I came to Maine to challenge myself. To kick my comfort zone to the curb and take risks. To follow my dreams at any and all cost. That burning drive lead me to the town of Millinocket Maine, in the heart of the Katahdin Region, looking to regain my long lost connection with nature and to develop my start-up, The Lightbulb Agency. Mt. Katahdin’s powerful energy drew me to the town of Millinocket, on a full harvest moon in Aries. A culmination of all my business planning at the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic.

Katahadin’s peak is a natural representation of what I hope to achieve in life, and in this town. An assent to the top proving my resilience to overcome any obstacle that may present itself. Above all, I need to be prepared. I need to know what I’m in for and if I’m up to the challenge. I got some basic gear and took to the trails. Starting with Daicey Pond and it’s gorgeous waterfalls, Sandy Stream Pond and it’s glorious views, and more challenging hikes like Chimney Pond and Trout Brook Mountain on the north side of the park through Patten. Each hike gradually prepared me for the challenges ahead. But none of those hikes came close to the sheer power of Doubletop Mountain in the fall, and what it would take to get to it’s peak and back down to safety.

Gear for the Hike

Needless to say, I was not fully prepared. I was told it would be challenging. However, I was not given any proper warning of what lie ahead. The Baxter State Park gatehouse staff did not check if I had proper safety gear, nor did they asses what level of hiker I was. They just got me through the gate as quickly as possible. I came equipped with gear primarily from the local Tractor Supply Co. A pair of Terrain Bootsfrom Ariat, A Carhart beanie, Blue Mountain gloves that were way too big for me, under layers from TSC, and a cheap pair of synthetic wool socks. I picked up my jacket at a local thrift shop in Florida. A heavily insulated Nike jacket in olive green, that’s as sporty as it is rugged.

For my backpack, I used my worn out dj laptop bag from Hershel, which I packed with two bottles of Poland Springs, Natures Promise grapes from Hannaford, a bag of Sunchips, and a turkey sandwich from Katahdin General. I was good in terms of food and water. However, in terms of clothing, I was not.

The Elements

The Double Top Mountain trail provides some challenging terrain, each challenge getting more and more significant the further up the Mountain you hike. There was a thick layer of fog in the air at the Chimney Pond campground. You could hear the sound of children playing tag and hide and go seek in the park along the base. After I parked, I got ready to embark on a 4.7 mile hike up the peak of Double Top mountain.

The start of the hike is a walk in the woods, with level terrain that’s pretty smooth sailing until you get to the first river crossing. That’s when I knew this wouldn’t be any old hike. The only way across was a brittle wooden log that was half submerged. Somehow I made it across this without getting my boots in above the soles. But the rivers, rocks, and waterfalls kept on coming, and at one point, the river itself BECOMES the trail. Good luck keeping your feet dry here. Finally the trail breaks open and you see the majestic Double Top mountain and the surrealness that lie ahead.

About two miles up, the snow and ice form.  It’s beginning to look alot like Christmas played on a loop in my head, and I even snapped a photo of some snow capped Christmas trees in their natural habitat, which was a first for me. And I just kept on hiking. My boots sloshing through ice, mud, and deep pockets of river that allowed no getting around.

 

Facing Fears & Terror

The snow, rivers, mud, and ice were just the beginning. The assent up the mountain was pure treachery, looming down on me like a nightmare that revisits me night after night. My fear of heights paralyzed me. I contemplated turning back, even though I had hiked for hours. I knew I was close and I couldn’t give up. The trail markers lined up on a steep rock waterfall, so I assumed the only way up was by way of rock climbing. There was no way in hell I was getting up there alive.

I looked for footprints of other hikers. I found a narrow ledge with just enough support from branches to pull myself up. However the fear was overwhelming. One wrong foot placement and I could have gone plummeting to my death, only to be left sprawled in a bloody heap for the rangers to find. Ice and snow lined every foothold, and branches would snap in half if you didn’t grab the right one. I asked myself what Indiana Jones would do, and just kept climbing.

