Summer is long in the rearview mirror, and the autumn foliage has come and gone. Winter is a ways off, but the telltale signs — brisk winds, cold temperatures and gray skies — are here. The woodpile outside the back door is piled high, and the last of the kindling has been split and stored. I’d like to say I’m ready for the snow, but are we ever really?
As I sit at the dining table with a steaming cup of tea, I’m reflecting on what was one of the best summers in a long time. Backpacking, hiking, camping, sea kayaking and carousing hither and yon. It was a real memory-maker of good fun.
One summer trip in particular stands out. A short sojourn to the mountains had me both chuckling and shaking my head, two things I’m doing right now as I think back on the silliness of it all. Everything worked out, but jeez, where was my foolish head at the time?
It was mid-August, and I had a few blank days on the calendar. Blueberry Mountain in the Weld area of western Maine had been on my to-do list for quite some time. I’d last climbed the 2,958-foot peak two decades ago, so I was overdue to tag it again. I could also get a revised description for the next edition of the “Maine Mountain Guide” out of the effort.
I informed my wife of my plans. She, of course, shook her head and returned to preparing the camper for the Lubec trip. I hastily — too hastily, as you will soon see — packed my camping and hiking gear into the truck.
The next day I was off to Mount Blue State Park, where I’d reserved a couple of nights at the campground.
That’s when things started to go south, so to speak.
Campsite No. 72. I popped up the screen tent and secured it in place. Then I took the big air mattress, which I’d inflated at home, and put it inside. Looking down at the mattress, I immediately got a sinking feeling. I went to the back seat and, lo and behold, there was no green stuff sack with my sleeping bag inside. And no pillow.
Yup, I had no sleeping bag. With two nights in the low 50s forecast.
Great! You knucklehead. Fortunately, there’s always a fleece blanket covering the back seat, so I grabbed that and spread it on the mattress. I took my duffel bag of clothes, wrapped it in my beach towel and threw it down for a pillow. Then I piled on the puffy jacket, fleece hoodie and whatever else I could find. It would have to do. Yikes.
The surrounding peaks are part of the expansive mountain scenery that makes the Mount Blue area a rewarding destination for hikers. Credit: Courtesy of Carey Kish 
The 2,958-foot peak rewards hikers with sweeping views of western Maine after a steep, rocky 1.4-mile climb. Credit: Courtesy of Carey Kish 
Mt. Blue is part of Mount Blue State Park, where Kish spent three days exploring the trails, lake and surrounding landscape. Credit: Courtesy of Carey Kish 
Webb lake is a centerpiece of Mount Blue State Park and offers opportunities for kayaking, swimming and camping. Credit: Courtesy of Carey Kish
On the way to the beach on Lake Webb, I stopped at the ranger station and asked whether they had any “spare” sleeping bags for such occasions. They had none, but suggested Walmart in Farmington or Mexico.
Returning to the campsite, it was time to kindle a campfire, crack a beer and get started on dinner. It would be a simple affair of boiled hot dogs, a can of Spaghetti-O’s (yes, you read correctly — the kid in me is still there), Hannaford potato salad and sliced tomatoes and cucumbers with Italian dressing.
I looked for the camp stove. And looked. And looked. Nada.
I found a fuel canister, the pots and utensils but no stove. Goodness gracious, what the heck is wrong with me, I thought?
The blaze was now going well, so I filled a pot with water, tossed in a couple of dogs and put it on the grate. Maybe 20 minutes and a whole lot of head-scratching later, the dogs were done.
I ate my meal but couldn’t relax. The entire time, I was fretting about whether I should go to Mexico or not. As if there was really a choice.
The Mexico Walmart was open until 8 p.m. Google Maps said 25 minutes. It was 6:30 p.m. I cleared the picnic table, secured all my gear and the cooler and jumped into the truck.
I was going to Walmart, darn it.
I found the camping aisle and pulled a red sleeping bag off the shelf. On sale for $15 and good to 50 degrees. I’ll take it.
Then I spied a cheap backpacking stove knockoff. $18. It’ll do, I thought. To be sure, I also snagged a can of fuel. Not taking any chances, this camper.
I was back at my campsite by dark and settled in. I rekindled the fire, opened another beer and, for the first time in about four hours, actually relaxed.
At 10 p.m., I retired to my bed and slept like a baby in my new Walmart bag. Go figure.
Morning. When there must be coffee. I set up my new stove rig, got water boiling and dug out the coffee, creamer, coffee filter, cup and spoon. But alas, I couldn’t find the coffee filter thingy that sits on top of the cup. Sigh.
I put the filter into my mug, folded the edges over the lip and poured. With a smattering of grounds in my cup, I had coffee, and my day could begin.
Sleeping bag, camp stove, coffee filter holder. My brain has gone soft.
Oh yeah, about Blueberry Mountain. After breakfast, I headed up the road a few miles to the trailhead and started up the mountain. It was a steep and sweaty ascent, with nearly 1,400 feet of elevation gain over 1.4 miles on an eroded, rocky and rooty trail. I took notes along the way for the next guidebook edition, which currently lists the trail as 0.2 miles shorter. Check.
The open ledges on Blueberry’s summit yield extraordinary views. I felt like I could reach out and touch the slopes of Big Jackson Mountain. The distinctive hump of Little Jackson could be seen just to Jackson’s left. Tumbledown was hidden behind Little Jackson. There was Sugarloaf, too, along with Mount Abraham, the Bigelows, Saddleback and the Horn. Amazing!
The descent wasn’t any easier than the climb, but I kept a steady pace. All the while, I was smiling and laughing to myself about my forgetfulness. I never, ever forget the principal equipment on any trip. Little stuff, maybe, but not a sleeping bag or stove. But hey, it all worked out. Thanks to Walmart, I guess.
I had the afternoon free at the state park, so I took my kayak to Lake Webb and paddled around for a few glorious hours. The pyramidal form of Mount Blue took center stage, and as I floated around to the northeast, I could view all the great peaks of the Tumbledowns, including Blueberry Mountain, where I’d been just a few short hours earlier. Sweet.
The lake was bathwater warm, so I reveled in a refreshing swim at the beach afterward.
To be sure, I’m a list maker. Probably you are, too, when planning your trips. The key, though, is to actually check things off as you’re loading up. Otherwise, well, you’re gonna forget stuff. Sometimes even the important stuff, don’t you know.
