Mount Lincoln: July 11, 2015

Mountain: Mount Lincoln
Elevation: 5,089 (New Hampshire's 7th Tallest, New England's 8th Tallest)
Route: Franconia Ridge Trail
Mileage: 1.0 from Mount Layfaette summit to Mount Lincoln summit
Arya's Take: It looks fun over there but Dad won't let me sniff over by the ledge.  At least there are other dogs.

It's only one mile from the summit of Lafayette to that of Lincoln, and after some long consideration through the day, I decided that it might possibly be the best mile in the entirety of the White Mountains.

Especially on a bright warm sunny day like the one we had, since it's a nice gradual descent from Lafayette and a nice gradual ascent to Lincoln (with one or two scrambling exceptions), with amazing views in 360 degrees.  I mean, if you really think about it, maybe it's the best mile in the Whites *only* on days like we had, since if you're in the fog you wouldn't be able to see anything, and the White Mountain Guide explicitly warns you NOT to hike that mile if the weather is poor, with either the prospect of being blown off the ridge in high winds, or struck by lightning in a storm, since there is no cover whatever to speak of.  But at any rate, we'd timed it right.

I will say that I had a lingering apprehensive on our hike up and down Lincoln, since the Guide used the words "knife edge" to describe sections of the trail, especially the parts from Lincoln to a rounder non-counting peak called Little Haystack.  As mentioned previously I'm not super great with heights to start with (damn you, Mad River Glen!), and with Arya on a tight leash, I didn't want anything to happen.  And there were a few moments when my knees went weak, or there were ledges where I didn't want her heading towards, so my apprehension was more warranted than it was when we were on the shoulder of Washington looking into the Great Gulf.

But on the whole, it was fine.  It actually probably helped that we had to take frequent breaks to let other ascending hikers by, and so while it was a bit of a plod to Lincoln, we still got there right around 12:00, with enough time on our schedule to take more than an hour for lunch.

We had a bit of trouble finding the USGS cap, and Arya was much more comfortable once I took her pack off for the duration of lunch, but on the whole it was a grand old time.  People came and went as we ate, and we watched the clouds move silently over the Pemigewasett Wilderness.  It was honestly tempting to spend more time up there, as there were some trails that would have gotten us back down to the Notch, but because we had our trailing car at a specific parking lot, we really had not choice but to keep going.

Honestly, it was a bit hard to plan this part, since most of the loops that the Guide or websites recommend for the Franks are either just for Lafayette and Lincoln, or just Liberty and Flume.  They sort of offhandedly mention that ambitious hikers could do Lafayette, Lincoln, and Liberty in one swoop, but they don't really give you pointers on how to do it.  I mean, the maps are sort of straightforward (but not always, we'll get to that later), but if Scott and I hadn't done this exact day's hike in our youth, I wouldn't have known where to start.  Also pressing on my mind was my rather complete lack of memory of the specifics of the trail he had ahead, apart from the fact that we'd had amazing views.  Today didn't quite live up to that memory, as if I recall correctly we'd had no clouds in the sky at all in 1996, and they were slowly creeping in for an afternoon thunderstorm in 2015.  Also, I'd heard from another hiker that the haze was amplified by the fact that Alaska, Washington, Montana, Alberta, and Saskatchewan are all presently on fire, so there's that.


So I was still nervous about the knife edge.  There was one bald knob that gave me pause especially, since we scrambled up and up amongst some scrub, only to find that there really wasn't anything except cliff on either side.  I reeled Arya in and locked the extendo-leash on its  closest setting just to be safe, and off we went.  It really wasn't super bad, though, since we then descended back into some rock and bushes that shielded us from the drop on our right.  The drop wasn't life-threatening, either, though it would've kind of sucked to fall (with Arya) the 30 or 40 feet down to the next ledge.

We also only had to really deal with it down to the summit of Little Haystack anyway, and there were only maybe 3 or 4 places that I was nervous at all, and none that really got my heart in my throat.  Arya was fine, of course, as I knew she would be, but I can't really help getting nervous in circumstances like that.  Little Haystack was a nice place for us to take a bit of break and rest up, since we'd gotten spread out a bit from others in the group, and the summit of Haystack had a ton of different trails that would, potentially, lead to us getting split up.  There were approximately 80,000 people on the top of it, though (which is one of the reasons we got spread out in the first place), and it was good to make sure that everyone knew where we were going.  We still had Liberty to go, and unfortunately our nice afternoon of ridgewalking was about to end.  Well, I mean, we were still going to be taking Franconia Ridge, but from Lincoln we were going to lose a lot of our elevation, and be walking mainly in the trees before we got to the summit of Liberty, and we wouldn't really be able to enjoy the views anymore.  Though, i was getting a bit sunburned so I suppose that wasn't the end of the world.  After some gradual descent we eventually were met with some rather steep sections, and had to pause a bit to either plan our attack (Arya was not a fan), or let people by, since they were ascending and could use the right of way.  At any rate, on to Liberty!

-M

Mount Lafayette: July 11, 2015

Mountain: Mount Lafayette
Elevation: 5,260 (New Hampshire's 6th Tallest, New England's 7th Tallest)
Route: Greenleaf Trail
Mileage: 3.3 to summit
Arya's Take: Nuts to that trail.  It's easier over here, I'm going this way.

This is why I hike.  For days like we had today.

And no, I'm not really trying to be hyperbolic here.  Too often, it's too hot, or it rains, or someone twists and ankle, or the views aren't as nice as you thought they'd be (if they're there at all).  But sometimes, things just work.

The day that Arya (and 8 of our friends) had up on the Franconias on July 11 was, truly, one of the best days of hiking I have ever had in my entire life.  The group we had was fun to be around, with everyone up for whatever the mountains could throw at us, and with the weather cooperating, we got to spend nearly 6 hours above treeline with magnificent views in all directions.  My brother and I knew that going in (having hiked this exact route before), but you never know if everything will come together to give you a day like we had this past weekend.  And I think Arya would agree.

