Tag Archives: Evans Notch

Hiking the Baldface Circle Trail, plus twenty

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The guidebook describes the Baldface Circle Trail as “a strenuous trip not to be underestimated,” but I didn’t remember it as so.

I first hiked this 9.8 mile loop with my husband back in 1997 in early November. Then, I had great fun pulling myself up the steep rock ledges. The 1.2-mile walk from the summit of 3570-foot South Baldface over the open ridge to 3610-foot North Baldface was exhilarating.  On the final leg, we walked a couple of miles through a tunnel of golden beech trees.

At the day’s end, I must have been tired. But I was in my mid-30s, and “exhausted” doesn’t stand out in my mind as an adjective to describe that day.

The trail up to South Baldface looks Presidential, minus the weekend crowds.

The trail up to South Baldface, in the Evans Notch border area of Maine and New Hampshire,  looks Presidential, minus the weekend crowds.  In total, the 9.8-mile Baldface Circle Trail features about four miles of wide-open walking.

Fast-forward almost 20 years. I’d had my eye on a return to Baldfaces, this time to introduce my son to the trail. Over the next few years, I want to show him the “greatest hits of New England” hiking before he is off to college.  And he’s more or less game, as long as the hiking happens in moderation.

For several years now, we have made an annual pilgrimage to a small cabin  at Cold River Camps, just across the street from the Baldface trailhead, and have thoroughly explored Evans Notch, on the Maine-New Hampshire border. I love this valley because it lies within striking distance for a day trip, but feels remote and off the beaten bath. When hordes flock to Franconia and Pinkham Notches on gorgeous fall weekends, Evans Notch remains quiet. We see hikers on the trail, but rarely more than a few parties.

This year, when a September Sunday promised a perfect day for hiking, we rose early and headed north. When we arrived at the Baldface parking area on Route 113 around 9:30 a.m., plenty of spaces remained available.

The Baldface Circle hike begins with a 2.5 mile steady uphill walk on an old logging road to the base of the ledges, which begin just past the Baldface Shelter, a popular destination for an easy overnight. We met many hikers coming down the trail, including a family with young kids, most of whom had spent the night at the shelter or the tent platforms. By the time we reached the shelter, however, it had emptied out, and we enjoyed a snack there before taking on the ledges.

The ledges were much as I recalled them – straight up. We gained about 1,000 feet of elevation in just over a half-mile, pulling ourselves up and over rocks and boulders, and walking on granite slabs at what feel like a 60% grade (but was probably was more like 20%).

An interesting cairn -- more sculpture than trail marker -- pointed us to up the trail to South Baldface, and to the peak of North Baldface, in the distance.

An interesting cairn — more sculpture than trail marker — pointed us to up the trail to South Baldface, and to the peak of North Baldface, in the distance.

As I did years ago, I felt exhilarated to reach  South Baldface. But I also felt totally wasted, and was grateful for the sunny warmth that allowed me to stretch out on the rocks and recover.  I could hear my husband talking to another party of hikers.  After a few minutes he asked if I was okay.

“I will be,” I told him. “I just need a few minutes.”

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Back in 1936, South Baldface and the other mountains along the Maine-New Hampshire border were eyed for development as a ski resort. The Borderline Resort proposed by the U.S. Forest Service and the Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC) called for the creation of hike-up/ski-down trails on South Baldface and other mountains, including Mount Meader, and West Royce, East Royce, and Speckled Mountains, with a phase 2 to include, on the opposite side of the Notch, Caribou, Elizabeth, Haystack, Peabody, and Pickett Henry Mountains. AMC proposed that its seasonal Cold River Camps could serve as the base area for a mega-resort that eventually would encompass all of the mountains in the Notch.

It’s almost unfathomable to imagine this wild valley (much of it now designated as federal wilderness) as home to a sprawling resort.  Today, in the winter, one off-season cabin at Cold River Camps is the only place to stay for many miles.

The Borderline Resort plan never gained momentum, probably in part due to extensive damage in the forest caused by Great New England Hurricane of 1938. Also, maybe somebody realized that promoting skiing on the icy ledges of South Baldface wasn’t the greatest idea.

Thank goodness – I enjoy skiing, but I’m glad that this scenic valley isn’t so different from when a handful of hardy families settled here in the early 1800s.  Yes, a road exists now (built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s), and electricity runs to the few homes along the road, but as in bygone days, I’m guessing that the few year-round residents hunker down during winter storms, when the valley feels truly remote.  (The upper end of Route 113 closes to automobiles in winter and becomes part of a popular snowmobile route).

