MrAmeche
New member
My first visit to the Whites in 2005 was with the goal of hiking Mounts Willey, Field, and Tom with my friend David back in May, but we were so unprepared for the snow and ice on the Willey Ridge Trail that we were forced to turn back before reaching the summit of Willey. (Sorry about all that postholing - I've learned my lesson!) I’d decided to pick an easier hike for this weekday visit in June, especially now that most of the snow was gone. The plan was to hike Mount Pierce via the Crawford Path, then turn south and reach both Mount Jackson and Crawford via the Webster Cliff trail. I left the house at 5:55 AM, and arrived at the Crawford Path parking lot sometime around 8:25. I paid the parking fee, geared up, stretched, and hit the trail at 8:35. There were about a dozen cars in the parking lot when I left, and it was partly sunny with a temperature of around 65 degrees.
I felt great as I made my way along the trail, though this section of the Crawford Path wasn’t exactly the most physically challenging. I tried not to rush myself (which I tend to do), stopping to take pictures of Gibbs Falls and admiring how well-maintained the trail was. If I had blinked I would’ve missed the sign saying that Crawford Path was the oldest maintained hiking trail in America. I was worried that I might get eaten alive by bugs today, but I didn’t see (or feel, I should say) a single black fly, and the mosquitoes left me alone all day. Although admittedly, mosquitoes have never found me to be very tasty to begin with.
Eventually I came to the fork for the Mizpah Cutoff around 9:30; I stayed to the left and continued along the trail. I was waiting for the path to get steeper, but it never really happened; just a continuous, comfortable incline up the mountain. Before I knew it I was at the alpine zone, and I stopped at a lookout to view the Presidentials, the valley down to my left, and the trailless Cherry-Dartmouth Range. By now it had clouded up considerably and became much cooler. Both Eisenhower and Monroe were blanketed in white at their summits. I turned right onto the Webster Cliff trail and within minutes I was standing on the summit of Mount Pierce at 10:00. I was surprised at how little effort was required to ascend this 4,000-footer (elevation gain 2350’).
I was absolutely starving and craving my lunch, but the combination of wind and lack of sun made me reconsider eating at the summit. I’d brought backup layers, of course, but I didn’t feel like making the extra effort to change, eat lunch, then delayer as I descended the mountain. I pushed on, and sure enough, within a few minutes I was greeted by the sun. The trail was a lot rougher here with a few tricky scrambles, so I cautiously made my way down to the AMC Mizpah Hut. Along the way I passed three separate groups of kids with guides going up the trail. A guide in the first group seemed concerned because she thought she had heard thunder; I told her I hadn’t heard anything and besides, the summit was barely fifty yards away or so.
At 10:30 I reached the AMC hut, and since I’d never been inside one of these things before, I decided to take a quick break. I chatted with one of the girls that was working there for a minute or two, then continued on toward Mount Jackson. The trail was in excellent shape here; any muddy or swampy sections had sturdy planks to walk across, and the footing was great. As I was entering a clearing, I glanced upon a man off the side of the trail relieving himself in the open; I apologized and excused myself, but he began chatting away. He had been hiking the Appalachian Trail since February 22nd, starting in Georgia, and couldn’t wait to get to Mount Washington tomorrow. Unfortunately I didn’t catch his name, but wished him the best of luck and congratulated him ahead of time.
Finally I reached Mount Jackson at 11:15, and the short scramble up the rocks to the summit had been the highlight of my trip so far. I couldn’t wait to sit down and eat my usual lunch (PB&J, banana, granola bar, chocolate), and the clouds on the Presidentials had cleared, leaving me a great view of the summits. I had two rather friendly birds joining me as well, hopping around my feet as I ate. A man passed over the summit wearing nothing but hiking boots, his backpack, and a pair of Speedos (the swimming kind, not the biking kind); whatever floats your boat, I suppose. I nodded to him, and returned to my lunch. It reminded me of stories I'd heard about run-ins with a “naked hiker” in the Whites during summertime. This guy wasn't too far behind him.
At 11:40 I left the top of Jackson and continued along the Webster Cliff Trail toward Mount Crawford; I wanted to get a good look at the mountain that forced me off its side a month ago. The trail was quite slippery in a few parts, and occasionally required deliberate planning concerning my footing. At 12:15 PM I turned left on the trail to reach Webster, and moments later was greeted with a spectacular view of Crawford Notch. I rested for a few minutes and took in the views, then gathered my pack and returned to the trail.
The descent down the Webster-Jackson Trail wasn’t excruciating, but it wasn’t long before my ankles and knees began to ache. Fortunately I didn’t succumb to any serious slip-ups, though I did come close twice. I stopped to take a few pictures of the beautiful Flume Cascade Brook on the way down; the water looked tempting enough to wade in until I realized it was nearly freezing. Finally, after a mind-numbing descent, I came out onto Route 302 at 1:25 and began what was undoubtedly the worst part of the hike, the highway trek back to my car. Nothing like being awakened from a quiet reverie by the sound of an 18-wheeler breezing past at 50 mph. Fortunately it had turned out to be a gorgeous day, though a little too hot for my taste at 80 degrees. I passed Saco Lake and the AMC Highland Center, and eventually reached my car without incident at 1:35. I had hiked for a total of 9.9 miles. I cranked up the Sonic Youth in my car and made my way back to Boston, where there was a tall pint of Murphy's waiting for me at home. Not a bad day, to say the least.
