Dry River Wilderness, Presidential Range

(Isolation-47)

If ever there was a time to feel alone in the mountains, I suspect it would be now as head deep into the Dry River Wilderness to Mount Isolation. Though I doubt it will be the case as I have always had company on this journey, even when wandering solo to remote places. Times are very rare in the heavily traveled Whites when you have the trail all to yourself for the entire day. Even when it does happen, I have always felt a presence of something bigger than any number of miles I could ever cover in all the mountains of the earth, watching over me. It’s a very comforting feeling. Be that as it may, I will roam the paths that stretch in and around an interesting roundabout route to this peak that boasts to bring one to seclusion. At best, “solitude” might be a better word, but even that is not likely, at least not for the entire day of 13.3 miles and 3900 ft of elevation gain.

I want to take the Glen Boulder from Pinkham Notch to Davis Path route in and return via Isolation East to Rocky Branch. I’ve been spending the week struggling with logistics, trying to figure out the best way to do this. On one hand I could spot my bike at one end then drive to the start point, but the road from Rocky Branch to Glen Ellis Falls is an uphill 4-mile ride and I think I should save my energy for the hike. Then there are all kinds of options for hiker shuttle services, AMC shuttle not being one, but I’m having a hard time getting someone to call me back from the private services. In the end, after much deliberation, and after some assurance from a few folks in a NH48 Facebook group, I am sticking out the ole thumb and banking on a ride to the Falls after a car-spot at my finishing point. Sure enough after about a minute I get picked up by a local fellow on his way North on route 16 to Gorham – All that worrying for nothing!

So all systems go for my next landmark on the way to my ultimate White Mountain goal the one obstacle standing in my way before I take my finishing steps. What a day that is shaping up to be! Quite different than this lone-wolf march I am on today. Garfield will see a large portion of the Coste Clan, and potentially a few friends too when autumn arrives and I complete this crazy list that has been my main drive and focus over the past 2 years. There is quite a large chunk of time between now and then, but I plan to put a dent in some of my next lists, first and foremost the ADK46.

In fact, I have already made some good progress, spending the past week in the high peaks, checking off Giant, Rocky Peak Ridge, Porter, Cascade, Whiteface and Esther to add to the 7 Peaks from last summer. I’m well on my way to catching my sister Therese who has completed 19 of them to this point. And speaking of my sister, there will be one more very important hike after this and prior to my finish on Garfield. We are planning an overnight backpack trip to relive our first white mountain hike together (with brother Paul) when we were youngsters, heading into the remote Pemi Wilderness to the Bonds. Looks like Paul wont be able to make it, as he lives in North Carolina now and could not make the trip this time, but will be with us in spirit.

As I have said before, I have a fond memory of our early day hikes, but it is a foggy one in comparison to the detailed picture I have for any of the other 48 which have done within the past 2 years. We are working in Zealand and possibly Hale to this trip as well, which will renew all 5 peaks from the early days. But presently my focus is here and now in the deepest of Whites. Isolation here I come!

Beginning my day at 7:30am at the Glen Ellis Falls lot. I’m ready for a full day in the wilderness. After less than a mile in, and a few stretches of rocky, moderately steep grades I get some peaks at the Cats and Carters through the trees. Then I emerge for the first time from timberline and get some grand views, that would only get grander as the day progressed. It’s one of those well balanced skies of blue and billow.

Bluebird days are nice but I think clouds add so much. About an hour into the day and I’m hitting some rock scrambles. I just love hanging out above the trees. Whenever I first arrive it’s like being transported to a different world. I see Glen Boulder in the distance, a top-heavy rock strangely balanced by its bottom point on a ledge.

As I make my way closer with the sun shimmering against the glowing clouds the views are expanding with every step. The spirit of the mountain is alive today.

I arrive at the slanted stone just before 9 am for a break and the obligatory pose in time delay mode. The clouds are really trying to steal the show today as they mimic their counterparts below.

Pinkham Notch road is about to disappear from view as I continue my climb up the Boot spur of Mount Washington which seems to be engulfed in more clouds today. A few minutes later the views over Gulf of Slides and more looks over to the Wildcats and Cater range are simply astounding!

A brief dip back into the trees and then out again arriving at Slide Peak (4806) with even wider views into the gulf and over to Split Rock. Approaching 5000 ft the clouds are becoming more ominous and are moving in quickly to engulf the area. (Click for video of clouds rollin in on Slide Peak). It doesn’t look threatening but definitely interesting.