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Instead of ski lifts and slopes, we had great views of North Baldface and the other peaks in Evans Notch. To the northwest (but not pictured) we had views of Mount Washington, and, to the northeast, the long blue stretch of Kezar Lake.

After a long rest on South Baldface, we continued hiking on the open ridge towards North Baldface. The mountains stretched all around us.

When we reached the junction for the Bicknell Ridge Trail, which reduces the hike by a third of a mile, I was more than game for the shortcut. Besides, as we picked our way down the granite and the rocks, we found that Bicknell Ridge also offers plenty of great views.

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Views of the big Whites from the open ridge near North Baldface. I love the maroon ground cover.

Eventually, we dropped down to a green tunnel of beech trees. The last two miles felt like a trudge, and I wondered if I would hike the Baldface Circle Trail again. Perhaps twice in a lifetime is enough.

I had plenty of time to think as I pounded down the trail. Did I still have it in me to hike the Appalachian Trail?  How long will my hiking career last?  What will take its place when hiking is no longer an option? Oh sure, I have many years left, but some day….

Thinking about these questions might seem depressing, but I’m a glass half-full kind of person.  If this was my final trip to Baldface, I wanted to soak it in and appreciate the green forest, even if I couldn’t wait to get back to the car. At the very least, I had to come back for  a dip in the Emerald  Pool, a swimming hole tucked off the trail about a half-mile from the road.

They say that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I’m not sure if that’s true for me on the Baldface Circle Trail.  But by mid-week, when my collapse on South Baldface was fading to a distant memory, I was looking at the weather and planning my next hike, to 4000-footer Mount Waumbek.

Sources and resources

“Borderline.” Maine Cancelled Ski Areas. New England Ski History. Updated November 26, 2012.

Trail distances, elevation and other information from the White Mountain Guide, 28th edition (2007), published by the Appalachian Mountain Club.  A newer edition now available, and recommended.

For more on hikes in Evans Notch:

My post, “Five great family hikes in Maine,” includes a short review of the wonderful Blueberry Mountain hike in Evans Notch.

The Basin Trail is another great trail at the northern end of the notch, in the Wild River Valley; see “In the Wild River Valley, a November blizzard, deep snow, and a man who preservers to save his cat.”

And for another tale about a nearby Maine ski area, big dreams and failed schemes, see “White Elephant in a Green Valley.”

Finally, if you want to read more about the hike on Mount Waumbek, see my post, “Gray jays, great day: A fall hike on Mount Waumbek.”

Round up: Five great family hikes in Maine

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The temperature has risen to a magical 60 degrees, the daffodils are blooming, and the forsythia are primed for an explosion of yellow.  The tulips won’t be far behind, and I’m ready to think about hiking adventures to come this spring, summer, and fall.

Hence, this round-up post on five of my favorite family hikes in Maine.  (I’ll do a separate one on New Hampshire, since there are so many great hikes to cover in both states).

We’ve been hiking as a family since my son was born, with him propelling himself on his own legs from about age three onward.  Unless you have a kid who is obsessed with hiking (not mine), I find it best to limit family hikes to five miles or less.  I also look for hikes with a good hook — boulders to conquer, fire towers to ascend, mysterious caves, and, of course, great views.

Please note that I call these “five of my favorite hikes”, and not “my five favorite hikes.”  This small distinction in syntax is necessary because there are countless wonderful hikes out there, and I can’t possibly narrow it down to just five “favorites.” You can access links to directions (and sometimes maps) by clicking the title of the hike.

1. Tumbledown Mountain in Weld, Maine

A view of Tumbledown Pond, and the mountain's summit, from the Parker Ridge Trail.

A view of Tumbledown Pond, and the mountain’s summit, from the Parker Ridge Trail, which departs from the Brook Trail not far from the road, and offers a slightly longer route to the pond, including some great rock scrambles.  Parker Ridge gets fewer hikers than other trails, but in the summer, expect lots of company at the pond, no matter what day of the week.

I’ve been hiking Tumbledown Mountain since my college days. I love this mountain and the beautiful pond nestled below the summit cone. Bring your bathing suit, or not, but this IS New England, so everyone else will be wearing suits.