As I mentioned in my prep-entry, the Franconia Range is the second most prominent in the White Mountains after the Presidentials, and is one of the most popular hiking destinations in the state (which we can attest to, having run into approximately 50,000 people on the ridge through the course of the day).  We would be summiting Mount Lafayette first, gaining most of our elevation in one fell swoop, and then traversing the spine of the Franks down to Mount Lincoln, then Little Haystack (doesn't count), and eventually to Mount Liberty.  To start things off, I was apprehensive about getting off at a reasonable hour, for a couple of reasons.  First, the mileage and elevation we'd be going through meant that we'd be spending a LOT of time on the trail, and I didn't want to get back to the car after dark.  Second, of the 9 people that were hiking with us, 5 were meeting us at the trailhead (in two separate cars, no less) so coordinating would be difficult.  Also we made the decision to stay up to wait for the last of the Farm-based party to make it up on Friday night at 11:15, and proceeded to stay up for another 45 minutes, imbibing things that would...not exactly make us very chipper at 5:30, when we had to get up to hit the road by 6:15.

But!  Miracle of Miracles everyones was roaring to go on Saturday morning (well, apart from my younger brother, but he's not exactly much of a morning person).  From the Farm, Franconia Notch (former home to New Hampshire state symbol the Old Man of the Mountains) is about an hour and 20 minutes away, and we'd need all the time we had to make sure we could stash the first car at the trailhead where we'd be ending our day (as discussed previously) and to find our way to the starting trailhead, as there was road construction on the highway through the Notch, and the exit we needed to get off at was closed (because of course it was).

Anyway, we did eventually find our way to the Greenleaf Trailhead, the parking for which was actually across the notch at the Cannon Mountain Tramway.  Within 30 seconds of arriving so did our companions (!) and we were all able to prep and get on our way by 8:07, which, wow.  It was exciting and I was hoping to have a nice little warmup before gaining our elevation, but hey, at least we weren't going up Ammonoosuc Ravine this time, right?

...About that.  One of the problems with the nice rosy memories of the day we spent hiking the Franks in 1996 is that most of my memories of the glorious ridge obscured how we GOT to that ridge.  Also, I was 11, and full of boundless energy; I am now 30, and not.  The Greenleaf Trail doesn't pull any punches, and while it's not quite like Ammonoosuc Ravine (2 miles in flat, then 1 mile straight up), it just sort of...goes.  A few switchbacks here and there, but mostly just up, and after 20 minutes I had not only broken a sweat, but delved into my Nalgenes for the first time.  Not exactly a good sign when you've gone half a mile with 11.5 more to go.  I was heartened to see that nearly everyone in our party felt the same way, griping about it without going into full-bore complaining.  Which is good, since I was the one that picked this trail when planning the hike and felt more than a little responsible for everyone's misfortune.  The Greenleaf Trail is the best way to get to the top of Lafayette and made the most sense for our loop, but still.

Not that people didn't take issue with the steepness and relentlessness of the trail, mind you, they just didn't blame me for it.  After about an hour it seemed like we would just slog all the way up to treeline like that, though we then poked out of the trees for a bit around Eagle Cliff, and it was nice to get a few views in before we finished the last mile or so to the Greenleaf Hut.  It was right at the point when I at least was beginning to ask myself "Why am I doing this on a perfectly nice Saturday?!" when we got some views, a stiff breeze, and I was reminded.

And once we got to Greenleaf, we got the first of a couple of nice surprises that day.  I figured that we would refill our water bottles (as we'd consumed a lot gaining our elevation, but still had quite a bit of hiking to do that day),grab a snack, use the restrooms and keep going.  All in all we spent maybe 15 minutes there, but discovered that the Hut Croo (and yes, they spell it like that) had made fresh FREE PANCAKES for breakfast and we all helped ourselves.  Not a bad stick-to-your-ribs meal before we began our ridegwalking in earnest.  We were also treated to our first real preview of where we were going to spend the rest of the day, seeing Lafayette and Lincoln looming before us in the brilliant morning sunshine.  After Arya made some friends waiting for us outside (dogs aren't allowed in the AMC High Huts, boo hiss), we kept on the Greenleaf trail to the top of the ridge.

As second winds go, it was pretty good.  We all felt reasonably rested, and being able to take a look around every couple of steps and see the Notch (or the the Ridge) was nice too.  I have to admit that we had a tendency to spread out at times, and while Arya did want to press ahead at the end of her leash, we settled into a nice middle ground where there were a few people ahead of us, but far enough that she wasn't cutting them off or clotheslining them. 

There were some switchbacks, but really the Greenleaf Trail continued more or less straight at what my brother and I were convinced was a false peak of Lafayette.  That's one of the main pratfalls of hiking a lot above treeline, as nice as it is:  sometimes the promontory you're headed for is just a bluff and they actual summit is not visible.  It wasn't that bad on Lafayette, actually, since once we went over the bluff we only had maybe 0.2 of a mile to go.  Cannon has some that I remember not-so-fondly (the Cannonballs), and the worst of the worst from my 23-year-old memories of childhood was the Caps Ridge Trail up Mount Jefferson.  They kept going and going and going, each time you thought you were there, another peak loomed beyond.  Which I guess they were trying to warn us about with the name of the trail.

But we made it to the top of Lafayette, and Franconia Ridge, with no trouble at about 11:15.  Not to f'ing shabby, if I do say so myself, given that we shattered booktime and had enough time to spare on my loose outline that we took our packs off, had a snack, and took in the sun for a bit.  It was getting to the time of day that we started to see a ton more people, which would only increase as our day and the sunshine wore on.  There was a group of people wearing matching neon green t shirts, a summer camp I think, and some others that were using the foundation of an old 1850s-era cabin to make an early lunch.  Arya actually did really well on Lafayette, compared with how she usually is on summits, and didn't even try to go for our food when we brought it out. Even the turkey jerky we had!

Eventually, though, we knew we still had a majority of mileage to go, and after getting some good-natured pushback from the group, we decided that we would indeed officially stop for lunch on top of Lincoln.  So after one last round of pictures, off we went.

-M

Mount Abraham: July 3, 2015

Mountain: Mount Abraham
Elevation: 4,006 (Vermont's 5th Tallest, New England's 64th Tallest)
Route: Battell Trail
Mileage: 5.8 miles round trip
Arya's Take:Uh, Dad?  These rocks go...straight up.  What do I do?

I have to admit, when looking at the peak-bagging I wanted to do with Arya, Abraham was a bit of an afterthought.  Sure, I remember hiking it in 2012, and had vague memories of what the trail and summit were like, but I really have to issue an apology.  I mean, the main reason that I disregarded it was that the mountain itself is only 4,006 feet, so it barely qualifies, and there were, I was sure, other mountains that would be more worth our time.