As the sky continues its dance, I move into the dense fog and arrive at Davis Path on the shoulder of Boot Spur to some fierce winds and severely limited visibility. Reminiscent of my days on Moosilauke and Madison, I struggle to stay upright against the powerful gusts, but I am managing. It is here that perhaps I do feel somewhat “isolated”.  Its an unnerving feeling not being able to see where you are, where you’ve been, or where you are going, and having your ears blown out by fierce gusts of wind that seem at times like they could pick you up and throw you in any direction they choose without the slightest effort.

(click for video of Winds and Clouds on Boot Spur)

I start heading down Davis Path toward Montalban ridge where the peak of Isolation awaits but the feeling of isolation will likely subside. As I do, I can see visibility improving, just as the dark shadows rapidly move in and blanket the area. Reminds me of that scene in Fantasia. Cue “Night on Bald Mountain” theme. Then the threatening skies diminish once again, when the veil moves out as quick as it arrived. Quite a show indeed! Just me the mountains and the sky, with Iso in view ahead within the Dry River Wilderness.

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But wait, was that a banjo I hear? Nope just a strange looking bird that seems to care less of my presence. I stroll along the path and take note of the subtle differences: a splash of red berries to my right, a scattering of wild mushrooms ala Alice to my left.

I look up in time to avoid a wrap on the head from a crossing downed limb at forehead level (why it’s important to look up from the trail, not to mention all the view you would miss), and then some more strolling before coming to an aged faded sign indicating the junction of Davis Path and Isolation Trail West branch.

Shortly after, a brand spanking new sign at the Iso-east branch trail junction to which I will return later, but first I continue straight on Davis for another mile to search for a tiny faded sign which will be the turnoff for Isolation summit. A few spots give me some looks back at the chaos on Boot, and then a startling sound – footsteps, something I haven’t heard yet today. The lone hiker and I exchange the typical mountain greeting and then another surprise – another shiny new sign, complete with that new sign smell. I have reached the turnoff and #47 is within my grasp.

As I approach the summit, I hear the faded chatter of voices growing louder with each step. So even here on Isolation, I am not alone. I arrive at last at the northern ledge to wide open views everywhere, especially North to Washington, Monroe and the Dry River Valley, and to the Northwest at the southern Presis and the Willey Range.

Behind me through some scrub are the voices of a few groups hangin out at the true summit. I make my way through the brush to the left (not realizing there is an easier way to the right) and finally arrive at the summit cairn and marker for my second to last victory.

I chat a while with the other two duo groups, one of which are camping down near one of the former sites of Rocky Branch shelter, and the other of which are completing #39 today and are planning a Presi-traverse in early autumn to finish right about the same time I plan on finishing. I learned later that they are from Norwood, close to my home town – small world. The chit chat dwindles after a photo favor from the 2^nd group as they head out back toward Boot Spur & Glen Boulder for some more chaos. My descent should be much more mellow down by way of the first groups campsite.

(click here for video of ISOLATION Summit)

First I am taking advantage of the now deserted summit for some solitude as I linger a while longer and soak in the grand views. Then it’s time to get back to work for a 7.3 mile descent down Iso-east and Rocky Branch.

The first part of the outward trek is a soggy one with lots of green moss covered drought stricken stream beds and mud patches.

Remember playing in the mud when you were a kid? I get to be a kid a lot these days! My Merrells have seen better days though after the wear and tear of all these squishy miles since that day in 2014 at Sports Authority when they were shiny and new. When this quest is complete I will have to treat myself to a new pair, as well as a new day pack which has also served me well on this first of many journeys to come. Further down the trail, the streams are now flowing with ice cold goodness. I don’t really need a refill but after the long day, I swap out my semi warm supply with the fresh offerings of nature. This is a nice mellow descent but certainly one of the more soggy & longer ones, but not nearly as soggy as my Owl’s Head ordeal.

That’s one thing this day is giving me, is plenty of time to reflect on all of the challenges, all of the lessons, all of the experiences, all of the wondrous lush sanctuaries and hideaways, all of the peaks and valleys, all of the unforeseen gifts I have been blessed with through the many adventures taken over this short, but oh so meaningful stretch of time. My favorites are still fresh in my mind and always in my heart as I put the finishing touches on today’s journey.

All of these memories have been coming flooding back in recent hikes. The awakening on Franconia ridge, the rugged and raw beauty of King’s Ravine, the majestic crests of the Presidential Range, the peace solitude of a night on Osceola, the earie forest of foggy Waumbek, the winter wonderlands inside Crawford and Pinkham Notch, the long slog through the remote reaches of the Pemigewasset Wilderness, and so many more! Numerous regrets, uncertainties, fears, insecurities, and inner struggles have been confronted and washed away in these hills and I will be forever thankful. At the same time there have been the carefree days that simply offer a fun retreat from the rigorous hustle and bustle of the daily grind, and have given me a renewed perspective and have reprioritized what is truly important and significant in my life. All this from the mere act of putting one foot in front of the other and repeating. I will never underestimate the value of the decision to take that first step, and will never take for granted these blessings.