The 1.9-mile Brook Trail (and 1,600 feet of elevation gain) is the most direct to the pond, from which hikers can scramble over granite and boulders on a well-marked route to the 3,090-foot summit.  The Brook Trail follows an old logging road along a brook before evolving into a fairly steep climb over rocks and roots.  We followed this trail as an out-and-back hike with a group of seven-year-olds a few years ago.

A couple of years later, we returned with a large pack of kids for the more challenging Loop Trail.  At the trailhead, someone had posted a tiny scrap of paper with a penciled note reading, “This trail is not for children.”  The note was about two square inches big, torn from a notebook, and not an official warning. I decided that the note must be aimed at parents of very young children.  Our group of 10 or so started climbing up a typical New England trail of roots and rocks, but nothing too hard.

Then, about one mile in, we arrived at The Mountain:  a nearly vertical climb up a  rocky mountain face.  (The climb wasn’t technical, just very very steep and rocky).  At one point, we lost the trail (which is easy to do) and ended up climbing around some rocks hanging over a steep slope. For this reason, the hike is recalled as  “The Death Hike.”

After finding the main trail again, we had to squeeze through a cave-like rock formation known as “Fat Man’s Misery,” a feat that involved shoving day packs through a hole and then squeezing through the narrow opening.  Then more steep climbing.  I could feel steam rising from the adults and floating towards me.

We eventually emerged onto a plateau, where an official warning sign greeted us with a warning about the Loop Trail for anyone considering hiking down.  The kids exulted in their achievement. The clouds of steam dissipated. We finished with a scamper up to the summit, a swim in the pond, and a much easier hike down the Brook Trail to the cars.

Every kid needs a legendary death-defying hike in their repertoire. They still talk about it.

2. Mount Agamenticus in York, Maine

View of the cliffs and pine trees that greets hikers as they emerge from the Witch Hazel Trail onto the summit of Mount A.

View of the cliff and pine trees that greets hikers as they emerge from the Witch Hazel Trail onto the summit of Mount A.

With its 692-feet of altitude, Mount Agamenticus is a little mountain with a big personality, with trails and slopes that sprawl out across thousands of acres of conserved forest.

During World War II, a radar tower–the first of its kind in the United States–was installed on the summit. The forest was cut to make room for barracks to house 25 soldiers of the 551st Signal Battalion. For ten years in the 1960s and 1970s, a ski area drew locals to the mountain each winter.

Today, the former ski slopes shrink a bit more each season as trees and brush take over. On weekends, hikers and casual visitors wander the summit’s open meadow, bikers careen down the rocky trails, and the mountain can feel like a busy place. But even with the people there, the blue ocean shimmers to the east. To the west, the spine of Mount Washington rises above the Ossipee Hills, a spectacular sight any day but especially on a clear spring afternoon, when the sloping ridge of Washington remains covered in snow.

A variety of trails (as well as a road) lead to the summit, and more trails lace the conservation land surrounding the mountain.  Mount A is ideal for younger children (but fun for hikers of all ages), because parents can tailor the length of a hike to the interest and abilities of their kids.

From the parking area at the base of the mountain, hikers can begin on the Ring Trail, and then hike in a loop up one of four side trails to the top, and down another to the bottom.  I like to climb up the rock slabs of the Sweet Fern Trail, where the old ski lift rusts in the woods, and then hike down the Blueberry Ridge Trail to the Ring Trail.

Variations include the Sea-to-Summit hike that I’ve written about before, and hikes out to Second Hill or Third Hill.  If attempting Third Hill with kids, I recommend driving to summit and starting there, as the hike could become a long slog through the woods.  Hikers need a map to get to Third Hill (see link above), as the route is convoluted. It is easy to get lost if not familiar with the area.

3. Dorr Mountain, via the Homans Path, in Acadia National Park

The Homans Path (about a third of a mile) offers granite steps, passages between giant boulders and other interesting features. Hikers wishing to continue up to Dorr Mountain can pick up the Schiff Trail, featuring ladeders that climb a cliff. Many choices for longer and shorter loop hikes in this area.

The Homans Path (about three-quarters of a mile) offers granite steps, passages between giant boulders and other interesting features. Hikers wishing to continue up to 1,270-foot Dorr Mountain can pick up the Schiff Path, which features ladders climb up a short cliff.  Estimated RT on our hike: about 4 miles.  However, hikes can choose from many longer and shorter loop hikes in this area. Be sure to hike with a map, as there are multiple trails and trail junctions.