Friends along the way

It felt good to know I wasn’t alone out there. During one of the more treacherous climbs, a group of hikers making their way down assisted me on getting up a dangerous ledge. Reassured me that the worst of the climb was over and the stunning views at the top were now close by. The air became more and more frigid as I climbed, and the wind pushed and pulled at me, giving me a preview of the weather just up

ahead. Then I bumped into a solo hiker @django2798 , who gave me some precautions to take for traveling downward, and some motivation to keep on pushing my way to the to the top.

 

Double Top Peak

No words and pictures could ever describe the feeling that takes over you when you reach Double Top’s peak. A rush of euphoria swept over me, humbled by the vastness of our planet.  I took as many pictures and video as I could, fighting against the wind to keep my balance to get the shots I came there for. My fear still creeping up, trying to hurry me along off the mountaintop. And for good reason, I had to get down! As I would find out the hard way, daylight didn’t plan on sticking around much longer.

The Descent

I was much more confident on the climb down. Thinking to myself oh, it’s much easier going down, and then almost slipping off an ice glazed rock just seconds after I’d though it, reminding me how unpredictable nature is. My confidence eroded quickly. I realized the trail was wetter and muddier than before, and my feet would end up soaking wet. Bordering on frostbite, I looked forward to stepping into the mud to give my feet some semblance of warmth. Reminder: always bring a fresh change of socks, or two!  As the sun settled, I realized I still had miles to go. If I didn’t hurry, I could’ve ended up hiking in the woods at night, no flashlight, and my phone battery on a deteriorating %10.

A team of hikers warned me about the impending darkness. Advising me to take a detour off of the Kidney pond trail, and make my way out to the main road, so In case it gets dark I don’t get lost. I reluctantly followed their advice, and the detour took me to a powerful river, nearly impossible to cross. My heart raced as I put my foot forth and got my boot soaked after submerging it in the flowing rapids. The hikers had mislead me, and I had to haul ass back to the main trail, loosing time and precious daylight.

Dusk

The forest was dark grey. I could feel the hairs on my neck start to rise. I could feel the presence of woodland creatures lurking in the shadows, many hungry. My heart was racing, my legs were giving out. My knees felt as if they were going to collapse as I jumped over giants roots and stones.  Not a single ranger on the trail. No one to hear me scream. But there it was, the last sign. Kidney Pond .3 miles up ahead! I had made it, with only seconds of dusk to spare.

The After Effects

My boots were soaking wet and muddy. Legs felt like rubber. Clothes were stained and damp. I was out of water. My mind was trying to process everything that happened and still focus on navigating me out of the park. It was pitch black. 11 miles to go. No cell service. I realized I had not let people know my whereabouts, and that my friends would be worried  knowing I went out hiking early morning and didn’t come back. I was right. It felt good knowing I was loved and cared about. That I had friends who had my back, and were ready to go looking for me if anything happened.

Getting home was a blur. I had to pry my boots off with a crowbar. I drew a scolding hot bath and soaked into a blissful state of meditation and reflection. Knowing I had scaled such a powerful mountain gave me a feeling of inner strength and calm. I knew that conquering Katahdin would be no easy feat, but I would more prepared than ever when Baxter State Park opens their gates after the long winter. For now, time to hibernate.

Lessons Learned

The most important thing you want to do, is tell people whom you know and trust that you’re going out hiking. You’re going to be in wilderness where there is no phone service and anything can happen. Second, make sure you have the right gear. Take time to get outfitted properly by quality Maine clothier such as L.L. Bean, or other reputable brads like Northface and Patagonia. Don’t skimp on the good stuff. Make sure your hiking shoe isn’t bulky like a boot, but more agile like a sneaker, and the has the ability to expel water and quick dry to keep your feet warm. Always pack extra socks. Make sure your gloves are thin enough to grip rocks and ledges firmly, but keep your hands dry at all times.

Don’t underestimate how long a mile hike is on a trail. 1 mile can feel like 5 or 10 miles on flat land. Try and hike with a group on more dangerous terrain, so they can help you out if anything goes wrong. Plan ahead and book a campsite near the base of the hike, so you can hit the trail bright and early in the morning and be back in time to start a fire and cook a warm meal.