TRIP REPORT - Stone Tower (Acadia)

            The abandoned road winds its way through the dark forest before coming to an abrupt end. Through a break in the trees, a clearing becomes visible. Sunlight bathes the small, somewhat out of place field. A strange shadow rises from the random opening in the woods. As you draw closer, the shadow takes form. The immaculately stacked stone blocks come into view. Before you stands a mysterious tower. A doorway at the base of the ominous structure leads inside. Enter the Stone Tower.

            In 1895, the Bar Harbor Water Company abandoned their original storage house and screen tank off the north eastern shore of Eagle Lake. A larger one was built upstream but the old one is still standing today, a two story stone tower constructed in 1887 with thick walls and an open doorway which peers up the twenty foot tall square shaft into the sky. Some of the original woodwork is still intact although a lot of it has been lost to time. Most of the blocks are sturdy as can be and show no sign of crumbling any time soon.

            Getting to the Stone Tower is actually quite easy, you just have to know where to look. Exit the Park Loop Road right after Great Hill, shortly before you get to the one-way section. This will bring you to Route 233 where you take a right towards Eagle Lake. At the bottom of the hill, just before the Eagle Lake parking lot, turn right onto Duck Brook Road, it will be the first road on your right. At the very beginning of the road there is a small dirt pull-off large enough only for a car or two. Park here and walk along Route 233 for a couple hundred feet, crossing over Duck Brook. On the other side of the bridge there will be a wide path in the woods on your right. That wide path was once a road paralleling Duck Brook and it will bring you directly to the Stone Tower.

            It is impossible to miss the abandoned road once you know to look for it. Across the street, it continues along Duck Brook where it meets the Eagle Lake carriage path. This area does offer a few more parking spots but they fill up rather quickly and require crossing the busy road. Right off the bat, you’ll notice two half acre foundations, once part of a water filtration system that was filled with sand as well as an aeration tank that helped eliminate the taste and odor of algae that grows in the lake. The former road is wide and level, making for a short and pleasant stroll through the pine forest. It follows Duck Brook, although the stream isn’t visible through the trees. Running alongside the road is a large mound of stones which once shielded the water pipes from frost.

            In just over 0.1 mile you’ll come to a clearing with the standpipe rising abruptly from the center of it. It’s not often you get to see a beautiful stone structure just sitting in the middle of the woods. So far there is no graffiti or vandalism present and I only hope we can keep it that way. This one is perfect for a dark rainy day or right before dusk, giving the area a haunted feel.

For more abandoned trails and forgotten places in Acadia National Park be sure to check out The Acadia You Haven't Seen, available now on Amazon in E-Book and Black & White format or http://www.matthewmarchon.weebly.com for your color copy today. Over 50 destinations including many you won't find anywhere online.

TRIP REPORT - The Eaglet and The Watcher (Franconia Notch, NH)

      In the early 1900's, Franconia Notch was not quite the notch we know and love today. The mountains were there of course, the lakes still sparkled, rivers raged and the stone faces protruding from the cliffs high above stoically watched over the affairs of mankind. There were hotels, as there are today, but not the ones we now spend the night in. There were once grand hotels located at the Flume, the base of Cannon Mountain, even a summit house atop the short but majestic Bald Mountain. With time, they disappeared, usually ravaged by fire. New hotels were constructed in easier to reach locations and the grand resorts became a thing of the past. But we lost more than a few impressive buildings, we lost a part of history.

      For decades we thought The Old Man Of The Mountains watched over Franconia Notch alone. When he fell, we never thought about how it might affect his life long companion, The Old Lady Of The Mountains. We forgot she was even there. If it weren't for a few old post cards, we may not know she ever existed in the first place. She goes by many names but is most commonly referred to simply as The Watcher.

      It is assumed there was once a trail that lead to the stone face high above the notch on Eagle Cliff. But if there was, we lost it over time. Perhaps we've gotten too lazy and don't care to see things we need to put effort into finding. It's much easier to drive by and look up than it is to actually go up. You can't exactly see The Watcher from the road, but once you know she's there, once you know where to look, you can't help but see her every time you pass through her notch. But to visit her firsthand, it's something you can't put into words. The beautiful danger of coming face to face with The Watcher is not for the faint of heart. I will tell you how to get there, but know this, if you do not respect the power of mother nature as well as your own limitations, both physical and mental, you may not live to tell the story.
 
