#58: Mt Katahdin, ME: 25-26 August 2025

I had hoped to summit Mt Katahdin in Maine one final time. To this end I recruited Julie Hernandez as my coach and personal sherpa. The previous summer, Charlotte Stetson and I were both nursing injured knees, and we hadn’t even considered the summit. But after another year of PT and some successful hikes earlier in 2025, it was my goal. More accurately, it was my obsession.

Climbing the mountain is only half the challenge. The other is getting a reserved parking spot at the trailhead of choice on the desired day of the hike, which requires knowing about this requirement and acting on it months in advance. To increase our odds of summiting, we secured parking permits on two consecutive days in late August, giving ourselves the option of selecting the better one closer to the date.

Even so, the weather provided the drama leading up to this excursion. The state of Maine had experienced a severe drought for the better part of the summer, and the forecast showed solidly sunny skies for the two weeks I expected to be in Maine, except for two days. They were the exact two days for which we had our permits. I was fit to be tied; I could not believe our bad luck. Yet five days out from the hike, our fortunes changed. We could expect rain on the first day (Monday) but sunny skies on the second (Tuesday).

The plan was to carpool with Charlotte and Eleanor (Fairbanks) Stetson, who intended to hike to the Owl instead of attempting the summit. We had reserved rooms at the Big Moose Inn, our preferred lodging given classic décor and proximity to the entrance gate to Baxter State Park. Charlotte and Eleanor had sprung for a suite with its own bathroom, whereas I’d taken the more frugal option of a double with a bathroom down the hallway. After reviewing our respective rooms and realizing that the bathroom was a fair distance from our room, I immediately upgraded us to similarly luxurious accommodations.

The rain for Monday was predicted to start in the afternoon. Charlotte, Eleanor, and I left Julie in front of her laptop at the Inn to complete a day’s work while we sought out some short hikes in the vicinity of Kidney Pond.

From the Kidney Pond campground, we headed down the one-mile trail toward Rocky Pond, where we encountered a rare bit of humor in the Great Outdoors. Just off the path was a 20-foot-high boulder. The signage in front read: “Kidney Stone. Do not remove.” 

Apprehensive about getting my hiking clothes wet or turning an ankle during the warm-up hike, I headed back to the campground an hour into the walk, while Charlotte and Eleanor continued to explore. I wandered into the building identified as the “Library,” a multi-purpose community space. Given the poor weather, few people were at the campground; only one other couple was in the library. After a moment of hesitation, I spoke up: “Tracy?” Indeed, my high school friend Tracy Bronson (Bigney) and her husband Tim had rented the cabin next to the Library for three nights. They provided a very welcome cup of hot coffee, and we had lunch together as I waited for Charlotte and Eleanor to return. The night before, Julie had observed that “everyone in Maine seems to know each other,” so this chance encounter confirmed her supposition.

Monday afternoon I dedicated to obsessing over the rain. Now I wanted it, since when I made my reservation at Big Moose Inn, I had signed up for adverse weather protection. The fine print indicated that if the rain persisted for two hours between 8 am and 8 pm, they would give 50% reimbursement of the hotel cost. If it persisted for four hours between 8 am and 8 pm, they would give 100%. However, to claim reimbursement, one had to submit a selfie, indicating presence at the lodging in question, as well as time- and date-stamped photos of rain or evidence of precipitation. I grew increasingly worried as the skies remained clear.  

But to my great relief, shortly after 3 PM it began to rain intermittently. On the hour, I went outside to photograph the wet floor on the deck, droplets of water on the foliage, puddles along the road, while trying to wedge myself into a selfie that showed a sign indicating that I was at Big Moose Inn. The only honest downpour came at 7:30 pm, and I was out there, having my friends photograph me in it. I had no idea if it would be sufficient to obtain the reimbursement, but I was enjoying the game.

Despite our luxury accommodations, none of us slept too well, anticipating the early start on Tuesday. By 5:30 AM, we all reported to the breakfast room, preparing our sandwiches for the trail and wolfing down breakfast to get an early start. The gates at Baxter State Park open at 6 AM, and as always, cars line up in two lanes: those with parking reservations and those on standby, hoping to get one of the unclaimed spots that are released at 7:05 am.

Julie and I were on the trail by 7 AM for what I expected would be a five-hour ascent, if we were lucky. I had opted for Abol Trail, the “elevator to top,” so named because it is the shortest but steepest of the options. The sign at the trailhead indicated 2.2 miles to the tree line, 1.2 miles through the boulder fields, and a final 1.0 miles from Thoreau Springs to the summit (4.4 miles in total). For the first 2.2 miles, we followed a gentle path upward, completely engulfed in a canopy of green. So far, all good.

