Papa, I guess I took your option number 1 a couple Thursdays ago. I haven't taken any of the other routes, but the route I took was not fun.
There were a lot of marked trees (paint marks; blobs or slash-like stripes) and it wasn't too bad at first, but it seemed to take a long time to actually gain elevation, despite the relative steepness. I followed a stream a while, then moved away from it. I wondered more than once if I was going the right way, because the ridge to the east was much higher than where I was, but later that ridge was much lower when I got up high.
Eventually there was a lot of dense spruce to fight through, natch. My water bottle fell out of its pocket on my pack once or twice.
I don't recall the elevation, but at some point there was a steep drop-off on the left (east). I didn't want to get too close, even though there were plenty of trees near it. There was a view east, too.
I kept expecting to encounter a herd path, and it was in this vicinity that I did begin to find one now and then, but none of them lasted very long.
On what I thought was the top, there were many paths, but none seemed to lead anywhere, and I did'nt find the canister. In the question I posted (on June 3) on the subject, Tramper Al pointed out that the canister is on the lower eastern summit. I guess I'd read that before somewhere; I wish I'd remembered it when it mattered. Either way I went along the ridge from the summit dome the land went down, so it didn't occur to me to search anywhere except on the high area.
My wristwatch altimeter went up to 3810 feet, for what that's worth.
Going down, I went too far west and found myself near an old slide with some vertical exposed rock above me on the ridge to the west. I tried to head more east, but found myself back near the slide, now a stream. I crossed it, and the water made a long rocky drop that was fairly impressive.
The woods seemed more open on the western side of the stream, but they really weren't. I kept returning to the stream, and crossed it and recrossed it a few times, then went back to the western side and tried to slab around the slope to what I thought would be less severe terrain, but the ridge seemed to just keep bending away from me and it was tough going.
Aside from being pretty well exhausted, I had charley horses in both legs, and kept uttering little screams every time I had to step over another blowdown. Did I mention it wasn't fun?
Anyway, after a long descent, I went back down to the stream, figuring it would have to lead me to the Hancock Branch eventually, and I didn't want to risk losing it.
I forgot to mention: Are you familiar with the path which is directly across Route 112 from Big Rock Campground, the one that goes to Hancock Branch? Partway down that path it is crossed by another well-beaten path, probably made by moose, which parallels the river downstream (west) at a distance. Well, I followed this path a ways, then bushwhacked to the river and crossed it, utilizing an island that had some discarded cigarette packs on it.
Well, coming down, I didn't know where I might be in relation to Big Rock Campground, but I assumed that once I reached the river I could easily get to the road and figure out which way to go to get back to my car (which was actually next to Big Rock at the Discovery Trail head).
The stream I was following had too many slippery rocks to make it easy to stay in, so I had to get out often and fight through the spruce. Down around 1700 feet maybe, I crossed to the west for the umpteenth time and finally found some painted trees. Yee-ha, so I thought, except that then the stream petered out completely! However, I almost immediately heard a motorcycle roar away not too far ahead, and I heard the roar of water as well, and soon saw, unmistakably, Hancock Branch. Phew.
I crossed it, thought I recognized a broken tree on the other side, climbed up through the woods, and came to a road I definitely recognized; the gated road that is about a half mile west of Big Rock Campground, the one that is shown on my 1967 7.5-minute topographic map as going to a sand pit. It's easy to see on the map which ridge and stream I followed down, knowing where I ended up.
From there it was easy to get back to my car.
I had started the hike at 6:50 a.m., reached the "top" (I'm not sure if I should count this as a climbed mountain or not, without the canister offering its confirmation) about 11 o'clock, started back down a few minutes past noon (it doesn't seem possible I was up there an hour, but I guess I was), reached Hancock Branch about 2:10 p.m., and was back at the car a half hour later.
[After crossing the river, I had to go back because I realized I was missing my sunglasses. I didn't find them where I'd changed out of my boots and into my wet shoes, so they're gone. Which reminds me: Anyone know where I can find those cheap drop-behind sunglasses? Wal-Mart was the last place I was able to find them, and that was a few years ago probably. We've checked two Wal-Marts recently (coincidentally, Hudson, New Hampshire, and Hudson, Massachusetts) and didn't see the sunglasses. They're the kind that drop behind your regular eyeglasses, and used to cost about two bucks.]
Anyway, I won't be trying this route again anytime soon. No matter how bad it is from Little East Pond, I can't believe it could be much worse than this hike was, and it would be considerably less distance. Right?
