OK, I admit it.

You understand how painful it was, don't you now gents?! And you ladies, stop the snickering, please.

Yes, occasionally life gets a little bit crazy and a man teeters near the edge, breaks down and―gulp!―asks for directions.

You see, it was like this...

I was rooting around the backroads of Shelburne, NH last Sunday, there in the hinterlands along the Maine-NH border, looking for a particular trailhead.

Mt. Cabot, a lofty 1,500 footer with nice views of the Androscoggin River and the Moriah Range, so I was told. With the added bonus of a side trip to the Crow's Nest and more looking out to be done.

Sounded good.

All except I couldn't find the way in. Hunted up and down the North Rd. Drove miles into the forest on logging roads searching. Even likely trespassed some in pursuit of anything that resembled a boot print or a broken twig, much less a paint blaze or a full-on trail sign that might indicate a parking place and a path to hike.

Nada. One hour. Two hours. Still nada.

I ate my lunch in the car, scouring the trail map and trying to find something in the guidebook that would give away the secret to the starting point for the illusive Mt. Cabot.

Not even the hint of a clue.

I was in the right area; it had to be somewhere in and around the Philbrook Farm, but there was no secret entrance to be found, no magic abracadabra to let me in.

Note to the AMC White Mountain Guide folks: On page 604 of the index, the page locations for descriptions of "Cabot, Mount (Pilot Range)" and "Cabot, Mount (Shelburne)" are juxtaposed. There's plenty to be said about the big 4,000 footer, but hardly a helpful mention of my lowly Mt. Cabot.

The day was getting on and I was fast running out of steam. Maybe it just wasn't to be today.

Come to think of it I was getting mighty thirsty and there was football on. And I was just a short jaunt over the border to Bethel and the homey confines of the Sunday River Brew Pub.

It was settled then. I put the vehicle in drive and headed up the road back toward Route 2 and a refreshing pint of ale.

Alas, I hadn't gone far when I came upon a woman walking briskly toward me on the opposite side of the road. Someone who looked like she might know her way around these parts.

My mind went into high gear, calculating furiously: 1. Should I stop and ask directions? Period. The horror of taking that fateful step alone weighed heavily. 2. What if she actually knew where the trailhead was? Then I'd have to give up my new plan for beer and football and actually do some hiking!

What to do? What to do??

I pulled over.

And {gasp} asked the kind woman if she knew where the trailhead to Mt. Cabot was?

"No. Never heard of it."

I was halfway to a beer.

"But I do know there's a trailhead just up the road. A white picket fence and a turnstile. Leads up to Mt. Crag from Austin Brook."

I looked at the map in my lap. And yes, there it was: Mt. Crag. With a connecting trail to Mt. Cabot. {sigh}

"Thanks," I said to the nice woman who had just cost me an early afternoon seat at the bar. "I'll check it out."

And there it was. White picket fence. Turnstile. Trail signs galore.

A severe case of cottonmouth came over me. But I was here now and I would dutifully go hiking and enjoy the day. Dammit.

And so it went.

It was an easy walk beneath hemlocks next to Austin Brook on an old woods road. Then left into the woods, climbing through a colorful forest of beech, birch and oak. Steeply at first, then more gradually as the trail curled around the back side of the peak. Views north to Mt. Success and the Mahoosucs opened up.

Finally the path swung back to the south, climbed a short steep stretch and peaked out atop a wide open cliff edge revealing broad two-state views of the Androscoggin River valley. From Evans Notch to the Moriahs to the Presidentials. All fabulous as I plunked down on the warm rock in the bright sun and enjoyed.

View into Maine from the summit of Mt. Crag, Shelburne NH.
Carey Kish photo

I feasted on Gatorade and a granola bar instead of a frothy ale and beer nuts. OK, I thought, this hiking thing, I can deal with it.

The White Mountains from Mt. Crag.
Carey Kish photo

Doubling back to the trail junction I continued cross-valley toward the elusive Mt. Cabot. Trail markings were intermittent to say the least, and with a plethora of side trails, skidder tracks, woods roads, slash piles and log yards, navigating the way was, um, interesting.

Crossing Austin Brook on the way to Mt. Cabot.
Carey Kish photo

But I was determined now. The day would not be complete without bagging Cabot. The "yellow" trail finally led me to the "blue" trail. And up I went, winding for a good mile and a half, finishing with a rocky scramble that left me off at the wooded summit.

