This was not quite the plan. Successive late fall storms had dropped staying snow across Northern Franklin County. Days before, I hiked Perham Stream Birding in East Madrid with long views to the Saddleback and Mt. Abraham Ranges, on a bright, see-forever day. I was looking for more of the same. Next in sight: A day hike along the eastern shore of Flagstaff Lake, destination, Birch Point just north of Flagstaff Hut, one of the back country lodges of Maine Huts and Trails. Enjoy dramatic views of the snow-capped Bigelow Range. Watch glistening ice extend ever outward across the lake, following day after day of sub-freezing overnight temperatures. Feel the brisk air on my face. Breathe it deeply. Relish the sheer quiet.
I call a hiking buddy. He is all in. We pick a day that – a few days out, an important point – showed no rain in the forecast. I pack my day pack with my standard winter kit – including spare clothing layers, headlamp with spare batteries in case of a delaying mishap, extra food and water, multiple maps (online and paper), compass, rain gear which doubles as a wind block, emergency blanket, first aid kit, and sunglasses. When I rise on the morning of the hike, I discover a completely overcast sky, thick fog, and sprinkling rain.
What to do? I have the day set aside, and I have the right gear to make my way, and be warm and dry. Probably little chance of long views to the heights of the Bigelow Range, or of bright blue waters shining in the sun, as the ice continues to form. But I can spend the better part of a day in the North Woods, and who knows what I might discover? I check in with my buddy. He is of a similar mind. This is the day we are given. Let’s make the best of it. Off we go.
Our starting point is the trailhead for Flagstaff Hut, on the west side of Long Falls Dam Road, 22 miles north of its junction with Maine Highway 16 in North New Portland. Snow covers the woods on either side of the road. I estimate a depth of 4-6 six inches. The hut has not yet opened for the winter season but we expect to find access to the parking area and trailhead – and we do. No other vehicle there; and no human track on the snow-covered, unbroken, trail, as we head out. The parking area is unplowed, but I drive in readily with my four-wheel drive truck. The sky persists as heavily overcast. Light rain, a few steady drops, starts, stops, repeats. That will become the weather rhythm for the day.
Let’s hike! The snow has settled sufficiently that I see no need for the snowshoes we have brought with us in case conditions warrant their use. We leave those in the truck. What we do wear on our hiking boots are flexible boot crampons. (One brand name for these is Microspikes.) These prevent allow a fairly even stride, and limit slippage. When hiking on snow with boots alone, even with an aggressive tread, I find that my boots will roll a bit side to side, which becomes tiring in the course of a day. These crampons are handy for uphill and downhill sections, of course to avoid having my feet slide out from under me – even on modest slopes. These are rugged crampons, with quarter-inch v-points, not the “creepers” for walking out to the mailbox.
Things become intriguing from the get-go. Coyote tracks run straight along the trail in the direction of the lake – sign of a critter on a mission. Theirs is an efficient route-finding, a steady trot, no energy-wasting poking around as a domestic dog might travel. I understand the idea – if coyotes have ideas – is to hunt with the advantage of surprise. We humans are not on their grocery list. Every coyote I have encountered in decades of hiking, has bolted out of sight, putting distance between the two of us, quickly. There are other tracks, those of deer, most likely a buck, from the size of the track, perhaps older than those of the coyote.
We hike west 0.1 mile to reach a junction with the main ski trail which connects Flagstaff Hut 1.7 miles to the north, with Poplar Hut, 9.6 miles to the south. When on Nordic skis, I choose this route, which has been cleared to a 12’ width, and is usually packed by a mechanical trail groomer. When hiking, I prefer the Shore Trail, 0.1 mile straight ahead, which parallels the lakeshore, offering many an opportunity to step to a sandy beach or rocky cove, with long views across the water. The Shore Trail heads north to join the main ski trail by the hut.
In a few moments, we reach the Shore Trail, but before taking it we head for a sandy cove only 100’ beyond – for more discoveries. This cove offers striking views of the Bigelow Range – Little Bigelow, Avery Peak, and West Peak; and a glimpse of the dramatic Bigelow Horns, North and South. That “offer” is not there today. What is there is a peculiar near-monochrome sight of low ceiling gray clouds, distant dark waters – a different shade of gray – of the still unfrozen main body of the lake, and a jagged line of ice floes washed up along a dark brown sand beach littered with dri-ki. If I had been dropped down here asleep and woke to this scene, I might think I was somewhere along the North Atlantic, where storms at sea had driven driftwood high along the shore.
In the course of a year, or years, bank erosion all along the upper length of the Dead River, which flows under Flagstaff Lake, causes trees to tumble in to the water, to be carried downstream into the lake. Prevailing northwest winds drive the driftwood to the eastern shore, where we stand. There is further erosion here, too, as stormy seas beat upon the lake banks, and trees at this end of the lake fall to add to the pile. Add to all that flotsam the stumps of trees cut three-quarters of a century ago in preparation for the construction of Long Falls Dam and the creation of Flagstaff Lake. Over the decades these stumps, some three feet or more across, have lost their footing. These, too, are carried along by high winds and seas.