Pilot Range, Presidential Range

(Cabot-45, Bulge, Horn, Jefferson-46)

Well here we are, all caught up to current day (for the most part). I didn’t think my words would ever catch up to my feet, but thanks to a few pics-only posts, a long winter post, and a long early-spring break, I am living in the moment instead of reflecting back to a place in time. Yep, I’m now writing about the FINAL FOUR on this amazing journey, as I get ready to take the first steps to my 48^th peak on Garfield with some good company to help celebrate the triumphant landmark on a much bigger journey already in motion.

So grateful for the large turnout on my final trek. Although it’s a little bit strange I must admit to finish with a big group since this has been very much a self-discovery on a vision quest voyage traveled by a lone wolf, interspersed with a companion here and there when I needed some human dialogue to break up the solitude. Still I am so thankful for the support of the pack that will join me in a big howl of victory. But first things first, back up a bit to the week leading up to the 4^th…

Day One: Camping and Hiking gear stuffed in the back of my Rav4 once again this summer. In keeping with tradition, I am planning to spend the American holiday with some of the nation’s former presidents, first and foremost Thomas Jefferson (one of the four I have left on the list). For the other day, I am thinking either a revisit to Adams or Madison or both I have the entire long weekend to play with and it’s shaping up to be a good one …and then an unexpected turn in the weather in the higher summits forecast, with a Canadian front moving in bringing cold temps and high winds and even snow on Friday night – just another summer day in the Whites – always expect the unexpected! Gradual improvement is expected over the course of the weekend, so if I do my hiking the last 2 days and save 5,712 ft for Monday the 4^th, I can stay down lower on the 3^rd and be ok. Luckily I have just the candidate – Cabot (another of my final 4), the northern most 4,000 footer in the Pilot Range of Coos County way up in Berlin NH.

Cabot is set away from Its more popular southern neighbors, which is why I have, as many others have before me, saved it for one of the last. Its decrease in popularity compared to the far more majestic Presidentials, works in my favor on a supposedly busy holiday weekend. I should encounter much less traffic up here in the north country trails. Indeed, I am one of a few cars here as a pull up to the Berlin fish hatchery on York Pond Rd., just after 8am (when the hatchery gates open). I immediately get the sense that this mountain range is much different than what I am used to, and has a real country feel to it, as I start out on the Bunnell Notch Trail on this sunny Sunday before the fireworks of tomorrow. The trail meanders through fields of tall grass and greenery and the peace washes over me as I roam the grounds knowing I made the right choice for the day.

I gotta admit although all along I have been doing everything safely in order to avoid a bear or moose encounter, I am secretly hoping this will be the one that’ll give me a sighting of one in their natural habitat – at a safe distance of course -we shall see. I am wearing red white and blue this weekend to show my patriotism, so I should stick out like a sore thumb and keep any beasts from getting too close. Apparently, I’m not the only one anticipating such an interaction with nature because as I closed in on a girl who was creeping along looking cautiously around every corner and tapping her poles together to warn off any potential predators, she jumped a mile as I stuck up behind her. “Oh shit, I thought you were a bear!” were her anxious words upon our meeting. “Oh sorry, do I smell that bad?” I jokingly responded. “Don’t worry I’ll scare them off with my loud colors”. That seemed to provide some relief, if only temporarily, to her nervousness, as she laughed and I continued ahead. Later I thought maybe I should have offered to hike together to ease her mind, but really what protection could this skinny hippy-looking character offer? Besides, I think she was fine. Bears are mostly trying to avoid humans just as much as we try to avoid them, except if we come between a mother and her cubs or are carelessly leaving food around camp.

Anyway, there was to be no sightings today. Nor would there be a grunt or a roar, just the sounds of the breeze through the trees, the birds in flight, a chipmunk scurrying through the forest, the rivers and streams rushing over the rocks, and a bee or a fly buzzing by my ears – all sounds that are normally drowned out by the noise of everyday life. Occasionally I would hear a louder snap of a branch or a rubbing together of limbs and I would stop in my tracks, take a look around and see nothing – just the wind, which was still ramping up from time to time, but much calmer I suspect than what I would be experiencing in the higher peaks. Again good choice on this plan B – by tomorrow things will be much less blustery up on Caps Ridge and Castles of Jefferson, and perhaps even less crowded. Plus, now I will now knock off 2 more peaks this weekend, leaving me just 2 short of my ultimate goal, as the roman numeral II appears before me in the trees overhead.