The limited views thru the trees were a bit disappointing, but the walking had been fun. The goal had been achieved, a new place visited. No complaints.

On the trail to Mt. Cabot.
Carey Kish photo

I turned down the other side of the mountain, directly into the chill October wind, and descended quickly, on the "red" trail now.

On the valley floor gunshots were going off all around me (you can hunt in NH on Sundays), a little too close for comfort. Not the least bit excited about getting peppered with buckshot, I declined to retrace my steps back thru the woods.

Instead I bolted down a pine-carpeted woods road and was soon out out the North Rd. Right next to Philbrook Farm. Exactly where I had been diligently trailhead-searching many hours earlier.

Go figure.

I paced it up the road, afternoon shadows falling across my path, to the waiting car.

Off came the pack, on went the comfy bar duds and I was road-bound eastward, late for a date with Dan the Barman at the Sunday River Brew Pub and a tall, cold, frosty one.

Actually I wasn't late at all. Right about on schedule really. All because I stopped and asked for directions. That simple act changed the outcome of that entire day. Imagine that? It worked so well I might even try it again in the unlikely event the need should arise.

See ladies, we guys can learn new things!

For as long as I can remember sightings of the Sasquatch, the fabled furry behemoth also affectionately known as Bigfoot, have been limited to the western United States and Canada; northern California, Oregon, Washington, British Columbia.

The classic grainy shot of Bigfoot.
AP photo

All that has changed now with a recent sighting of a "primal like animal" reported by a Pennsylvania hunter in the Allegheny Mountains. Bigfoot experts believe it "to be a juvenile Sasquatch."

Whoa. The real thing possibly.

Just 500 miles as the crows flies from Maine. That's uncomfortably close don't you think?

I mean, really, how do you feel about a hairy hunk of beast with a size 22 shoe sculking around the woods and waters of Maine?

Hobbits, gnomes and trolls are one thing. But Bigfoot?

Makes me shutter something wicked.

But it may already be too late. He/she/it may already be among us.

There are rumors of a primal beast living in the wilds of Limington. A sighting of a Sasquatch-like creature down in the Old Port late one Friday night not too long ago. And I'll swear I saw something big and hairy sitting in the back row at a recent MOAC meeting.

Hard tellin'. Who's to say?

Have you any Bigfoot sightings in Maine to share? Might as well get them on the record. Do tell...

Uh, oh.

"Beer prices are likely to climb. How high is anybody's guess."

Given the seriousness of this news I am considering cancelling all outdoor activities--hiking, backpacking, mountain biking and possibly skiing--until further notice.

Beer, it being an essential food source (remember: beer has food value, but food has no beer value) for the active outdoorsperson, is apparently in short supply, and with prices due to skyrocket as if it were barrels of crude, I feel I am left with no choice.

I must begin immediately to homebrew again. There is no time to waste. Sufficient stocks for the winter months at least must be produced. Soon. Now!

So, I'm sorry my Trail Head friends, you may not see me out there tromping the trails for awhile, as I'll be busily slaving away over a hot stove in my soon-to-be-reconstituted home brewery (otherwise known as my kitchen).

It must be done. It HAS to be done...

Heavens, I mean what is the alternative I ask you?

No, no, please don't say it. I cannot bear the horror, a life without comfortable quantities of affordable beer.

What emergency steps are you taking to avert a beer crisis in your life?

A comment on an old Trail Head blog came through this morning and set me to a good chuckling. Re my post on the nasty hoax about the breakthrough development of dehydrated beer, an enthusiastic Ruth commented:

"If we can put a man on the moon, in the name of God, can we not develop dehydrated beer? Can you imagine how successful a business this would be?
There's got to be a way, got to be a way."

Ditto that Ruth. I couldn't agree more.

Given this great country's long history of innovation and entrepreneurism you'd think full well that such an extraordinary feat could be accomplished, would have been by now, wouldn't you?

And what a boon to mankind would it be! Never mind the implications for hikers and outdoor enthusiasts alike!!

Dehydrated beer - a product for the consumer masses, for the ages. Able to be transported easily and better, able to be consumed wherever a source of water could be found. Just mix, stir and enjoy.

Ooooh! Ahhh! Yum!

Who will be this Einstein of Beer? And when?

A Nobel Prize for Beer Science awaits you, O Great One!

You and me, we're bombarded these days with pleas from a wide variety of sources hoping for a little bit of our money. We all have our favorite charities and causes that we contribute to, and since budgets are tight (I mean c'mon, whose isn't?) there's only so much cash available to be doled out.

