Doc McPeak
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- Sep 3, 2003
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Well, I prefer my bushwhacks in winter, when I'm bundled up under several impervious layers to protect my precious skin, and have enough snow beneath me to put me above the mudpits, sod sinkholes, blowdown and, lastly, can allow a comfortable stroll above a nice frozen streambed. But, optimist that I am, I somehow convinced myself, and Alpine Summit along the way, that a pleasurable stroll up MacNaughton along MacNaughton Brook was just waiting out there for us... And it probably still is...
Actually, it wasn't that bad (now that my cuts are healing, and welts and bruises subsiding). The trail around Henderson Lake, through Preston Pass and down to the Piche camp is pleasant and seldom travelled. We were even delusional enough to bring swim suits and towels and stash them on the backside of Henderson Lake for a nice relaxing afternoon of swimming after banging out the mountain by, say lunchtime... of course I had been delinquent in my prep work (too complacent after a couple of rounds of the 46!) and thought we were dropping down to Preston Ponds and right around the corner from our destination! Oh yeah, you're supposed to add that mile and half along the Indian Pass trail! And maybe look at the map in your pack occasionnally? No wonder I couldn't find that nice dock on Upper Preston...
So, it takes a little longer to get to Hunter Pond, and MacNaughton Brook than was anticipated. I guess we were sauntering along, chatting away in an inadvertant attempt to pace ourselves for the haul. Alpine had brought the spunky Dackster Dog since we were out of the way (never saw anyone all day, from Trailhead to trailhead, and even on the road in and out!) and we were content to let him entertain us as we broke from the main path and followed the rather sketchy thin path up the SE south of the brook. Oh, how well four wheel drive works in the scrub.
MacNaughton Brook is truly a fantastic brook. Not Alice-in-Wonderland lush like a Herbert Brook, but full of wide slabs, a nice gorge section like the upper Opalescent, and a million beautiful falls and flumes and pools. Many times we would break into the brookbed to rockhop up. But the water was high and invariably would force us back into the thickets to circumnavigate through numerous hints of herdpaths leading nowhere and some real scratchy areas of blowdown, uproots, and serious femur-seeking sod sinkholes. We each went in up to the thigh on several occassions.
On a couple of occassions we drifted across the stream to try our luck on the left side, but found it as bad or worse over there. However, there is a good section on the left after you pass through the large flat open area with the horrendous blowdown field. As you start up again you will run through a hundred feet or more of small pine trees. Just be careful for sod traps underneath... because you can't see them beneath you until you're falling into them. I was probing with my pole and it fell from my hand disappeared into the ground, landing in a small cave about five feet deep! Yes, this way is fun...
Well, after about three hours of this picking and chewing the brook finally started to narrow, right in tune with our enthusiam. We had the "are we still having fun?" discussion and decided to give it five more minutes. Four minutes later Alpine gave me a weary sigh and waved the little branch with flagging my way. Great... now we have to keep climbing. And my tail had almost curled up for a nice nap between my legs.
As others have said, this is just about where the brook disappears into the mountainside. Once the brook becomes around 8 to 10 feet wide your almost there. The brook is about 6 feet wide when it goes under, and seems to be around 3200'. Alpine had the gps, and marked it, so he'll chime in with the exact altitude I'm sure.
The flagged trail is great, comparatively. It is still pretty tight, but not as choking as below, and the horizon line above keeps flattening as you chug higher and higher. It was probably 45 minutes from the first flag to the middle summit with the nice open rock. Henderson Mountain, the Preston Ponds, Santanoni, Panther, a slither of Couchy behind and other peaks were ghostly and impressive in the humid air.
The sign, and highest summit by approximately 1 meter, sits on the NW summit which takes about ten minutes through a pretty scratchy path along the ridge. We lost it coming back, but the summit ridge is very narrow and we found it easy enough. All in all a helluva ride up in a warm sticky day for decent views on top a cute yet primitive mountain top. However, our 7 1/2 hour trek to the top (albeit casual paced and full of stops) had us a little worried about the descent.
And if I was pretty sick of thrashing through blowdown and thickets, Alpine was plain old through with it. He was going to stick with the brook. I contemplated joining him but the rocks were so slick and slimy around the edges that I kept weaving in and out... until fate struck. Alpine slipped and went into the water up to both knees. Next thing I knew he was cruising along speed unchecked. All the good clean rocks were the ones under the water! That was about the time I reached the scruff breaking point and followed him into the drink. That first eight inch plunge on purpose felt ... well awesome. Cool and refreshing, plunk went my other foot and off we went.
The waterfalls and flumes that we marvelled at from below or beside were now our thoroughfare off the mountain. Climbing down them, water churning around us, was too much fun. A couple pools were soprano-inducing deep, and a few were too deep to enter, but time and distance evaporated using this new tactic. We skipped right down to the high falls and gorge and hit the SE side trail for the last ten minutes to the main trail. It's funny how when just your feet are squishy, and not the rest of you from being rained on, it's not nearly as drowned rat uncomfortable.
Well, perserverance and obstinence overcame some veteran nonchalantness on this voyage, and a pair of frosty cold ones put a smile on our faces for the ride home. And the Dackster Dog? He wasn't fazed a bit.
