JohnL
New member
Part One: The Fun
I was in a void, not lost, but not knowing where I was. Slowly my self came back to me through the mists. But my pants were beeping. What was that all about? Oh yes, it’s the alarm clock I had stuck in my shorts pocket so I would not accidentally shut it off or knock it off my top bunk. I shut it off and lay there waking up. I was on the top bunk in the small bunkroom of the Shapleigh Bunk House in Crawford Notch. It’s a scary place to be if you’re not clipped in. Barely the width of an adult human, if you rolled over you could send yourself into a brief but startling free fall to the wooden floor below. I was not about to let that happen so I tossed and turned all night worrying about it. The thunderstorms around midnight didn’t help either. As a result, my attempts to wake up were thwarted by a primal urge to go back to sleep. Even so, I made my way up and past the full house of bunks, waking a few along the way, to the public room where I readied myself for the day ahead.
Once outside the fog was so thick I could barely make out the hotel next door. I walked down to the road and made the quick walk to the Webster-Jackson trail head and at 4:48AM I turned my headlamp on and I was on the trail. If you have ever turned your car high beams on in a thick fog, then you know what I was seeing as I made my way up the trail. Pitch black, thick fog and the reflection of the fog shining back at me thanks to my very efficient head lamp. Hiking in the dark is not my favorite thing especially when it is wet and I can’t see past my headlamp reflection of the fog. I have had a couple early morning incidents with bear and moose in the past and I did not feel like repeating them, particularly when I could not see much past my own feet. So with every step I took, my vitamin pills rattled noisily in a plastic film canister which I had stuffed in my shorts pocket to warn any of the large forest mammals of my approach. But then, my eye caught a movement just ahead of me on the trail. I focused my headlamp beam on the being, a small frog, and as I did, it leaped toward me. I jumped back. After the deep sigh and laughter, I felt better knowing that no one was looking.
The fog did not get any thinner as I climbed higher but up near Tisdale Spring I began to feel the breeze as it started to pick up. Mt Jackson was fully socked in. Passing the Naumann tent site and Mizpah Springs Hut about 6:45, I heard the first people of the day stirring to start their day. Mts Pierce and Eisenhower were socked in as well and I noted their passing with only a quick photo of the summits. On my way up toward Mt Franklin, I happened to look behind me and noted that here and there the fog bank was beginning to break up. I could even see completely into the valleys below but for only a brief peek. Upon turning around and commencing my walk, I startled a deer foraging in the brush about 50 feet to my right. She quickly bounded out of sight. Her wild exuberance was a delight to see. I see deer literally every night around my house and neighborhood and their tameness is downright boring. Moments later another hiker came over the hill and I mentioned the deer to him. He had seen her tracks in the mud all the way from Mt Monroe and after saying our good-byes I kept my eyes open for traces of her. Sure enough, there they were, all over the trail in the soft soil. Delicate little hoof prints, unlike the monstrous moose prints I so often see in these woods. I saw her once more across an open meadow. She was merely a silhouette in the mists. She quickly noted my presence and left a white tail tracer in the mists as she disappeared over the horizon.
I continued climbing in very thick fog and came upon six people huddled together. I was 25 feet from them before I realized I was at the summit of Mt Monroe. I had never climbed Monroe from this side and with the thick fog obscuring my vision, I did not recognize at all where I was. I stayed only a moment before moving on. I turned around a couple times and looking back toward the summit was rewarded with a three second glance of the silhouette of Mt Monroe which I quickly snapped with the camera. I stopped into Lakes Hut to restock on water. I checked the weather report and winds were steady in the 25mph range with a peak gust in the past 24 hours (it was now about 9:15) of 68mph. I could only imagine what it was like on Washington and the northern Presidentials. I was here on Saturday climbing Monroe and Washington with my family and the weather could not have been more different. Sunny, 10mph breeze, upper 50’s. If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute!
