Double Bow
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- Joined
- Apr 29, 2005
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It's kind of funny. Initially, I didn't think that Owl's Head would be that big of a deal to do in winter. I had done it twice before and I figured, sure it was going to be a long day, but I had no idea what the mountain would have in store for us. I had no idea how this would compare to the 37 other NH 4Ks I'd done in winter.
We had varying expectations of what the conditions would be like. We had followed the storm very carefully and figured that Loon's reported 9.5" of fresh snow is what we'd be having to contend with. Sure, we'd be breaking trail, but we didn't think that it would be too bad. After all, we had nine hearty souls to rotate through the trail breaking, five of us having done Isolation the weekend before. One of our group members (1/2 of the C & C Hiking Factory) had done Tecumseh the day before and reported the snow only being about 4 inches deep.
We met an Lincoln Woods at hit the trail around 7am. Happily, we found that the Wilderness Trail was broken out. Birch, Dart, and C went in on XC skis. Pitter-Pat, Brewster, and I towed sleds while WSC, Mermar, and Claws went "Trad style". We cruised down the Wilderness trail to the Black Pond Spur. The skiers ditched there skis after a little bit while those of us with sleds chose to tow the line to the pond. There were a couple of cases of sleds capsizing, but thankfully, nothing was lost. On our way in, we met up with a couple of guys who had gone in to camp for the night but did not go beyond the pond. We chatted a bit and then moved on.
At the pond, I ditched the sled and started breaking whack(?). I followed the bearing that I had set at home and found the faint hint of an old track in the snow going on my same bearing. I got to a three way fork of ghosts of tracks and still, one continued on my bearing. The same thing happened at another perceived junction. Still, what I was following kept to my bearing all the way to the trail. When looking at a GPS track afterwards, it was amazing to see how straight that line was. I wish I could take full credit for it, but alas, I was was just breaking back out someone else's pefect line.
Once we had the trail, we found the snow not quite as deep but still in need of breaking. Here, Mermar relieved me of my breaking duties and lead the charge. We moved fairly well all the way to the slide. However, when we got there, we met with apprehension. We knew that this was going to be very rough going. This thing just ain't meant to be climbed with snowshoes.
What followed next was a slog to end all slogs. We fought our way up, at times having to fight for five minutes to move one step higher. A mixture of deep loose snow, icy slabs, and exposed rock make the climbing very challenging. Indeed, we should have been roped up. There was one part where we had to cross a ledge barely the width of a snowshoe and a steep drop off to the side. This was not for the faint of heart. Eventually, in an effort to achieve better footing and to make use of the local flora, we went into the trees. The snow was about waist deep and still Mermar led the charge relentlessly. After fighting for 2.5hrs, we finally reached the summit.
After a short break, we knew we had to get going and that the real fun was about to start. While it had been very difficult to make forward progress due to the looseness and depth of the snow on the way up, we knew that the opposite would be true on the way down. We skied on our snowshoes for a good ways and then, in an effort to not smack into trees in tight bends, we butt slid a ways too. Then things got steeper still. I got a real bad feeling. I felt that I needed more control and that my snowshoes were just acting like big skis. The crampons weren't gripping onto anything with it being so powdery. I figured I'd be safer without them so I stopped and put them on my pack. I also stashed one of my poles and took my mountaineering axe off my pack. With my axe in one hand and my pole in the other, I started down, digging in my heels on the slide. Being the last in the line now and being back on the slide, I seldom postholed. My strategy seemed to be working very well. I was getting better traction by being able to dig in my heels.
All was going well until I got to that point. The Murphy's law of hiking ensured that if I was going to take a fall, it was going to be at the worst possible place and that's exactly what happened. As I was approaching that small ledge, I fell and went sliding toward the edge very quickly. I immediately dug in my heels and my axe, effectively performing a less-than-pretty-but-still-effective self arrest. So, now I was stopped with my axe well anchored and my heel against a rock at the edge of the ledge. Now to relax and get up. WSC had hung back to make sure I made it past that part and gave me a hand with regaining my feet. After that slide, crossing the ledge and decending other dicey parts seemed much easier. Once back at the bottom, I put my snowshoes back on and we headed out, getting back out to the Wilderness Trail just as we needed to put on headlamps.
With the snow and the darkness of the night, we couldn't see anything on out way out, other than the snow and eight other very weary climbers. I really can't do justice to how difficult this climb was and how harrowing it was at times. In fact the intensity of it all is already fading from my mind (gotta love that trail amnesia). However, I would say that this was one of, if not the single most difficult climbs I've even done. Harder than my winter climbs of Washington, Adams, Madison, the Bonds, Isolation... any of them by a long shot.
