Undesired Journey - Mt Pierce

I've done a number of 4,000 foot mountains this summer and have enjoyed them all. Last weekend, Matt and I climbed Mt. Pierce. I guess it wouldn't be "Matt and I" if we didn't just "wing it" in one way or another. I found out that Matt was coming for the weekend and I immediately started thinking about which mountain to climb. With my back still sore from stupidly attempting to move concrete, I wanted something challenging for him but not a killer for me. Well, that is impossible. 
Matt got to the house on Friday and by 8pm we were looking at websites for the right mountain to climb. Thankfully, Matt is not all that picky and we found ourselves looking at a topographical map with a bunch of those squiggly lines really close to each other ... which means steep ascents. 
Kathy said that she thought the dump would open at 6 am so we could get our crappy couch to the dump and then be on our way to the mountains. Matt has a way sometimes ... "Mom, 6 am is when we plan to be having breakfast up at Tilton Diner!"
Now, I know that if I had said that we'd have been going to the dump on Saturday morning but like I said, Matt has a way sometimes and sure enough ... we had coffee and breakfast in front of us at 6:05am on Saturday at Tilton Diner. The dump would have to wait!
We got to the trail head and the temps were steady around 30 at the base, we were cold and both having second thoughts about climbing. We checked our gear and checked it again and soon realized that we were both employing delaying tactics. One of our sayings is, "This mountain is not going to climb itself" and somebody said it so we started up through the woods. 

It's funny how the mind plays its tricks. My hamstring, which I refer to as "my hammy" is usually the first thing to complain. Then my right knee sends a message to my brain, "Hey! Hello?? What were you thinking? No one told me we'd be doing this!" and along with that message is pain ... and my mind talks to me and tells me that I'm too old to be doing this and that I'm slowing Matt down and that he'd be better off hiking without me ... nasty that old mind of mine that tries to trick me into being less than I can be. I ignore all that and attempt to keep up with Matt who is being extremely nice and keeping a pace that is more suited to me than for him but I used to the same for him ... when he was 5 years old.
We came across a pretty waterfall and each take pictures. I've got my rugged camera (aka, not my good camera) and I know that the picture will not be very good or represent the beauty of the moment. Even with my good camera, the beauty of the moment can not be found ... because the camera cannot record my breathing, my heart pounding, the smell and the look in Matt's eyes as he surveys the scene. Look at the picture below ... it is just a picture of water pouring over a rock ... not even close to capturing the moment. The only satisfaction I can claim is that I remember the moment because the picture brings me back there.

We continued up and the air got brisker. Let me correct that and be plain ... it got colder. The stream that was our path became a thick pad of ice with snow flakes covering it. The snow made the ice even more slippery. We stepped carefully.

I love this stuff. We're there hopping from rock to rock and jumping from side to side talking about work, friends, and family without missing a beat until one of us slips and almost falls. 
We climbed some more and it got colder and then much more windy. For those of you wondering, yes, there were other crazy people up there. It was an equal mix of women and men and all were equally crazy as us. 
As we neared the top, the wind picked up and we elected to put on our outer coats. For me, I had my new/old jacket to put on. You see, Matt and I looked in the closet on Saturday morning around 5:15am and he pointed at a jacket, "Why don't you wear that, Dad?" he said. I looked at it, "Is it mine?" I asked and Matt answered, "Sure, I gave it to you last Christmas!"
Well, I'm an idiot because I can never remember who gave me what on Christmas and now we know, I can't even remember that I got something! 
So, I grabbed that nice new/old jacket and put it on and watched Matt whip out a nylon shell ... "uh oh. That's not going to cut the brutally cold wind at the top," I thought. Being a good father, I should have offered him my new/old coat, but being a better father, I realized that the lesson learned from the bitter cold would serve him well for years to come. Contemplating the lesson of the day and giving him my coat so he could be warm (and I would be cold) vs. giving him a lesson of a life time (and I would be warm), I determined that he should learn a lesson of a life time and I kept my coat. At least he had gloves.