Two hours in, we emerged above the tree line, where the real work began. The first portion of the boulder field that connected the new portion of the trail to the Abol rock slide provided a half-mile of boulder warm-up before we turned the corner to begin a half-mile of climbing straight up the mountainside. The challenge was how best to navigate up, across, and around bear-to-elephant-size boulders. The wind picked up, and the temperature dropped a few degrees. Charlotte and I had hiked through this same stretch two years earlier, but since then, the boulders had gotten larger and the path steeper. Julie led the way, finding the easiest route around tricky places and offering a hand to pull me up. As I had remembered, there were 2-3 truly difficult spots. But between Julie and a kindly hiker coming from behind who offered me his knee as a step, I managed to make it up and over the final mega-boulder. Finally, the worst was over. Three hours into the hike, we had successfully navigated the boulder field. From Thoreau Spring (where the Abol Trail intersects with the Hunt Trail), we had only one mile of rock-hopping along a gentle ascent to reach the top.

We thanked our lucky stars that there was no rain on the horizon, but the top of the mountain was socked in with fog. We passed many hikers on their way down, none of whom had seen anything from the summit. I felt particularly sorry for the first-timers who had expended so much energy to get to the summit, only to be deprived of the stunning panoramic view of northern Maine from the top. Fortunately, Julie and I had seen it before, so our desire was simply to summit. Four hours, 20 minutes after we’d started, we found ourselves in front of the iconic sign marking Baxter Peak. Sweet victory!

Given the wind and chill at the summit and the prospect of afternoon showers, we quickly consumed our PB&J and Pringles, then started back down. The one mile from the summit to Thoreau Spring was predictably easy, but the boulder field was still ahead.

The rain had held off, and the mountainside shielded us from some of the wind. Julie advised me to take it slowly, and she didn’t have to say it twice. I crept down over the boulders, using my arms to cushion the impact of each step on my bum knee. At a rest stop, I explained to Julie that my knee was fine 95% of the time; it was just the occasional misstep that caused a quick jab of pain. My problem wasn’t the pain itself but the potential damage it could signal to the knee that I needed to protect. I still had 22 excursions to complete.

On the final 2.2 miles of gently descending trail below the tree line, we experienced the bonus of climbing Katahdin in late August. It is the season when many of the through hikers on the Appalachian Trail are completing their trek from Georgia to Maine. It never gets old, witnessing their sense of triumph, joy, and relief to reach the terminus of the AT (Baxter Peak). In our final hour, a young woman passed us and asked us to help her get something from her pack. She modestly mentioned that she had just finished. Her story was even more compelling in that she’d sprained her ankle earlier in the summer as she approached the 100-mile wilderness in Maine and was forced to return home to recuperate. Three weeks later, she returned to complete the entire AT in a single season. Compared to the usual emaciated, disheveled figure that crosses the finish line, she seemed uncharacteristically “together.”

Charlotte and Eleanor met us at the Abol campground as we finished the hike, exactly nine hours after we’d started. They had met with less success in their attempt to reach the Owl. Boulders blocked the final approach, and they didn’t have the benefit of sherpa Julie. Yet ever positive, they had enjoyed the opportunity to spend time in Baxter State Park.

I ended the hike with mixed emotions. I was euphoric to have summited “one more time,” which made for a lifetime total of 20+ ascents. I was deeply grateful to Julie for detouring through Maine on her trip from New Orleans to DRC and encouraging me every step to the peak. The climb up and down the boulder field had been far more challenging than even two years earlier, and I wondered if I would have made it without her help. I had judged Katahdin to be the upper range of what I could responsibly attempt in my mid-70s, and I considered how fortunate I was to have avoided any serious adverse health incidents in this remote terrain. Yet I realized the risk I’d be taking if I continued to push my luck with a future climb up Katahdin. I had to ask myself, was this the last time? Very bittersweet.

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Epilogue:

Within 24 hours of return, I submitted my claim to Worry-free Bookings, complete with screenshots of Mountain_Forecast and my date- and time-stamped photos covering a five-hour period on Day 1. I figured with luck, I'd get a 50% refund for one day, and perhaps they might even spring for 100% for that day.

To my astonishment, within 24 hours, I received an email informing me that they would reimburse 100% for the two nights, and the following day, the reimbursement hit my bank account. I didn't feel I needed to burden them with additional photos of our successful summit on Day 2.

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