That said, I'm a big believer that many hands make light work. Same with giving. Like you, I don't have $100 to give to every group I'd like to. But I do have $5 and $10 and $20 to give here and there. And when that level of giving is spread across many wallets, well, that's when things start to happen and funds get raised. It's the power in numbers thing.

What's all this about, you say?

It's about a couple of causes near and dear to my heart, and likely yours. Two specifically that we've talked about here at Trail Head: Portland Trails and the Cohos Trail. They are worthy of a bit a of a reminder if you will.

Portland Trails

You'll remember that some unctuous cretin(s) made off with Portland Trails' expensive and preicous brushcutter last month.

Not a nice move you &*%^$#@!!!

Well, I got a nice letter from Nan Cumming, Executive Director of PT, late last week informing me that they had raised $400 toward a new machine.

Woo-hoo! That's great news.

But a new brushcutter costs upwards of $2000, so while the $400 makes a big dent in the price tag, it leaves them shy of what they need.

So I'm taking it upon myself here to ask you all to match me each another $5 or so (more if you can do it) to further help Portland Trails.

Whaddaya say?

Good, I figured I could count on you.

Send whatever you can to:

Portland Trails
"New Brushcutter"
305 Commercial Street
Portland, Maine 04101

Thanks!

The Cohos Trail

In late July and early August I was fortunate enough to be able to thru-hike New England's newest long distance hiking route, the Cohos Trail, from Notchland to Canada through the wild and remote north country of Coos County, New Hampshire.

It's a tremendous walk, one that I highly recommend if you've got a couple of weeks to spare, and seeing as it's just next door the logistics aren't all that daunting either.

In any case, this was a hike with a purpose. Huddling with the good folks from The Cohos Trail Association, we concocted a plan to make the hike into a fundraiser to raise some sorely needed cash for this outstanding trail that is part boots-on-the-ground pathway and part vision-of-what-can-and-will-be.

Well, with the CTA folks working furiously behind the scnes and me out there walking through the hills and mountains, together we raised some big time awareness of this tremendous recreational resource, with the locals of Coos County, with folks downstate in NH, and throughout New England.

All good. More people should know about the Cohos Trail, and then go check out its outstanding beauty for themselves.

In addition, TCTA stewards and trail big-wigs Pete and Lainie Castine tell me that nearly $2,000 was raised by the thru-hike campaign.

Not bad at all. Thanks to many of you for helping out.

Again, however, more $$$ is needed to move the CT effort forward, to spark a quantum leap if you will.

So I ask once more if you can let go with a touch more of your beer money, $5 or $10 or more, and give the CT folks another charge of greenbacks. If a few hundred us do it just imagine the difference we can make!

Send your Lincolns to:

The Cohos Trail Association
c/o Pete & Lainie Castine
266 Danforth Road
Pittsburg, NH 03592

Many thanks in advance. Trail Headers rock!

So, it's Sunday morning and you're sitting quietly on your veranda sipping your coffee and reading the newspaper.

No biggie right? A normal start to this laziest of days. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, if you're unlucky enough to be starting your Sunday in New Delhi, India you might just end up dead.

That's right. Attacked and killed by a band of monkeys-gone-mad.

Ouch!

Now, that's just no way to go. All that blood and gore. Screams waking the neighbors. And a good cup 'o Joe gone to waste.

Damn monkeys.

We may not have 'em here in Maine, but nonetheless, I'm gonna keep an eye peeled on the woods out back of the house next Sunday morning I'm telling you.

Cause there's some bad wildlife out there, I just know it. Rabbits. And not ordinary rabbits, mind you...

Killer rabbits!!!

If you're a gear hound and you've got credit cards just a melting in your wallet then you've gotta get out and take advantage of the two big gear sales going on this weekend:

Maine Ski & Snowboard Expo

You wanna upgrade your skis? Try on some new boots? Check out the latest in snowboards? Talk to reps from the ski areas? Enter to win free ski lift tickets?

Then you've got to make it to the big sale at the Portland Expo! It's going on right now, noon today until 8 tonight. Then Saturday from 9-8 and Sunday from 10-5. Admission is free.

I was just over there at lunchtime and there's some great deals to be had and money to be saved (spent?).