Okay, so selecting one family hike at Acadia National Park is just about impossible. Acadia is packed with countless great hikes ranging from under a mile to four-to-six miles loops (and longer, of course, but probably too long for most kids).  Boulders, ladders, caves, and views abound.  I’ve hiked all over this park, my favorite in the National Park System because of its combination of wildness, human history, and long-standing traditions such as popovers at Jordan Pond House.

Here I’ll focus on the Homans Path route towards quiet Dorr Mountain, the second highest peak in the park (People climb Cadillac, the highest peak, while Dorr is happily neglected).

The stone steps of the Homans Path were meticulously crafted around 1916, but the trail stopped appearing on maps in the 1940s. Its granite steps disappeared beneath thick layers of moss beds.  Local trail enthusiasts rediscovered the trail in the 1990s, and the Park Service began restoring the path, which officially opened again in 2003.

The Homans Path can be picked up near the Wild Gardens of Acadia, at the Sieur de Monts parking area. (I couldn’t find a good link to an online map).

It’s hard to get truly lost in Acadia, but you can certainly end up a very long distance from your car, a situation that is not fun when hiking with kids.  I recommend obtaining a recent edition of  Tom St. Germain’s Acadia trail guide, A Walk in the Park, which will lead you to many other fabulous family hikes. Gorham Mountain, The Beehive, and Beech Mountain with its fire tower also are among my favorite Acadia hikes.

4. Mount Aziscohos, Lincoln Plantation, Maine

The view from Mount Azisochos.

The view from  3,192-foot Mount Azisc0hos.

Mount Aziscohos, which I’ve mentioned in a post about summer days in Rangeley, is an undiscovered gem.  A 1.75-mile hike brings hikers to an open granite summit with views of more than 25 lakes and countless mountains.  I first took my son here when he was about six and have returned several times.  I’ve never encountered another hiker on the summit with its 360-degree views.

In August, expect a feast of blueberries.  Many years ago, a large forest fire burned on the mountaintop, creating ideal conditions for the berries to flourish.

Down the road in Oquossoc, crowds flock up the muddy trail to Bald Mountain, but few venture north on Route 16 to discover Aziscohos.  I probably shouldn’t even be writing about the mountain, but I guess the 17.7 mile drive from Oquossoc Village discourages the hordes from finding it.

Aziscohos once was a popular hike for 19th and early 20th century summer visitors staying at the Aziscoos House in Wilson Mills, although “popular” is a relative term.  An information sign near at the summit tells hikers that in one summer, a total of 116 hikers signed the log book.  (The Azicoos House ceased operation many years ago, but I believe that the 1830 inn-like structure still stands, as a private residence, in the Magolloway River Valley).

A fire tower on the summit was manned until the late 1960s.  Eventually it toppled over in a hurricane and was removed from the mountain via helicopter by the Maine Forest Service in 2004.

5.  Blueberry Mountain via Stone House Trail, Evans Notch, Maine

I can't find my Blueberry Mountain photos, so I'll end with a photo of a happy hiker pasted on a rock on Mount Aziscohos.

I can’t find my Blueberry Mountain photos, so I’ll end with a photo of a happy hiker vertically pasted on the granite of Mount Aziscohos.

As with Acadia, Evans Notch, which straddles the border of Maine and New Hampshire, is packed with terrific family hikes as well as the  “challenge” hike of the Baldface Circle Trail. Here, I’ll focus on 1,781-foot Blueberry Mountain, as it offers great views, good ridge hiking over barren rocks, the possibility of a dip in Rattlesnake Pool, and an exciting descent down (or climb up) ledges (caution needed).  The hike is about 4.5 miles long.

After parking at Fire Road 16, we took the Stone House Trail to the summit and followed the Blueberry Ridge Trail to the Overlook Loop, and then followed the White Cairn Trail down steep ledges and back to FR 16.

We hiked on a cool fall day, so we didn’t stop at Rattlesnake Pool, but when I do this hike again, I plan to hike up the White Cairn Trail and finish up at the pool for a cooling dip.

The Stone House (a private residence) sits up against the mountain just past the trailhead. It’s an interesting structure, more than 200 years old, and looks out over a flat grassy meadow that once was farmed, but more recently was used as a landing area for small planes, during World War II.