Quite a jumble in this remote cove. My companion spots one stump that has weathered enough to become the seedbed for quite a collection of new growth: a small balsam fir, two cedar, and some deciduous growth difficult to identify – alder perhaps. The forces of wave action have shaped some intriguing wood sculptures, and the water has darkened the woods to hues of ebony and mahogany. On a sunny day I might have missed much of this, with my gaze focused on the high ground.
We return to the trail, and to yet more discoveries. Red squirrels busy themselves, running back and forth across our Shore Trail route, continuing their preparations for winter. I spy one with a spruce cone in its mouth, just before it sees me and bolts off. Trailside, I find a large squirrels’ nest, where they have packed a “witches’ broom” of dead cedar branches hanging six feet off the ground, with maple leaves for bedding. I pay attention to the forest growth: white cedar, red spruce, white pine, hemlock, red maple, rock maple, white birch. Busy neighborhood.
The trail swings shoreward again. We find enough exposed beach to walk for a time on the sand, or on accumulated snow, stepping over dri-ki, looking out to what continues to be a gray and foreboding sea of lake water. A line of rock, a holding place for clumps of frozen, wind-driven snow, extends from a ledge outcrop out into the broader lake, disappearing eerily into the clouded half-light. Reminds me of photos I have seen of the Arctic. But we are 150 miles north of the nearest ocean coast.
At another Shore Trail stop, I inspect patterns formed as combination of wind-driven lake water, rain, and snowmelt, turn to ice. One formation looks like a mosaic of gray shades. Another is a display of the finest lace. Would I pay attention to such as this on a sunny day? I hope so.
Nearby, where a small patch of snow hugs the sand in the shelter of a large stump, I discover another track – perhaps our coyote whose track we found earlier, or that of a red fox.
On we go, turning eastward in the direction of the hut and main trail, to emerge on a bluff overlooking a broad, north-facing cove. Here the lake water runs in closer than we have seen it at any other point. Yet again, I remark on how the scene is far more like that of a cove on the coast of Maine, than one among the waters of the Western Mountains of Maine. All that’s missing are the seagulls. But truly, there is nothing missing about this hike. I see in a fresh way.
We rejoin the main trail near the hut and Birch Point, which offers another short view of sand, ice-lined shore, distant waters. No one in sight, no human track. We celebrate by brewing some hot tea to go with the lunches we have packed. I packed a small backpacker’s stove, cooking pot, and mugs, in anticipation of this moment. Two closed cell foam pads allow us to sit in the snowy conditions. Rain picks up again. We pull out warm puff jackets, pull rain gear over these, and enjoy our break.
Alas, the time to go arrives. For variety we take the main trail back to the parking lot and trailhead. On the way we discover, of course, more track of coyote and of deer. There are smaller track as well, snowshoe hare, red squirrel, and perhaps those of fisher or pine martin. These last are mixed in with snow drop off the trees, and with each other, making it difficult to identify them. Certainly, such critters are out there.
With no end to the discoveries, we find our attention drawn to dark green club moss poking up through the snow, a reminder that life goes on, even in the coldest season. That in turn, opens our eyes to growth of many kinds – on rocks, stumps, tree branches: reindeer lichen, rock lichen, rock moss, and old man’s beard. Busy place. Much to see.
Our loop hike has amounted to about four miles. With our meanderings, and our explorings, and inspections, we have been out for nearly four hours. Much fun. I am glad we chose to take the day given to us, take our time, and make the best of it.
Have your rain gear, snow gear, and foot gear at the ready!
I hope to see you on trail.
Winter hiking tips
I pack for “Go’ and for “Stop”. When hiking, snowshoeing, or Nordic skiing, i.e. “Go”, I generate heat. To limit perspiring, and the chilling effect that may come with it, I wearing layers of wicking, breathable clothing that I may remove or don, as conditions warrant. When I stop for a lunch break, or to linger at a viewpoint, i.e., “Stop”, I put on a puff jacket with a hood, that reaches my hips along with a wool or fleece hat, mitts, and a neck warmer or balaclava.
Drinking water at regular interval – such as once per hour – and eating a nutritious snack, are important practices to avoid energy deficit, and to forestall hypothermia. I do not wait until lunch time to eat – lunch is a bit longer break, but I take in sustenance throughout the hike.
Sunburn and even some forms of snow-blindness can occur in winter. I carry sunglasses, sunscreen, and lip sunscreen. For windy and deeply cold conditions I wear ski goggles – making sure that the color of the lens matches the light conditions.
Maine Huts and Trails maintains backcountry lodges in the Western Mountains of Maine, and has a network of trails for Nordic skiing, snowshoeing, and winter hiking. Information, maps, seasonal schedule, overnight and day use information and fees at mainehuts.org.
Text and photos copyright Douglas Allan Dunlap 2023.