The green meadows and gentle dry dirt trails have now given way to the typical steeper rockier sections, as I pass another pair of hikers descending opposite my direction. The usual friendly greetings with the older couple are followed by the woman’s request “If you find a red bandanna up there please take it. I dropped it and I hate to litter.” It’s nice to hear that folks still care about the condition we leave this place in these days. It seems more and more people are taking to the trails and unfortunately some, and seemingly many, are either mistakenly dropping their garbage or blatantly disregarding the leave no trace practices, not realizing the impact it has for wildlife, the environment, and the rest of us trying to enjoy undisturbed natural beauty. We should all be trying just a little bit harder to preserve these places for future generations to enjoy. Ok rant over.

Higher up now on Kilkenny Ridge (“You killed Kenny! You bastard!”) I start to sneak some partial views through the trees to the rolling hills below and the lively textured clouds moving rapidly through the vast sky of blue above. Oh and did I mention I love the smell of green? And then one tree holds a man-made block of wood with one word etched upon it: “VIEW”, followed by an arrow. The familiar side trail leads to a place I have been over and over throughout my travels, the ledges and outlooks I have come to fall in love with time and time again and each with its own characteristics, no two the same. It just never gets old and I hope I never ever take them for granted.

I soak in the scene before me and then a few kids, 2 younger gents in their 20’s I’m guessing, from Newburyport Ma join me on the ledge. This is the same home town of the author of the book Following Atticus which I am slowly chipping away at here and there, about a man and his canine friend and their White Mountain adventures. I started this book thinking how similar my experience was to his (minus the dog). Now I see that they were very different. Each person’s journey is their own. Funny how the mountain gives you exactly what you need- no more, no less. Still it’s good to hear about others in their quests. Anyway, I sit for a while and compare trail stories over a snack for a bit and then I continue onward and upward.

Soon I reach the Cabot Cabin which is locked up, and probably just as well as it seems in major disrepair. I grab another peak at the vista through the trees from up on a rock in the woods and carry on to the summit with the 2 lads from Newburyport just behind me. I manage to stay just ahead of them throughout the day with various spots where we would meet up again. Another clearing just below the summit is my last chance at a Cabot view .

I  head back into the woods and in no time at all I reach #45 at 4,170 ft where I prop the cam up and put it in time delay mode, since my friends from Newburyport are no longer on the scene. No sights here, so I don’t stay long because I know a side trail to The Horn (3,905 ft) awaits ahead and holds magnificent views. Somewhere on the way to the Horn a pass up and over The Buldge (3,950 ft) which has no markings (at least not that I noticed) and once again no views, aside from views of the forest that is. So I descend into the col where I reach the turnoff.

Next is a quick 0.3-mile jaunt with a few scrambles, and I reach The Horn where my lack of summit beauty non-experience from earlier is made up for 10-fold! Here I take an extended break and soak it all in, while I try to keep my sandwich from blowing away.

I can only imagine the gusts the folks on Jefferson are experiencing now. But then again, I have had my fair share of windy days too.

I return back down the side trail and briefly lose track of my location, until I meet a hiker I had passed earlier and she says “You’re doing an out & back like me but in the opposite direction.” …Wait, what? Where am I? Dammit I missed my turn and I’m heading back up The Buldge! Ok correct course, no harm, back on track, heading DOWN K.R. Tr. this time, past the turnoff AGAIN, and descending toward Unknown Pond. This is my last stop of the day, so I sit a while and a profound silence washes over me once again, as it always seems to do at some point in the day. My one on one time in the wilderness where I have that connection that feeds the need to come back for more.

The peace stays with me as I descend Unknown Pond Trail through open green meadows and trickling streams. The dense growth hides the trail a bit at times but nothing I can’t manage, a sign of the lesser traveled peaks I travel today. Stopping at a stream crossing to filter and refill my water, a little friend enjoys a rest on my backpack while I hydrate after what has been another beautiful day and probably one of the more unique hikes I’ve had in the Whites.

It has been a descent size loop – close to 11 miles and filled with serenity and variety that I wasn’t expecting. But now I’m tired and hungry, and I need to get back to my campsite for some burger rejuvenation and a good night’s rest before my 2^nd more rugged trek tomorrow.