      There is a trail to The Watcher, sort of. I do not know if this is the trail used over a hundred years ago by those who stayed at the Profile House but one thing is for certain, it brings us to the same destination, The Old Lady Of The Lake herself. The trail is easy enough to find, in fact it's located along the current Green Leaf trail that skirts the bottom of Eagle Cliff, eventually winding through Eagle's Pass and continuing up Mt Lafayette. If you aren't familiar with this less traveled trail up Mt Lafayette, it begins at the Cannon Mountain Tramway. Just walk under the bridge along the sidewalk and look to your left. There will be a trailhead a short ways up the ramp, that's the Green Leaf trail. Follow this easy part of the trail for approximately ten minutes and look for a lesser traveled trail on your left marked by a cairn. For those of you who don't know, a cairn is a small stack of rocks used to signify a trail. Without the cairn, the trail would appear to be nothing more than a dried up stream bed that crosses the path. If you miss the first one, there's another cairn a few feet ahead that will put you on the right track. From here, it gets pretty steep.

      The trail you're following is not actually for hikers, it's a rock climbing trail that leads to something equally as impressive as The Watcher, a feat of nature known as The Eaglet. The Eaglet is a spire of rock unlike any other in New England to a point where maybe 'unlike' isn't the correct term. You see, it is the only free standing rock spire on the entire East Coast, or so I'm told. I'm no geologist but to put it simply, we don't have rock formations like that around here. They belong out west. So naturally, any serious rock climber has to conquer the free standing spire of stone. Much like The Watcher, you can't quite see it from the road, but once you know it's there, you'll be slowing down traffic behind you every time you drive by, hoping to catch a glimpse of what few know is even there.

      Remember, this is their trail, the rock climbers are the only ones who use it so respect it and always give them the right of way. On a weekend, there will almost always be a group or two heading out to conquer The Eaglet. That said, the trail is quite easy to follow. No blazes, it's not an official trail, but the path is well worn and marked by cairns quite frequently. It starts out like any other trail in Franconia Notch, lots of roots and rocks and boulders to walk around. The higher you get, the larger the boulders. This is where the trail begins to get tricky and small amounts of rock climbing are necessary. The rock climbers don't mind, it's just a little warmup for them. But the average hiker may have a little difficulty using nearby tree trunks and exposed roots to pull themselves up small rock ledges in the path.

      Then through the trees you spot the ledges looming overhead, the Eaglet rising 300 feet from the base of the impressive cliffs. You won't miss it, it sticks out like the beak of a falcon. Coincidentally, peregrine falcons call these ledges home instead of the eagles the cliff was named after. Standing on a boulder, gazing up at the free standing spire of stone knocked the air from my lungs. My knees trembled a little, okay a lot, so I can't imagine what it's like for those about to scale its granite walls.


      As you get closer, it loses its shape to the rock wall behind it and the skies above it. But you can't look up the entire time, the trail needs your full attention. The mountain is as steep as it looks from the road, usually demanding as many points of contact as possible on its unofficial trail. This means you want your hands holding onto a strong branch or jagged piece of rock whenever possible. It's a little tricky but nothing too strenuous, remember, rock climbers are doing it with heavy packs and tons of rope over their shoulder. The rocks here are surprisingly firmly set without much in the way of wiggling, let alone loose stones falling with your every step. I felt quite safe on this trail, that is until I passed The Eaglet.

      This is where the trail stops, not even because this is where most people leave it to climb the breath taking tower of rock, but because there's nowhere to stack a cairn or slap on a blaze of colorful paint. This is where the rock slide truly begins. Or perhaps ends, depending on how you look at it. It starts off moderately with a few larger stones for footing and trees respectable enough in size to hang onto. But with every step, the stones get smaller and the trees get more feeble. The Eaglet gets further from view, once again taking its spectacular shape. If the Old Man Of The Mountains hadn't fallen over ten years ago, the pictures from this vantage point would be iconic. It's at this point in the climb when The Watcher truly comes into view. She watches silently from her perch on the ledges before you, but I could hear her thinking it, "stupid humans, they were never meant to climb this high on my ledges".

      The Watcher before you, The Eaglet behind you, cliffs to either side, unstable stones at your feet sliding out from beneath you with every subtle movement. I've been to many incredible places, none like this. There was a feeling of being somewhere I shouldn't have been. Somewhere I wasn't meant to be. It's that adrenaline rush that fuels your desire to go on. It is perhaps the most terrifying, breathtaking, beautiful, rugged and awe inspiring place I have ever been. So many emotions wrapped up in one 360 degree view.

