Mountain: Mount OsceolaElevation: 4,340 (New Hampshire's 23rd Tallest, New England's 27th Tallest)
Route: Mount Osceola Trail
Mileage: 3.7 miles
Arya's Take: My Dad is Waaaaaaay Overprotective
I know I've said something to this effect before, but I have a real soft spot for this mountain. Mount Osceola was one that I did with my Dad and our family dog back in 1996, when I was smack in the middle of my peak-bagging days. It was actually the second hike we'd done as a misplaced apology for not getting both Mount Madison and Mount Adams when we'd attempted them in 1995. Which is to say, my parents rightly interpreted the weather as being too dangerous for us to attempt Adams, and we turned around. Me, being a selfish 10-year old, pitched a fit. Have I told this story before? I'm sorry, I have a habit of repeating myself sometimes.
At any rate, my Dad and I hiked Adams with Max in September of 1995, and we made a tradition of going on a hiking trip each September the years afterwards, until I finished my 48 in 2000. It was a really nice getaway for the two of us, and it was a special thing that I looked forward to through the summer, as a nice transition into Fall. We also went out to dinner at our favorite restaurant by the Farm, a place called The Woodshed (which has, sadly, since burned down). Osceola and Osceola East Peak were the mountains that cemented the trip as an official tradition, so when I was looking for nice mountains to continue Arya's 2015 Summer of Hiking, it was a natural fit. We also figured to invite one of our friends from the Franks trip, as she had gotten waaaaay into hiking, and hiking with friends is always better than hiking alone. She even has a dog who will actually put up with Arya, and while the pooch didn't join us up this time, let's just say you'll be seeing some of her in posts to come.
Labor Day actually provided me with a nice chance to stretch the weekend after the hike itself, and at dawn on that Saturday, Arya and I headed out from Barre to trek up through the Northeast Kingdom and down 93 to Osceola. It's situated not really all that far from the Franconias, and having skied at Loon Mountain over the winter while still driving from Vermont, I figured to chance it and meet up with our friend at the trailhead as she lives in Southern New Hampshire. After the climb, we'd head to the Farm and meet up with everyone who was already there.
It's actually a really nice drive over the North Country, and the leaves were juuuuuuuuust starting to hint at changing when we headed out amidst river valley fog. I'd loaded a fair amount of podcasts for the trip (Arya was overruled) and apart from getting slightly lost before finding the Connecticut River, we managed OK. This of course presented a problem, as we'd agreed to meet at the trailhead at a set time, and I didn't actually have our friend's cell number at the time, so there really wasn't a way that I could alert her that we were running a bit behind. I took it a little faster on 93 than I probably should have given the circumstances, and once we were off at the Tripoli Road exit, I tried to rely on my 9-year old memories of the trailhead to see if we were headed in the right direction. The White Mountain Guide has descriptions with mile markers, which helps, but Google Maps isn't really all that useful when you're trying to A. Find a trail that isn't part of it's road network and B. Have no cell service to speak of.
We did end up finding the right place, and our friend had only been there for 10-15 minutes, so I only felt moderately bad than shitty about not being able to get there on time. I had a minor freak-out when it looked like I'd actually forgotten Arya's harness and extendo-leash, though after ripping my entire car apart I found that they had just fallen to the floor in the back seat. Crisis averted (and adrenaline pumping), we headed up the Mount Osceola Trail and out of the fog.
The climb was much as I remember it from when my Dad and I climbed in years ago; nice and steady, moderately steep but not exactly anything super challenging. Arya did her thing of plowing ahead and occasionally getting wrapped up around trees, and the only thing that really struck me was how hot it was for September. My friend and I chatted away, catching up about various things over the summer (she's originally a friend of Amanda's from the barn they both boarded their horses at), and she gauged my excitement for Amanda and my wedding, which at this point was a mere 10 days away (Spoiler Alert! It was great!). Eventually we were able to come up on some nice overlooks of the Waterville Valley, though I was only really able to say that with confidence because after wondering what mountain we were looking at nearby, I saw the cut ski trails of, well, Waterville Valley and hazarded a guess.
Our friend had actually just recently climbed Tecumseh, the 4,000 footer that Waterville happens to be on, and corroborated that my memories of the climb are pretty much accurate to this day. A lot of stairs, a lot of trees, and not a lot of payoff at the end. I'm sure Arya and I will get there in due time, of course, though I think I can admit freely at this point that I'm picking and choosing nice hikes to go on her with, before we exhaust that list and end up scraping the bottom of the Hale-and-Zealand-filled barrel.
And honestly? Osceola's not a bad couple of miles. The trail sort of meandered gradually as we gained elevation without even realizing it, and right I was starting to wonder where we were on the ridgeline, we emerged at the peak. I quickly remembered why I liked the mountain so much, as we were up in barely 2 hours, with it even being really too early for lunch (I remember my Dad and I getting on top by like 10:00 or so in 1996, and me remarking that my brothers probably weren't even up yet). The remains of an old Fire Tower gave Arya some makeshift shade, as we peered across the view towards Osceola East Peak, which would be our destination before lunch.
Osceola is a rather nice view for the effort you put in, as while it's not quite above treeline at the summit, the clearing for the former fire tower, coupled with a rockface and cliff to the East, gave us a clear vantage point to see for miles.
I was chatted up by some hikers from Virginia who, when discovering I was from Vermont, asked if I was a Bernie Sanders supporter (I am) and if it took me long to drive to New Hampshire from my house (it did not). I also showed my rust for the White Mountains when asked by my friend what we were looking at, and I couldn't for the life of me tell her. A fellow hiker helpfully pointed out that they were the Tripyramids, which I suppose I should have figured out, as I know the trailhead for them is rather close to the Tripoli Road exit off of 93, and the three peaks had a uniform, distinctly pyramidal shape. Can't win them all, I suppose (I'm still horrendous with mountains in Vermont, by the way. It may take me decades to correctly get my bearings).
The Tripyramids (only two of which count, annoyingly) were the next Me-and-Dad trip in 1997, and it was the first time we'd gone hiking with our old dog Max when he had a dog-pack. Not to get ahead of myself, but suffice it to say that Max's reaction to having to carry his own stuff and his overall speed afterwards was a driving force in my insistence that Arya have one too. We even looked at Max's old EMS pack, actually, but as he was a 80-pound barrel of a black lab and Arya is...not, it didn't really work out.
From there, we hydrated, ate some gorp and jerky, and prepped for what would actually be the more arduous park of our trip. Because, dear reader, while Osceola is the larger of the two 4,000 footers on this particular ridge, we still had a ways to go to get to the East Peak, and we had to lose and then gain at least 200 feet of prominence in the process. Most mountains do this rather gradually, with peaks being separated by quite a bit of ridgewalking. Others simply glom onto a larger peak and don't actually count (COUMountClayGH). Osceola East Peak, though, is actually quite close to Osceola (it's only a mile), which meant we were in for a bit of a change of pace. They call it: The Chimney.
I was really actually rather apprehensive about all this, especially because I honestly wracked my brain and had NO memory of doing it with my Dad and Max, and the fact that the White Mountain Guide goes out of its way to mention the Chimney, and how dangerous it can be in bad (and especially wet) weather. We didn't exactly have rain clouds bearing down on us, but still. How would I fare with my bum knee down (and up!) a freaking chimney? How would my dog fare?
Arya's response? --------->
Here we go!
-M
No comments:
Post a Comment