Fifty years! That's how long it took to climb all hundred New England highest. By way of explanation…
I spent a decade peak bagging in the 1960s and 70s. Then, seeking higher and wilder mountains, I moved to the Rockies for new climbing experiences. College, marriage, children, career, mortgage, all followed. My employer sent me to Washington D.C. each year for training. Eventually I realized I could combine annual training with a short side trip to New England. So, after thirty years on hiatus, I returned to peak bagging.
That began in 2007 and within three years I had completed the New England Four Thousand Footers. No longer married, and with my professional career winding down, I took a course in beginning Chinese. Intrigued, I vacationed in Taiwan and decided to learn the language full time. I yearned for a grand new adventure and was still young and healthy enough to pull it off. So I went back to school rather than retire. I quit my job, sold my house and car, downsized possessions to a few boxes, moved to mainland China, and enrolled in language school. But oh, so far from New England! Would I lose interest? Knees give out? I realized I might never complete the Hundred Highest.
Then the summer of 2016 arrived. I returned to the states for a month to see family and friends. Only four peaks to go. I figured it was now or never. I blocked out a few days, loaded up the rental car and headed for northern New Hampshire and western Maine.
#1 Osceola, 1966. #100 North Peak Kennebago Divide, 2016.
So, the deeds are done. Satisfaction. Rest. Memories.
I am most grateful still in my 60s to be able to climb mountains. For that I offer thanks to the Creator.
Herd paths were prominent on those final four, including Vose Spur and Cupsuptic Snow. But only one would count as a "deep woods" experience. That would be Elephant Mountain, because I chose to climb the summit originally, but no longer, considered highest.
I had read about Robert and Miriam Underhill, the original New England Hundred Highest peak baggers. They had climbed Elephant in the 1950s from the Appalachian Trail. On their descent they passed right over the AT--barely used at the time--without recognizing it. As a result they spent an unplanned night in the woods.
From the standard parking spot on Elephant, I followed the Clearwater Brook Trail all the way to the Appalachian Trail. The former was easy to follow and even showed signs of trail maintenance (cut branches lying on the trail). When I reached the AT, I found a well-worn path, as expected.
I retraced my steps down the Clearwater Brook Trail a ways, then headed into the woods, up slope in the direction of Elephant Mountain. I hoped to hit the col between the NE and SW knobs. From there I would climb the NE knob, retrace my route back to the col and continue on to the SW knob. At one time the NE knob was the official summit, but a new topo came out indicating the SW knob was higher. The two summits were nearly equal in height, so I decided to climb both of them. That way no topo could ever render my ascent invalid.
The plan worked better than expected, as my bush whack led directly to the NE knob. Trees obscured the SW knob, so I used a compass to reach the col between the two. Usually a map sufficed, but this was one of a couple of times I used a compass on an NEHH bushwhack. Moose scat was plentiful and I passed several piles of bear scat, one underneath a leg bone. Needless to say I made plenty of noise, which I do banging hiking poles together. Several times I plunged through spruce thickets which were mercifully short. At the col I crossed an old logging area and found the herd path to the SW knob with its summit register. Following the herd path down I returned to the parking spot. There would be no unplanned night on the mountain, for which I was grateful.
I spent a decade peak bagging in the 1960s and 70s. Then, seeking higher and wilder mountains, I moved to the Rockies for new climbing experiences. College, marriage, children, career, mortgage, all followed. My employer sent me to Washington D.C. each year for training. Eventually I realized I could combine annual training with a short side trip to New England. So, after thirty years on hiatus, I returned to peak bagging.
That began in 2007 and within three years I had completed the New England Four Thousand Footers. No longer married, and with my professional career winding down, I took a course in beginning Chinese. Intrigued, I vacationed in Taiwan and decided to learn the language full time. I yearned for a grand new adventure and was still young and healthy enough to pull it off. So I went back to school rather than retire. I quit my job, sold my house and car, downsized possessions to a few boxes, moved to mainland China, and enrolled in language school. But oh, so far from New England! Would I lose interest? Knees give out? I realized I might never complete the Hundred Highest.
Then the summer of 2016 arrived. I returned to the states for a month to see family and friends. Only four peaks to go. I figured it was now or never. I blocked out a few days, loaded up the rental car and headed for northern New Hampshire and western Maine.
#1 Osceola, 1966. #100 North Peak Kennebago Divide, 2016.
So, the deeds are done. Satisfaction. Rest. Memories.
I am most grateful still in my 60s to be able to climb mountains. For that I offer thanks to the Creator.
Herd paths were prominent on those final four, including Vose Spur and Cupsuptic Snow. But only one would count as a "deep woods" experience. That would be Elephant Mountain, because I chose to climb the summit originally, but no longer, considered highest.
I had read about Robert and Miriam Underhill, the original New England Hundred Highest peak baggers. They had climbed Elephant in the 1950s from the Appalachian Trail. On their descent they passed right over the AT--barely used at the time--without recognizing it. As a result they spent an unplanned night in the woods.
From the standard parking spot on Elephant, I followed the Clearwater Brook Trail all the way to the Appalachian Trail. The former was easy to follow and even showed signs of trail maintenance (cut branches lying on the trail). When I reached the AT, I found a well-worn path, as expected.
I retraced my steps down the Clearwater Brook Trail a ways, then headed into the woods, up slope in the direction of Elephant Mountain. I hoped to hit the col between the NE and SW knobs. From there I would climb the NE knob, retrace my route back to the col and continue on to the SW knob. At one time the NE knob was the official summit, but a new topo came out indicating the SW knob was higher. The two summits were nearly equal in height, so I decided to climb both of them. That way no topo could ever render my ascent invalid.
The plan worked better than expected, as my bush whack led directly to the NE knob. Trees obscured the SW knob, so I used a compass to reach the col between the two. Usually a map sufficed, but this was one of a couple of times I used a compass on an NEHH bushwhack. Moose scat was plentiful and I passed several piles of bear scat, one underneath a leg bone. Needless to say I made plenty of noise, which I do banging hiking poles together. Several times I plunged through spruce thickets which were mercifully short. At the col I crossed an old logging area and found the herd path to the SW knob with its summit register. Following the herd path down I returned to the parking spot. There would be no unplanned night on the mountain, for which I was grateful.
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