In Penobscot mythology, the hero Gluskabe undertook a mighty journey to Katahdin, where the Great Spirit taught him everything—fishing, hunting, planting, ethics—he would ever need to know. Gluskabe in turn brought the knowledge back to his people. Natives called Katahdin “the place where earth meets sky,” a mountain both revered and feared for its power. An extraordinary landmark, it dominates the relatively flat landscape near the confluence of two major tributaries of the Penobscot River.

Over the centuries, millions have come to embrace Maine’s tallest peak as a sacred place for hiking, camping, paddling, and quiet contemplation. And since the days of Gluskabe, a few special people and events have played a role in further defining Katahdin’s mystique. From sporting-camp pranks to feats of conservation, from survival stories to tragic deaths, author John W. Neff shares the tales of the mountain in his new AMC book, Katahdin: An Historic Journey—Legends, Explorations, and Preservation of Maine’s Highest Peak published by AMC Books.

The Remarkable Survival of Donn Fendler
Few stories of the region have stirred the public as much as that of the 12-year-old Boy Scout from Rye, N.Y., who was lost on Katahdin’s vast Tableland in July 1939. Separated from his father, brothers, and several friends, Fendler began an extraordinary nine-day odyssey.

The saga began when Donn and his friend Henry Condon crossed the Tableland on the Hunt Trail and neared the summit. Thick clouds quickly lowered, reducing visibility to nearly zero. Neither boy wanted to stay long, but Henry was eager to wait and greet a hiker nearing the summit from the Knife Edge side. Donn, on the other hand, decided to head back down the trail to meet others in his party still ascending. In a breath of a moment, Donn wandered off the trail and lost his way. He kept going, thinking at any moment he would come upon his father and the others.

The clouds thickened, sleet began to fall, and the boy kept steadfastly on. After wandering about the Tableland and passing near the head of the Saddle Slide, Donn finally realized he had to find a stream or tote road he could follow to safety. After he stumbled down through scrub growth, the terrain began to level out and it was here he spent a frightening and uncomfortable night. In the morning, after overcoming a bout with hallucinations, he found and followed an old abandoned tote road along one of the branches of Wassataquoik Stream. Sometime that morning he lost his sneakers, which had been ripped badly during his descent the day before.

Over the course of the ensuing week, Donn slept fitfully wherever he could find shelter and by day continued to follow other stream branches, one in which he lost his dungarees. Through it all he found solace and inner strength in constant prayer and his strong reliance upon God. He endured swarms of black flies and mosquitoes, more hallucinations, frightening dreams, and fits of crying when matters seemed unbearable. He found berries but was often hesitant to eat them unless he felt certain they were not poisonous. Though often discouraged, his spirits were kept up by an expectation that he might come across a fisherman looking for a good trout pool along the stream.

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