And there are, don't get me wrong.  But when it became clear that I had an extra day off to play with over the 4th of July weekend (before we headed to Maine and I had a 5K to run), I decided to, for better or for worse, get Abraham out of the way.  It also helped that the forecast was sunny and in the 70s.

So Arya and I prattled off over the Appalachian Gap again, and I was again struck with just how much time I seem to be spending in the Mad River Valley since we moved to Vermont.  There were easier ways to get to the Battell Trailhead in Lincoln (like, for example, the Lincoln Gap road), but since we were in my Prius and the Lincoln Gap road is dirt, I figured the App Gap was the way to go.

We also got kiiiiiind of a later start than I anticipated, due mainly to the fact that I got a cluster headache as I was trying to get up that morning and wanted to die for about 3 hours.  What are cluster headaches, I hear you ask?  Basically, 12 years ago I started getting horrendously bad migraines, with no apparent trigger or cause, and they were so bad that I couldn't move or think or anything while they persisted.  Several doctor's visits (and one STAT CT scan!) later, they diagnosed me with cluster headaches, which they told me a) will attack with no warning, b) will come in bunches (hence the name) and c) have no known cause.  Not only that, but they'd disappear eventually, only to return later, again with no rhyme or reason.  So...hooray!  They're back, and they don't respond to drugs.  I got one on July 3, and it took until 12:30 for us to actually get out on the trail.

Which worried me slightly, since even though Abraham is a smaller mountain, heading out on a hike after noon set us up for potential trouble, since if something happened we wouldn't have that much time to do something about it.  Also since we needed to be back in Barre by 7:00 or so in order to pack the car and meet my fiancee so we could drive the 3 hours to Maine, so we didn't have too much of a margin for error.

But at any rate, we started off, and with some minor adjustments in Arya's pack, things went pretty well on the whole.  Moreso than usually Arya had a propensity to zigzag across the trail into the woods on either side, and once again looked back down the trail just enough to make me think that someone (or something) was following us.  The trail also proved to be more of a challenege than I remember, given that I did it on a whim in sneakers, I wasn't expecting it to be as slow going as it was.  We encountered several large groups, too (summer camps, I assumed), and that impacted our pace.  I mean, not a ton, and we still crushed book time, but it wasn't exactly my finest hour of hiking.

This became apparent when we reached the Battell Shelter at 2.1 miles, where some families were having lunch and Arya wanted desperately to say hello and to vacuum up any table scraps that might have fallen off the benches.  We'd reached the Long Trail, and the well-worn sign pointing us towards the Abraham summit was scratched enough that it was either 0.3 or 0.8 to the summit, and I was crestfallen when I realized it was 0.8.  That's how you know you're not at your best.

At any rate, we tramped off the the summit, walking along the southern edge of the Monroe Skyline amongst the scrubby evergreen trees, a brilliant blue sky above us.  The 0.8 proved to be just long enough for both Arya and I to start wondering where the summit was, and I was confronted suddenly with a memory of the first time I'd hiked Abraham that I'd apparently suppressed:  the scramble to the summit.

It came in a flash, recalling the 0.2 of straight-freaking-up rock climbing that you have to do to reach the top, hand-over-hand and plotting each tree branch and foot placement before you're done with your last.  It annihilated my sneakers (eventually wearing the heel to the point I had to replace them), and it presented the first time hiking that Arya had serious problems with continuing.  She was good for much of the scramble, but with some people heading down from the summit as we were heading up (side effect of our late start), we had a lot of waiting to do, and there were some rock faces that were sheer enough that I had to pick her up and carry her.  Thankfully, her new dog framepack has a handle for just such a purpose, and though she scowled at me for the indignity, it was the best way for us to continue.  Eventually, though, it flattened out and we were above treeline.

It really amazes me that two mountains in such proximity could have such different summits based on their height and the perceived difficulty as Mounts Abraham and Ellen.  Ellen is, after all, nearly 90 feet taller than Abraham, and yet, is not only wooded on top, but so insignificant compared to the surrounding terrain that I wandered past it without noticing when I hiked it first.  Abraham, on the other hand, has spectacular views in all directions, showing off the Breadloaf wilderness, Lake Champlain, and the rest of the Monroe Skyline.  Not bad for the 4th-shortest 4,000 footer in all of New England.

Really, Abraham makes you earn it, and it feels like much more of an accomplishment when you're on top.  Yes, it's small, but the Battell Trail is not what I would qualify as easy (or short), and the last little bit of sheer elevation gain gives you the impression that you're really up among the alpine.

None of this really mattered to Arya, who was mostly concerned with the other dogs on top, none of whom really wanted anything to do with her.  I tried to get her to drink, as the air was surprisingly stagnant above treeline and the direct sunshine made it seem much hotter than it probably was.  Couple with her whole "I'm a black dog with minimal sweat glands" thing, and Arya spent the first several minutes we were settled panting and pacing back and forth.

Eventually I discovered that the only way to get her to drink from the bowl was to hold it in front of her snout like a horse's feed-bag, and after that she drank for what seemed like forever.  After that she continued to be a bit of a pain in the ass on the summit, as she usually is, since when we reach them there's not a whole lot for her to do while I sit and try to eat some lunch.

On this occasion, though, we were a bit pressed for time, and I decided after about 20 minutes or so to pack up and head back down.  Not only was a concerned with getting back to the car and getting home, but it occurred to me that I hadn't done as much packing the night before as I probably should have, and so I'd need some time to finish before we all went to Maine.  It was also a good opportunity to test out my knee, since I'd been nervous about it buckling on me after we did Mount Ellen.  To be completely honest, part of me was kinf od hoping I'd fuck up my knee, so that I would have a valid excuse not to run the aforementioned 5K that I was signed up for two days thence (for which I had not trained a lick, because I am an idiot).  Thankfully, though, we had enough people immediately ahead of us on the rockiest descent that we had to take our time, which was good on my knee and better for Arya's apprehension.  The congestion got kind of bad once we reached the shelter on our way down, but thankfully most people apparently chose to hike up using the Long Trail, so once we turned back onto the Battell Trail we were good to go.