While on the top, I started taking pictures of the trees covered in rime snow, the mountains in the distance, the shrubbery attempting to live in that brutal climate ... and heard, "C'mon Dad, we've got to keep going so I don't freeze up here!" Ah yes, the youthful method of keeping warm is to keep moving. It is not a bad idea and we trotted/slipped/slid across the mountain top to get our bodies producing heat again. The top of Mt Pierce is not all that prominent. It isn't all that special and rather mundane. I wonder if they thought of that when they named it after President Franklin Pierce. Wikipedia has a line about him potentially being the worst president of the United States ... hmmmm.
We made our way off the top and down toward Mizpah hut. We were starting to get hungry and I realized that my lips were swollen from dehydration so I drank more water. Our subway sandwiches were calling our names and we found a spot near the hut that was free from wind and the cold was finally ebbing away due to our exertions.
It has become a bit of a tradition that we eat a subway sandwich at the top. Matt suggested that we stop by a restaurant on the drive back as they had a great variety of beer. I agreed. Suddenly, we ate only half our sandwiches and our pace picked up dramatically ... ice be damned!
A few more miles into the downward trip, I needed to stop and take a break. By this time, my right knee had to decided to be more vocal in its insistent concern for my welfare and my left knee didn't want to be left out of the "let's produce pain" competition. My ankles and my hips argued about 2nd place in that pain competition. I noticed some Canadian Jays buzzing about and took out some trail mix and held it in my hand. We were visited by about 15 Jays zipping in to land on my hand and grab a bite to eat. Funny how those painful joints were suddenly silenced when something as wonderful as having a wild bird land in your hand, look you in the eye and trusts you enough to eat out of your hand.

Our quick pace returned but it wasn't too fast that we couldn't talk. "Y'know Dad, when we started, I was thinking that we should just skip the hike and get lunch and a beer at a restaurant."
"Funny," I said, "I was thinking the same thing."
He looked at me with a smile, "I'm glad we pushed ourselves into doing this hike. It's been fantastic."
I nodded and we hustled further down the side of the mountain. We wound our way around and ran the last part of the hike. The car warmed up quickly and we soon found ourselves enjoying an ice cold beer and some pretty good pub food discussing the trip that neither of initially wanted to do.
It's funny how these things work out. Neither of us really wanted to go hiking but we did it anyway. At the end of this undesired journey, we found that we truly enjoyed the trip mostly because of who we were with.

Mt Jackson and Mt Webster

A day later ... this was a fantastic hike ... during the hike ... it was very, very painful!

I found Mt Jackson by going to Google maps and looking around the Crawford Notch area. There are several ways to get to Mt Jackson and I chose what I thought would be the quickest ... starting at the north end of Crawford Notch on the Jackson - Webster trail. A little research at a few websites and the trail was listed as "moderate/difficult."
I left the house early by kissing Kathy on the cheek and getting her usual sleepily mumbled response of "make sure you call me when you get off the mountain ... and BE SAFE ... zzzzzzzzz"
The RX-8 purred along rt 93 as the sun rose. A favorite breakfast spot for Matt and me is the Tilton Diner but I just didn't want the delay of a sit down breakfast. There was a Dunkins there and after thinking about it, I just ate a granola bar from my bag. Across the way was a Subway sandwich shop. Since I was stopped already and it is nice to have a sandwich at the top, I headed over. It's part of a gas station which is not the best situation ... I don't know why anyone would associate a gas station with food ... but there I was marching into the store anyway. The woman behind the counter stopped me with a cold stare ... "I don't open until 7am." 
I looked at the clock and saw that it was 6:50 and thought about waiting. I said nothing but looked at her again but before I could say anything, she rudely pointed at the clock which now read 6:51 ... "not until 7am." I left. That's not a great way to start my day! 
Thankfully, there is a Subway a few miles up the Kangamangus where I ordered a ham and swiss for consumption at the summit of Mt Jackson.

I got started at 8:30am and in checking my gear ... which I should have done before leaving ... I realized that my camera's battery was mostly dead. Ah well, there won't be many, if any, water falls or good views according to the website I read ... just your basic New Hampshire hike in the White Mountains .. drab and boring. 
Armed with my cell phone, I headed up the trail. So, please forgive me for the pictures below!!