      I continued on, rounding the cliff, leaving The Eaglet behind me, blocked from sight. A smaller ledge to the right of The Watcher juts out into the rock slide, giving you the option of traveling up that side of it instead where the loose rocks looked ever so slightly larger. But I stuck to the left, going straight for The Watcher.

      The stones I once used for leverage disappeared, leaving only the loose gravel. Every step was wasted as I'd slide down two, trying desperately to stop myself. The branches were useless to hold onto, they weren't even branches, they were merely twigs. It was here that I realized what a mistake I'd made. Going down this unbelievable slope would surely be impossible, my only hope was to make it to the top of the ridge and find another way down. I knew the bushwhacking would be difficult and steep and it would bring me out on the opposite side of the mountain from where my car was parked but there was nothing else to do. Going back down wasn't an option, from my precarious position rocks were sliding out from beneath my feet and tumbling down the steep and dangerous mountainside.

      Every movement sent me sliding down the unstable terrain with nothing to stop my fall. This is where panic sets in, when you realize you've painted yourself into a corner. You can't go up, and you can't go down. There I stood, if you can call it standing, twenty feet from the crest of the ridge with no way to get there. I'd read about others doing it, perhaps they're braver than I am, braver or more idiotic, but I knew my limitations. Those last twenty feet were not happening. Then again, neither was my descent, not safely at least. I thought to myself, "if I make it down alive, this is my last hike". It occurred to me that we put ourselves in these positions, but can never really explain why. Exercise? No, we could just easily run on a treadmill. The view? No, I'd already seen it a few hundred feet lower. The thrill? No, I'm no thrill seeker, hell, I'm afraid of heights. I think it has something to do with conquering things greater than yourself. That's the only explanation for doing something so stupid yet rewarding.

      I didn't make it to the top of the ridge. Did I fail? Not exactly, I only set out to see the two spectacular rock formations. Will not making it to the top haunt me? Yes, but it's better than being the one haunting the trail. I froze there, yes, in fear, but also because there was nothing else to do. Every movement put me in a deadly situation. I've lived an amazing life, I'm grateful for the past I made, but I can't wait for the future I still have yet to make. So, frozen there on the side of Eagle Cliff, I knew it wasn't the end for me. I rolled onto my back in the near vertical position, butt to the unstable stones beneath me, limbs spread, clawing at whatever they could find, and my eyes locked on the nearest rock or stump that might be large enough to break my fall, I began to slide, just a couple inches at a time. Loose rock gave way beside me, tumbling down in tiny avalanches that I begged to remain tiny. So much of our physical ability comes from a mental standpoint. A clear mind is necessary to accomplish the impossible. The hard part is clearing your mind, erasing the fear, or at least covering it up. So I did the only thing I could do in a location such as that to calm my nerves, I looked for pretty rocks. Anything to take my mind off sliding over the edge of a mountain. Getting control of the situation mentally is the first step in being able to handle it from a physical standpoint.

      First a tree, just make it to that tree. Okay you're there. Now to that slab of rock. Hey I think I can see the Eaglet in the distance. Yep, that's it. Keep going. Look at that, it's the rock ledge you should have stopped at you f--king idiot. Make it over the ledge you shouldn't have climbed up and you're halfway there. Once you make it to the base of the giant spire you're out of harm's way. Baby steps. Just take it a couple inches at a time.

      The going was slow but I eventually made it back to the base of the cliff, where the trees were able to grow and rocks were able to stop sliding to their death. Maybe they don't die, they just reproduce. Humans, humans would die. But I wasn't one of them. Heart pounding, knees trembling, I rose to my feet.

      I knew I would make it down safely simply because I had to. We know our own limitations, the key is to abide by them. We don't like to be limited, to know there are things we can't possibly do. That's why we try to do them. Don't push yourself too hard, just hard enough. You know when to call it quits, and you know what you're capable of. Mistakes happen, but we usually put ourselves in a position to make those mistakes.

