McRat
New member
Last year, my friend Dennis and I attempted to hut-hop the Presis N->S.
In short we got turned back by thunderstorms and Den broke his ankle on the way down. Last year's trip report is here.
This would be Den's first hike over two miles since then, and we did it!
Sorry about the length. I write like I speak, and I never shut up.
-------------------
The alarm was set for 4:30, everything was laid out for my hike, and I kept waking up every half hour to look at the alarm clock. My friend Den ‘McCoon’ and I were going to finish our remaining Presis after last year’s broken ankle debacle. Jefferson to Pierce, maybe Webster depending on how we felt.
I was up at 4:20. Still tired, but too excited to sleep. I watched the clock tick each minute until the alarm went off. Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?
Hit the alarm, hit the showers, and hit the road. Another sunrise from I-93.
We spotted a car at the Mt. Clinton lot, and took the trip up to Jefferson notch. The plan was simple – scurry up the Caps Ridge trail as quickly as possible to avoid the 90°F weather. Conditions were hazy, but the summit forecast no longer included the possibility of thunderstorms, so we just hoped the haze would cook off.
The Caps Ridge trail was a steady grade and before long we reached a rocky outcrop with some nice views into the valley. The summits were still in the clouds, but the clearing skies were promising. The black flies were mostly polite while we remained moving, but as soon as we would stop the insect welcome wagon was out. You could almost hear tiny dinner bells ringing…
Our tiny guests spurred us along, and soon we were scrambling up the caps. For any extra work, it was strangely satisfying to actually CLIMB something, and the views just kept getting better. Occasionally a refreshing breeze would hit and clear out the bugs.
By the time we reached the junction to the Cornice trail, skies were blue and beautiful, and we had successfully sweat away any lingering sunscreen or bug dope. Just after a false summit, we bumped into Roxi and chatted for a moment before taking the SherpaK tribute towel photo.
Just as we were chatting, two more familiar faces came down from the summit – Bob and Geri! It was great seeing them again. Instead of having a list of peaks, I might as well keep list of fellow hikers from the online community. I already had BobandGeri on my winter list, but I had still needed Roxi – always good to meet another!
Soon we hit the summit (#35) and while there was a group waiting at the trail junction, McCoon and I were able to soak in the views and enjoy a sub. (Just as a note - the Irving gas station next to Fabyans Station has huge and tasty subs at decent prices.)
Soon we were walking the Gulfside towards Washington. The views were so gorgeous, that it was a pity to have to keep looking down to make the way over jagged and rocky trail. We took frequent stops to keep from overheating and to check out the views.
WOW. If beauty was painful, we’d have died screaming right there. The grasses on Monticello lawn were swaying in gentle waves, each step within a few feet of tiny wildflowers, skies a perfect blue, distant ridges fading into the haze to about 40 miles - as the northern Presis stood in magestic attention towards General Washington. The lonesome whistle of the cog was caught in the breeze and arrived almost in harmony.
Best of all – we had the entire trail from Jefferson to Cog Railway to ourselves.
Soon we had gone over Clay and the final ascent to Washington was in view. The heat and cumulative elevation gain had begun to wear us down, but we kept plodding along, each finishing our third liter of water before the Cog tracks.
Soon the Cog was coming and somehow I mustered the energy to run up the next quarter mile or so to get pictures (My son Henry is a train fanatic). Those who know me, know that if you see me running - something must be seriously wrong. I got my photo and stopped, panting for breath. I honestly appreciate the effort of trail runners, but can’t for the life of me, I can’t figure out how anyone can run over this section of the trail without breaking bones! Felsenmeer is scarcely ‘good footing’.
McCoon was behind, but moving steadily along as we reached the side trail to the summit. With a short distance to go, I figured I’d run to the summit and pick up some drinks and bring them back down to Den. With the thought of an ice cold Coke in my mind’s eye, I charged on up and waded through a sea of tourists to touch the summit of Washington (#36).
I went into the summit building and grabbed a couple bottles of Coke and water and headed back to meet Den. He was just outside the door when I arrived. We posed our sweaty selves on the summit while explaining the camera to a friendly but confused Scandinavian couple before going back in the building.
