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Gregory Karl Pics
MudRat Pics
4/7/2012
I’ve been trying to get to the Moose Mountain slides for years and with a dry spring, figured that conditions didn’t get much better for the bushwhack from pond to slide bottom. Thankfully Gregory Karl accepted my invitation to go explore.
Northern Slide Tribs from Franklin Falls Pond. This was NOT the pond from which we bushwhacked and is almost 5 miles from where I took the pic to the slide base. Moose Pond approach is shorter.
We began at 8:15 a.m. from Moose Pond boat launch and followed a beaten shoreline path over to the first stream. The 10 foot wide stream was easy to cross on a mossy log, though Greg opted for a beaver dam a bit higher. After discussing the remaining route details, we decided to head toward the slide and aim for an innocuous bump just to the right of the northwest slide’s drainage in hopes it would give us a close view of the slide.
The terrain was pleasant through an open hardwood forest dotted with occasional groups of hemlock. The bare trees allowed for easy line of sight navigation though Gregory kept us on a fine track via his compass. The second stream, an obvious outlet from Grass Pond to our nne was also riddled with beaver activity. We crossed at an old blown-out dam. A quick leap cleared the narrow stream. A wet spring, however, would likely make for a wet crossing of the area. Several other lowlands riddled the area, though we avoided them on our heading. Congenial conversation, pleasurable terrain and patchy light snow-cover found us near the bump about two hours later. I think we missed the prominence, but encountered the nw slide drainage.
Along the banks of the drainage, we were able to spy the mid to upper slide segments. Four foot high debris piles along the edges were host to small trees and the deep (15 foot) drainage was dominated by rubble at 2,500’. It was also covered in about two inches of snow. I groaned at the white carpet in the drainage and underfoot. Neither of us brought microspikes and crampons, attached to our packs, would have been overkill at this point. We stayed in the adjacent woods and slipped our way upward toward the lower slabs. Eventually, we resorted to rock/ice hopping in the drainage, a delicate endeavor that plunged Greg through a thin sheet of ice at one point. Gortex kept him dry.
Northwestern Slide
10:30 a.m. found us at the first snow and ice covered portion of slab where we donned crampons and took the axes off our packs. They weren’t so much for climbing as self-arrest if needed. A hundred foot higher the snow remained on the right-hand portion, while the left boasted open slab with scattered verglas. I changed to rock climbing shoes while Gregory changed into approach shoes at about 3000 feet in elevation. It felt odd wearing climbing shoes while carrying an ice ax…the ax was overkill, in hindsight.
The slide contained more slab than I expected. The dominant portions of slab were near the bottom, some red from algae, some wet from runoff. Rubble and ledges replaced open slab. Spruce poked through the snow, mainly on the right-hand side. The view behind showed our approach from the pond wonderfully, the various ups and downs reduced to a seemingly flat landscape. Moose and Grass Ponds looked inviting from a distance. Small lenticular clouds built in the sky far beyond as a cold breeze blew from the northwest. It was a small gem of a slide worth the 2.5 hour walk in a beautiful forest.
Midway up the slide, small ledges became the rule. Clean rock outweighed any small patches of ice or snow on the surface, though we did have to backtrack to cross the ice at one point. Nearer the top at about 3,300’, we approached a larger ledge. Fat ice flows dominated the southwestern side and a portion of the center. The fifteen foot high feature begged to be climbed and I tried to oblige. Somewhere between me fumbling around avoiding the intermitted ice, Gregory circumvented and climbed some smaller, more convenient ledges. Realizing it was probably possible, but possibly hazardous, I followed. The upper 100’ was primarily rubble that tapered to a narrow point in the spruce forest. It was noon when we ate a snack and watched the clouds overtake the formerly blue sky.
Northern Slide
Our next task was to trek to the lowest elevation of open rock on the thinner northern slide. We discussed our options and I caved into Gregory’s idea to enter the spruce from the top of the northwestern slide and bushwhack down 600’ over 1/3 of a mile to the northeast. It was a good choice. By our standards it was a comfortable traverse with the tightest growth at shoulder width or flexible enough to push aside. The inherent challenge was descending some rather steep sections without traction…soon to become a theme.
Eventually the conifers gave way to hardwoods and small drainages began to appear underfoot. Carelessly, I stepped onto the ice and plunged into the icy runoff almost to my knee. I wasn’t wearing gaiter or gortex, so the water saturated both boot and socks. The cold sloshing water eventually warmed, however slightly. A few minutes later we found the drainage and followed it up to the open rock above a messy pile of old destruction. The trees were gray from years of decomposition, but still supportive if not a bit brittle. My thoughts, however, wandered first to food and then to wringing the water from my sock. The snow was gradually increasing in depth and my toes were numb.