 Ready for a boring hike with maybe a waterfall or two, I came across this small waterfall. 

 Wait ... what? Another pretty little waterfall?

 Hmmm ... somebody lied! This is a gorgeous cascade sliding down the side of this mountain!

So, about this time, my ass was killing me from kicking myself for not having my camera and my tripod! I decided that I could continue to kick myself or I could enjoy the sound, the sight, and the cool mist ... I chose the latter.

 The trail was tough. It angled up steeply in several sections containing ankle-breaker rocks and of course, my all time favorite - roots at ridiculous angles.

 Trail markings were great but these mileage markers give no indication of the steepness! I guess I should have gotten the hint from the term "cliff-trail."

 The moss on these rocks ... stunning ... of course the vibrancy just doesn't come out with a camera phone ... but again ... a gorgeous little waterfall / cascade!

 As I approached the top, a fellow on the way down chatted with me. "It's cold up there," he said. "Windy too." Thankfully, I had not completely botched this trip and remembered my wind breaker. He went on his way and I realized that my breath was showing ... as if it was a dark November evening. My breath was showing in the shady pine confines of Mt Jackson. I don't know the temperature but he was right ... it was cold ... and windy. Is it really August?
I've been in a fair amount of wind due to my sailing experience and it was blowing 35 to 45 mph and gusting higher. I had a hard time holding my phone straight and have already deleted several blurry pictures. Note the weathering of signs in the picture below. 

Throughout the trip up, I had been thinking about that Ham and Cheese. In some ways, I had used it as an incentive to push up the steeper parts. Suddenly I lacked any desire to sit on a cold rock blown by icy wind and eat a sandwich! I had an option at this point, I could head back down the path I came up (short) or cross to Mt. Webster (long). I chose to go to Mt. Webster. The trail took a sharp turn down and I was soon scrambling down on all fours going from cracked rock-face to cracked rock-face and thinking about that ham and cheese sandwich calling my name. Finally, I found a spot that was out of the wind and below is the view I had while gobbling down my ham and cheese ... 

The slight downward slope and a full belly made me feel good so I trotted much of the distance between the two mountain peaks. The top of Webster looks over Crawford Notch. It is an incredible site. 
Puffy clouds made their way across the sky and the cars that looked like ants helped me to ponder this existence we call life. Greg Castle was a colleague at Fairpoint Communications and his existence here ended last week after spending 62 glorious years meeting people and sharing stories. He worked hard, cared about the company, and cared about the people in the company. I was told that after finishing his often twice a day swim that he died of a heart attack while driving to his apartment. I imagine that as the pains came on, he recognized what it was and found a way to pull over to ensure no one would be hurt ... he was that kind of guy who put others first and cared about people. 
Beauty can be found in many places and I don't need to go to the mountains to find it. I choose to go to the mountains to remember that beauty is around me every day. With that in mind, I ignored my creaky knees and resumed hiking. 

Below is a picture from Mt Webster looking back to Mt Jackson (right) and Mt Washington (left)

 I stayed at Mt Webster for about 20 minutes just sitting and watching the cars pass by 2,000 feet below. I began my descent and realized that this was the steepest part of the trail as it just went down, down, down jarring my ankles and knees with each step. There's not much left for support in my ankles and knees and that kind of pounding causes sharp pains that shoot vertically down my kneecap. Each step became a moment of pain that I came to expect and could do nothing about. I had to get down the mountain and this was the shortest way down.  
With frequent stops, I eventually made it down to more level ground and the pain lessened. The mushrooms helped me stop ... I took pictures of them. I'm not sure I'll ever look at english muffins the same way again.

As I neared the last 1.5 miles I came across another cascade/waterfall ... I felt like it was there to wish me well.

My knees ached for the rest of the day but as I looked at these waterfalls today, I realized the pain was gone ... maybe I'll hike again some day.

Beaver Brook Trail to Mt Moosilauke

There are some really good pictures ... so this will be mostly pictures!