I felt great as I made my way along the trail, though this section of the Crawford Path wasn’t exactly the most physically challenging. I tried not to rush myself (which I tend to do), stopping to take pictures of Gibbs Falls and admiring how well-maintained the trail was. If I had blinked I would’ve missed the sign saying that Crawford Path was the oldest maintained hiking trail in America. I was worried that I might get eaten alive by bugs today, but I didn’t see (or feel, I should say) a single black fly, and the mosquitoes left me alone all day. Although admittedly, mosquitoes have never found me to be very tasty to begin with.
Eventually I came to the fork for the Mizpah Cutoff around 9:30; I stayed to the left and continued along the trail. I was waiting for the path to get steeper, but it never really happened; just a continuous, comfortable incline up the mountain. Before I knew it I was at the alpine zone, and I stopped at a lookout to view the Presidentials, the valley down to my left, and the trailless Cherry-Dartmouth Range. By now it had clouded up considerably and became much cooler. Both Eisenhower and Monroe were blanketed in white at their summits. I turned right onto the Webster Cliff trail and within minutes I was standing on the summit of Mount Pierce at 10:00. I was surprised at how little effort was required to ascend this 4,000-footer (elevation gain 2350’).
I was absolutely starving and craving my lunch, but the combination of wind and lack of sun made me reconsider eating at the summit. I’d brought backup layers, of course, but I didn’t feel like making the extra effort to change, eat lunch, then delayer as I descended the mountain. I pushed on, and sure enough, within a few minutes I was greeted by the sun. The trail was a lot rougher here with a few tricky scrambles, so I cautiously made my way down to the AMC Mizpah Hut. Along the way I passed three separate groups of kids with guides going up the trail. A guide in the first group seemed concerned because she thought she had heard thunder; I told her I hadn’t heard anything and besides, the summit was barely fifty yards away or so.
At 10:30 I reached the AMC hut, and since I’d never been inside one of these things before, I decided to take a quick break. I chatted with one of the girls that was working there for a minute or two, then continued on toward Mount Jackson. The trail was in excellent shape here; any muddy or swampy sections had sturdy planks to walk across, and the footing was great. As I was entering a clearing, I glanced upon a man off the side of the trail relieving himself in the open; I apologized and excused myself, but he began chatting away. He had been hiking the Appalachian Trail since February 22nd, starting in Georgia, and couldn’t wait to get to Mount Washington tomorrow. Unfortunately I didn’t catch his name, but wished him the best of luck and congratulated him ahead of time.
Finally I reached Mount Jackson at 11:15, and the short scramble up the rocks to the summit had been the highlight of my trip so far. I couldn’t wait to sit down and eat my usual lunch (PB&J, banana, granola bar, chocolate), and the clouds on the Presidentials had cleared, leaving me a great view of the summits. I had two rather friendly birds joining me as well, hopping around my feet as I ate. A man passed over the summit wearing nothing but hiking boots, his backpack, and a pair of Speedos (the swimming kind, not the biking kind); whatever floats your boat, I suppose. I nodded to him, and returned to my lunch. It reminded me of stories I'd heard about run-ins with a “naked hiker” in the Whites during summertime. This guy wasn't too far behind him.
At 11:40 I left the top of Jackson and continued along the Webster Cliff Trail toward Mount Crawford; I wanted to get a good look at the mountain that forced me off its side a month ago. The trail was quite slippery in a few parts, and occasionally required deliberate planning concerning my footing. At 12:15 PM I turned left on the trail to reach Webster, and moments later was greeted with a spectacular view of Crawford Notch. I rested for a few minutes and took in the views, then gathered my pack and returned to the trail.
The descent down the Webster-Jackson Trail wasn’t excruciating, but it wasn’t long before my ankles and knees began to ache. Fortunately I didn’t succumb to any serious slip-ups, though I did come close twice. I stopped to take a few pictures of the beautiful Flume Cascade Brook on the way down; the water looked tempting enough to wade in until I realized it was nearly freezing. Finally, after a mind-numbing descent, I came out onto Route 302 at 1:25 and began what was undoubtedly the worst part of the hike, the highway trek back to my car. Nothing like being awakened from a quiet reverie by the sound of an 18-wheeler breezing past at 50 mph. Fortunately it had turned out to be a gorgeous day, though a little too hot for my taste at 80 degrees. I passed Saco Lake and the AMC Highland Center, and eventually reached my car without incident at 1:35. I had hiked for a total of 9.9 miles. I cranked up the Sonic Youth in my car and made my way back to Boston, where there was a tall pint of Murphy's waiting for me at home. Not a bad day, to say the least.
I almost thought the speedo guy was going to be SherpaJohn and that he'd grown way too comfortable wearing bikinis in the mountains!
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