Chuck from Joe Jones shows off a fine pair of K2 Apache XTRs, which just happen to come with Marker bindings for an awesome price. Yep, I bought 'em.
Carey Kish photo

EMS 20% Off Everything Sale

Stop into Eastern Mountain Sports this weekend and get 20% off everything in the store (with a few exceptions). Spend $100 or more and get a $25 Gear Bucks card good on a future purchase.

Not bad. So tromp on in and lay down that cabbage. Hey, you can't take it with you!

EMS has 2 Maine stores: Portland and Augusta.

The sun is down and it's a cold here (37° F) at the Sidney Tappan campsite, situated at 2,500 feet in a notch between Gulf Hagas Mountain and West Peak on the A.T.

Camp is set and supper is done, a simple but satisfying affair of freeze-dried this-and-that, coffee, tea, soup.

We sit, hiking friends Doug and Gloria and I, on log benches in the dark, talking. A nip or two of Jim Beam warms the belly, relaxes the body.

The chatter is interrupted by a coyote howling down valley to the west. Another chimes in. Then more, until what sounds like a dozen coyotes fill the mountain air with howls and yips and loon-like laughs.

It is at once thrilling and chilling, and underscores the remoteness of the place we have chosen to spend the night.

Another coyote, closer in but above us on the shoulder of Gulf Hagas Mtn. adds another wild voice to the mix. Then from behind us, in the direction of West Peak, comes more howls.

We are surrounded by the sounds of the wild in the night. Our reasons for coming here, if they were unclear before, are now crystal. Our senses are honed sharp.

We've walked nearly nine miles to this spot, backpacks in tow. Along river and stream, past pond and waterfall. Beneath a forest canopy of gold and red, a sky of clear and perfect blue.

Crossing Hay Brook near the AT, K-I Forest.
Carey Kish photo

Passing Pugwash Pond just east of The Hermitage.
Carey Kish photo

Upper Screw Auger Falls, Gulf Hagas.
Carey Kish photo

Feet and legs move, lungs fill and empty, hearts pump. Refreshing, renewing mountain air moves into our bodies; sweat pours out. Eyes gaze, thoughts simplify. Cares, problems fade.

The trail, it's wonderful like that. Reducing life down to its simplest elements. Even when two days and one precious night are all the time you have to steal away, the trail works its magic.

Hiking through the fall colors on the AT.
Carey Kish photo

Gulf Hagas Brook in bright fall sunlight.
Carey Kish photo

Traversing the ridge of Gulf Hagas Mountain.
Carey Kish photo

We retire to the tents at the late of hour of 7:30 PM. I try to read some, The Good Rain by Timothy Egan, but manage only ten pages or so. Fatigue rules, I give in. Glasses and headlamp come off, head goes down onto a pillow of clothes wrapped in the softness of my down vest.

It begins to rain. Sprinkles, then noisy drops on the tent. Inside all is warm and cozy. Contentment reigns as sleep comes.

I awake later on, groggy, to a scratchy sound on the tent fly. It's not raining anymore. I unzip and go outside to pee and my suspicion is confirmed: It's snowing! A couple of inches lay on the ground and blanket the tents.

Awesome!

The dawn light arrives late, hiker conciousness even later.

I lay propped up on one elbow, and, still ensconced in the down bag, start the stove outside the tent door and prepare cocoa and oatmeal.

Snow in camp at Sidney Tappan Campsite last Sunday morning.
Carey Kish photo

What luck! A picture-perfect fall day of hiking yesterday. And today, ahead of us, a high ridge walk over the peaks of West, Hay and Whitecap in snow!

For three hours we wend up and down through an alpine forest hushed with snow. The clouds are thick and it's still snowing, so there are no views.

But no matter.

We focus closer in. On animal tracks in the snow. On the winds blowing lightly over our heads, above the thick corridor of spruce and fir that we walk through. On the occasional splash of color, a birch or hobblebush leaf that adds visual dimension to an otherwise flat green and brown and white world.

Hiking through the snowy forest on Hay Peak.
Carey Kish photo

West and Hay Peaks pass easily beneath our feet. We drop packs at the head of the old firewarden's trail, a half-click before Whitecap, and chug unburdened through the thinning forest to the open summit at 3,644 feet.

There isn't much to see but rocks and stunted trees and snow--and the summit sign-- but we are happy to be here. The harsh conditions of this winter-in-fall storm add to our sense of accomplishment. How wonderful to be out here, like this, in the raw elements, warm, well-fed, well-equipped and confident.

