The Colby Echo

Issue date: 9/7/07 Section: Features

Media Credit: Courtesy of Nathan Seiberling

We were ready. With an almost Scottish Highlander, Brian Sweeney, and an outdoorsy New Yorker, Chelsea Eakin, as our guides, we had this Flagstaff Bigelow A trip reserved as an easy meal for the all included group of ten seasoned wilderness hikers. Flagstaff Bigelow A. That's us, and man we were ready-but like many things, we did not have long to relish in the fact before being forced to prove it.

Half an hour after arriving at our point of departure in Stratton, we were greeted with a suspiciously ominous, rapidly darkening cloud which covered mountain foot to mountain tip in a great shadowy dim-as if night was coming a full six hours early. We snacked on our gorp, predicted a few wet hours ahead and continued merrily. Five minutes later it came. Rain drops bombed down, and the thunder rolled in encore. "Sick!" called Brian-in a good way, and so we marched on, only to realize that approaching the top of a hill during a lightning storm was not the wisest decision, and so on the good call of Brian and Chelsea, we waited out the storm. The rest of the day's hike was wet, long, steep and filled with discovering the delights of honey and squeezable mayonnaise.

On day two we left the Horn's Pond lean-to a little later than planned, having spent a record two hours boiling water. Clouds still shrouded the mountain tops, and our view gave the impression of being trapped on a mist surrounded island. Three peaks we climbed that day, meeting grizzled seasoned bearded fellow hikers on the way, giving us only an idea of what we were probably beginning to look and smell like. That night, we met up with group B at Flagstaff Lake, enjoying a surprise steak and salmon feast organized by Dr. Frank and Theodora Miselis Professor of Chemistry Whitney King, a blessing compared to gorp-and the company of our cross-COOT, who were filled with riddles and OK, alright, Big Blue Moons-which we were to scrutinize for some time to come.

Day three was epic, as I am convinced it will be described several times again in different places. So we've all had to paddle against a hard wind before for several hours, and that on its own is a struggle and a hard fought for experience, wherever it may have happened. Well, on that fateful Saturday, we paddled against a strong wind all day on the white waves of Flagstaff lake. "Sweet!" cried Brian-in a bad way, and no kidding. Staying in the same spot was an accomplishment to be revered -and we had 10 miles to go.

Day four. After having weathered challenge after challenge, we were braced for the worst-perhaps a snow storm, a hurricane, something. We coasted around two bends and we had arrived-nearly an hour and a half early. We didn't exactly understand either, but we decided to make a canoe raft and battle with water guns the rest of the way. Good times, and all thanks to Chelsea and Brian who prepared us and brought us all the way.

Page 1 of 1

Article Tools