Say what you want about the smoke of the Cog, the crowds, the cars, and the summit buildings – but we had ice cream… and it was indescribably good. I also appreciated meeting an elderly woman with a walker, a rare sight in the mountains. She had climbed the Presidentials in the 1950’s and 60’s and found the auto road a great way to beat the heat and relive some memories. I hope to do the same if fortune gives me longevity.
We refilled our water and headed down to the Lake of the Clouds hut just before five o’clock. We traveled slowly and I reminded Den that dinner was at 6:00. I shouted down at the hut, “Don’t anybody TOUCH my dessert!”. This got a laugh out of Den, whose last hike of this length was over a year ago, and whose legs were complaining.
We made it in a 6:15, and registered with the Croo. “You started dinner without me?” I asked. Soon the found us a couple of empty seats at different tables and started in on a mushroom soup. Normally, I’m not a fan of the fungus, but I ate every last drop. I was hungry enough to ask for seconds. It wasn’t bad, but if they had given me roadkill skunk, I would have probably asked for seconds of that too.
We claimed our bunks and Den decided to stretch out for a bit. I wandered around for a half hour, spent some time hammering out my lucky coin into a ring, and checked back to see if he wanted to get out of bed and catch a sunset. He waved me off. He would eventually leave the bunk for breakfast.
I got out of my boots and into a pair of flip flops, which felt great since I had blistered up pretty good in my rush to get to the hut. Hopefully this memory will live on the next time I get some hot spots and decide, ‘hey… it’s only another two miles’.
I decided to take some sunset pictures, and as I walked further up from the hut, I was at the base of the Mt. Monroe loop. I took a picture and thought, ‘the ridge might have some better shots’. Partway up, the ridge eclipsed the sunset, and I figured, ‘just another hundred feet and I’ll be able to see over this’. When I got there I took some pictures and looked at the mostly flat walk to the Monroe summit. And that’s how I climbed Mt. Monroe (#37) in my Tevas.
I enjoyed the sunset, and a cigar – you know, to help keep the bugs away – until it sank below the horizon to some Vermont ridge just out of visibility, cutting the sun in half while it still seemed high off the horizon. The sunset seemed to last hours after the sun disappeared, and I enjoyed the careful twilight walk back down to the hut.
Lights out at the hut, and I climbed my bunk. I thought there was no chance of sleeping through the symphony of snoring, but before long I was playing in the bass section.
In short we got turned back by thunderstorms and Den broke his ankle on the way down. Last year's trip report is here.
This would be Den's first hike over two miles since then, and we did it!
Sorry about the length. I write like I speak, and I never shut up.
-------------------
The alarm was set for 4:30, everything was laid out for my hike, and I kept waking up every half hour to look at the alarm clock. My friend Den ‘McCoon’ and I were going to finish our remaining Presis after last year’s broken ankle debacle. Jefferson to Pierce, maybe Webster depending on how we felt.
I was up at 4:20. Still tired, but too excited to sleep. I watched the clock tick each minute until the alarm went off. Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?
Hit the alarm, hit the showers, and hit the road. Another sunrise from I-93.
We spotted a car at the Mt. Clinton lot, and took the trip up to Jefferson notch. The plan was simple – scurry up the Caps Ridge trail as quickly as possible to avoid the 90°F weather. Conditions were hazy, but the summit forecast no longer included the possibility of thunderstorms, so we just hoped the haze would cook off.
The Caps Ridge trail was a steady grade and before long we reached a rocky outcrop with some nice views into the valley. The summits were still in the clouds, but the clearing skies were promising. The black flies were mostly polite while we remained moving, but as soon as we would stop the insect welcome wagon was out. You could almost hear tiny dinner bells ringing…
Our tiny guests spurred us along, and soon we were scrambling up the caps. For any extra work, it was strangely satisfying to actually CLIMB something, and the views just kept getting better. Occasionally a refreshing breeze would hit and clear out the bugs.
By the time we reached the junction to the Cornice trail, skies were blue and beautiful, and we had successfully sweat away any lingering sunscreen or bug dope. Just after a false summit, we bumped into Roxi and chatted for a moment before taking the SherpaK tribute towel photo.
Just as we were chatting, two more familiar faces came down from the summit – Bob and Geri! It was great seeing them again. Instead of having a list of peaks, I might as well keep list of fellow hikers from the online community. I already had BobandGeri on my winter list, but I had still needed Roxi – always good to meet another!