In the storm atop Whitecap Mountain.
Carey Kish photo

The descent is incredibly steep and slippery. Like walking on unconsolidated ball bearings. With snow on top. Eventually the angle lessens, the snowline is reached, and the precip turns to sleet, then rain.

We emerge from the forest onto an old logging road and continue the long descent into the Pleasant River valley. The road is lined with maples and beech and birch, and even in the gray of this day, the colors are bright and cheery.

Every so often a ruffed grouse blasts disconcertingly from a trailside tree and sends our hearts to pounding, breaking the stupor of the downhill plod.

It figures that the sun would break out and shine bright over the valley just when we arrive. Doug and I drop our loads at a roadside picnic table, Gloria waits and rests, and we walk to retrieve the vehicle a couple miles to the west.

It's been a good walk, one of the finest in recent memory. For no particular reason, maybe all of the above, maybe none. It was just plain good. And that's all I care to ask for.

Note: We made the Whitecap loop hike last weekend. There's still time to do it if you're interested. The road into the K-I Forest is open until the snow flies. And BTW, the gate is boarded up for the season so it's free to enter. If you want more info on the Whitecap hike or other fun hikes in the region shoot me an e-mail.

Time's a wasting on season passes. The deals, such that they are, are coming to a close.

What to do?

It's time to decide on a season pass. What's it gonna be?
Carey Kish photo

We've been spoiled now for what, three years at least. But no more. Our great and powerful benefactor, the American Skiing Company, is kaput. Gone. Over. Done with.

No more all-season skiing at six New England resorts for $349 or $369 or even $399.

Nope. The party's over. Just when the going was getting so good, too.

Gone are the days of six mountains for $399!
Carey Kish photo

I don't know about you, but I was really getting to enjoy Attitash, especially the enormous amount of vertical you could get in in such a short amount of time on Bear Peak.

And those long weekend trips to Killington and Pico. Oh, the madness of the Big K, all that fine skiing amid the crowds of funny-speaking New Yorkers.

And quaint and creaky Pico, its long and winding trails, steep and challenging. And empty. The awesome Giant Killer lives!

Never mind skiing Sunday River and The Loaf at will, in any conditions. A run here, a beer there. It didn't matter. You had a pass. You skiied when it was good, you hung out in The Bag when it wasn't.

Can I just buy a season pass to The Bag?
Carey Kish photo

That kind of living was all new to this skier, not ever having been able to really afford those super-high-priced season passes of not too long ago.

Everything has changed now, though. So I ask again: What to do?

Stop your whining, you say.

I know, you're probably right.

But damn, it hurts losing such a good deal that allowed for so much skiing over such a variety of terrain and mountains for so little.

Made it easier to drop more cash in the mountain pubs, too. The Foggy Goggle, The Bag (the Cathedral of On-Mountain Beerage), Theo's, the Windowbreaker, the Long Trail Inn, Suds, Sunday River Brew Pub...

But I digress.

{sigh} {and more whining here}

It's time to get on the stick and buy a pass for the coming season. Or not.

If you've got a place to hang your hat at a particular mountain then maybe it's a no-brainer for you. Not so much for me and many other low-budget ski-types.

You're in the same boat too you say?

Well, let's take a look-see together on what's available for pass deals...

* Sunday River and Sugarloaf - The Maine Pass: For $799 (Gold Pass) you can get unlimited skiing at Maine's two premier mountains. For $499 (Silver Pass) you can ski all season less 12 blackout dates. The Silver is the closest deal to what we've been used too, except of course, it's $100 more and it's minus four other mountains. But who's counting??? Pass deals are available through October 15th.

* Saddleback - Unlimited skiing for $450. Not a bad deal for a big mountain that's really getting it's act together with a modern base lodge and new trails and equipment.

* Wildcat - Ski big vertical in the shadow of Mount Washington and the Presidential Range for $669 (price available until October 15th).

* Bretton Woods - Enjoy a mondo amount of excellent cruiser trails with awesome views for $749. Includes 2 free passes to Cannon to boot.

* Cannon Mountain - Bigtime challenging mountain skiing in at Franconia Notch for $630.

* Attitash/Bear Peak - Get the Granite Pass valid every day at Attitash and Crotched (a bump in southern NH) for $699. Or try the Classic Pass for $599 good only at Attitash with blackout dates. Attitash and Bear Peak combine for some of the best skiing in NH.