I really can't remember ever having to work so hard for a peak. On another day, with less snow, with things being packed out, it might not be so difficult and I recon I'll find that out someday, but for now all I can say is that this was a epic hike that none of us will soon forget.
We had varying expectations of what the conditions would be like. We had followed the storm very carefully and figured that Loon's reported 9.5" of fresh snow is what we'd be having to contend with. Sure, we'd be breaking trail, but we didn't think that it would be too bad. After all, we had nine hearty souls to rotate through the trail breaking, five of us having done Isolation the weekend before. One of our group members (1/2 of the C & C Hiking Factory) had done Tecumseh the day before and reported the snow only being about 4 inches deep.
We met an Lincoln Woods at hit the trail around 7am. Happily, we found that the Wilderness Trail was broken out. Birch, Dart, and C went in on XC skis. Pitter-Pat, Brewster, and I towed sleds while WSC, Mermar, and Claws went "Trad style". We cruised down the Wilderness trail to the Black Pond Spur. The skiers ditched there skis after a little bit while those of us with sleds chose to tow the line to the pond. There were a couple of cases of sleds capsizing, but thankfully, nothing was lost. On our way in, we met up with a couple of guys who had gone in to camp for the night but did not go beyond the pond. We chatted a bit and then moved on.
At the pond, I ditched the sled and started breaking whack(?). I followed the bearing that I had set at home and found the faint hint of an old track in the snow going on my same bearing. I got to a three way fork of ghosts of tracks and still, one continued on my bearing. The same thing happened at another perceived junction. Still, what I was following kept to my bearing all the way to the trail. When looking at a GPS track afterwards, it was amazing to see how straight that line was. I wish I could take full credit for it, but alas, I was was just breaking back out someone else's pefect line.
Once we had the trail, we found the snow not quite as deep but still in need of breaking. Here, Mermar relieved me of my breaking duties and lead the charge. We moved fairly well all the way to the slide. However, when we got there, we met with apprehension. We knew that this was going to be very rough going. This thing just ain't meant to be climbed with snowshoes.
What followed next was a slog to end all slogs. We fought our way up, at times having to fight for five minutes to move one step higher. A mixture of deep loose snow, icy slabs, and exposed rock make the climbing very challenging. Indeed, we should have been roped up. There was one part where we had to cross a ledge barely the width of a snowshoe and a steep drop off to the side. This was not for the faint of heart. Eventually, in an effort to achieve better footing and to make use of the local flora, we went into the trees. The snow was about waist deep and still Mermar led the charge relentlessly. After fighting for 2.5hrs, we finally reached the summit.
After a short break, we knew we had to get going and that the real fun was about to start. While it had been very difficult to make forward progress due to the looseness and depth of the snow on the way up, we knew that the opposite would be true on the way down. We skied on our snowshoes for a good ways and then, in an effort to not smack into trees in tight bends, we butt slid a ways too. Then things got steeper still. I got a real bad feeling. I felt that I needed more control and that my snowshoes were just acting like big skis. The crampons weren't gripping onto anything with it being so powdery. I figured I'd be safer without them so I stopped and put them on my pack. I also stashed one of my poles and took my mountaineering axe off my pack. With my axe in one hand and my pole in the other, I started down, digging in my heels on the slide. Being the last in the line now and being back on the slide, I seldom postholed. My strategy seemed to be working very well. I was getting better traction by being able to dig in my heels.
All was going well until I got to that point. The Murphy's law of hiking ensured that if I was going to take a fall, it was going to be at the worst possible place and that's exactly what happened. As I was approaching that small ledge, I fell and went sliding toward the edge very quickly. I immediately dug in my heels and my axe, effectively performing a less-than-pretty-but-still-effective self arrest. So, now I was stopped with my axe well anchored and my heel against a rock at the edge of the ledge. Now to relax and get up. WSC had hung back to make sure I made it past that part and gave me a hand with regaining my feet. After that slide, crossing the ledge and decending other dicey parts seemed much easier. Once back at the bottom, I put my snowshoes back on and we headed out, getting back out to the Wilderness Trail just as we needed to put on headlamps.
With the snow and the darkness of the night, we couldn't see anything on out way out, other than the snow and eight other very weary climbers. I really can't do justice to how difficult this climb was and how harrowing it was at times. In fact the intensity of it all is already fading from my mind (gotta love that trail amnesia). However, I would say that this was one of, if not the single most difficult climbs I've even done. Harder than my winter climbs of Washington, Adams, Madison, the Bonds, Isolation... any of them by a long shot.
I really can't remember ever having to work so hard for a peak. On another day, with less snow, with things being packed out, it might not be so difficult and I recon I'll find that out someday, but for now all I can say is that this was a epic hike that none of us will soon forget.
Surely this will be a hike to remember and one to talk about in later years 
