Day 2 - Mt Sugarloaf and a Sunset

Our second day was spent roving. We started in the north, at a nameless mountain, identified as Mt. Forest by the locals.

I had seen this mountain years ago and admired its tall slabs. We drove the back roads trying to find the base of the slabs. Finally, at the closest approach, we found a small house, with a large wood hanging chair, on which a young woman with shaggy black hair standing out, sunglasses across her eyes, rocked back and forth, listening to her walkman. She slid her headphones back as we pulled up. We asked her if there was a trail, and she shoved a thumb over her shoulder. "Right back there," she replied. It went right through the yard. "Can we go up?" "Sure!" she replied brightly.

As we got out of the car, the other resident, an older man, with great difficulty speaking, tried to tell us stories about the place. He could have been a little frightening, but he was small and frail. In moments we were in the woods, and in minutes, we were at the base of the cliff. We found enormous bones that could only have belonged to a moose. Perhaps, years ago, one rainy night, he had tried to walk on a ledge far above and had fallen, slding into the woods, shattering his legs, dying. It was sad, but strange. We brought some bones home for our nature collection.

The rest of the day we spent at Mt. Sugarloaf, hiking both North and Middle Sugarloaf, mountains in the 2700 foot range.

The trails were snarled with vein-like roots, and several granite boulders, the size of large sheds, split and shattered, perhaps by their fall, perhaps by ages of weather, were obstacles that redirected the path.

Roots on the trail

The split boulder

At the summit, we had a broad view of the landscape. Under the low clouds, it seemed like a strangely patterned rainforest in its lush green. Logged areas, in various stages of reforestation, were like symbols scribed on the forest, impossible to read, but beautiful in the texture they added.

View from Middle Sugarloaf

We found small birds on the summit - Slate-Eyed Juncos - which were frequent guests at our winter bird feeder. We later found that they were one of a few species that like to breed above treeline. We followed one of them that had taken a bit of pretzel, and heard the sounds of young birds, but it would not lead us to the nest, instead chirping again and again, as if to silence the babies.

The summit	Slate-Eyed Junco	A glacial erratic on the summit

Our day ended with a beautiful sunset, and the sight of a house whose porch must have offered unique shadows and light.