Mile-high Katahdin

Consider the time-honored quote from Shakespeare — “What’s in a name?/That which we call a rose/By another name would smell as sweet.”

That line kept popping into my mind recently as I pondered repeated references to Maine’s tallest mountain in the media as “mile-high Mount Katahdin.” Few people realize that the famous edifice’s highest point on Baxter Peak, which also just happens to be the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail, is actually just short of that mark.

That fact came home to roost not too long ago when a team of University of Maine scientists re-measured the mountain using satellite and electronic technology and discovered that Katahdin is actually about seven inches higher than originally thought.

It seems that way back in 1941, the folks with good, old-fashioned surveying equipment (which didn’t need batteries, laser beams, solar arrays or a high-speed connection with the Internet) calculated that Katahdin was all of 5,267 feet high. Those of you who are familiar with measurements will note that this is exactly 13 feet shy of a mile. But even on Katahdin, man could not leave nature alone.

Legend has it that someone – perhaps a troop of industrious Boy Scouts or maybe some bored backwoods traveler in search of enlightenment, or maybe the legendary king of Katahdin rangers, Roy Dudley – piled up tons of rocks at the summit cairn to elevate Katahdin to the lofty mile-high club.

Now, while there is a pretty big pile of rocks at the top, I doubt it’s 13 feet high. But who cares? And that’s exactly my point about the most recent measurement – which added .6 of a foot (which by the way is 7.2 inches, not six inches as reported by the Associated Press) to Katahdin’s total.

I’d hate to be the guy who has to go up there and scratch the new total onto the little bronze surveyor’s benchmark.

Funny, though, driving in from Millinocket, Katahdin (That's right, not Mount Katahdin as Katahdin means "Greatest Mountain," and to say "Mount Greatest Mountain" makes no sense) does not look any bigger.

I wonder if the Native Americans who lived in the area and dare not tread on Katahdin for fear of angering evil spirits, would have cared if they knew it was really a tad taller than their ancestors thought.

For the thousands of people who trek to the top of Katahdin each year, I doubt the extra seven inches will matter. No one will throw up their hands in disgust and give up plans to climb “the mountain of the people of Maine” upon learning they will have further to go than they originally planned.

Percival Baxter, who personally assembled and donated the park that bears his name and saved Katahdin for all time, would probably, if he were alive, find the extra height interesting in an academic sense. But that would be all.

For sure, the people who each day work and play in the shadow of this magnificent mountain won’t notice much difference. Pilots flying overhead won’t have to adjust their altimeters to keep from making an abrupt final touch down on either side of the Knife Edge Trail.

Whether Katahdin is 5,267 feet or a mile high really makes no difference. Its grandeur and ability to inspire remain intact, from the early days when Thoreau described its majesty to this day and long into the future. The thrill of having climbed Maine’s highest peak, to stand at the top and look out upon what seems to be the rest of the world, will not be diminished by this recent addition to the sum of humanity’s knowledge.

According to the scientists who made the recent measurements, they will probably do it again at some time in the future if there are sufficient technological advancements which, unfortunately, there always are.

I guess all we can ask is, Why? To steal a perfectly good line from Shakespeare: “What’s in a height? That which we call Katahdin by another benchmark would be as steep.”

Corporate logos set new Appalachian Trail speed record

Ultra marathoner Scott Jurek, (Photo above from Scott Jurek Facebook) just set a new unofficial record last week for the fastest transit of the 2,200 mile-long Appalachian Trail. I have two thoughts about that.

One – Good for him.

Two – What's the point?

Notice I didn't say he hiked the trail. Far from it. He scurried from Georgia to Maine with an entourage larger than a logistics division for a platoon of Navy Seals. Their weapons of choice: cameras, laptops, cell phones and other gear to provide constant updates to legions of desk-bound followers.

They travelled in a custom van, splashed with manufacturers' logos, containers brimming with swag. He carried no pack – didn't make or break any camps. Anybody who fancies themselves as somebody, who has already exhausted their 15 minutes of fame once, twice, or even three times, seemed to jump on for the ride.

No one is allowed to advertise on the AT. Unless, of course, like Scott Jurek, you turn yourself into a human billboard. In nearly every photograph Jurek is wearing a headband with corporate logos. I guess capitalism's scarlet letters don't equate with lifting your metaphorical skirts – providing you can hide behind the fig leaf of "sponsorships."

Personally I think he would have been much more comfortable, particularly on humid days, if he had just had the logos tattooed on his forehead.

The AT was created to be a place for personal journeys. The Appalachian Trail Conference is to be congratulated for refusing to maintain speed records for the trail. They understand there's a big difference between being able to claim you've completed the Appalachian Trail and bragging you did it faster than anyone else. It's there for taking measure of yourself. Fast or slow, all at once, or in sections, how you do it is up to you.

The only clock that counts is the beating of your own heart.

When you turn a trip into a global media event supported by a cast of thousands, however, it is not only the tradition of the trail that is diminished. The inability to see that as a subversion of purpose diminishes the individual's personal accomplishment as well.

Those who actually do the Appalachian Trail adopt, find, or are bestowed with "trail names." Some bring them from past lives or adventures while others wait to discover it as part of the journey. I don't know if Jurek had one for his trip but I would like suggest one that fits – both physically and spiritually: "Been there – didn't see that."

Particularly disappointing was the disrespect shown to Baxter State Park, here in Maine, portions of which were turned into a circus by this Spandex speed record carnival. In fact, the park issued three violations notices to Jurek including drinking in public, littering and hiking with an oversize group.

If you haven't seen it yet, check out this Facebook post on the park's page. Nice to see that common sense is still in ample supply in the shadow of Maine's highest mountain.

On the Maine Woods Discovery Facebook page this week, Jurek is hailed as a shining example of Northwoods spirit. I can't begin to express how disappointing it is that whoever is making those posts thinks that's the case. He's a good example, maybe, of the spirit of getting a bunch of frat guys to book a cabin, grab two kegs of beer, and scream like pantywaists while running Cribwork Rapids on a rafting trip.

But a true representative of spirit of Maine's Great Northwoods? Not so much.

Make no mistake, running some 50 miles a day for 46 days is an impressive accomplishment. He should be proud. If I met him face-to-face, I'd shake his hand. There's no way that I could do what he did, a fact several of those critical of this communication will no doubt point to in an attempt to divert attention away from the fundamental truth of these words.

Even at the top of Katahdin, Scott Jurek didn't remove the headband, undoubtedly contractually-bound to leave it there especially when cameras were present. The end result is that a man didn't make it to the top of the mountain. His 'brand" is what everyone was celebrating on top.

Last week, news stories should have announced that a headband, with prominently-placed corporate logos, set the speed record on the AT.

In selling his prime facial real estate to the highest bidders, it's obvious that those corporations own Scott Jurek. Sadly, by extension, they now own his accomplishment as well.

www.earlbrechlin.com