And i really apologize how these entries tend to lose steam once we get to the descent, but it's just that...I hate the descent.  I've talked about this before, but in climbing down, my mind starts to wander to what I want to do after we're done, and how good it's going to feel to sit in the car and take my boots off.  It was a lovely day, and Arya did really well with everything all things considered, but I really can't find much of anything interesting to say on the way down, unless something basically smacks me in the face.  My knee held up, Arya was dead asleep for the rest of the day (which, of course, was mostly spent in the car anyway), and we have another 4,000 footer in the books.  From here, though, the real fun begins, since now all we had left in Vermont was Mount Mansfield, and I'd started to put together a plan for one of, if not the, most ambitious day hikes we would ever do.  But that's for another entry or two (or three).

-M

NEXT TRIP PLANNING: THE FRANCONIAS

Well, not all of them.  That'd be kind of absurd.

But for the first big trip of the summer, I'm trying to put together a plan to hike three major peaks in the Franconia Range, all of which are among the highest in the White Mountains, and New England at large.  The mountains I want to do in this day trip are specifically Mounts Lafayette, Lincoln, and Liberty, though Mount Flume, at the end of the range, is also a 4,000 footer.  It's just a bit much to do all of them in one day, which I'll get to in a bit.

The Franconias are actually part of a large horseshoe of mountains, most of which are 4,000 footers, surrounding an expanse of forest called the Pemigewasset Wilderness.  The Franks link up with Mount Garfield (4,500) at the north edge of the Wilderness, where the ridge continues to the Twins range, with Mounts Galehead (4,024), North Twin (4,761), South Twin (4,902) and Zealand (4,260), after which it curves south to the Bond range, with Mounts West Bond (4,540), Bond (4,698), and Bondcliff (4,265).  All of this surrounds Owl's Head (4,025), smack in the middle of the Wilderness, and if you throw in the Franks with Lafayette (5,260), Lincoln (5,089), Liberty (4,459) and Flume (4,328), you're looking at over a quarter of the 4,000 footers in New Hampshire.  It's possible to do them all over about a 3-day camping trip, with Huts and Shelters scattered throughout, and it's some of the best hiking you'll do in New England.

Not that that's what I have planned.  Really, I just want to hit the high peaks of the Franks, and even with just the three, for a day trip, it's going to be quite a challenge.  The first major hurdle is simply logistics.

So far, when planning out peak-bagging trips with Arya, we've either stuck to one mountain, or selected trails that have the same base area so that we do a loop (like with Mount Washington and Mount Monroe).  The problem with the Franks is how and where all the major trails are situated:  In Franconia Notch.

Much like the Presidential Range with Crawford and Pinkham Notches, the Franks flank one side of Franconia Notch, with Cannon Mountain and the Kinsmans on the other side.  Interstate 93 also runs through the notch, so it's easy to get to as it were, though not so easy to hike back from one trailhead to another.

My current plan is to get up at the crack of day (or before it), and take two cars with our group, stashing one at the trailhead for Liberty (to the south) and heading north to the trailhead for Lafayette and starting our day there.  We used to do this all the time with my parents when we were kids (including when we did the Franks in 1996).  That way we can take the trails that make the most sense for the mountains we want to climb, and not the need to get back to the car.

It's gonna be a long day, though.  Assuming an 8:00 start at the trailhead (which in turn assumes a 6:00 departure from the Farm, which prooooobably won't happen), we won't be back to the stashed car until 5:00, and won't be back to the Farm until 7:00.  And that's if we stick to book time, which, while certainly within the realm of possibility, isn't a guarantee.  So this might be a bit ambitious.

It could be completely amazing, though.  The Franconias provide some sweeping vistas of the Pemigewasset Wilderness and the Presidential Range above treeline on a good day (which, fingers crossed, weather.gov is telling me we'll have on Saturday).  We'll be gaining most of our elevation to begin with, on the Greenleaf Trail to ascend Lafayette, passing one of the High Huts along the way.  It'll be around 4 miles to the summit of Lafayette, and hopefully we can get up there before or around noon, so we can enjoy the views for a bit, have a snack, and continue down the Franconia Ridge and keep on book time.

The ridge itself I remember vividly from when we hiked it in 1996; not so much specific parts of it, but more the almost painfully blue sky, and the green of the mountains around us.  We really hit it on a perfect day, with not a cloud to be seen, and it remains probably the best aesthetic day of hiking I've ever had (at least, my nearly 20-year-old memories of that day tell me so).  You're above treeline the ENTIRE time from Lafayette to Lincoln, which is only actually one mile away, and I don't recall feeling at all tired or worn the whole way down the ridge.  The White Mountain Guide tells me that part of the traverse is technically a knife edge, which makes me nervous both for my new-found fear of heights and the fact that I'll have Arya on her extendo-leash, though it is explicit that it's NOT like the infamous one on Katahdin, and I don't really recall having trouble with it before.  I bet it's just that the ridge is 10 or 15 feet wide with steep drops on either side (which I DO remember), and I think we can handle that, as long as Arya doesn't see a butterfly she wants to chase.

From the top of Mount Lincoln, though, the day starts to stretch out, and that's what I'm kind of worried about.  I remember when we did Monroe and Washington that I really started to hit a wall and just want to be done when we reached the junction with the trails up Mount Clay, and we still had a majority of our descent to go.  From Lincoln to Liberty is about 2.5 miles, and from Liberty back to the parking lot it's another 3.  So that's not exactly a lark, though with most of that being ridgewalking, I'm hoping that we don't really start to suffer until we're heading down to the car.  Additionally, after my knee got messed up on Mount Ellen, I've been especially nervous that something might happen halfway through our day, but I guess there's nothing I can do about that except wear my brace, use my hiking poles, and take some Aleve.  We'll see.

In all, especially if the forecast holds, this could be an amazing day.  We have a lot of people coming (potentially 12 in all!) and it'll be great to spend the day up there and bag 3 more peaks for Arya.  I mean, I'll basically be an invalid on Sunday, but some things are worth it.

Cheers!

-M

Mount Ellen: June 14, 2015

Mountain: Mount Ellen
Elevation: 4,083 (Vermont's 3rd Tallest, New England's 47th Tallest)
Route: Jerusalem Trail/Long Trail
Mileage 8.4 miles Round Trip
Arya's Take: WHAT IS THIS ABOMINATION ON MY BACK


So spoiler alert, just like I said I probably would in the last post, Arya and I ended up doing Mount Ellen over the weekend, since it was closest to our new house (in Barre!) and wouldn't take up the full day.  My fiancee wanted to head into Burlington to do some furniture shopping and to swing my Lowe's (our lives are rapidly becoming some kind of home-improvement commercial), so we couldn't spend all day up in the mountains.  Though given how my knee ended up, that wouldn't have been advisable anyway.


