I finally visited Clough last weekend, heading up from North-South Road. The entire 'whack is a little over a mile long, and the first half of it climbs through open woods. This got my hopes up that the entire way would be like a bushwhack in Vermont. However, for the second half, the spruce trees and blowdowns moved in to hinder my progress. Once on the summit ridge, I was dismayed to learn that I had 0.36 miles to go, across some wet, boggish areas and more thickness. But, as I drew closer to the summit, the herd paths increased, and the top itself is open enough that the true summit is obvious. What threw me off was that the canister wasn't there. Further searching uncovered an unlidded, empty jar under a blown down, and even more searching produced the remants of the register, the bits blown to the edge of the neighboring clearing. There was so little left that the only identifiable feature was the greatly faded SpongeBob sticker.
Since I was out of replacement jars at that point in the weekend, I ended up placing the remnants back in the jar (along with some blank pages and a writing utensil), then placed the whole thing in a large ziplock bag. Since I also had a plastic CVS bag on me, I used it to wrap the parcel to further protect it from the elements. I left it resting on its side on a horizontal blowdown in the summit clearing, held in place by a small blow down lying on top of the first. The gaudy plastic should make the thing obvious.
For my descent, I followed the herd paths back north along the ridge, then when the wet spots kicked in, I turned west and headed back down to the road. I don't think the going was any better on this pass, but at least with gravity's help I was able to bomb down through, and at long last I reached the open woods again. Since it was so late in the afternoon by the time I returned to the car, unfortunately Jeffers would have to wait for another day.
Afterword: On the way into work this morning I had a Bea Paisley moment, and realized I should have written this in the Clough register:
There once was a mount called Clough,
Whose lower slopes weren't so rough.
But then halfway up,
The spruce thickened up,
And now that I've summited I've had enough.