* Loon Mountain - Get three mountains in one, the most of any ski pass deal this season, with the Threedom Pass. Includes Loon, Waterville Valley and Cranmore.. All for $799. Or $699 with a handful of blackout days at Loon. Probably the best deal out there right now.

* Ski Maine Association - The Quad Pack gets you 59 vouchers to ski areas all across Maine, 4 each to the big popular areas. All for $550. Also a very good deal. Especially if you want to spread yourself out some, do some traveling and visit a host of new places.

So there you have it folks. Ski pass deals as they stand for the coming year. Not quite what we're used to, but hey, what can you do?!

I'm leaning hard on the Maine Pass, but it's time to quit leaning, decide and buy.

Speaking of, what will YOU do? You gonna buy a pass? Which one? Or will you just do day tix and travel about? Or maybe do more snowshoeing and cross- country skiing instead, and less downhill?

So what's it gonna be my skier pals? Pass or no pass?
Carey Kish photo

What a surprise!

The Plum Creek public hearings have been delayed yet again.

Another long and drawn out process beaten to death as if blood actually could be drawn from a stone.

What is the end game? The point at which there can be no more delays, the process completed, a decision made.

Or is exhausting delay a desired end in itself?

Must everything take so long?

Let's get on with it already...

Public hearings. LURC vote up or down. Done.

What's your take on this withering process?

I had to go on up to North Conway the other day to bring a skidder-load of gear to Ragged Mountain Equipment to sell on consignment. So I figured, what the hay, I'll take in a hike or two as well.

Good plan, as it turns out.

Following my MO of late, I wanted to check out a couple of places I'd never been: Province Pond and Mountain Pond. (Hike descriptions and maps for both are found in the White Mountain Guide).

The trailhead to Province Pond is at the end of a gravel road off Green Hill Road, off of Route 113, somewhere east and north of Conway NH.

It's an easy walk of 1 1/2 miles through the woods over a grassy logging track. At the pond the path bears right and follows along above. Where the road bends right uphill take the narrow footpath left into the woods and tramp around to the log shelter on the north shore.

Province Pond, hidden away in the White Mountains just over the Maine-NH border. Note the log shelter tucked into the trees on the far shore.
Carey Kish photo

What a spot! Hemmed in by steep mountain walls, the place is a quiet slice of paradise, especially on this warm and sunny fall day.

I poked around for a bit on the big old bleached-gray log that leads to water. Then sat for a long time on the shelter's platform edge enjoying the scene and breathing in the good air. And finishing up We Took to the Woods by Louise Dickinson Rich (great read!).

Yours truly getting a good look-see at Province Pond.
Carey Kish photo

I can't wait to pack in my goods for an overnight stay sometime soon. A good book, a fire, a smidgen of Jim Beam, a cold night sky... oh yeah!

Out to the road I backtracked a few miles and wound up the Hurricane Mountain Road, little more than a glorified cart path, steep and winding, and with the real possibility of a head-on collision at any moment.

Ever the exciting ride!

I made it over to Intervale unscathed and unloaded my pile of gear with my friends at Ragged, hopeful that the stuff sells quick so I can buy more, a new winter stove and winter tent at the top of the list.

Post-Ragged I drove up toward Slippery Brook and the TH for Mountain Pond. I'd barely gotten on the trail when a group of campers trudged toward me toting a canoe loaded with gear.

Ouch!

It was worth the effort, they said, for the good fishing and fine camping. Points duly noted.

Beyond, I made a left at the trail junction and walked along the western edge of Mountain Pond, taking in frequent viewpoints as I went. There was nary a ripple on the dark blue pond which reflected the muted fall colors of the surrounding hills.

Mountain Pond from its south end.
Carey Kish photo

The old log lean-to tucked 100 yards into the woods near the pond's upper end wasn't much to look at, but I'm sure it would be welcome shelter in a rain.

Circling around to the other side the bare rock cone of South Baldface rose up in the west. A little further on the shapely twin peaks of Doublehead Mountain appeared above a ridge.

Canada geese on Mountain Pond. That's the upper reaches of South Baldface off in the distance.
Carey Kish photo

The walk, a very pleasant 3-mile circuit, was over much too fast. And as I reached that car I vowed to return here, too, with camping gear (but no canoe!) and spend the night sometime soon.