We took the same trail I did a couple years ago, the Jerusalem Trail, which was a nice little test of my memory to see if I could get back to it since it's off to the side of a dusty country road up and over the Appalachian Gap.  To my semi-astonishment I was not only able to get myself out of bed at 5:15 on a Sunday, but we made it there no problem, and were on the trail by 7:30.  We weren't even the first car at the trailhead!


The morning was foggy, as was expected in the valleys of Vermont in the summer, and as we started up, I tried to find as many landmarks as I could so I could look for them on the descent to know how much trail we had left.  Arya also took the time to get used to the newest addition to my (or, our) hiking equipment, a dog backpack for her.  My old dog growing up had one, and it's great for two reasons:  they can carry their own damn food and water, and the added weight helps slow them down a bit, so they're not running all over the place.  Which is especially nice for Arya, since she's not off-leash ready and I'd prefer not to run through the woods after her.

She adapted eventually, but there was a learning curve for both of us starting out.  First, She reacted pretty much as you'd expect having an additional several pounds strapped to her back.  Trying to chew the saddlebags, running around to try and escape it, et cetera.  Once she settled in, though, I realized I'd done an exceptionally poor job of distributing the weight throughout the two bags, with her food (light) in one, and her quart and a half of water (heavy) in the other.  Eventually I swapped out the large water bottle for the two 32-oz Nalgenes I had in my pack, and that seemed to work better.  Her shoulder harness fit nicely underneath it, too, so after the first few minutes, she didn't even react to it anymore.

However, as we climbed, Arya started giving me a healthy dose of paranoia, as she acted out of character by repeatedly turning around and staring down the trail, as if someone (or something) was following us.  She even sat down a couple times and I had to coax her along.  This was especially unnerving to me, as we were the first ones on the trail that morning (we found out later on that the other car in the parking lot belonged to someone who was camping overnight) and I'm convinced that one of these days hiking alone I'll run into a bear or mountain lion or something that will eat me.  Also there are two convicted murderers that just escaped a prison in upstate New York and the authorities have widened the net to Vermont, so there's that.

Anyway, the first part of the Jerusalem Trail is actually on private property, and is actually used for servicing maple tap lines.  They string throughout the woods, with the trail being really more of an ATV track at first and we actually passed the Sugarbush itself.  Really impresses on you how many trees and how much sap are needed to viably make syrup. 

Eventually the Jerusalem Trail begins to rise and leaves the sap lines behind, following a brook up to the top of the Monroe Skyline.  This was nice for Arya, since she prefers to drink streamwater over water in bottles.  Well, she kind of eats the streamwater actually, biting it and bearing her teeth at it before barking at it and running away.  My dog is...odd.

I also had to remark on how incredibly soggy the woods still are, which I guess is to be expected given how much snow we got over the winter, but still.  In places the trail was actually more of a stream itself, and with all of the mud, it didn't take long for Arya's white front left paw to disappear (I hastily remembered that I had a towel in my car, thank God).  There were even a couple times when we came across a flooded section of trail and had to try and find the best way to navigate it without losing a boot.  It's one of the advantages of hiking with a dog I wasn't really expecting:  Arya's really good at finding the quickest route on solid ground (or which rocks aren't loose and are good to step on).  The clouds began to burn off as we neared the top of the ridge, and I did my patented "where the hell is that trail junction?!" mere feet from arriving at the trail junction.

From the top of the Skyline, we turned right for the 1.8 miles of ridgewalking to get to Mount Ellen.  We also encountered our first fellow hikers of the day, though since it was 9:00 and we were miles and miles from any other trailheads, I had to wonder where they had spent the night.  I always enjoy running into other people on the trail (though Arya's reception of them is rather hit-or-miss), since everyone you meet, especially when you get as remote as we were, wants to be there and is generally in a pretty good mood.  The major exception is kids, as you'd expect, but even they generally are having fun.

By the time we'd gotten to the top of the Summit Triple chairlift, I'd drank most of the water in one of the Nalgenes Arya was carrying and we had to redistribute things a bit before continuing, as she started to list a bit.  She didn't quite know what to make of the ski trail when we emerged onto what I now know is the top of Rim Run, a nice jaunty blue square (I hadn't skied at Mount Ellen when I hiked it last time, now that I have it's weird to see all the familiar trails without snow).  She seemed to like the space, I guess?  but it was confusing to her as well, as she didn't know which way we were supposed to go.  I took some pictures on the lift and generally wandered around for a bit, since once we went back into the woods, we'd run into the same problem that I'd had last time, ie, not being able to find the goddamn summit.

It turns out, however, that the summit itself is even closer to the lift than I thought it was.  Which makes sense, as when I'd been skiing there over the winter, there was a sign into the woods and I'd seen several people taking off their skis and tromping off.  At the time I thought it was really odd, since having hiked to what I thought was the summit over half a mile, it seemed like a terrible idea to do that in ski boots.  It turns out that someone had constructed a cairn on the summit of Ellen, with a ski pole attached to it, and the summit is like 200 yards from the ski trails.  You could almost still see the chairlift when we got there.

So after I felt like an idiot for hiking THAT MUCH FARTHER than I needed to when I climbed Ellen the first time, I broke out the dog food from Arya's backpack and a soggy PB&J from my own for lunch.  Well, more breakfast than lunch, since the side effect of me needing to be on the trail at the crack of dawn meant that we reached the summit at 10:05.  Good time, and it meant that I'd be able to go furniture shopping with time to spare, though part of me thinks I could have coordinated that a bit better.  Also it occurred to me that with a little more foresight, I might have been able to do both Ellen and Abraham and grab two peaks for Arya (since Abraham is a couple miles south on the Monroe Skyline from Ellen), but I digress.

Arya started whining as soon as she finished her food, and kept clamoring to keep moving the whole time I ate.  I really need to work with her on that, I think, since the times we've spent on summits has been primarily spent trying to sit and eat for two goddamn seconds while she wants to either explore, or start down the trail again.  We did some sit-waits and some down-waits (practicing the length of time before she was allowed to get the treat I laid out for her), but that was disrupted by some other hikers and I decided to cut my losses and head back down.  Mount Ellen is completely wooded on top anyway, so it's not like there were any views I needed to take in, apart from the ones on the ski slope.