I continued up the Crawford Path and branched off at the Camel Trail. I made my way across the misty open meadow, sometimes struggling to see the next cairn and sometimes being treated to an open vista depending upon how the winds moved the fog past my vision. The walk over to Boott Spur was interspersed with occasional views into Tuckerman’s Ravine. The wind was at my back and the walking here was easy and eventually I climbed up to the high point on this section of the Davis Path. Cresting over the top I could see the long gradual descent into the woods of the Davis Path and on toward Mt Isolation. The weather to the south was totally clear of clouds and ground fog and I had a wonderful vista to look at the whole way down. Once into the woods, the trail narrowed and I was now fully engulfed by the forest. Three campers were on their way up, having camped near Isolation the night before. They noted how overgrown the trail was ahead of me. As I made my way through there however, I did not get that same sense. Perhaps the trail is a bit more primitive than other more popular trails but that tends to lend a certain charm to the trail. I continued my way south and soon came to familiar ground where the Isolation Trail comes in from the east. I had been in here a week and a half ago climbing Mt Davis for the first time. I summited Mt Isolation but did not enjoy quite the same beauty of views that I had 10 days before. It was still nice to be here just the same. I did not linger as I realized that I had not yet reached the half-way point of today’s hike. Another mile would get me there.
I repeated my walk back up Boott Spur and it was a long slow grind as the miles were beginning to take their toll. I was glad to crest the ridge and begin a descent to the Lawn Cutoff. Upon arriving there however, I was a bit dismayed to see that the Lawn Cutoff descended more than I thought it would to get to Tuckerman’s Junction. Washington’s headwall looked very daunting from here. And it was. I briefly considered taking the Davis Path over to the Crawford Path but dismissed that since I was just over there on Saturday. So I headed down to Tuckerman’s Junction where I began the ascent of the headwall; 900 feet of elevation gain in only 6/10 of a mile. All of that after more than 18 miles of hiking. What the hell was I thinking? So I took a couple deep breaths, and a hundred after that, and grunted my way to the top. The final indignities hitting me as I crested over the top into the parking lot was the 30mph wind whacking me in the face and the stairway to the summit building. I tried not to look too wobbly legged as the lactic acid burned in my quads and seared its way into my memory as I strutted up the steps. I took refuge inside where I took a well deserved recovery break. It was 1:45 and time for a little rest.
(more)
I was in a void, not lost, but not knowing where I was. Slowly my self came back to me through the mists. But my pants were beeping. What was that all about? Oh yes, it’s the alarm clock I had stuck in my shorts pocket so I would not accidentally shut it off or knock it off my top bunk. I shut it off and lay there waking up. I was on the top bunk in the small bunkroom of the Shapleigh Bunk House in Crawford Notch. It’s a scary place to be if you’re not clipped in. Barely the width of an adult human, if you rolled over you could send yourself into a brief but startling free fall to the wooden floor below. I was not about to let that happen so I tossed and turned all night worrying about it. The thunderstorms around midnight didn’t help either. As a result, my attempts to wake up were thwarted by a primal urge to go back to sleep. Even so, I made my way up and past the full house of bunks, waking a few along the way, to the public room where I readied myself for the day ahead.
Once outside the fog was so thick I could barely make out the hotel next door. I walked down to the road and made the quick walk to the Webster-Jackson trail head and at 4:48AM I turned my headlamp on and I was on the trail. If you have ever turned your car high beams on in a thick fog, then you know what I was seeing as I made my way up the trail. Pitch black, thick fog and the reflection of the fog shining back at me thanks to my very efficient head lamp. Hiking in the dark is not my favorite thing especially when it is wet and I can’t see past my headlamp reflection of the fog. I have had a couple early morning incidents with bear and moose in the past and I did not feel like repeating them, particularly when I could not see much past my own feet. So with every step I took, my vitamin pills rattled noisily in a plastic film canister which I had stuffed in my shorts pocket to warn any of the large forest mammals of my approach. But then, my eye caught a movement just ahead of me on the trail. I focused my headlamp beam on the being, a small frog, and as I did, it leaped toward me. I jumped back. After the deep sigh and laughter, I felt better knowing that no one was looking.