Hobblebush (Viburnum lantanoides) showing off its regal fall magenta colors at Mountain Pond. Note the golden buds.
Carey Kish photo

On the way home now, the all-powerful tractor beam of the Red Parka Pub in Glen proved too much for my little Honda Civic, and we were drawn helplessly in. Next thing I know Mike is pouring me a Mason jar of Long Trail Ale which I feel compelled to knock back, along with a slew of popcorn and peanuts (read: dinner).

Another Long Trail is forced upon me and I consume it dutifully, without complaint. Then it is indeed time to head home to Portland-town, turning the page on another fine day's adventure.

All good.

You been to either Province or Mountain Ponds? Spent the night?

Apparently no one.

Correct that: Two people.

Yep, that's how many people showed up at the LURC public hearing last night in Carrabassett Valley to speak in defense of Kibby Mountain and oppose a wind energy project there. The two represented the Friends of the Boundary Mountains, the range in which Kibby is a major peak.

Go figure.

Interestingly, the folks from the Maine Audubon Society, the Natural Resources Council of Maine and the Appalachian Mountain Club--groups who have vehemently opposed other wind power proposals, like the nearby Redington project abutting the Appalachian Trail--all support wind power on Kibby.

Go figure.

Poor Kibby Mountain.

I haven't even hiked it yet, but I want to save it. I guess a special trip is called for sooner rather than later, before the bulldozers get there. To see the place as it is, to photograph it for posterity. And to imagine what it will one day look like adorned with "44 towers, each about 41 stories high, to run along 13 miles of ridges on Kibby Mountain and Kibby Range."

Never mind the miles of gravel roads to support the towers and miles more of transmission lines and God knows what else for this, New England's largest wind power deal.

Yes, that's right, I've soured on wind power. Not entirely, but most certainly in places like Kibby. The trade off is too great, too far out of balance. 132 megawatts of power sounds ducky, but at the cost of an entire mountain range?

Nope, sorry.

Not when simple conservation measures, things that you and I can do every day, could collectively save as much energy as would be produced by the Kibby project.

Smaller scale wind projects in developed areas, industrial areas, urban areas and such, closer in to where the power is actually needed, that's a better option. Not in our remote mountains.

But alas, who really cares?

Kibby Mountain is just far enough off the grid of our conciousness that we, including our environmental defender friends, can apparently afford to sacrifice it for a few extra watts of juice to power our washing machines, stereos and HDTVs.

Ain't that nice? Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy don't it?

Think I'm gonna pick a nice warm sunny late October day and make the drive up north to Kibby Mountain for a hike. Make it a wake of sorts. To pay last respects to a mountain that will soon cease to exist as we know it.

You wanna join me?

It may be early October already (where did the summer go?!) but there's still plenty of good bike riding--both on road and off--to go before winter arrives.

Cool, invigorating weather, blue skies, colorful highways, byways and trails, yes, fall is a great time to get outside and ride!

Given that, you'll want to pick up a copy the newly minted 2nd edition of the White Mountain Ride Guide authored by bicycling adventurer extraordinaire Marty Basch (and speaking of, Marty will be the guest speaker at tonight's meeting of the Maine Outdoor Adventure Club in Portland).

Image courtesy Marty Basch/Top of the World Communications

The guide chronicles 42 terrific rides through the Mount Washington Valley, and the northern and western Whites for road riders and mountain bikers alike; from easy pedals of a few short hours and miles to heart-pumping, thigh-cramping advanced all-day pulls.

Check out the scenic back roads of Tamworth west of Route 16 on the Chocurua Lake Loop, an easy 12-miler. Step it up a notch, so to speak, with the Bear Notch Boogie, a 39-mile intermediate loop connecting the Saco and Swift River Valleys through Bear Notch. Test your meddle on the big one, the White Mountain Triple Notch Century, and grind up and over Kacamangus Pass, Franconia Notch and Crawford Notch through some spectacular mountain scenery on your way to tallying 112 miles in the saddle. Riders of all abilities, and families in particular, will be smiling on the Wild River Road, an 11-miler following the Wild River along the Maine-New Hampshire border.

Each of the rides is well-described and includes a high-quality route map. The general location, riding surfaces, starting point, and food stops are noted up front, followed by a brief introduction summarizing the highlights of the ride. Ride details by major mile markers will help to keep you on track as you go.

The White Mountain Guide is an excellent resource for anyone--from the novice to seasoned bicyclist--interested in exploring the natural beauty of our nearby White Mountains.

And come join Marty Basch at MOAC tonight. Should be a fun show!