It was 1:00 p.m. when we arrived and changed back into crampons, joking about the umpteenth change in footwear. The first portion was the widest and closed in within about 100 feet. Ice flows hid most of the impressive stone of the footwall, but enough anorthosite showed to reveal its nature…a few larger ledges and intermediate steps that led to a gentler area of more open slab.
About 560 ground feet up, the slide split. We followed the eastern tributary for a short portion. Small ledges and mainly rubble dominated to a turn in direction. Our goal was the western leg, however, and we traversed through the short span of woods to find ourselves on a steep span of ice/snow-covered slab which quickly transitioned to rubble. It was a thin slide, hardly worthy of note until the headwall.
The right tributary got wider at about 3,350 in elevation and unveiled a view of the steep and tempting headwall. It too begged to be climbed. It was about 45 degrees with some small ledges for footholds, but we stayed to the edges rather than change to climbing shoes once again. My feet were again numb even while walking and a chill wind was more persistent. The clouds were closing in. Playing around with another footwear change seemed unwise since it would also mean some rather delicate climbing to avoid several areas of verglas and snow.
From slide top to summit took another fifteen more minutes. At the top of a chute to the left of a ledge, I found spot needing slightly more concentration and effort to get up a small vertical ledge. I believe I described the area as, “Looking good.” My opinion differed from Gregory’s. As I committed myself to the effort and fought to maintain my upward momentum in combination with balance, Gregory quipped a hysterical jab regarding my route. I lost the battle with gravity and traction as I laughed and slid/fell back down. A few more minutes of bushwhacking led us to the trail just below the summit at 2:00 p.m…a thoroughly successful day, but one that was far from over.
Exit
Given that the entire day was one long bushwhack except for a few hundred yards on the trail from Moose’s summit toward McKenzie, I figured a return route might be to head northwest from the trail at a low point…toward Moose Pond. The theory was sound, at least.
We broke away from the trail and descended northwest toward the pond…adjacent to, but one ridge over from the northwestern slide. It became a tiring ordeal. The trees were relatively tight, but flexible once again. Our footing was the main irritant. Without traction, the few inches of wet snow compacted and sent us sliding with every footstep if we weren’t braced. About 700’ below the summit, several Monty Python quotes and an hour later, the forest opened as blowdown increased near the drainage…normal. We side-sloped first on the left and then the right trying to stay above the drainage by about 50 vertical feet. Snow continued to play with our footing.
Eventually, the snow disappeared as we dropped below 2500’ so. Hardwoods replaced the tight spruce as I sighed in relief. Gregory began talking about the stream heading a bit more westerly as we descended past the 2000’ mark. I listened and between talking and just enjoying the exploration, inadvertently ignored him and continued to followed the stream. I knew we were still basically heading toward Moose Pond, so I wasn’t particularly concerned. Besides, he didn’t hit me over the head with a rock, so I knew figured it couldn’t be that bad…
We followed the drainage through a series of small hillocks and lowlands for about 1.5 miles before coming to a small acid pond, a graveyard of trees. It was about 700’ across at its widest surrounded by sphagnum as normal. Neither of us knew precisely where it was in relation to our actual objective. As I pondered the area, the distant call of a great horned owl seemed to laugh at our arrival. The hoots, if roughly translated, probably meant, “Wrong pond you idiot.”
I pulled out a satellite image and was confident of our location after looking at the pic…1/2 mile due south of our true target. I also figured if I was wrong, Greg was tired enough from the extra mile and one half that I could outrun him should he come after me with a stick
. The owl was still hooting as we climbed the first hill away from the pond-I ignored the possible translation.
After another twenty minutes and some three hills of extra elevation gain…on a strictly enforced northerly heading, we found Moose Pond. It was 6:10. I recognized the southeastern shoreline from a kayak trip last year when my wife, parents and I went ashore only to find a mating ball of garter snakes, but that’s a different story.
Greg and I followed a herd path through the brown tufts of grass along the end of the Grass Pond outlet. Upon finding the actual stream, I crossed on a sturdy log, turned around and watched Greg breach a rickety beaver dam with one leg. After draining his gortex shoe…great for keeping water in as well as out…we found the herdpath and got back to the car at 6:50 p.m. The route in full was about 9.5 miles over 3,500 feet of vertical gain. Twas a great day in the woods full of many hidden jewels. Thanks for the company Greg!!!!
