Shelburne Moriah
Submitted by Pat
Stats
Mountain: Shelburne Moriah (3,735)
Date: September 1, 2017
Miles: 9.2
Elevation Gain: 3,100
Trails: Shelburne Trail — Kenduskeag Trail
We climb the southern side of the Shelburne Trail off Wild River Rd which is on Maine Rt. 113. This side is usually avoided because we have to ford the Wild River. The bridge that was once there was destroyed by a flood years ago. There’s been little rain lately and with water shoes we can wade across and save ourselves a mile of so of climbing.
After a delicious breakfast at the Sweet Maple Café, we begin our journey north up Rt. 302 then north on Rt. 113. We drive to within a couple of miles of Rt. 2 before turning left on Wild River Rd. The road is unpaved and in good condition. We easily find the trailhead sign and a small parking area. Both of us hold tension when we search for trailheads – for me, I don’t like being lost and my anxiety is heightened when the map or the directions aren’t accurate.
We arrive and get out of the car on a partly sunny, windy and cool day. Temps at 9:15 am are around 45° so we decide against wearing shorts and are very glad we have prepared for early winter conditions. The wind is gusting 25 to 35 mph, though we are protected by the woods. We start off up the Shelburne Trail at 9:22 am, enjoying an easy walk through late summer forest growth. We only hike .1 before we arrive at the bank of the Wild River. The water doesn’t look too deep and there isn’t much of a flow so it’s a safe crossing in our estimation. We sit and take off our boots, socks and gaiters and put on water shoes. Holding a pole and clasping each other’s hand for extra balance, we dip our feet into the water. The water is wicked cold though we have crossed colder, glacial streams in Patagonia, this is plenty cold on a cool day with a lusty wind. Both of us end up getting some part of our pant legs wet by the time we reach the other side. We get out, dry off, and change back into boots. Knowing we will be back, we hide our water shoes and towels under a bush and start climbing.
The trail starts to climb a ridge and we gain some serious elevation. We reach the intersection of the Kenduskeag Trail around noon. The woods are empty of bird calls. All I can hear is the wind ebbing and flowing through the top canopy of leaves. The sound of the wind blends in with my breathing and the songs I am singing in my head so that I only hear the loudest, most ferocious gusts.
The trail is a maze of blow downs. No one has cared for the Kenduskeag Trail for a long time. Most of the blow downs are trees that have fallen across the trail, easy to step over, but there are several detours we take to get around trees that are huge and their branches are sprawled everywhere. No blow downs are insurmountable but they are enough to disrupt our hiking pace and challenge our legs.
Nancy asks me how is my heart. Job changes, dealing with side effects of cancer medication – but full and happy to be out in the woods with Nancy with no people around for miles. We don’t see another soul all day, which gives us the gift of feeling that the part of the world in which we are walking is perfect.
The first real cold of the season is difficult for Nancy to manage. Cold generates an autonomic response in her body that limits her ability to keep her temperature regulated. She begins the hike overdressed and when we start climbing she quickly becomes overheated. Off comes a layer which sometimes leaves her shivering in her damp Techwick until she starts walking again and regains some temperature balance. When the 
climbing becomes more arduous, she takes off another layer and this is when it feels really scary and dangerous for her. Unlike me, she doesn’t tolerate a short-sleeved shirt even though she is working hard enough to be comfortable. She can’t stand being cold…at all…especially in the woods. It’s an old and very deep fear and I’ve seen it rip her down to a profound level of panic when the temperature and the dampness of her clothing from the sweat she is generating overwhelms her. She always needs one more layer than I would feel comfortable wearing. I don’t experience deep, wordless fear when I notice that the exposed skin on my arms is cool. The courage it takes for her to hike in cold conditions is impressive. I respect both her fear and her willingness to hike anyway while knowing her history can no longer hurt her.
The last ridge walk to the summit of Shelburne Moriah is a combination of undulations until we reach the bog bridges. I love bog bridges, mostly because their presence exposes the gorgeous wetlands that sometimes appear at the top rather than at the bottom of a climb. We travel some exposed, rocky areas – home of reindeer moss and ancient lichen – and the wind begins to really pound the cold into my bones. The summit is expansive, but gusts so strong that it’s difficult to stand and hold the camera still to take pictures pummel us.
Needless to say, we don’t stay long at the summit and descend quickly to the comfort of the wind break the trees provide – here we sit down in the middle of the trail and eat our lunches. Both of us are well past hungry, despite eating a bar and an apple earlier in the hike. Both of us feel the impact of this hike – tired legs, achy knees and hips and sore toe tips. It’s with great relief that we arrive at the water crossing that began this day’s adventure. This time we keep our socks on when we change into water shoes which helps cushion our feet and provide a modicum of warmth.
Back at the car we enjoy the moment of extreme pleasure of putting on dry clothes and sitting down on something that isn’t a rock. As usual, after most hikes, I am so grateful that I can do this and that I have a friend like Nancy to do it with.