Day Two: There’s a certain security from the drive-up campsite, knowing you have a numbered area for yourself and attendants making the rounds, not to mention the convenience of a cooler in your car with real food and beer, bundles of firewood, camping chairs, a 2 burner stove, picnic table, and a short walk to a real toilet. But there are drawbacks too, the biggest one being having to endure potentially noisy neighbors. I was the lucky recipient of such annoyances last night. The group of 3 were just getting going as I was calling it a night and they later brought some even louder reinforcements well after midnight. Times like this I wish that I would just get over my hesitations of stealth camping in the woods without knowing ahead where my bed will be, and that I would suck it up and throw the big pack on more often than I do. I seem to go for the convenience factor time after time.

Luckily I was tired enough from my hike to not lose too much sleep at the hands of the obnoxious group next door. Still, when my phone alarm went off at 6:00 am with that annoyingly happy banjo music, with the screen that reads “Hiking Time!!” and my groggy stiff-jointed achy body lay there, back to the cold ground, bundled in my sleeping bag, all I can think is “Oh just let it rain so I can justify laying in my cozy little cocoon a little bit longer”. Slowly but surely though, over the next half hour or so, I muster up enough motivation to unzip the door of my tiny bedroom in the woods and greet the day’s first rays of sun.
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As usual I am glad I didn’t give into the morning lazys because it’s already shaping up to be an ideal day for hangin out above treeline. A bowl of cereal and a cup o jo some stretches and a quick break down of camp, and I’m off to conquer the last of the Presis and my #46. The first order of business is a long bumpy dirt road to the highest trailhead in the Whites.

At 9am I arrive at el. 3009 ft to let my feet take it from here up to el. 5716 ft. via Caps Ridge. Today I am actually looking forward to the descent down Castle Trail over The Castles! Then maybe a less attractive but equally rugged trail will be closing the loop with The Link.

All this starts out as a typical trail in the Whites, but then a clearing and rock outcropping gives me my first peek at the peak and the task before me. Even with the nice weather I always get a little bit jacked up, and a tad nervous when I know I’ll have an extended above tree line journey. That’s a healthy thing I think. I feed off this nervous energy to help me up the mountain.

The trail becomes rockier now reminding me of the boulder fields that await me. A few more glimpses above the trees give me a closer look at the Caps and summit for my final stand above 5k on this round.

Just before the Link junction another open rock perch gives me my first wide angle view of the day, and once again it does not disappoint. It’s amazing how lucky I’ve been overall with the weather on this quest. Well, ok maybe a little bit of luck and a lot of careful planning, picking and choosing my windows, paints a more accurate picture.

Going back to work for a few more miles the trees are getting shorter already, and the rocks are growing in numbers, as the views around me open up more and become increasingly impressive. That’s right forty-something peaks later I am still impressed with this land and all its immense sweeping displays. In no time at all, I find myself navigating the boulders of the upper slopes. Let the rock climbing begin!

I will not be bored today (not that I ever am), between all the jagged contours that require a heightened awareness, and the scenes around me to divert my focus. I am purposely slowing down today, to avoid injury. Some hikes are more like a marathon, and some are more like an obstacle course. This is most certainly the latter, so will adjust accordingly.

I switch off between poles and hands depending on the terrain, and pause wherever I can, keeping my head on a swivel. I notice one rock face that actually looks like a face. It’s Jimmy Durante “ha-cha-cha-cha” …it can happen to you if you’re young at heart “.

It’s such a fun climb up and over the Caps looking at all the rock formations. During a break I look over to my left to see The Castles for the first time. I usually dread the descent but today I can’t wait! Then a look to my right reveals awesome views at my presidential neighbors. Memories of the days I visited them come flooding back, and I can feel the smile reach my ears.

As I put a feather in my final Cap, I set my sights on the prize and I’m ready to “get high” so to speak – 5,712 ft to be exact.

With a look back and a wave to the Caps I set out on my final mission of this patriotic weekend in my red white and blue. It’s summit or bust!

Washington and great gulf are coming into view clear as day, and I am so glad I waited until today to take this on. The wind gusts are strong. So I can only imagine what they would have been earlier in the weekend.

As I make my way closer, and now sitting on a rock for a hydration break, a friendly canine hiker approaches my side and lets me pet her for a while. It’s a golden, a breed I am very partial to. There have been a few of these dogs in my family over the years: Samson in my high school years, followed by my brother’s dog Wilson, and now my sister’s Simba. I think this one somehow sensed that I understood her. Her owner follows and we make chit-chat for a few minutes then each press onto the summit. This Golden seemed to take me in as part of her group. As she confidently makes her way, totally at ease with the task, from marker to marker (it’s amazing how they know where to go), she looks back periodically to make sure I’m ok and that her owner is following. We have a chuckle over this and go through the rest of the climb playing leapfrog, separating for a while and then joining paths once more.

