow cover at the trailhead is but a few inches, but we strap snowshoes to our packs – aware of the old adage “Mountain make their own weather.” I expect different conditions on the high ground. – deeper snow, ice, the path blocked by fallen trees – to be quite different from those at the trailhead.
On Trail
As I begin the ascent I move readily up the snow-dusted Little Jackson Trail, pass the Parker Ridge Trail junction (leading northwest to Tumbledown Pond, and southwest along the Little Jackson Connector to the Brook Trail trailhead.). At lower elevation the Little Jackson Trail follows an old road, washed out in many places, lined by hardwoods – rock maple, yellow birch, popple. Here and there stands a colorful beech tree, amber leaves bright in the sunlight. and fluttering ever-so-slightly in a scant breeze. These leaves change from green to their brighter color in fall, and most cling to the gray branches until last days of winter.
I step over many a runoff stream racing down the lower slopes of Big Jackson, from rain of recent days. Higher, I encounter patches of ice, and increasing snow depth that hides yet more ice. I stop to attach flexible boot crampons to attach to my winter hiking boots.
Higher on trail I come to broader and deeper streams, bordered by ice-covered rocks, requiring close attention in the crossing. No wet feet on a winter day – not if I can help it. After one hour I pass the trail junction for the Pond Link Trail, leading west to Tumbledown Pond, and begin a steepening ascent over icy trail.
I climb into the softwood zone, leaving the hardwoods behind, now finding spruce and fir to predominate. Shafts of sunlight throw shadows through the woods. A great stillness abides. There is little wind, as I hike up the lee side of the range.
Jackson Col
I top out from the steep ascent and reach Jackson col, an open, ledged, saddle between Big and Little Jackson. Wham! Powerful northwest winds slam me face on. I am not in the lee of the wind anymore! Quickly I step to the shelter of a cluster of fir, don balaclavas and neck gaiter to protect our faces, and add the layer of a down jackets to retain body heat. I take a moment to drink water and eat an apple. Regular water breaks are vital in winter, to avoid dehydration. Underway again, I pass the turn-off for Little Jackson, its bare domed summit rising to the west.
Big Jackson summit is clearly visible, reaching toward a blue flame sky, high ledge that the approach route will skirt sharply visible as white patches on its west slope. Fir growth, a broad, bright, lacey, different shade of white, extends to the summit. It is not all snow I see on the high ground, though there is plenty of that, but rather a great covering of rime frost, product of clouds and fog freezing to the high elevation fir.
Herd Path to Big Jackson Summit
A sign points the way to the start of the 0.7-mile herd path from col to summit. A few cairns mark the way, which twists and turns, heading northward and away from the mountain at one point, only to swing back towards it. One final sign points to a passage through the fir, and I am on my way. I knock snow from branches that bow low across the route blocking the way. These branches spring up to allow easier passage when I lighten their snow load. I clamber over blow-downs where I can, and bushwhack around others. Snow depth increases, but I make good progress wearing crampons, and make my way without need of snowshoes.
When we reach the steep ledges halfway to the summit, I enjoy striking views of Little Jackson, Webb Lake, and Mt. Blue. To the north I discern Four Ponds Mountain and have a glimpse of multi-peaked Bemis Mountain .The wind is now fierce. Snow has drifted deeply and I am uncertain of the route. I have crossed ice successfully to this point with the aid of crampons, but here ice lies under the snow along the edge of the steep ledge. Where is the trail? What is the safe route?
For times such as this I have learned to “go slow to go fast”, a time-honored mountaineering expression that has many life applications. Stop. Take good breaths. Calm my thoughts. Look about. I make a 360 degree scan, looking for an indication of the route. Aha! I spy a slight break along the top of a line of trees well above me. Moving away from the steepest part of the ledge, I bushwhack through thick, tangled fir, ledge behind me. The going is slow, lest I trip in the undergrowth. An opening! I locate the route, which passes through a narrow opening in the fir. On I go. More Little Jackson views open up. The snow deepens. but lies on a supportive frozen crust. Step by step I continue, emerge from the firs, and reach the summit clearing.
The Summit
Though there is, indeed, a clearing at the top, but it is surrounded by a circular wall of fir 8-10 feet high, limiting the view. The clearing was cut many years ago to locate communication equipment and a small helipad for servicing. I have never met anyone on the Big Jackson summit involved with that task, and there is definitely no one else here at this moment.
The major discovery on the summit is not these artifacts of civilization, but the remarkable rime frost covering all that stands on the mountain top – the ring of fir, stumps, boulders, everything. The effect is startling. Fir branches bear layer upon built-up layer of frost crystals, rendered sparkling white in the light of the in-breaking sun. Quite the sight!
The wind whips upon the summit, sending me into sheltering firs for a water and food break. I have stowed my water bottle inside my pack, wrapped in a heavy woolen sock to prevent it from freezing. An insulated container holds hot soup. I fuel up.
I search for the summit register, a notebook in a glass jar. It is a custom for many of Maine’s peaks without a maintained trail, that someone places a notebook on top for hikers to write their names, the date, and a note. I have signed the Big Jackson register before, and expected to today. When I finally locate the snow-covered jar, resting on a cement pad supporting the helipad, its cap is frozen fast. I do not want to risk cracking the cap or breaking the jar. Leave the register for another day – a reason to return in summer!
One more look around. I take in the simple beauty of the frosted firs circling the summit, before starting the descent. On occasion, weather conditions combine to create a rare and striking scene such as the one I enjoy today. A temperature change, perhaps even a change in the direction of the wind, and the rime frost formation could disappear in a matter of hours – even minutes. I am fortunate.
The Hike Out
The wind in my face, I descend to the col, benefiting from following the tracks of my ascent. At the col I meet two hikers on their way to ascend Little Jackson. They carry substantial packs, with sets of crampons strapped to the sides. Those will be handy on the ice-covered ledges of Little Jackson. Once I enter the softwoods to descend on the Little Jackson Trail, I hike with the heights of the Tunbledown-Jackson Range behind me, and the wind ceases. Moments later I encounter another party, four people, also on the ascent, well equipped, destination Little Jackson.
I reach my starting point, the Little Jackson Trailhead at the upper end of the Morgan Road, by early afternoon. As I drive towards home I pull over, look up towards the Big Jackson summit – for one more look at the rime frost aglow in the rich, angled light of the winter sun.
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Foot and Paddle Tips
The term “self-rescue” applies to all mountain hikes, surely so in winter. Self-rescue means that the hiking party has the clothing, gear, food, water – and experience, – to care for an injured or ill person in the party. Rescue services, even after accounting for the time necessary to get a message to them, may take many hours, even an overnight, before reaching the scene.
In decades of winter hiking I have experienced a broken snowshoe binding, and a broken backcountry ski binding; a forced overnight bivouac when high wind obliterated the trail on a multi-day trek; and a break through snow-covered ice into knee-deep water in a beaver bog in mid-February. In these and other circumstances, I carried the means to make repairs, and to make myself dry, warm, and safe.
The mountains of Western Maine are of striking beauty in winter. Prepare well, start early, enjoy our precious woods and peaks, and be safe!
Text and photos copyright Douglas Allan Dunlap 2021