      Is climbing a mountain really worth it? It shouldn't be, but for some reason it is. That's probably why you're reading this. Follow the path to The Eaglet, round the corner and catch a glimpse of The Watcher. But I would recommend keeping your distance. You'll know when to turn back. Follow that gut instinct. People die on these mountains. But even more of us are saved by them. This section of rock ledges truly is a sight to behold and I highly recommend seeing it, but the rock slide that follows is a risk that doesn't need to be taken. Make the view your destination, not the summit. There are other ways up there, safer ways, but this way has been done before and will surely be done again. This rugged piece of landscape is definitely something that you need to see for yourself, it's an experience like no other. Just be safe and make sure it's not the last experience you have.

[I have since returned and made it to the top of The Watcher. You can find out how in my off-trail hiking guide, The White Mountains You Haven't Seen, available now on Amazon.]

TRIP REPORT - The Great Cave (Acadia)

      In the late 1800's, even into the early 1900's, before Acadia was a national park, there were a number of dangerous trails leading to a natural work of art they called 'The Great Cave'. The trails were all closed sometime before the fire of 1947 that destroyed most of the island. Acadia National Park decided they didn't want people going to the Great Cave anymore and tried to erase all references to it, the only proof of its existence being on old maps and a few trail guides with vague descriptions.

     The Great Cave, lost for a century, has been discovered. I wasn't the first to find it, but I'll go ahead and be the first to tell you how to get there. But please, be respectful of this amazing place. Not many know it even exists but if you're reading this, I'm assuming you know about it and are searching for it. Remember, the trail is dangerous enough that the park pretends this natural wonder isn't there.

      The trail begins at the Precipice parking lot shortly before the section of the park loop road you have to pay to visit where Sand Beach and Thunder Hole reside. The Precipice trail is closed every year until August 15th when the endangered peregrine falcons are done nesting on the cliffs. Follow the trail for a few tenths of a mile up to the steep rock slide. About a third of the way up the slide over some difficult boulders, the trails veers to the right and begins its ascent up the deadly (yes, people die here) part of the trail where iron rungs and ladders are needed. Rather than follow the trail, go straight, straight up that rock slide. If you are not an experienced hiker I do not recommend doing this, it is extremely intimidating and humbling standing in the middle of a rock slide beneath enormous cliffs known for claiming lives.

      Honestly it's slightly easier once you leave the trail as the boulders get a little smaller, however, the mountain gets steeper. Aim for the break in the trees above the slide, this is where the old trail went, its remains can still be seen today. Once leaving the open rock slide, you'll enter the treacherous woods above it. It continues to get steeper, but this time there is only dirt and crumbling rocks at your feet with an occasional tree or branch to grab hold of. This type of terrain is extremely slow going, especially on your way back down. But once you hit the trees, you're almost there. (A father and his two sons saw my wife and I descending and assumed it was the trail, they were instead treated to a surprise visit to a lost cave but were so scared at this part of the 'trail' they almost turned back. They didn't, they made it.)

      Follow the remnants of the trail, at one point you actually ascend some century old stone steps placed there by famed trail maker Rudolph Brunnow long ago. You can clearly see the granite stairs starting in the lower right hand corner of the picture to assist you up the steep slope. Through the thin birch forest you can make out a dark spot in the massive rock wall, that's the Great Cave. The trees now block most of the view but I bet at one point you could get a clear shot of the ocean from the mouth of the cave.

      Standing at the foot of it is awe inspiring. It's not the 100 foot by 100 foot entrance described in old trail guides but believe me when I tell you pictures do it NO justice. Due to the color of the granite it's hard to distinguish the depth in photographs, seeing it with your own eyes is a sight to behold. There is a giant boulder lodged in the mouth of the cave hanging a good fifteen feet above you (but look closer and you'll realize its not a hanging boulder but actually a land bridge connecting the two massive rock ledges). The moss covered walls climb up to a crumbling ceiling that stays damp at all times, coated with moss and tiny ferns. The deepest part of the cave is dark (a flashlight isn't necessary) and most likely never sees even a minute of sunlight. I unfortunately didn't bring a tape measure but it must be close to fifty feet deep, maybe twelve feet wide at its widest, progressively getting tighter the further in you travel. I've been to some truly amazing places, this one is unlike any of them. It should have never been forgotten, but I suppose that makes it more special for those who find it.

https://www.amazon.com/Acadia-You-Havent-Seen-Abandoned-ebook/dp/B074N92TN9/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1505787301&sr=8-1&keywords=the+acadia+you+haven%27t+seen[A year later I returned with more knowledge on the subject and realized there is actually another easier trail leading to the cave as well as a trail leading away from it and back towards The Precipice path. This new information is in my book "The Acadia You Haven't Seen" along with over FIFTY other hidden and forgotten sites throughout the island.]