Gregory Karl Pics
MudRat Pics
4/7/2012
I’ve been trying to get to the Moose Mountain slides for years and with a dry spring, figured that conditions didn’t get much better for the bushwhack from pond to slide bottom. Thankfully Gregory Karl accepted my invitation to go explore.
Northern Slide Tribs from Franklin Falls Pond. This was NOT the pond from which we bushwhacked and is almost 5 miles from where I took the pic to the slide base. Moose Pond approach is shorter.We began at 8:15 a.m. from Moose Pond boat launch and followed a beaten shoreline path over to the first stream. The 10 foot wide stream was easy to cross on a mossy log, though Greg opted for a beaver dam a bit higher. After discussing the remaining route details, we decided to head toward the slide and aim for an innocuous bump just to the right of the northwest slide’s drainage in hopes it would give us a close view of the slide.
The terrain was pleasant through an open hardwood forest dotted with occasional groups of hemlock. The bare trees allowed for easy line of sight navigation though Gregory kept us on a fine track via his compass. The second stream, an obvious outlet from Grass Pond to our nne was also riddled with beaver activity. We crossed at an old blown-out dam. A quick leap cleared the narrow stream. A wet spring, however, would likely make for a wet crossing of the area. Several other lowlands riddled the area, though we avoided them on our heading. Congenial conversation, pleasurable terrain and patchy light snow-cover found us near the bump about two hours later. I think we missed the prominence, but encountered the nw slide drainage.
Along the banks of the drainage, we were able to spy the mid to upper slide segments. Four foot high debris piles along the edges were host to small trees and the deep (15 foot) drainage was dominated by rubble at 2,500’. It was also covered in about two inches of snow. I groaned at the white carpet in the drainage and underfoot. Neither of us brought microspikes and crampons, attached to our packs, would have been overkill at this point. We stayed in the adjacent woods and slipped our way upward toward the lower slabs. Eventually, we resorted to rock/ice hopping in the drainage, a delicate endeavor that plunged Greg through a thin sheet of ice at one point. Gortex kept him dry.
Northwestern Slide
10:30 a.m. found us at the first snow and ice covered portion of slab where we donned crampons and took the axes off our packs. They weren’t so much for climbing as self-arrest if needed. A hundred foot higher the snow remained on the right-hand portion, while the left boasted open slab with scattered verglas. I changed to rock climbing shoes while Gregory changed into approach shoes at about 3000 feet in elevation. It felt odd wearing climbing shoes while carrying an ice ax…the ax was overkill, in hindsight.
The slide contained more slab than I expected. The dominant portions of slab were near the bottom, some red from algae, some wet from runoff. Rubble and ledges replaced open slab. Spruce poked through the snow, mainly on the right-hand side. The view behind showed our approach from the pond wonderfully, the various ups and downs reduced to a seemingly flat landscape. Moose and Grass Ponds looked inviting from a distance. Small lenticular clouds built in the sky far beyond as a cold breeze blew from the northwest. It was a small gem of a slide worth the 2.5 hour walk in a beautiful forest.
Midway up the slide, small ledges became the rule. Clean rock outweighed any small patches of ice or snow on the surface, though we did have to backtrack to cross the ice at one point. Nearer the top at about 3,300’, we approached a larger ledge. Fat ice flows dominated the southwestern side and a portion of the center. The fifteen foot high feature begged to be climbed and I tried to oblige. Somewhere between me fumbling around avoiding the intermitted ice, Gregory circumvented and climbed some smaller, more convenient ledges. Realizing it was probably possible, but possibly hazardous, I followed. The upper 100’ was primarily rubble that tapered to a narrow point in the spruce forest. It was noon when we ate a snack and watched the clouds overtake the formerly blue sky.
Northern Slide
Our next task was to trek to the lowest elevation of open rock on the thinner northern slide. We discussed our options and I caved into Gregory’s idea to enter the spruce from the top of the northwestern slide and bushwhack down 600’ over 1/3 of a mile to the northeast. It was a good choice. By our standards it was a comfortable traverse with the tightest growth at shoulder width or flexible enough to push aside. The inherent challenge was descending some rather steep sections without traction…soon to become a theme.
Eventually the conifers gave way to hardwoods and small drainages began to appear underfoot. Carelessly, I stepped onto the ice and plunged into the icy runoff almost to my knee. I wasn’t wearing gaiter or gortex, so the water saturated both boot and socks. The cold sloshing water eventually warmed, however slightly. A few minutes later we found the drainage and followed it up to the open rock above a messy pile of old destruction. The trees were gray from years of decomposition, but still supportive if not a bit brittle. My thoughts, however, wandered first to food and then to wringing the water from my sock. The snow was gradually increasing in depth and my toes were numb.
