Mini Campfire in the Gulf Hagas Base Camp

One day, while hiking over a bog,I glimpsed this abandoned disk. Apparently someone with a chainsaw was creating steps for the soggy trail, and cast this one aside.
It seemed a great find, and although it was sodden, through and through, I fished it out and hauled it back to my base camp.

Every day going to and from work, I'd consider this round. In a fit of inspiration, I decided to make an Indian Bowl, thus killing two birds, as it were, with one stone.

After allowing this round to dry for two weeks, I began my project. Every night, after work, while sitting outside, I would place a few scraps of paper, two inches of mosquito "coil" (found in the junk drawer bin on location) and a bit of candle wax in the middle of the disk. Then, I'd light it on fire. The smoke wasn't too bad and the silver lining was it kept the hoards of mosquitoes at bay.

By utilizing small scraps of paper, bits of candle wax, and twigs, my mini campfire is sustainable and accomplishing multiple tasks. Getting rid of trash, keeping the bugs at bay, providing needed companionship, giving much needed light.

As a Leave No Trace educator, I found this campfire very rewarding. The land is not scared and the resources are not depleted.

Each morning before leaving for work, I scrape out the ashes, thus creating a bowl. When the season is over, I'll have a great souvenir of my season as Ridgerunner, stationed in the Gulf Hagas, 30 miles north of Monson, in the world renown 100 mile Wilderness of Maine.

Special notes: the metal plate below my campfire has one cup of water in it, thus preventing the base from getting too hot and scorching the platform.
Nearby, I keep a gallon of water, and metal bucket, should I need to extinguish the fire.
Before going to bed, I insure the fire is out, even scraping down to insure there are no glowing embers.
I never walk away from the fire, regardless how small it is. My home, the tent, is just a few feet away.
If there were high winds, I would not even attempt to have a fire, taking the road of caution, always.

Happy trails.

A complete video has been posted to my you tube channel. Other videos I've embedded here, seem to get cropped.

High Tide and Waiting

I took this short video while waiting on the north side of the Gulf Hagas River Crossing. My radio to the Katahdin Iron Works gate had died and there's no cell service. Thankfully, I was able to get a message out before communications with the staff was impossible. The river is down, and peace and quiet have returned. Thru hikers, both north and south, abound. Happy Trails.

War on the Appalachian Trail

My base camp is well thought out. I can cook under protection of mosquito netting, with a double canopy protecting me from the Rain gods. 

Maine is not to be taken lightly.

Mud, mosquitoes, roots, boulders.

Yes, you'll be swamped by all this and more.

South-bounders are facing wetter than normal conditions, but most are still smiling.

The mosquitoes and I are killing each other. I've declared war. Every time I go out of my tent, I secure the area by killing at least 100, then proceed with my tasks.

What tasks, you might ask, from the comfort of your air-conditioned, carpeted home with WIFI and electricity? (Do you sense a little creature envy...?)

Well, I get water from a nearby creek. Seems the skeeters love this activity the best. Can't tell you how many times they've chawed through my pants as I squatted to fill my gallon jug.

Then, there's the tightening of guy lines. Seems when I reach up to snug them up, one skeeter will always seek safety inside my nose. Can't tell you how many I've swallowed.

Then there's the privy situation.  One is quite vulnerable heading uphill, off the grid, to unfasten the door and avail oneself of a dry cathole.

Humm, one may ask, and rightly so, why am I doing this to myself? 
Cause I love the outdoors and meeting the hikers has been outstanding, the humor, the suffering. One guy complained about the leaves on the trail. I told him that was actually a good sign the water bars were doing their jobs.
Another complained a particular shelter looked like "the Projects" because of so much abandoned gear.

Please, hikers, carry out your trash, broken gear and extras. No one wants them either. By doing so, you will certainly feel the weight loss next section, and learn not to carry so much STUFF!

Happy trails. See you out there.

Rain In Maine is Insane

They're having a wet spring, I'm told and you won't find me arguing the point. The second day here in Maine, one of the Conservation Officers took us on a tour of the Bigelow Mountains. We headed down the road that would end at the Lodge, slowly but surely, admiring the torrential waters cresting as never before.

Locals tell me the water has not been this high, nor this ferocious.
Gradually we came to a complete stop and pondered the road ahead. I waited, wondering what was the problem, but when he got out to take a look, I knew it was serious. A few moments passed and I got out too, then retrieved my camera. I shielded it from the constant drizzle and took these photos. Both sides of the road were washed out, undercut along a culvert apparently too small for such flow. Steve told me the thaw allowed the water to force a passage beside the culvert. 

He then stretched caution tape across the road, and posted a stick and flag. The stick was nearly 6 feet tall. By the next day, early Sunday morning, road crews already fixed it along with several other areas.

Above, my coworker discovered a message in a jar, in another jar, inside a plastic container, buried under a previous caretaker's impromptu Patio. We worked all four days in the rain, rebuilding scree walls, opening drainages, transferring compost and picking up litter. He used a poncho. I lived in my silnylon gram weenie rain suit.

My boot blew out the side seam on the first bush whack up the mountain. I used electrical tape, then duct tape, then tied it with cord. As you can see, the tread is good. The leather just gave way under the soak and pressure. New boots are in order.I learned that most bindings will eventually wear away, or pull off in the rain and constant hiking of mountain work. The elastic band I used from day one, which you can see at the farthest right toe edge, lastest all 4 days.