Soon we hit the summit (#35) and while there was a group waiting at the trail junction, McCoon and I were able to soak in the views and enjoy a sub. (Just as a note - the Irving gas station next to Fabyans Station has huge and tasty subs at decent prices.)
Soon we were walking the Gulfside towards Washington. The views were so gorgeous, that it was a pity to have to keep looking down to make the way over jagged and rocky trail. We took frequent stops to keep from overheating and to check out the views.
WOW. If beauty was painful, we’d have died screaming right there. The grasses on Monticello lawn were swaying in gentle waves, each step within a few feet of tiny wildflowers, skies a perfect blue, distant ridges fading into the haze to about 40 miles - as the northern Presis stood in magestic attention towards General Washington. The lonesome whistle of the cog was caught in the breeze and arrived almost in harmony.
Best of all – we had the entire trail from Jefferson to Cog Railway to ourselves.
Soon we had gone over Clay and the final ascent to Washington was in view. The heat and cumulative elevation gain had begun to wear us down, but we kept plodding along, each finishing our third liter of water before the Cog tracks.
Soon the Cog was coming and somehow I mustered the energy to run up the next quarter mile or so to get pictures (My son Henry is a train fanatic). Those who know me, know that if you see me running - something must be seriously wrong. I got my photo and stopped, panting for breath. I honestly appreciate the effort of trail runners, but can’t for the life of me, I can’t figure out how anyone can run over this section of the trail without breaking bones! Felsenmeer is scarcely ‘good footing’.
McCoon was behind, but moving steadily along as we reached the side trail to the summit. With a short distance to go, I figured I’d run to the summit and pick up some drinks and bring them back down to Den. With the thought of an ice cold Coke in my mind’s eye, I charged on up and waded through a sea of tourists to touch the summit of Washington (#36).
I went into the summit building and grabbed a couple bottles of Coke and water and headed back to meet Den. He was just outside the door when I arrived. We posed our sweaty selves on the summit while explaining the camera to a friendly but confused Scandinavian couple before going back in the building.
Say what you want about the smoke of the Cog, the crowds, the cars, and the summit buildings – but we had ice cream… and it was indescribably good. I also appreciated meeting an elderly woman with a walker, a rare sight in the mountains. She had climbed the Presidentials in the 1950’s and 60’s and found the auto road a great way to beat the heat and relive some memories. I hope to do the same if fortune gives me longevity.
We refilled our water and headed down to the Lake of the Clouds hut just before five o’clock. We traveled slowly and I reminded Den that dinner was at 6:00. I shouted down at the hut, “Don’t anybody TOUCH my dessert!”. This got a laugh out of Den, whose last hike of this length was over a year ago, and whose legs were complaining.
We made it in a 6:15, and registered with the Croo. “You started dinner without me?” I asked. Soon the found us a couple of empty seats at different tables and started in on a mushroom soup. Normally, I’m not a fan of the fungus, but I ate every last drop. I was hungry enough to ask for seconds. It wasn’t bad, but if they had given me roadkill skunk, I would have probably asked for seconds of that too.
We claimed our bunks and Den decided to stretch out for a bit. I wandered around for a half hour, spent some time hammering out my lucky coin into a ring, and checked back to see if he wanted to get out of bed and catch a sunset. He waved me off. He would eventually leave the bunk for breakfast.
I got out of my boots and into a pair of flip flops, which felt great since I had blistered up pretty good in my rush to get to the hut. Hopefully this memory will live on the next time I get some hot spots and decide, ‘hey… it’s only another two miles’.
I decided to take some sunset pictures, and as I walked further up from the hut, I was at the base of the Mt. Monroe loop. I took a picture and thought, ‘the ridge might have some better shots’. Partway up, the ridge eclipsed the sunset, and I figured, ‘just another hundred feet and I’ll be able to see over this’. When I got there I took some pictures and looked at the mostly flat walk to the Monroe summit. And that’s how I climbed Mt. Monroe (#37) in my Tevas.
I enjoyed the sunset, and a cigar – you know, to help keep the bugs away – until it sank below the horizon to some Vermont ridge just out of visibility, cutting the sun in half while it still seemed high off the horizon. The sunset seemed to last hours after the sun disappeared, and I enjoyed the careful twilight walk back down to the hut.
Lights out at the hut, and I climbed my bunk. I thought there was no chance of sleeping through the symphony of snoring, but before long I was playing in the bass section.
