So … best laid plans were as follows:
Run up Baldpate. If up in <1:30, keep going on Grafton Loop (seemed like reasonably runnable trail: new and not too steep) back to the car. Then go back to pick up rollerskis (the guy who was doing trail magic and probably could have carried them down and left by the time I had gotten up there) and drive back to Readfield and try to get there by 7 for dinner.
Sounds good.
Climb up Baldpate was nice. Steep, then running, then steep again, with lots of steps. I remembered how hard New England is. Just rocks and roots, rocks and roots, rocks and roots, Nothing buffed out. Up to the first peak, down some ladders, then across some slabby running bedrock, whee! And then up some steep slabs, but it was gorgeous, so no complaints. 55˚ and windy, perfect.
1:25 or so to the top, so them down Grafton Loop. Reasonably runnable, some parts more so. New Garmin still sucking, eating portions here and there, or at least not agreeing with trail sign mileage. I'm not that slow at downhills. A little behind pace but I was doing okay and followed some blazes along and across a stream, feeling decent.
Then the trail petered out at a campsite. But it was blue-blazed! This was the trail! You don't blaze side trails to campsites. So I kept looking for the trail. The map was little help. Every blue fork petered out. I finally realized that the trail maintainer must have had extra paint and blazed the side trails, which is Not Cool, and I backtracked and found the location where the main trail goes left through a swamp (doesn't look like much) with the side trail with a small, faded sign.
There went 15 minutes. Now I was going to be late.
Unless … on the map, which I'd picked up at the start, there was a snowmobile trail marked which went down to Newry. I parked my car in Newry. Snowmobile trails usually are followable, and this one traversed a contour, at least as marked, before looking like it went down a reasonable slope. How bad could it be. So I got there and followed the snowmobile trail to get out earlier.
Good macro decision. Bad micro decision. The map had little to do with reality. While there might be a sled trail, it doesn't follow the route shown on the map, but instead goes up a ways. If you're not going to get a shapefile and show where it goes, don't mark it on a map like it exists. Having arrows would be fine, but when you show it going down a hill and it instead goes up (passing near the "er" of Dresser Mountain on the map) just don't put it on. Put an arrow, or say "snowmobile crossing" or something. Don't lead people to think a trail goes somewhere it doesn't. And such a thick, black line. Not happy with this cartography.
Anyway, after exploring some not-trail snowmobile trails, I had two options: a) go back to the trail and complete the route by dark and be real late for dinner or b) orienteer my way out. Obviously I chose b! I looked and to my north there was a stream that would lead me to civilization (something called Step Falls, but which the map advertised had a trail along the falls). So I picked a reentrant and followed it down. When people get lost in the mountains in Maine, they seem not to do this, but picking a drainage and following it down, in New England, is a pretty good way to get found. Especially if you have a map. The reentrant pretty quickly became an intermittent stream, then a real stream, and in places a mossy stream. I scraped up my shin a bit (not wearing O pants) but mostly followed it successfully until I saw … people? Yes, people I'd passed earlier. I'd found the trail.
I guess I could have backtracked to the trail instead.
So now I was on the trail. Excellent. Down to the stream and then where it crossed the stream, I went down the stream. And this part was easy. Big, granite boulders, not much moss: must be a big freshet in the spring that keeps them bare and clean. So I rock-hopped for a while, and made pretty good time doing so. A couple times I went in to the (pretty thin) woods and decided that this was even bordering on Type 1 fun. As I neared the falls I saw big orange fencing. On my side, it said … nothing. I hadn't seen a sign since some boundary marking paint a mile back or so. But on the other side were all sorts of signs saying something about "if you go beyond this sign it will be considered trespass and Maine Wardens will come and get you." I think there's a song about that. (The paint may actually be
legally-binding.)
I end-arounded the fence, crossed the ledgy falls, and ran down the trail. And then the road. At the parking lot, an evening runner said the portion of trail I'd skipped was very slow. So I probably made a good decision. And was back, including a stop for gas, by 7:05.