The house (privately owned) dates to the first half of the 19th century, when Abel Andrews built it for his bride, Lucinda Brickett, the daughter of John Brickett, who was one of the earliest permanent settlers in the area. Around 1812, John built the brick farmhouse known as the  “Brickett House,” located a couple of miles up Route 113.

I’ve also written about the nearby Basin Trail, which is undiscovered and beautiful, like Evans Notch in general.

Happy hiking!

Additional resources:

Nature Hikes in the White Mountains, by Robert N. Buchsbaum, is an excellent guide to family hikes throughout the White Mountains of Maine and New Hampshire.

Hikes in and around Maine’s Lake Region, by Marita Wiser, is good resource for hikes in southwestern Maine (Bridgton/Fryeburg/Lovell area).

As mentioned above, Tom St. Germain’s Acadia trail guide, A Walk in the Park, is a great resource for all kinds of hikes in the park.

In the Wild River Valley, a November blizzard, deep snow, and a man who perseveres to save his cat

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Glowing beech trees along the Basin Trail

Glowing beech trees along the Basin Trail.

We are hiking along Blue Brook and up the Basin Trail through a golden forest of beech trees, the color made more vibrant by the gray background of an overcast sky.  Halfway up Blue Brook, a granite cliff towers over the brook as its waters tumble over granite ledges.  Although today is Sunday of Columbus Day weekend, we have the trail to ourselves for most of the afternoon here in the Wild River Valley, an officially designated federal wilderness area in the White Mountain National Forest.

Every fall I try to make a trip to Evans Notch and the Wild River Valley, on the Maine-New Hampshire border.  The area is only a couple of hours away from my Seacoast

A glowing tunnel of green and gold surrounded us as we hiked along the Basin Trail in early October.

home but feels remote and isolated, and sees few visitors compared to Pinkham, Crawford or Franconia Notches.  Today the region is more thinly populated than it was 100 years ago when 300 people lived in the logging village of Hastings, the remnants of which were carted away and/or faded into the earth by the late 1930s (after serving as the site of a Civilian Conservation Corps camp).  The site of the abandoned village now hosts a rudimentary Forest Service campground, but even campers with sharp eyes are unlikely to spot any clues of the mill, school, homes, and other buildings that once stood here.

Today, as we hike along the Basin Trail, the forest seems primeval, golden and deep.  But I know it is not untouched.  This trail, with its relatively gentle grade (climbing 800 feet in 2 miles), probably follows an old logging road and the surrounding forest was cut to the bone, like most of the forest in the Wild River Valley.  Below the trail, on the main road into the Wild River Campground, a train line once chugged in and out of the woods, hauling felled trees to Hastings for processing.

Granite cliffs tower above Blue Brook. In warmer weather, the Brook offers many ledges and pools for cooling off.

The era of clear-cut logging in the Wild River Valley came to an abrupt end in the early 1900s, after floods and fires (caused, in part, by logging practices that left piles of slash along with barren slopes susceptible to slides) wiped out what remained of the forest along with much of the logging infrastructure.  In 1912, the Hastings Lumber Company threw in the towel on its huge lumber operation, sold most of its land to the White Mountain National Forest, and abandoned this valley to the trees.

The trees came back, but the people didn’t.  Logging continued on Forest Service land (as it does today, although not in the Wild River Valley Wilderness), but on a much smaller scale.

As we hike up the ridge, heading for the rim overlooking the Basin, the bowl-shaped ravine carved by a glacier, I wonder if Wilfred Caron cut the trees along this trail when he took to the woods in the fall of 1943 with his pet cat Tip.  Caron, of Norway, Maine, spent that fall in a cabin somewhere in these woods as he cut birch for his boss, C.B. Cummings.

One source offers that the cabin was located in the woods seven miles up the Wild River from Gilead, NH.  The cabin was probably small and dark, but cozy enough with its wood stove and cat.  In the early hours of the morning, as the fire in the wood stove dwindled to embers, Tip probably snuggled close to Wilfred, keeping both of them warm.

On November 28 of that fall, an early blizzard howled up the Wild River Valley.  Blizzards and temperatures that fall many degrees below zero were (and are) common in these woods, so Caron probably wasn’t worried by the storm. He and Tip hunkered down in the cabin to wait out it out. Caron turned into his bunk around 9 p.m.