TRIP REPORT - Great Hill & the Roadside Cave (Acadia)

      Although the word ‘great’ is in its name, I honestly wasn’t expecting much. I figured it’d be a boring hike with an unimpressive view, it is a hill after all. Besides, they literally wiped it off the map, making no new trails to replace the old ones that were destroyed in the fire of 1947. So even though I’d known where to find it, it took me almost two years to finally climb it. Do not wait like I did, this one truly is great.


      After starting the park loop road at the visitor center in Hull’s Cove, you’ll notice there’s a few pull offs where you can stop for views. At 2.3 miles past the visitor center there will be a viewing area on the left with some exposed ledges on the other side of the road. You’ll know you’re at the right one if the plaque is telling you about the fire of ‘47. You also get a nice view of the ocean and the notch between Dorr and Cadillac Mountain.

     When facing the exposed ledges, look to the left and you’ll see a small break in the trees, that’s where the trail starts. Sometimes the park rangers drag logs and branches over the unmarked trail to keep people off of it but now that you know where to look, it won’t be too hard to find, just hop over their little roadblock. But first, that small cliff that looks like it could house a cave, well at least it always did to me, it actually does.

      At approximately the center of the cliff you’ll notice a split, this is where the cave begins. It requires some squeezing to get into, as well as ducking beneath a hanging rock suspended above you, but nothing too extreme. Once in the cave it gets a little tighter but still comfortable in size, well, as comfortable as can be when there isn’t enough room to stand. There is a horizontal gap in the cliff only a few inches wide that offers a limited view of the mountains but seeing anything from inside of a cave makes it that much better.                                     

         

     It is possible to make it all the way through the 40 foot cave and out the other side but it requires some crawling and shimmying. After the view through the crack the cave slopes downward towards its ridiculously small exit. If you choose to go all the way then prepare to get a little dirty and watch out for the pricker bushes on your way out but its worth it for the satisfaction of crawling all the way through a cave.

    Now that that’s out of the way its time to start the hike. This is a nice and easy trail, not to mention short, you’re already close to the summit when you begin your ascent. The hardest part about abandoned trails is finding and staying on them, this is the perfect one for beginners because its so easy to follow.

      The trail will take you over some exposed rock ledges before entering the trees again, and then again, and then again. The trail is always easy to find though, just look for the narrow path between the blueberry bushes. About halfway to the summit you’ll find yourself on some stone slabs with two unique boulders dumped off on the side of the mountain during the last ice age, glacial erratics. There’s a nice view from here similar to the one from the road, just a little higher and more private. Nice, but not great. Keep going.

       Follow the unmarked trail through the sparse forest and after a couple hundred feet you’ll see the true summit of the mountain peaking out through trees. This is where you’ll find your great view. A couple steps onto the rocky top made me understand where the name came from. The views are a full 360 degrees with plenty of space to wander around, explore, take pictures and pick blueberries. There’s a large pile of stones to mark the top but I’m told  park rangers have been known to knock them over in order to disguise the trail. The view truly is amazing. For the life of me I can’t understand why this isn’t an official trail. Believe me, this is something you have to see.

      But you’re not done yet. Great Hill actually has two summits, both of them the exact same height at 530 feet above sea level, although you’re only gaining 130 feet of elevation. The second viewing area is to the west and just slightly south of where you’re standing. You can see it on the other side of the col but it looks like nothing more than a bunch of trees. Make your way down into the wooded notch between the two summits, aiming just a bit to the left. The woods aren’t thick at all, making for easy bushwhacking. In just under a 0.1 mile you’ll find yourself on the second summit which has a very similar view with one major difference, Eagle Lake. From the first summit the lake is blocked by the mountain you’re now standing on, also opening up the view down into the swampy valley around Duck Brook.

    For the return trip it's possible to make this a loop hike, although it involves a bit more bushwhacking. Rather than go back the way you came you can follow the valley between the two summits back towards the road just a little over 0.1 mile away. Distance wise it’s the same whether you take the well worn path or the bushwhacking route. Also keep in mind, there had been multiple trails up and around Great Hill just waiting to be discovered.