It has been a busy week for hiking. Last Sunday on the June 30, I was hoping Matt could hike with me but alas, he had a few other things to do. I knew that Donna and Rich were coming so I didn't want to do something where I'd get wrecked from some extreme hike. We can't have that now can we!

Mt Monadnock was beckoning ... not quite a bone crusher but challenging none-the-less. The trip was great! I took a round about trail named "Parker" something finding my way to the Cliff Walk and up to the top. I was happy to meet a man who makes maps of mountains and of course, I only asked if the connecting trail was up ahead and he proceeded as if we were in Alice in Wonderland to chat my ear off! Pretty soon I was at the top with 40 to 50 others. The trip down White Dot trail was fairly crazy. I got going a bit fast but was able to control a fall by landing my elbow in mud ... somehow it didn't hurt. The total round trip was about 5 miles. A few pictures of the Monadnock trip are below:

So, that was Sunday and on Wednesday, July 3 ... Newlyweds Donna and Rich, joined me on a quick hike up Mt Kearsarge ... the Winslow (north) side. They were running a race that evening so we kept it simple and easy. The trip was about 3 miles round trip:

Krista and I were thinking of doing a hike on Saturday, July 6 (today) but her work schedule did not work out. Matt had to work a game at Foxboro ... and that brings me to the title of this post: Beaver Brook Trail to Mt Moosilauke - yeah, I've no idea how to pronounce that! 

I knew that I wanted to do something high up but wasn't sure how challenging of a hike to undertake. I opened Google Maps and just clicked on a few peaks and found this one. I found a write up here: http://www.hikenewengland.com/Moosilauke020810.html  This hike is 7.6 miles round trip while climbing up to 4,802 feet. The astounding part for me is hiking up 3,000+ feet ... speaking of feet - they hurt right now!

 In case you can't read it, it says: "THIS TRAIL IS EXTREMELY TOUGH"

 The cascading waterfalls seemed to never end! I kept climbing and climbing and sure enough, another waterfall. I would have more pictures but rain started drumming down and I had to get going to the top.

 The pathway was littered with these pretty flowers.

 Near the top, the trees disappeared and the rocky path awaits.

 The summit.

I like the sound of water in a stream or the ocean pounding on the surf. Below is a short clip of the waterfalls at Beaver Brook cascades.

6288 and 4280

Much has been written about hiking up to the summit of Mount Washington. There are books, magazine articles, and a ton of blogs. The place has a storied history of extreme weather and hiker deaths by poor planning or even poorer reactions to poor planning. It has been on my mind since I was a youngster when my mom and dad talked about my Uncle Jim climbing the highest peak in the northeastern United States.

Mount Washington is 6,288 feet above sea level and 4,280 feet above the trail head at Pinkham notch. 

Matt and I talked about climbing it last summer. We talked about it last fall. I read books about failed attempts and the unfortunate demise of many who attempted without proper planning and proper gear. We were within 1.4 miles of the peak when we climbed to the Lake of the Clouds hut a few weeks ago. It was so close, I could almost touch it.

I thought it would require weeks of planning and preparation. I figured I'd have to get a checklist of things to bring and ensure that I had the right emergency equipment on hand, things like those emergency blankets that fold up into a 4 inch square and perhaps some orange tang or something.

Instead I got a call from Matt
Matt:     "What are you doing Sunday?"
Me:       "I dunno. Hiking?
Matt:     "Sounds good!"
Me:       "Where do you want to go?"
Matt:     "I dunno. Mount Washington?"
Me:       "Sounds good!"

A simple conversation and I was on my way. Out the window went planning and preparation!!

We left the house at 5:15 am and enjoyed our breakfast at Tilton Diner in Tilton, NH. Eating there has become a bit of a standard for us and we didn't want to break with tradition. With our bellies full, we drove another couple of hours to Pinkham Notch at the base of Mount Washington. I was surprised at the number of cars in the parking lot. Were so many people climbing the great and powerful Mount Washington?