The fog did not get any thinner as I climbed higher but up near Tisdale Spring I began to feel the breeze as it started to pick up. Mt Jackson was fully socked in. Passing the Naumann tent site and Mizpah Springs Hut about 6:45, I heard the first people of the day stirring to start their day. Mts Pierce and Eisenhower were socked in as well and I noted their passing with only a quick photo of the summits. On my way up toward Mt Franklin, I happened to look behind me and noted that here and there the fog bank was beginning to break up. I could even see completely into the valleys below but for only a brief peek. Upon turning around and commencing my walk, I startled a deer foraging in the brush about 50 feet to my right. She quickly bounded out of sight. Her wild exuberance was a delight to see. I see deer literally every night around my house and neighborhood and their tameness is downright boring. Moments later another hiker came over the hill and I mentioned the deer to him. He had seen her tracks in the mud all the way from Mt Monroe and after saying our good-byes I kept my eyes open for traces of her. Sure enough, there they were, all over the trail in the soft soil. Delicate little hoof prints, unlike the monstrous moose prints I so often see in these woods. I saw her once more across an open meadow. She was merely a silhouette in the mists. She quickly noted my presence and left a white tail tracer in the mists as she disappeared over the horizon.
I continued climbing in very thick fog and came upon six people huddled together. I was 25 feet from them before I realized I was at the summit of Mt Monroe. I had never climbed Monroe from this side and with the thick fog obscuring my vision, I did not recognize at all where I was. I stayed only a moment before moving on. I turned around a couple times and looking back toward the summit was rewarded with a three second glance of the silhouette of Mt Monroe which I quickly snapped with the camera. I stopped into Lakes Hut to restock on water. I checked the weather report and winds were steady in the 25mph range with a peak gust in the past 24 hours (it was now about 9:15) of 68mph. I could only imagine what it was like on Washington and the northern Presidentials. I was here on Saturday climbing Monroe and Washington with my family and the weather could not have been more different. Sunny, 10mph breeze, upper 50’s. If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute!
I continued up the Crawford Path and branched off at the Camel Trail. I made my way across the misty open meadow, sometimes struggling to see the next cairn and sometimes being treated to an open vista depending upon how the winds moved the fog past my vision. The walk over to Boott Spur was interspersed with occasional views into Tuckerman’s Ravine. The wind was at my back and the walking here was easy and eventually I climbed up to the high point on this section of the Davis Path. Cresting over the top I could see the long gradual descent into the woods of the Davis Path and on toward Mt Isolation. The weather to the south was totally clear of clouds and ground fog and I had a wonderful vista to look at the whole way down. Once into the woods, the trail narrowed and I was now fully engulfed by the forest. Three campers were on their way up, having camped near Isolation the night before. They noted how overgrown the trail was ahead of me. As I made my way through there however, I did not get that same sense. Perhaps the trail is a bit more primitive than other more popular trails but that tends to lend a certain charm to the trail. I continued my way south and soon came to familiar ground where the Isolation Trail comes in from the east. I had been in here a week and a half ago climbing Mt Davis for the first time. I summited Mt Isolation but did not enjoy quite the same beauty of views that I had 10 days before. It was still nice to be here just the same. I did not linger as I realized that I had not yet reached the half-way point of today’s hike. Another mile would get me there.
I repeated my walk back up Boott Spur and it was a long slow grind as the miles were beginning to take their toll. I was glad to crest the ridge and begin a descent to the Lawn Cutoff. Upon arriving there however, I was a bit dismayed to see that the Lawn Cutoff descended more than I thought it would to get to Tuckerman’s Junction. Washington’s headwall looked very daunting from here. And it was. I briefly considered taking the Davis Path over to the Crawford Path but dismissed that since I was just over there on Saturday. So I headed down to Tuckerman’s Junction where I began the ascent of the headwall; 900 feet of elevation gain in only 6/10 of a mile. All of that after more than 18 miles of hiking. What the hell was I thinking? So I took a couple deep breaths, and a hundred after that, and grunted my way to the top. The final indignities hitting me as I crested over the top into the parking lot was the 30mph wind whacking me in the face and the stairway to the summit building. I tried not to look too wobbly legged as the lactic acid burned in my quads and seared its way into my memory as I strutted up the steps. I took refuge inside where I took a well deserved recovery break. It was 1:45 and time for a little rest.
(more)
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