At least once a week during Maine’s seasonable months, and sometimes more often when his knees cooperate, Nelson Daigle rises early and does what many retirees do to stay fit.

He goes for a walk.

But first, the 69-year-old Millinocket resident prepares.

He fills a backpack with a liter or two of water, an extra fleece, rain gear, a medical kit and, on most occasions, a water purifier. Daigle also packs a hat and gloves because he knows from experience that, even in summer, the weather along his 8- to 11-mile route can turn nasty without warning.

You see, Daigle doesn’t exactly take strolls around the block – unless you consider Mount Katahdin part of the neighborhood.

The Millinocket resident has made the trek up mile-high Mount Katahdin more than 350 times, the vast majority of those since retiring about a dozen years ago.

Baxter State Park does not keep track of who has notched the most climbs to the top of Maine’s highest peak, also the terminus of the Appalachian Trail. But there is little question among park staff that Daigle is the king of this mountain.

It’s no coincidence that he is also among the park’s most devoted volunteers. That tireless combination has earned Daigle modern-day legend status among staff, hikers and campers at the 200,000-acre wilderness park in the heart of Maine’s fabled North Woods.

“He is a real inspiration to those of us that work here,” said Baxter park director Jensen Bissell.

Low-key and humble, Daigle doesn’t talk much about his feats unless pressed. Baxter staff practically had to drag him to an awards ceremony earlier this year where he was honored for his volunteer work.

But resting just below Baxter Peak one blustery Saturday afternoon in late September, Daigle tried to explain what drives him to test his body repeatedly on the trails of Katahdin, none of which is short or easy.

“When I come up here, it’s worth it,” Daigle said between bites of a light lunch. “When I get back down and I’ve been down for a couple of days, I say, ‘I’ve got to get back up.'”

Katahdin’s ‘eyes and ears’

By 7:30 a.m. that Saturday, a line of cars, pickups and SUVs was forming already at the Togue Pond gatehouse on Baxter’s southern end. Daigle had been there for some time, chatting with the gate attendants he knows on a first-name basis as he waited for the rest of his hiking entourage to arrive.

Daigle consistently logs more volunteer hours than anyone else in Baxter. As he hikes he picks up trash, removes loose rocks that can easily twist an ankle, even carries a small saw to clear the path of downed trees.

He has been part of numerous search and rescue parties, helped injured hikers descend trails, even helped remove bodies from the mountain.

“There have been many years when he has been the first one up on the mountain and he’ll report back to us about the conditions … and whether we should open the trails or not,” Paul Sannicandro, Baxter’s trail supervisor, said recently. “He’s our eyes and ears up there a lot of the time.”

By 8 a.m., a group of more than a dozen hikers – including Daigle’s daughter Karen Somers and several of her co-workers from Eastern Maine Medical Center – had gathered at Roaring Brook Campground and were preparing to head up the mountain.

All Baxter hikers are required to sign in and out at trailheads for safety reasons. No exception to the rule, Daigle grabbed a pair of reading glasses dangling by a string above the register book – just one of many pairs he has stashed at most major trailheads for anyone to use.

There are five common routes up the steep slopes of Katahdin, none of which are cakewalks. It takes most summiteers the better part of a day to make the round-trip hike of 8 to 11 miles depending on the starting point.

Daigle has done them all countless times. But on this warm and breezy day in late September, when the park’s maples and birches were just beginning to blaze with their fall hues, the group headed up the Saddle Trail through Chimney Pond campground.

Daigle and his daughter often walk together, talking about past hikes and other topics one would expect to hear from a parent and a fully grown child with kids of her own.

Even Somers marveled at her father’s relationship with the mountain.

“You know, Dad, I figured it will take me 150 years to catch up with you,” Somers said midstride at one point.

“Somebody’s got to do it!” her father retorted with a chuckle.

The mood of the mountain

Born in Aroostook County, Daigle and his family eventually moved to the bustling paper mill town of Millinocket. One day in high school he and a few athletic buddies decided to tackle the mountain looming over their town, although Daigle says now that first summit was more of a sprint than a hike.

He did a stint in the military and eventually landed a job back in Millinocket at one of the mills. Daigle climbed Katahdin from time to time over the years, but it was not until he retired 13 years ago that his passion for the mountain kicked into high gear.

A lifelong downhill skier, Daigle saw climbing Katahdin as a way to stay fit and get outdoors the other half of the year.

“I was going to see if I could reach 100 [climbs], and it didn’t take a long time to get there,” Daigle said recently. “After that, I just kept going.”

Daigle insists that even after 350 climbs, he never knows what he’ll see around the next bend in the trail. And he has plenty of stories.

Like the time he locked eyes with a bear far above tree line. The bear, apparently as surprised as Daigle to see another soul so high, stood up on two paws briefly before scampering down the mountain.

He has been followed by lonely and confused juvenile moose looking for a friend after being run off by a momma moose. He has been caught in snowstorms, drenched more times than he remembers and witnessed rainbows stretching between the alpine peaks.

“You never know. The weather changes fast,” he said. “It makes its own weather, really. It all depends on the mood of the mountain.”

On this particular Saturday, like many days, the mountain seemed to get grumpier the higher you hiked.

Those staying over or taking a breather at Chimney Pond, elevation about 3,000 feet, were enjoying bright sun, temperatures in the 60s and a refreshing breeze. About 1,500 feet higher on the mountain, where the nonexistent soil and bone-dry rocks make it impossible for trees to grow, the wind was gusting strong enough to make weary hikers lose their balance. Fog enveloped the terrain.

At a mile above sea level, winds whipped across the summit at 30 to 40 mph as hikers in heavy fleece jackets, hats and gloves posed for pictures next to the Baxter peak sign.

And the view? Beautiful if you enjoy the inside of a cloud.

‘Never easy’

But that’s the way it goes on Katahdin, Daigle and other frequent visitors to the mountain will tell you. Some days are picture-perfect; others perfectly miserable.

Spend enough time on any trail, much less Katahdin’s steep and at times treacherous footpaths, and a hiker is bound to rack up a few bruises, lacerations and twisted ankles. Daigle certainly has.

He was nearly killed once by an avalanche of rocks on a trail that ascends through a steep face of boulders. He has severely sprained ankles miles from his vehicle and now struggles with knee problems.

Earlier this summer, Daigle had to curtail his trips up the mountain when he fractured his kneecap during a hike. The injury has limited him to only 22 summits so far this year.

So after 350-plus hikes, Daigle was asked by a first-timer whether it gets any easier.

“There’s still pain. It’s never easy,” the 69-year-old said. “They’re all hard, some harder than others.”

Then he added: “It means a lot. It’s a lot of hard work, but it’s just beautiful to come up here.”

That hike was Daigle’s 349th trip to the top of Katahdin, a mountain that has inspired countless others and moved one man, the late Gov. Percival Baxter, to use his own money to create an entire wilderness park around the jagged peak.

Seated on a rock next to Somers just below the summit, Daigle suggested that he might call it a year at 350. That garnered a laugh from both father and daughter.

He was up to 352 as of last week.