Some pics here:
http://community.webshots.com/album/166201111CWGRFM
And here's some sweet shots of a trip up Herbert Brook to Marshall last week:
http://community.webshots.com/album/166189310VAjFOK
Actually, it wasn't that bad (now that my cuts are healing, and welts and bruises subsiding). The trail around Henderson Lake, through Preston Pass and down to the Piche camp is pleasant and seldom travelled. We were even delusional enough to bring swim suits and towels and stash them on the backside of Henderson Lake for a nice relaxing afternoon of swimming after banging out the mountain by, say lunchtime... of course I had been delinquent in my prep work (too complacent after a couple of rounds of the 46!) and thought we were dropping down to Preston Ponds and right around the corner from our destination! Oh yeah, you're supposed to add that mile and half along the Indian Pass trail! And maybe look at the map in your pack occasionnally? No wonder I couldn't find that nice dock on Upper Preston...
So, it takes a little longer to get to Hunter Pond, and MacNaughton Brook than was anticipated. I guess we were sauntering along, chatting away in an inadvertant attempt to pace ourselves for the haul. Alpine had brought the spunky Dackster Dog since we were out of the way (never saw anyone all day, from Trailhead to trailhead, and even on the road in and out!) and we were content to let him entertain us as we broke from the main path and followed the rather sketchy thin path up the SE south of the brook. Oh, how well four wheel drive works in the scrub.
MacNaughton Brook is truly a fantastic brook. Not Alice-in-Wonderland lush like a Herbert Brook, but full of wide slabs, a nice gorge section like the upper Opalescent, and a million beautiful falls and flumes and pools. Many times we would break into the brookbed to rockhop up. But the water was high and invariably would force us back into the thickets to circumnavigate through numerous hints of herdpaths leading nowhere and some real scratchy areas of blowdown, uproots, and serious femur-seeking sod sinkholes. We each went in up to the thigh on several occassions.
On a couple of occassions we drifted across the stream to try our luck on the left side, but found it as bad or worse over there. However, there is a good section on the left after you pass through the large flat open area with the horrendous blowdown field. As you start up again you will run through a hundred feet or more of small pine trees. Just be careful for sod traps underneath... because you can't see them beneath you until you're falling into them. I was probing with my pole and it fell from my hand disappeared into the ground, landing in a small cave about five feet deep! Yes, this way is fun...
Well, after about three hours of this picking and chewing the brook finally started to narrow, right in tune with our enthusiam. We had the "are we still having fun?" discussion and decided to give it five more minutes. Four minutes later Alpine gave me a weary sigh and waved the little branch with flagging my way. Great... now we have to keep climbing. And my tail had almost curled up for a nice nap between my legs.
As others have said, this is just about where the brook disappears into the mountainside. Once the brook becomes around 8 to 10 feet wide your almost there. The brook is about 6 feet wide when it goes under, and seems to be around 3200'. Alpine had the gps, and marked it, so he'll chime in with the exact altitude I'm sure.
The flagged trail is great, comparatively. It is still pretty tight, but not as choking as below, and the horizon line above keeps flattening as you chug higher and higher. It was probably 45 minutes from the first flag to the middle summit with the nice open rock. Henderson Mountain, the Preston Ponds, Santanoni, Panther, a slither of Couchy behind and other peaks were ghostly and impressive in the humid air.
The sign, and highest summit by approximately 1 meter, sits on the NW summit which takes about ten minutes through a pretty scratchy path along the ridge. We lost it coming back, but the summit ridge is very narrow and we found it easy enough. All in all a helluva ride up in a warm sticky day for decent views on top a cute yet primitive mountain top. However, our 7 1/2 hour trek to the top (albeit casual paced and full of stops) had us a little worried about the descent.
And if I was pretty sick of thrashing through blowdown and thickets, Alpine was plain old through with it. He was going to stick with the brook. I contemplated joining him but the rocks were so slick and slimy around the edges that I kept weaving in and out... until fate struck. Alpine slipped and went into the water up to both knees. Next thing I knew he was cruising along speed unchecked. All the good clean rocks were the ones under the water! That was about the time I reached the scruff breaking point and followed him into the drink. That first eight inch plunge on purpose felt ... well awesome. Cool and refreshing, plunk went my other foot and off we went.
The waterfalls and flumes that we marvelled at from below or beside were now our thoroughfare off the mountain. Climbing down them, water churning around us, was too much fun. A couple pools were soprano-inducing deep, and a few were too deep to enter, but time and distance evaporated using this new tactic. We skipped right down to the high falls and gorge and hit the SE side trail for the last ten minutes to the main trail. It's funny how when just your feet are squishy, and not the rest of you from being rained on, it's not nearly as drowned rat uncomfortable.
Well, perserverance and obstinence overcame some veteran nonchalantness on this voyage, and a pair of frosty cold ones put a smile on our faces for the ride home. And the Dackster Dog? He wasn't fazed a bit.
Some pics here:
http://community.webshots.com/album/166201111CWGRFM
And here's some sweet shots of a trip up Herbert Brook to Marshall last week:
http://community.webshots.com/album/166189310VAjFOK
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