It was 1:00 p.m. when we arrived and changed back into crampons, joking about the umpteenth change in footwear. The first portion was the widest and closed in within about 100 feet. Ice flows hid most of the impressive stone of the footwall, but enough anorthosite showed to reveal its nature…a few larger ledges and intermediate steps that led to a gentler area of more open slab.
About 560 ground feet up, the slide split. We followed the eastern tributary for a short portion. Small ledges and mainly rubble dominated to a turn in direction. Our goal was the western leg, however, and we traversed through the short span of woods to find ourselves on a steep span of ice/snow-covered slab which quickly transitioned to rubble. It was a thin slide, hardly worthy of note until the headwall.
The right tributary got wider at about 3,350 in elevation and unveiled a view of the steep and tempting headwall. It too begged to be climbed. It was about 45 degrees with some small ledges for footholds, but we stayed to the edges rather than change to climbing shoes once again. My feet were again numb even while walking and a chill wind was more persistent. The clouds were closing in. Playing around with another footwear change seemed unwise since it would also mean some rather delicate climbing to avoid several areas of verglas and snow.
From slide top to summit took another fifteen more minutes. At the top of a chute to the left of a ledge, I found spot needing slightly more concentration and effort to get up a small vertical ledge. I believe I described the area as, “Looking good.” My opinion differed from Gregory’s. As I committed myself to the effort and fought to maintain my upward momentum in combination with balance, Gregory quipped a hysterical jab regarding my route. I lost the battle with gravity and traction as I laughed and slid/fell back down. A few more minutes of bushwhacking led us to the trail just below the summit at 2:00 p.m…a thoroughly successful day, but one that was far from over.
Exit
Given that the entire day was one long bushwhack except for a few hundred yards on the trail from Moose’s summit toward McKenzie, I figured a return route might be to head northwest from the trail at a low point…toward Moose Pond. The theory was sound, at least.
We broke away from the trail and descended northwest toward the pond…adjacent to, but one ridge over from the northwestern slide. It became a tiring ordeal. The trees were relatively tight, but flexible once again. Our footing was the main irritant. Without traction, the few inches of wet snow compacted and sent us sliding with every footstep if we weren’t braced. About 700’ below the summit, several Monty Python quotes and an hour later, the forest opened as blowdown increased near the drainage…normal. We side-sloped first on the left and then the right trying to stay above the drainage by about 50 vertical feet. Snow continued to play with our footing.
Eventually, the snow disappeared as we dropped below 2500’ so. Hardwoods replaced the tight spruce as I sighed in relief. Gregory began talking about the stream heading a bit more westerly as we descended past the 2000’ mark. I listened and between talking and just enjoying the exploration, inadvertently ignored him and continued to followed the stream. I knew we were still basically heading toward Moose Pond, so I wasn’t particularly concerned. Besides, he didn’t hit me over the head with a rock, so I knew figured it couldn’t be that bad…
We followed the drainage through a series of small hillocks and lowlands for about 1.5 miles before coming to a small acid pond, a graveyard of trees. It was about 700’ across at its widest surrounded by sphagnum as normal. Neither of us knew precisely where it was in relation to our actual objective. As I pondered the area, the distant call of a great horned owl seemed to laugh at our arrival. The hoots, if roughly translated, probably meant, “Wrong pond you idiot.”
I pulled out a satellite image and was confident of our location after looking at the pic…1/2 mile due south of our true target. I also figured if I was wrong, Greg was tired enough from the extra mile and one half that I could outrun him should he come after me with a stick
. The owl was still hooting as we climbed the first hill away from the pond-I ignored the possible translation.After another twenty minutes and some three hills of extra elevation gain…on a strictly enforced northerly heading, we found Moose Pond. It was 6:10. I recognized the southeastern shoreline from a kayak trip last year when my wife, parents and I went ashore only to find a mating ball of garter snakes, but that’s a different story.
Greg and I followed a herd path through the brown tufts of grass along the end of the Grass Pond outlet. Upon finding the actual stream, I crossed on a sturdy log, turned around and watched Greg breach a rickety beaver dam with one leg. After draining his gortex shoe…great for keeping water in as well as out…we found the herdpath and got back to the car at 6:50 p.m. The route in full was about 9.5 miles over 3,500 feet of vertical gain. Twas a great day in the woods full of many hidden jewels. Thanks for the company Greg!!!!
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