As you might know from other entries, I kind of hate the descent.  First, all the exhilaration of summiting the mountain is over, and all you have left is the long slog back to the car.  This is especially bad when you're below treeline (which we were) and you're on a deadline anyway to get home, and you'd prefer to just get there already.  This is the main reason that I tried to memorize the landmarks from earlier, so I could know how close to quitting time we were

The other major problem we ran into distresses me more than somewhat, as we were juuuuuust making the transition from coniferous to deciduous trees, my right knee started acting up.  Have I mentioned my right knee?  I can't remember if I've gone through exactly why I have to wear my brace on the Blawg before, but anyway, my knee.  I injured it going on 5 years ago, whilst playing hockey.  I went to turn up the ice without knowing that my skate blade was caught in a divot.  My upper leg turned, my lower leg didn't, and I collapsed.  I actually had the good sense to call it a day and go home immediately (which I kind of had to do since I could hardly walk), and for treatment I went with the tried and true method of ignoring it until it went away.

Flash forward to now, and the right side of my right knee absolutely kills me whenever I walk for extended periods.  This is kind of an obstacle to the "Hike with my dog" plan, and I actually went and got an MRI on it last spring to finally see what the hell was going on, and what I could do about it.  Turns out that my right ACL is sprained, and my orthopedist says it's bad enough to need a brace, but slight enough to not really justify surgery.  So hence, the metal-reinforced brace.

This is why I'm nervous that my right knee started giving me problems on the way down Ellen.  I'd hiked all last summer with nary a problem, but even using my hiking pole as a crutch, I had to stop several times to wince and catch my breath, apologizing to Arya for being a slow poke.  It's been two days and I'm still walking funny, and this was only a hike of 8.4 miles, none of which was particularly steep or challenging.  It does not bode well for the more ambitious hikes I want to go on in the next couple months, but I suppose that I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it.  Besides, going up is fine.  It's just coming down when it hurts.

Well, even if it took a bit longer than anticipated, we did make it down to the car at about 12:30, and we were back to Barre by 1:00.  Arya took the opportunity to pass out on the ride home (and incidentally, didn't make much of a fuss when we left for Burlington later in the afternoon).  I got to add another peak under her name on the big board, and we can officially call Hiking Season 2015 open.

-M

NEXT TRIP PLANNING: MOUNTS ABRAHAM AND ELLEN

Hi All!

So now we've reached a new kind of post:  where I look at the summer and start plotting out potential trips to go on, since it's June, Killington is finally closed and my skis are dwelling in the basement next to my hockey bag and cricket bats.  So what's on the docket?



Arya's already done two of the 5 Vermont 4,000 footers, and the only one we have left together is Mount Mansfield, Vermont's highest.  However, some of our friends have expressed interest in doing Mansfield with us, and I don't want to start off the summer with one of the highest and possibly most challenging hikes, so I think a warmup is in order.  But even with a warmup, there are peaks to be bagged for Arya, and so that means a bit of a retread for me.  Which is fine, really, since it'll be nice to know exactly what I'm getting us into and what to expect.  So that leaves us with two real options, until Arya and I re-hike Camel's Hump (don't fool yourself, we're *definitely* re-hiking Camel's Hump this summer).  And both of those options are really right next to each other, on a part of the Long Trail called the Monroe Skyline.  Which sounds weird to me, but maybe I've just been playing too much Bioshock Infinite recently.

The two mountains are on the low end of Vermont's 4,000 footers, Mounts Abraham and Ellen.  Abraham is actually the shortest of the bunch, barely registering at 4,004.  I hiked it a few years ago with a friend of mine from college; we were actually up at Middlebury for our 5-year college reunion and were looking for something to do during the day when there wasn't a whole lot of interesting stuff offered on campus.  I hadn't been planning on hiking that weekend at all until he suggested it, and having not heard of the mountain before, I actually didn't know it was an official 4,000 footer until we got to the top, emerging from treeline eeeeever so slightly, and I saw the USGS capstone.

Abraham also bodes well for a warmup for a couple of reasons beyond its relative low profile.  Having not planned on hiking, I hadn't packed any suitable clothes or boots for reunion, and I hiked it with my friend whilst wearing sneakers.  Granted  my feet weren't in super great shape when we finished and I wouldn't recommend it, but it's not like my feet were bleeding, and we were able to get out, get up, get down, and get back to Middlebury in time for the class dinners that evening.  It's nothing that Arya couldn't handle.

Now the problematic thing is, there are two main trails to take up Abraham and I have no idea which one my friend and I used.  Complicating matters is the fact that they're both listed as being rather moderate/strenuous according my my guidebooks, and that doesn't really mesh with what i remember.  Both are around 5 miles round trip, so I guess it doesn't matter which one we take, but I'd like to maximize our time and not pick the one that will keep us up there all day, since unfortunately we'll be driving for a little bit from Montpelier to get to the trailhead.

The other mountain on the Monroe Skyline that we could use as a start is Mount Ellen, which I climbed in August of 2013 once I got the hiking bug back.  It was really a lark, and it's what actually got me back into this whole mode, since I had a fantastic time hiking by myself and remembered all the things that I love about hiking that I'd been missing since I stopped doing it a decade ago.


Mount Ellen is, unfortunately, one of the main peaks of the Sugarbush Ski Resort, and the summit is a stone's throw from a triple chairlift.  You even have to traverse up a base ski slope for a couple hundred yards to get to the point where the trail to the summit slips back into the woods, which is a bit odd.

The other thing that I really want to harp on with Mount Ellen really isn't about the mountain per se, but with the Green Mountain Club.  See, having grown up hiking in the White Mountains, with most trails kept up and maintained by the Appalachian Mountain Club, I came to expect a certain level of specificity and clarity when it came to trail junctions and signage.  See, in the White Mountains, each trail junction is marked with clear signs for where each trail goes (sometimes there are rather a lot of them at once, especially in the Presidentials).  Mileage is included, so you know how far you have to go to get to either the next junction, or the summit of the mountain you're on, and the White Mountain Guide that the AMC puts out (and continually updates every few years) builds on those signs and has detailed descriptions of each and every trail with landmarks to keep an eye out for.