Yes, there were. We met Canadians and more Canadians all speaking French. It seemed to be French Canadian week or something!!

Matt and I examined a map of the mountain and the trails seemed straight forward enough: Tuckerman's Ravine Trail, Lion Head Trail to the top. The maps said it was about 4.5 miles to the top.

Our hike started at 9am with a fast paced climb on a dirt path winding upwards and along a roaring river. It was a chilly start but I was sweating inside of 10 minutes. We'd established a pattern with me following Matt by about 5 yards. Pretty soon we were climbing up couch sized boulders and I was 10 yards behind Matt. With about 2 miles left, everyone was slowing down. We took more breaks and I found excuses to chat with people ... chatting meant stopping and stopping meant resting. 

We met more French Canadians who were kind enough to speak excellent English. We passed them when they rested and when we rested they passed us. The boulders became sharper and the trees became shorter or nonexistent. We could see the crazy people climbing and then skiing down Tuckerman's Ravine. Having them there made me feel less crazy. The temperatures got colder and the wind picked up. Matt and I were both very warm with the workout we were getting from climbing!

There were several sections where we had to do a bit more "rock climbing." That was followed by more rocks with jagged edges followed by more snow and ice. With about 1 mile to go, I hit what felt like a wall.  My legs shook from exhaustion. I'd hydrated well but it felt like we were climbing on the stair master from hell. 

We took another break and chatted with a few more French Canadians - no, I am not exaggerating. One fellow was 77 years old and had vowed to his son that he would get to the top this year. We passed each other several times and enjoyed our repartee ... and yes, that is a French word.

With only 1/2 a mile to go, the top seemed so close but the steep climb was painful to my feet and knees. Everyone on the climb seemed to be going in slow motion. I seemed to get a second wind and passed several folks who'd run out of gas ... but of course, Matt was still ahead of me.

Reaching the peak surprised me. I'd been focused on the antenna for so long and it just seemed to never get closer but all of a sudden, we stepped over a few rocks and there was pavement, cars, a cog railway, a cafe and gift shop! One second you are in the extreme wilderness and the next, you're back in "civilization."

We ate in the cafe. I had a chicken Caesar sandwich, a hot dog, chili, and half a Klondike bar. I guess I was hungry.

There was a small rubble of rock that represents the peak or the top. It was anti-climactic after all we'd been through to be standing with people who drove up to stand on this rubble of rock. We did it anyway.

At first, the trip down was much easier than the trip up. I got to the snow field, slipped and slid about 20 yards on my ass ... laughing. We passed some more French Canadians. Life was good for about 2 1/2 miles and then I ran out of gas again and the pain in my knees, back, and ankles really assaulted me. With each step, pain shot through me so I went slower. That worked for a little while but then it didn't matter. Every step just hurt. I became driven to get my feet out my boots and into my flip-flops (slippers in Hawaii)!

When we got to the car, those flip-flops were a welcome relief. It felt good to unload the boots and my sweaty gear. My light-weight backpack felt like it contained bricks. 

Addendum: It is Thursday after the hike and my muscles have returned to normal. My ankles are fine and my feet are no longer swollen. My knees feel better but they will need some more help over the next few weeks. The trip up Mount Washington was a great accomplishment and a grueling adventure. I cannot imagine doing it at the age of 77 as I barely made it at 54. As always, the best part is spending time with Matt. 

Pictures: 
Matt and I with our matching shades starting out on our hike.

Me climbing a cliff of rocks and brush.

The rock trail trail was treacherous going up and going down.

I took advantage of any chance to lean up against something!

I think that is me slipping/sliding down the snow field.

Raging torrent of a river ...

Matt waiting for me. Yes, I used taking a picture as an excuse for a rest.

Hitting ice/snow pack on the trail.

Almost halfway point.

snow covered ravines

Gorgeous mountains in the distance

Nice to have the cairns to show the way

Barren spaces as  you get closer to the top

At the top! A place that has never seen 72 degrees

The view is stunning. Matt waits for me to amble down the rocks.

Matt plays peek-a-boo in a field of evergreens in the middle of desolation. 

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