To capture a day break from Katahdin, I start with a wood stove, an Ashley, capable of keeping the kitchen in the Ranger cabin toasty for a 4 A.M. rousing. A world of difference, easing into the dark day with the soothing company of wood smoke and a dose of strong black coffee (rocket fuel). Already being at 3,000 feet in the midst of the Great Basin is another advantage over those making the climb from the Roaring Brook.

Stumbling up the dark trail, I follow a feeble tunnel of light peeking from my headlamp and mumble to let the moose and bear know I’m coming. Against time and elevation is the race in which I am. I can hear my heart pumping and see my pulse in my fingertips. I’m warm now, the fire stoked within, out here I make my own heat. The last hundred yards of loose gray lit boulders and crumbling granite is a clamber to the 500-acre plateau of the Katadhin massif, known as the tablelands.

The warming show will begin any moment, with the emergence of Pamola peak against the eastern horizon. In the valleys, thickly defined fog on the waterways evokes ancient rivers cut through a permanent shadow. I begin to shiver but am not fain to fret, knowing that I’m about to bask in glory. My eyes will flood with colors ranging from cold cobalt to blinding pink to the spectacular spectrum. Until then, a Kit-Kat.