[Redacted] Boulders
[redacted], Me
Aug 2010
It has been quite some time since I last climbed in Maine. Even when I was climbing in Maine the last time we hardly ever bouldered. Back then we were young hard bodies who scoffed at the idea of bouldering only a few dozen feet off the ground. If we were attempting free solos and other kamikaze attempts hundreds of feet off the ground, why would we bother with screwing around on a rock only dozens of feet off the ground.
In the 8 or 9 years since I was pulling down on all sorts of granite craziness, bouldering has become my premier appeal. Maybe since then I've mellowed with age or gotten wiser or just plain wimpier. I don't know really. On this trip however I really wanted to see what Maine bouldering was all about. I felt like I had never really given it a fair shake. This trip we would go at it fiercely.
Finding a collection of 20 foot high rocks in the middle of the wilds of Maine can be about as easy as finding a virgin at Club Med to do the butt chug. Its possible without knowing what you're looking for but probably not gonna happen no matter how much you drink. I managed to track down a couple soggy old crag hounds that helped point me in the proper direction. We figured to start out at [redacted] early in the week to see how it went before trying out the infamous [redacted] boulders out in [redacted]. For [redacted] our directions read as such;
-start at the [redacted] entrance of the park.
-park in the abandoned lot to the south of the jungle gym.
-head up the trail.
-after the third wooden staircase veer right into the woods.
-stop at the 20ft. high slab.
-put your back to the slab and walk into the forest for 10- 15 minutes.
With a full belly of barely and these hastily scribbled directions in my trusty notebook we beat feet to [Redacted] Mountain. I thought finding this unclaimed mecca sounded easy enough. Little did we know. The slab we were looking for turned out to be about 50 feet long and curved gently back into the trees about 90 degrees from start to finish. The left-most tip of the slab points almost directly due south while the right most terminus of the slab pointed leisurely to the west. Depending on where you started walking straight into the woods after 15 minutes of hoofing it you could end up either generally misplaced, more or less lost, or royally screwed. We climbed to the top of the slab to have a better look. All we could see were massive pine trees and dark gray thunder clouds. Royally screwed seemed more and more like our final destination.
We decided to split the difference. We would start smack dab in the middle of the slab and slowly work our way South-Southwest. Worst case scenario we would end up some where on the road. Okay maybe this wasn't the worst case scenario-- hearing dueling banjos baring down on our flank, getting lost in the quagmire & catching ebola from pesky 'squiters, or stepping in a bear trap and having to chew our own leg off would be plausible worser worst cases-- but we were trying to stay positive.
To make a long story short, we scaled down the mountain side like hunger-crazed Bear Grills w/ a plump defenseless banana slug in sight. We crossed raging storm swollen ravines using only our wits. We mucked through Amazonian like swamps in our bare feet. We spent two grueling hours huffing and puffing and sweating balls scouring the cliff sides for any sign of bouldering Valhalla. And eventually we were rewarded by the site of the car. Daaaaaaaaaaang! Back up the mountain we went to give the right side of the ridge line a shot.
Yah we found approximately 12 minutes later. After going right. Straight down the saddle. 12 bloody minutes! And at this point we were so frikin' lost we had no idea how to get back. We (and by we I mean Boston Jon) felt like an ass. But what is important is that we found it. In the rain. At sunset. We came back everyday rain or shine for a week. We really only left to get more beer and 'cause Mom was calling us in for dinner.
[redacted], Me
Aug 2010
It has been quite some time since I last climbed in Maine. Even when I was climbing in Maine the last time we hardly ever bouldered. Back then we were young hard bodies who scoffed at the idea of bouldering only a few dozen feet off the ground. If we were attempting free solos and other kamikaze attempts hundreds of feet off the ground, why would we bother with screwing around on a rock only dozens of feet off the ground.
In the 8 or 9 years since I was pulling down on all sorts of granite craziness, bouldering has become my premier appeal. Maybe since then I've mellowed with age or gotten wiser or just plain wimpier. I don't know really. On this trip however I really wanted to see what Maine bouldering was all about. I felt like I had never really given it a fair shake. This trip we would go at it fiercely.
Finding a collection of 20 foot high rocks in the middle of the wilds of Maine can be about as easy as finding a virgin at Club Med to do the butt chug. Its possible without knowing what you're looking for but probably not gonna happen no matter how much you drink. I managed to track down a couple soggy old crag hounds that helped point me in the proper direction. We figured to start out at [redacted] early in the week to see how it went before trying out the infamous [redacted] boulders out in [redacted]. For [redacted] our directions read as such;
-start at the [redacted] entrance of the park.
-park in the abandoned lot to the south of the jungle gym.
-head up the trail.
-after the third wooden staircase veer right into the woods.
-stop at the 20ft. high slab.
-put your back to the slab and walk into the forest for 10- 15 minutes.
With a full belly of barely and these hastily scribbled directions in my trusty notebook we beat feet to [Redacted] Mountain. I thought finding this unclaimed mecca sounded easy enough. Little did we know. The slab we were looking for turned out to be about 50 feet long and curved gently back into the trees about 90 degrees from start to finish. The left-most tip of the slab points almost directly due south while the right most terminus of the slab pointed leisurely to the west. Depending on where you started walking straight into the woods after 15 minutes of hoofing it you could end up either generally misplaced, more or less lost, or royally screwed. We climbed to the top of the slab to have a better look. All we could see were massive pine trees and dark gray thunder clouds. Royally screwed seemed more and more like our final destination.
We decided to split the difference. We would start smack dab in the middle of the slab and slowly work our way South-Southwest. Worst case scenario we would end up some where on the road. Okay maybe this wasn't the worst case scenario-- hearing dueling banjos baring down on our flank, getting lost in the quagmire & catching ebola from pesky 'squiters, or stepping in a bear trap and having to chew our own leg off would be plausible worser worst cases-- but we were trying to stay positive.
To make a long story short, we scaled down the mountain side like hunger-crazed Bear Grills w/ a plump defenseless banana slug in sight. We crossed raging storm swollen ravines using only our wits. We mucked through Amazonian like swamps in our bare feet. We spent two grueling hours huffing and puffing and sweating balls scouring the cliff sides for any sign of bouldering Valhalla. And eventually we were rewarded by the site of the car. Daaaaaaaaaaang! Back up the mountain we went to give the right side of the ridge line a shot.
Yah we found approximately 12 minutes later. After going right. Straight down the saddle. 12 bloody minutes! And at this point we were so frikin' lost we had no idea how to get back. We (and by we I mean Boston Jon) felt like an ass. But what is important is that we found it. In the rain. At sunset. We came back everyday rain or shine for a week. We really only left to get more beer and 'cause Mom was calling us in for dinner.
When you see this you know you are close.
Self-portrait, obviously.
The sis.
Boston Jon warming up for the day, Cha Cha Cha Chia Pet Fondue boulder.
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