We all arrive to the summit together and then part ways for good to each claim a spot amongst the busy rocky apex for some solitary time with the mountain over a bite to eat. There is a cluster of folks snapping summit photos now, so I save mine for after lunch, enjoying the 360 vistas in a quieter zone in the fields of boulders.

The sights over to Washington and the great gulf are outstanding! I can make out the auto road and can hear the whistle of the Cog in the distance. I have enjoyed “The Rockpile” much better from a distance than I did on my halfway mark hike last summer.

A short distance away is the lush Monticello Lawn, which is part of a 1-mile scenic loop option around the southern portions of Jefferson’s summit. I had thought about including this today, but I think I will just stick to my original loop plan.
Also in view between me and Washington in Sphinx Col and Mt Clay, something I will get to experience closer when I do my Presi-traverse, whenever that may be. This is one of those extended summit visits today, lingering longer than most.
So much to see here on such a nice day, I never wanna leave my happy place, but alas more adventures await so I gather myself and press on. But wait! Almost forgot the mandatory summit pose. The area is less populated now so I shoot back to the top and get someone to snap a photo. Now onto those Castles!

(click here for Video of Jefferson Summit)

Quartz capped cairns lead the way down the ridge to these formations. There seems to be only a few folks heading down this way, so I have the area to myself for the most part. Slow going but my knees are holding up well so far. Crossing the Cornice trail, the most interesting 1-mile stretch is coming up (or down) before I get to The Link, but I’m just taking it one cairn at a time and enjoying my surroundings on this spectacular Independence Day, with a hefty wind blowing to the Northeast.

There is one other duo of hikers approaching behind me, as I am faced with a dramatic photo op of the Castellated Ridge, and I let them pass as I hang back for a while so that I can get some scale to the scene. It’s not every day you get treated to such an extended above alpine visit so I am taking my time getting back to the trees. The shadows dance and the shapes transform as I travel down the ridge. Equally impressive views behind me as I pass each of these Castles. Did I mention that I love this place? Yes, I’m quite certain I alluded to that a few times. I’m sure my knees will be screaming later, but nature has its own pain killer as you take it all in – the sights, the sounds, the smells, the textures and the feeling of being on top of the world.

(click here for video of Castles)

I pass the final Castle and get a look to my right at Emerald Bluff and the Adams family. I look back and wave goodbye to the Castles before plunging back into the trees.

I approach a trail junction and although I can’t say I approve of defacing trail signs, I also can’t say I disagree with the sentiment of whoever did it. The Link was a brutal stretch of trail, especially for supposedly being around the same elevation for the 1.6 miles leading back to Caps Ridge Trail.

For the next 2 hours I contort my body around a constant barrage of obstacles, up-over-around-through rocks, roots, humps, ruts, gaps, and tight spots. At one point I basically had to hump a large rock to get around it – You’re welcome Rock. A brief break in the action came about halfway along the trail at a stream crossing and clearing. I stopped here to refill my water supply and submerge my feet for a well-deserved cool down.

Then It was back to the slow painful obstacle course, until I eventually reached my final turn for some relief on easier terrain.

img_5473 I reach my perch once again and enjoy one final view while my sweat drenched shirt dries out in the breeze. Another spectacular summer hike in the books. 2 more left baby!!! And now for some manmade heaven in a bottle, then back down the narrow bumpy road heading south toward base road (home of Ammo, Jewell, and Cog) and then 302, a stop at a picnic area to finish up my burgers and clean out the cooler, then cruise control along an amazing sunset (of which a didn’t get any pics but im sure you saw it too)…

Kinsman & Presidential Ranges

(Moosilauke -28, Eisenhower-29)

 PART 1:  Mother Nature hands out no refunds. But you can return anytime you like to catch her in a better mood. So I knew as her wind attempted to snatch the sandwich from my grasp, that I would return to see what lies beyond this orange summit sign and the mass of this curtain of gray before me. Just when you get comfortable with mother nature she seems to let you know who’s boss. It’s always a very humbling experience and reminds you how small your grand plan really is. Still, I have seen way too many spectacular summit view pictures from previous visitors of the Moose to not return and witness them for myself, but it would not on this day. Instead I was greeted with a fog covered summit with fierce winds unseasonably chilly temps and rain remnants whipping around. Flashbacks of my day on Madison reminded me of my list of re-dos and I knew this would join them. I felt more secure on this summit than Maddie and lingered probably longer than most on this day to observe Mother’s tantrum. I put my sandwich back in the pack and sat to get my eardrums blown out a bit. After a particularly violent gust, I literally found myself saying out loud, “Alright, alright I heard ya Mah! I’m leavin just gimme a sec and quit yer bitch’n!” She responded with an even louder gust as if to say “YOU ARE NOT WELCOME! BE GONE NOW!” So I made my way down the mountain vowing to return when she was in a better mood.     

