Please don't get a flat a tire...
"The road into Hay Brook is a little rough."
I should have known what that meant.
Coming from the been-here-a-long-while man at the KIW gatehouse, that phrase translates to; "It's like driving over a partially washed out plowed field, with some loose rocks on top."
Some folks may think venturing off alone to Gulf Hagas for a day of hiking is foolhardy. I don't believe the hiking part is foolhardy, but the drive into the parking area may have been. Sadie is not such a big fan of water, particularly moving water, so I wanted to avoid the ford of the West Branch. Hay Brook is the trailhead that allows you to do that and I headed there.
Many bumps, jostles, and oh-shits later, I started singing (to the tune of "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow") "please don't get a flat tire, please don't get a flat tire, please don't get a flat tiiiirrrre!, please don't get a flat tire."
In the end, going slow and singing that song made it work. Daniel's truck, Sadie, and I made it in to the trailhead and back out again, with a great hike in between.
The slow drive in made me really appreciate how seemingly far out I was going for the day, which is why I was surprised to see so many other folks doing the Gulf Hagas loop. My previous experiences at the Gulf were during a weekend-long camping trip and while section hiking the 100 Mile Wilderness of the AT. It always felt like an "approach by foot after a lot of hiking" kind of place and not a "drive in for a quick walk" kind of place. But apparently I was wrong. The Grand Canyon of Maine may not be a secret spot but it is still a great hike. And I was happy to see so many families out enjoying this beautiful part of the state.
One question keeps nagging at me, though. How is it that I saw dozens of people during a hike in a quite remote area of Maine, but I can go for a two-hour run in the University Forest of Orono/Old Town and only see a handful? Am I over-reacting to worry it is a symptom of this general belief that experiencing nature requires a drive and a trail map? I hope I'm over-reacting but if not, I've got the right job.
I should have known what that meant.
Coming from the been-here-a-long-while man at the KIW gatehouse, that phrase translates to; "It's like driving over a partially washed out plowed field, with some loose rocks on top."
Some folks may think venturing off alone to Gulf Hagas for a day of hiking is foolhardy. I don't believe the hiking part is foolhardy, but the drive into the parking area may have been. Sadie is not such a big fan of water, particularly moving water, so I wanted to avoid the ford of the West Branch. Hay Brook is the trailhead that allows you to do that and I headed there.
Many bumps, jostles, and oh-shits later, I started singing (to the tune of "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow") "please don't get a flat tire, please don't get a flat tire, please don't get a flat tiiiirrrre!, please don't get a flat tire."
In the end, going slow and singing that song made it work. Daniel's truck, Sadie, and I made it in to the trailhead and back out again, with a great hike in between.
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| Sadie checking out the Gulf. |
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One question keeps nagging at me, though. How is it that I saw dozens of people during a hike in a quite remote area of Maine, but I can go for a two-hour run in the University Forest of Orono/Old Town and only see a handful? Am I over-reacting to worry it is a symptom of this general belief that experiencing nature requires a drive and a trail map? I hope I'm over-reacting but if not, I've got the right job.
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