1605 metres

that's right...just under a mile, how high mount katahdin, in maine north of millinocket, stands.  i've been to its apex, baxter peak, five times - aged ten to fourteen, trips exceeded in excitement only by my african safari in 1971.

at camp baldy we "trained" for the big climb by running out to the bog and back - about a mile - [in those days you could walk out the back door of camp and not cross a road until you hit the canadian border, about 70 miles] carrying old army backpacks filled, sometimes with stones, mostly with just blankets and messkits.

katahdin itself was hidden beyond the foothills when we arrived by car at the roaring brook ranger's station some miles north of millinocket and the starting point for our three mile climb to chimney pond.  it was from that camp we'd begin our ascent of the mountain.

chimney pond, a crystal clear, circular mountain tarn, lay at the base of the "chimney" an ascent to baxter peak which only - it was alleged - experienced, well equipped mountain climbers could master.  at age ten, looking up from the rocky shore i was convinced of that truth and shivered slightly at the thought of all those ropes and pitons and picks and rock axes it would take to get to the top.  but, not to worry, there were easier ways.

first we had to establish our campsite.

the hike from the roaring brook base was mostly uphill over three ridges, broken only by a stop at long pond where some previous traveler - or ranger - had hung a tin cup on a nail in a post so that we could quench our thirst.  [can you imagine doing that today...water straight from the pond.]  the chimney pond camp consisted of one bunk house, which we ignored, and several leantos, one of which we chose.  i'm sure there were latrines but i don't recall, my memory being selective.

besides the "chimney" there were three approaches to  the peak - the saddle trail, easiest but longest - the cathedral trail, marked by three thousand-odd foot "cathedrals" or steps - and the dudley trail, off which there was a cave said to be a holy place by the local indians.  we used the first two as approaches and the last for our descents.  the saddle and cathedral ended on a wide mountain plateau which led to baxter peak.  from there to the beginning of the dudley one had to cross the half mile " knife edge" a narrow trail skirting the chimney wall on the left and a vast, steep field of mountain scree on the right.

man, this was exciting stuff for a ten year old kid.

we fairly ran up and down the mountain for the next two days wearing shorts and t-shirts, stumbling around in our new l.l. bean moccasins, flannel shirts tied around our waists.  nobody fell off any of the imposing cathedrals, we did cartwheels [much to our counselors horror] on knife edge, and clambered down dudley without stirring up any of the ancient storm gods of indian legend.  and nobody, but nobody, wore a helmet, knee pads, gloves, or a bullet proof vest.

no camper was ever injured - and i did it five times.  oh, and there were girls along, too.