(click here for a windy wet moose video)

The weekend started with a bigger plan. Once again I was trying to get in my revisit overnight trip in the Bonds, and once again that plan was squashed with things like sleep deprivation. In fact, I had slept so late this time, that I almost gave up on any hope of a hike in the Whites. As I lay discouraged, staring at the ceiling, squinting from the sun that was already coming through the shades, I got a few texts from my sister that lifted my spirits. Therese was following up our epic trip in the ADK’s a few weekends back with another day trip (on Giant I think) and texted me a few beautiful summit pics. This was all the inspiration I needed to drag my ass outta bed and climb SOMETHING, even if it wasn’t the overnight I was packed for. So I grabbed my pack as-is along with my empty day pack and headed for the hills.

So I’m driving with no plan whatsoever and I start weighing my options. I have what’s left of Saturday and all of Sunday to work with. So I am thinking keeping it south at least for today. I know I wanted to start working in some of the smaller peaks off of the 52WAV list anyway. There was one in particular that caught my eye as a shorter big bang for the buck type hike, perfect for my current situation – the Welch Dickey loop in Waterville Valley. So this will be my first stop and I’ll worry about a campsite later. This turned out to be a nice little hike that lived up to the hype with some fairly challenging little stretches, fantastic views over 2 peaks and a couple of hours on a sunny Saturday. Some of the best views in the Whites can be found in under 4k feet. These are the types of gems I’m trying to mix in, so I guess my oversleeping was a blessing in disguise. Plus it gave me just enough time to think through a plan B scenario.

I got this nice little hike wrapped up in plenty of time to snag a site at Waterville, do some scenic driving and chill for a bit by Mad River and break out the trail maps to plan tomorrows new plan – Moosilauke.  I check the weather again and they are calling for showers over night with a cloudy start and clearing later. So back to the campsite for some bagged dried meals (because that’s what I had packed), a campfire, and some rest before I hit the George Brook Trail in the morning.

Well true to the forecast, it did rain overnight and it is a cloudy start. It seems fall got here overnight with some chilly temps,
but I am prepared with a fleece, gloves and a hat as well as rain gear. As I travel along the trail, I can see why this is many a hiker’s favorite. There’s a little bit of everything here. I even see some of the leaves beginning to turn already. Now if we can just get that blue sky happening.

As we know from the beginning of this entry, I would not achieve that Allman Brother’s song. That is not until I was well on my way down the mountain – just one last cruel joke from Mah Nature. I guess timing is everything. Well I decided that next weekend would be my day of redemption, so I would not have to wait long…

PART 2: …And I could almost see my own footprints, fresh off the climb just six days before as I tracked them up the slopes of GB trail. Moose take 2 – worth every step retaken.

Everything I missed last week in the fog, wet and wind was laid out before me this week with gorgeous views blue skies and nothing more than a gentle breeze. It’s like a tale of two mooses (or is it meeces) …in any case redemption a success! If there was a drawback, it was that everyone else thought so too! Yes, there was a massive crowd to greet me at the summit – well, what did you expect on one of the most popular peaks on a bluebird day like today? I could see them from the meadow-like area just below the summit and paused here to get my last bit of solitude and take it my surroundings before joining the gathering.

I was able to entice Mom to take the trip north with me this weekend, as she was in dire need of an escape from her routine for a few days. She has been adjusting to life after retirement and really needs to start this new chapter of her life focusing on things that give her joy and peace. Sounds like a perfect job for the mountains to me. She may not have the physical ability to join me on my hikes, but she can still enjoy the mountains from baseline perspective and take them with her. There are so many ways to appreciate nature. We drove up together and shared some meaningful thoughts on the way. We had no reserved campsite but I knew we would have no problem getting one with summer vacationtime coming to a close. We ended up setting camp at Russell Pond in Lincoln.  Mom got my tent and I set up my hammock between two perfectly spaced trees. Then we made our way westward to the trailhead where I was left to begin the day’s repeat adventure, and Mom left with my car to explore some scenic spots along the Kanc.
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After enjoying the 360 degree views at the summit of Moosilauke, I took Carriage Path to the less visited South Peak. Here I lingered for a while and got my fix of solitude and 180 degrees of sheer beauty, followed by a descent down Snapper Trail to the Ravine Lodge and a short roadwalk to where Mom was parked. Then it was back to camp for a good meal and campfire before a rocked myself to sleep hanging from the trees.