At around 11, a loud snap must have startled Tip, for the cat leapt out of the bunk seconds before a yellow birch tree crashed through the roof and onto the top bunk, pinning the Caron in the bunk below. The force of the crash pushed open the cabin door and snow began to pile inside. By dawn, Caron was covered in two feet of snow and so cold that he didn’t realize he had badly injured his leg.  Outdoors, more than 50 inches of snow blanketed the ground.

Hours passed. Eventually, Caron was able to reach a bucksaw, cut the tree and free himself from the bunk.  He couldn’t stand on his leg, but managed to drag himself to the stove and get the fire going.  He had a broken leg, but knew he had to get himself and Tip out of the cabin and to a ranger cabin several miles away.  He made a pair of crutches from spruce boards.

Caron was determined. But what he didn’t know was that every conceivable obstacle would complicate his efforts to get him and his cat out of the woods.  While trying to shovel a path through more than four feet of snow to the shack where his horse Jerry was stabled, Caron fell repeatedly. Three hours passed before he reached his horse. He then spent the day building a sled with boards taken from the shack.  Finally, when his sled was ready, with his meat box serving as a seat, Caron placed Tip inside an egg box for the trip out. After spending an hour-and-half hobbling around trying to harness his horse, the man, his cat and his horse set out for a ranger camp three miles distant.

A mile-and-a-half from camp, the sled struck a fallen tree and tipped into a snow bank.  For more than an hour, Caron struggled to get himself out of the snow and to push the sled upright.   Finally, he reached the ranger camp, which was 500 feet from the road.  He must have been discouraged, because no footprints marked the deep snow around the cabin.

Fortunately for Caron and for Tip, Ranger Steve MacLain was in the cabin and heard Caron shouting for help.  After bundling up the injured man, MacLain led the horse and sled four miles over the unbroken road of snow and into the small village Gilead of N.H.  Along the way, the ranger used his axe to cut away 40 downed trees.  Finally, Caron and Tip arrived at the Gilead post office.

The cat had been saved, and Caron was a local hero, cited for bravery by the governors of both Maine and New Hampshire and lauded by humane societies around New England for his heroic effort to save Tip.

Considering the year—1943— I am guessing that Caron was an older man, at least middle-aged and possibly older. World War II was in full force and any young man strong enough to work as a logger had likely enlisted or been drafted into the military. Each day brought fresh news of the war.  Kiev was liberated by the Russian Army, and the Italians were turning on the Germans, but in the Battle of Tarawa in the South Pacific, hundreds of Americans were killed.  Each piece of good news was offset by some new horrible event. Every day, families received telegrams telling them of a son, brother or husband who had been killed.

But in the Wild River Valley, a man had pushed his way through deep snow on a pair of wooden boards, to save himself and to save his cat.  Who wouldn’t want to cheer?

View of the Basin, in Evans Notch, from the Basin Rim Trail. You can view the Basin from another angle from the parking lot near the Basin Campground.

P.S. The Basin Trail is a great family hike.  The trail arrives at a dramatic overlook above the Basin.  You can do an out-and-back hike, or, if you spot cars, can continue hiking down on the Basin Trail down to the Basin itself, although the climb down will be much steeper than the climb up from the Wild River Valley.  Spotting cars is a necessity, as many miles separate the two ends of the Basin Trail.

 

 

 

Sources:

Quimby, Beth. “Out like a lamb: A record high temperature Thursday closes out what should go down as Maine’s warmest November. But a reality check is on the way. Portland Press Herald. December 1, 2006: A1.

Wight, D.B.  The Wild River Wilderness: A Saga of Northern New England.  Courier Printing: Littleton, NH, 1971.

I found the story of Wilfred Caron in D.B. Wight’s history.  Wight cites the date of the blizzard as November 28, but a more recent Portland Press Herald article talks about a monster blizzard that occurred in northern New Hampshire on November 23, 1943.  In nearby Berlin, N.H., 55 inches of snow were recorded. Either source could be wrong on the specific date, but I’m guessing that the Wight source might be mixing up the date of Caron’s deliverance with the date of the storm.

I suspect photos and clippings of Caron’s story sit in manila folders of historical societies in Gilead, NH and/or Bethel, Maine.  I hope one day to visit those societies to learn more about Caron and his story and welcome any comments from readers that know more about this event.