The Green Mountain Club, to put it bluntly, does not do this.  They have a couple of guidebooks I picked up (the very fact that I had to buy more than one book to cover the hiking trails in Vermont was its own frustration) but the detail of the trail descriptions varies wildly, depending on how close or how important the trail is to the Long Trail, which is the GMC's crown jewel.

I don't know if I've specifically mentioned the Long Trail on the Blawg before?  Basically, it's 270-or-so mile trail tharuns the length of Vermont, from Massachusetts to Quebec.  It hits all of the major peaks, since they're all on the same spine anyway, and it's a popular destination for those looking for some endurance overnight hiking but aren't sure they're insane enough to try the Appalachian Trail yet.  It's a neat thing to have, and I've thought about giving it a go before I get too old, but the problem with its central importance to the GMC is that everything else suffers at its expense.

The signs on the Long Trail are impeccable, showing you exactly where you are and how far you need to go to the next trail, peak, or gap (notches in Vermont are called gaps. For some reason).  The whole trail is marked with clear white blazes, so it's basically impossible to get lost.  But it IS very possible to go too far.  I ran into this when I did Ellen, because once the Jerusalem Trail puts you on top of the Monroe Skyline ridge, you know how far you have to go to get to the peak of Ellen, but what it doesn't tell you is that there's a spur you need to take to get there.

In the Whites, this spur would be noted in the guidebook, and there would be a very clear wooden sign noting that the Mount Ellen Summit Spur is here, and it's 0.1 or whatever to the summit itself.  In the GMC book, though, while it does tell you it's 1.8 miles to the summit of Ellen, no mention of the spur is in there at all, and I ended up going PAST it for about a half mile before I started descending and realized something was up.  For the GMC, the Long Trail is the attraction, and the fact that there are some mountains on it is an afterthought.

Anyway, there are some nice views up Ellen, and it is dramatically closer to home for me, so I'll probably end up doing that with Arya in the next couple weeks.  Maybe even this weekend, if the weather holds.  After that?  Well, there's still Abraham and Mansfield to have her do, and then there's the whole swath of New Hampshire she hasn't seen yet.  More to come!

-M

Camel's Hump: September 26, 2014

Mountain: Camel's Hump
Elevation: 4,083 (Vermont's 3rd Tallest, New England's 47th Tallest)
Route: Monroe Trail
Mileage 6.2 miles Round Trip
Arya's Take: Super Fun!  I don't know why we had to stop hiking once we got to the top.  I wanted to keep going.  Dad's lame.

I'm going to get this out of the way immediately:  I might be slightly obsessed with Camel's Hump.  Maybe more than slightly obsessed.  Since I moved to Vermont, I kept eyeing it and waiting for a chance to hike it, and got my chance to do it with my younger brother in August 2013.  After that, though, I knew that I needed to hike it again.

I have my reasons behind the obsession.  First, based on where I live and where I work, I drive past Camel's Hump twice a day, and the views of it are great from the highway.  It also helps that Camel's Hump has a very distinctive profile, which has made it the subject of a lot of attention since people start writing down accounts of what would become Vermont (Seriously, even Samuel de Champlain commented on the odd-looking mountain, calling it "Le Lion Couchant", or the Couching/Resting Lion).

And it's on everything.  various logos from landscapers to bed and breakfasts to Efficiency Vermont have Camel's Hump's distinctive and not-particularly-camel-like profile smack dab on them.  The company I work for uses a view from its summit as our website banner.  It's even on the Vermont State Quarter, for crying out loud!  So *everyone* in Vermont is obsessed with this mountain.  It's not just me.

Now I'd hiked it twice in 2013 (once with my brother and once with my fiancee's brother, his wife, and their German Shepherd), and used either of the two main trails to summit it each time.  So by the time I decided to hike it with Arya, I had a pretty good idea of how I wanted to approach it.  My brother and I hiked up the Monroe trail, approaching the summit from the southeast, while the second time we all hiked up the Burrows Trail, coming in from the West.  They're both about the same mileage, though the Burrows Trail goes up the north slope of the summit cone and gets absurdly steep for the last little bit.  This was a challenge for Chase the German Shepherd, as he was recovering from rotator cuff surgery at the time.  I'd actually gone this way too at the very end of the hike with my brother, too, because the Monroe Trail connects to the Alpine Trail, and the Alpine Trail is the only way to get to one of the more unusual sights on Camel's Hump, the Liberator.

In 1944, Vermont was, much like the rest of the country, in full-blow war mode, doing everything it could to support the effort in World War II.  From Coast Guard and Naval Cadets on Lake Champlain to airplane training sites, a lot of things were seen in Vermont that hadn't been seen before or since.  Which brings us to the Liberator. 

On October 16, 1944, a B-24J Liberator Bomber took off from Albany, NY on a training flight, due to stop in Burlington, VT that night before proceeding to Manchester, NH and then Chicopee, MA.

According to the reports in the Burlington Free Press, the night was unusually cold, and the pilot dropped the plane to below 4,000 at around 2:00 AM (speculation being that it would warm up the un-pressurized cabin).  However, the moon was new that night, and with the surrounding countryside under wartime black-out conditions, the pilot didn't see Camel's Hump looming in front of him until it was too late, and the plane crashed on the rocks around 100 feet below the summit itself.  The plane bounced, broke apart (the B-24 was widely despised among pilots and crew members for its tendency to, unlike the B-17 or B-29, completely disintegrate upon crashing)  and scattered people and wreckage everywhere.

Nine out of the ten crewmembers were killed in the crash, though one man (I've always heard the Ball-Turret Gunner) survived, with a broken knee.  He lay exposed on the mountain for a day and a half in sub-freezing temperatures until some locals hiked up and found him (the Army's recon plane apparently reported that the B-24 crashed on the other side of the mountain, so the official search-and-rescue operation was looking in the wrong place).  He eventually lost his hands and feet to frostbite but lived.

Now with there still being a war on, most of the plane was salvaged and recycled, and the crew given proper military burials.  However, some pieces proved too unwieldy to cart down, and remain on the mountain below the summit cone.  When my brother and hiked the Hump initially, we wanted to see the crashsite, and used the Alpine Trail to get there.Most of what remains is one of the wings, turned upside-down, exposing the wheel well for the landing gear and laticed superstructure around what I was assuming was one of the four engine nacelles.