PART 3: We woke in the morning to a chill in the air but nothing a hot coffee and big breakfast couldn’t cure. In addition, we needed to break down camp before the day’s events, so that’s always good to get the blood pumping. I had thought of doing the Kinsmans today, but that’s really a full day hike and would get us home late after the long drive. Instead we are doing a bit of driving up front to get to Crawford Notch where I’ll take the shorter hike up Eisenhower. Mom will get to explore this beautiful area from the lower elevations.

I began the hike at the same time a couple and their very friendly dog were starting. I let them start ahead of me so I could go through my normal pre-hike warmup routine. They said they weren’t very fast and I’d probably catch up to them at some point. A few times I thought it would be nice to have a dog of my own to hike with, but then again it’s nice to only be responsible to yourself too. Maybe someday…

I was originally saving Ike for a relatively easy hike with big payoff that I could take along on, but I might as well do it today and I can always repeat with a buddy (if any of my buddies ever grow a pair). Not too long after heading up the gentle slope of Edmands Path, I catch up with the couple and their dog. I didn’t catch their names, as I usually don’t, but nevertheless we get to chatting and swapping hiking tales, family stories and whatever else comes to mind. As I hear myself gabbing away I realize – wow, I’ve been on quite a few of these things! Am I becoming a seasoned hiker? Naaah it can’t be there is still so much to learn! Although I must admit, I have come a long way and have learned quite a bit on these excursions, from talking to others like I am today, from books, guides, maps, online material, social media, and most of all from experiencing the magic of the mountains. These things really do transform you into someone else – no, scratch that – they allow your true self to surface like no other place, person or thing can… well for me anyway.

After a series of leap frog cycles with this couple and canine, I end up on my own for a while (the terrain now steeper and rockier) and get my fix of quality alone time with the mountain. Trees start opening up to views of Washington, and the other Presidentials on another perfect late summer day. Entering the Alpine zone now, I come across a few groups doing a Presi- traverse and I get some tidbits on their experiences. I want to do my own traverse someday soon along with a Pemi-loop amongst other things. Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll walk the entire AT. Hiking is so much a part of me now – I just wanna see it all! It’s no longer something I do. It’s who I am!

As I reach the rocky summit I make several circles around the giant cairn to all sides of the amazing crystal clear views, and I recognize quite a few right away: of course Washington and Monroe from my halfway point, and Peirce – Jackson from the weekend before that, and so many more. I remember when there were not many I could Identify – not the case anymore.

Shortly after I arrive, the couple I had been hiking with off and on are now summiting, as I sit with my PBJ studying my map to identify some more peaks. Pongo the dog (funny I got the dog’s name but not the people) is running around to the various groups with friendly face-kisses. Another girl then summits and is asking around for directions to Crawford Path, apparently on her way to Peirce. My new friends direct her over to me – of all people! “That guy over there probably knows”. WHAT? Have I become the “expert” now? I remember when it was me asking and now I am directing! When did this happen?? Anyway I was happy to show her on the map and point her in the right direction.

After taking an extended summit break and texting my mom to let her know roughly the time I would be back at the trailhead, I make my way back down Edmonds Path where I once again catch up with my new friends (I’ve got to start remembering to exchange names with people!) We chat some more as we descend, but after a while the trail opens up a bit and they offer to let me pass or stay and chat. As they were moving a bit slower than I wanted to, I take them up on the offer and spring ahead.

Although, I felt a little bit bad about that afterward, since we seemed to form a bond and I selfishly gave into my own comfort and pace, I kinda felt a little bit like I was ditching them, but I quickly realized that this was silly and got back to good thoughts. Well they ended up catching up with me again toward the flatter part toward the bottom, and actually passed me as I was cooling off by the stream.

When I finally reached the trail head, Mom was waiting, book in hand, and a look of peace upon her face, and I could tell she had a great day in the mountains as well. We sat on a log and exchanged pictures and stories about our day. I am just now realizing that neither one of us took pictures of each other or snapped a selfie together. I guess we were just so caught up with nature that we forgot. Or perhaps we were enjoying the moment and didn’t need the camera to capture it. I am glad we spent this time together on this trip, and hope to share more of these moments…

THIS JUST IN 6/9/16: – Since the writing of this, Mom and I took another trip to the mountains, this time in winter (described in a future entry). These trips have since inspired her to get back into oil painting- something she loved immensely in earlier years. Mountains are such great seeds of inspiration!! I just got back from her house and she showed me her first finished product of her rekindled love of painting, and I just had to share it here, as well as a pic of us together. I am proud of you Mom. Love You!!