It was an interesting thing to see, though more macabre than I was expecting it to be, since while hiking up we were thinking "Man, this is going to be so cool to see", and once we got there it became "Man, 9 people died here.  Maybe we shouldn't have come sightseeing."  I at least removed my hat, which seemed like a paltry gesture, but was something.  I digress.

Having done mostly the Monroe Trail up this time, I knew I preferred that as the route, and would want to take it all the way up, bypassing the Liberator and just getting right to the summit.  The Monroe Trailhead is down a dusty country road in the middle of Goddamnnowhere, Vermont, and I always have my doubts that my little Prius has the ground clearance to make it up there, especially after it rains.  There is actually a nice memorial to the crew of the B-24 at the parking lot, and once we got there Arya was rip-roaring to go.  The Monroe trail starts you off really well, too, with nothing too challenging to start off over the first couple of miles, as you follow a stream through the dappled forest.

I'd actually over-prepared, too, as we were hiking in late September and I'd thought that it was going to be chillier than it was (I mean, that wasn't a bad assumption to make, since the leaves had all turned and it was a brisk 43 degrees when we arrived at the trailhead).  So here I was in my trackpants, long sleeve henley and fleece vest, while I even debated putting Arya's fleece coat on her, and by the time we made it to the first trail junction (with the Dean Trail), I was a sweaty mess and had to stop to take some layers off.

This also led to my first real panic-stricken moment of Dog-Hiking, as while I was indisposed with the henley over my head, Arya spotted something in the woods (a bird or squirrel is a reasonable guess), and ripped her leash out of my hand.  I was convinced for a good couple seconds that she was gone and I'd have to explain that to my fiancee when I got home (I can't say which part I was more afraid of).  However, I was encouraged to find that she didn't bolt, and with a quick call to her (and the promise of treats) she came running back.  Though my adrenaline was sky high for a good while after that.

At any rate, once the Monroe Trail leaves the Dean Trail, you really start to gain your elevation.  Nothing too dramatic, and Arya continued her pattern on being a good 5-10 feet in front of me as we went up.  We made even better time than I did with my brother, and it felt like we were among the scrub trees near treeline in no time.  We also lucked out on the weather, and were able to get above the mountain valley fog that is so prevalent in Vermont from May to October, and were peaking out across the Champlain Valley looking towards Burlington.  And actually, once of the weirdest things that happened that day was right about when we were approaching treeline itself.

In a scene out of Jurassic Park, I felt the ground shake and some "boooooom" noises faintly made in repetition.  At first I ignored it and/or figured that I was imagining things, or that Arya had made a noise, as we were the only people on that section of trail at the time.  But then it happened again.  I kept walking and thinking about it, trying to figure it out, when it happened again.  it was officially a pattern, and officially weirding me out as to where the hell this artificial-sounding noise was coming from, since Camel's Hump is the ONLY 4,000 footer in Vermont that doesn't have a ski area somewhere on it, and so it couldn't be a chairlift or something.

Just as Arya was starting to whine about us not continuing, I figured out that the noise wasn't actually just coming through the ground, but also from the West, towards Burlington.  THEN, I remembered that Main Street in Burlington was presently undergoing maintenance off of I-89 (and MAJORLY impacting my morning/evening commutes), with jackhammers and noises with an identical rhythm to what I was hearing.  I'm convinced that all that road construction was wafting across the Champlain Valley, unobstructed, to us up on the Hump, nearly 30 miles away.  Like I said, weird.

From there, though we had only half a mile to go until the summit, and we were on top by 10:15.  The summit hike is really spectacular once you emerge from the scrub (Camel's Hump is above treeline, but only barely), as you can see clean across the Champlain Valley to the lake, Burlington, and the Adirondacks beyond, as well as up and down the Greens, to the Monroe Skyline, Mount Ellen, Sugarbush, Mad River Glen and Montpelier to the South, and Mansfield and Jay to the North.  Word is that, on a crystal-clear day (ours was alllllllmost but not quite there) you can see Mount Washington in New Hampshire to the East and Mount Royal and Montreal to the North.  Not that our view was anything but spectacular, with the inversion layer of fog looking like a vast lake in the valleys below.  The fall foliage was right around peak, too, so that was a nice bonus!

There were some fellow hikers that Arya was very interested in meeting once we got to the USGS

marker, and some park rangers that were there to make sure everyone had what they needed and stayed off the tundra grass (much to Arya's chagrin).  I sat down to have my PB+J for breakfast, gave Arya some food and water to have her calm down (which she never really did), and enjoyed my view South.  Arya really was more restless than I was expecting, having just climbed up a goddamn mountain.  She wanted to keep going, even though there was no more mountain to climb.  I had a brief thought that maybe I'd been slowly conditioning her for harder hikes so now a measly 4,083 feet wouldn't cut it (and as this was the last mountain we hiked last year stay tuned on that).  Eventually I relented and we headed back down, running into some boxers at the clearing where a hut used to be (and incidentally, where my dad got kicked off the mountain by some park rangers for trying to camp there overnight).  Arya was very excited and needed to play with both of them very badly, though one of the two of them was less included to do so.  One of the benefits of getting out so early is that you're usually one of the first people on the trail, so you're not going to be running into too many people as you ascend, but the drawback to that is that you run into EVERYONE on the way down, and it's harder to make way and wait when your knees and feet are killing you, and your dog wants to barrel ahead and lick everyone.

Arya did really well, though, and we were able to get down around 2:30 or so, which is a wonderful feeling to have most of the day left once you've hiked a mountain and your dog is tired.  Thankfully, Arya did in fact pass out on the way home, which was especially good since I had to leave her in Montpelier for a couple of hours while I drove to the Farm for a wedding (which was actually even further on in Maine, but nevermind).  I feel much better about leaving Arya on her own until Amanda comes home when I know that she'll spend the majority of it sleeping.

And here's the thing:  Hiking Camel's Hump was the last time Arya and I have been hiking, to date.  After taking a couple months to summarize where we've come from thus far, I get to transition now to the really fun part: posts about upcoming plans, figuring out when and how to hike up the remaining mountains Arya has and then writing an after-action report that's a little more fresh than what I've written thus far.  The winter was really really snow (which is awesome, since the ski season was fantastic.  Killington is, in fact, STILL OPEN), so it will most likely take another couple weeks for the summits to dry out, but I'm really thinking Arya's about to hit her stride.  More to come!

-M