67 in 67, Hike #8: Presidential Traverse, Part 4, NH

Hike #8: Presidential Traverse

Elevation: 5,367 (Mount Madison), 5,774 (Mount Adams), 5,712 (Mount Jefferson), 6,288 (Mount Washington), 5,384 (Mount Monroe), 4,780 (Mount Eisenhower), 4,310 (Mount Pierce)

Date: June 15, 2013

Location: a big swath of the White Mountain National Forest, NH

Distance: 20.1 miles

Time: 16:53 (50:24/mile)

Recap: We’ve been hiking for a hair under 17 miles already, having gained all 8,256 feet of elevation there is to gain. We’ve got a little over three miles to go, nothing but downhill. It’s after 8:00 p.m., we’re sentimental as we look back in the fading light over the mountains we’ve tackled. The world seems still, but we’ve still got miles to walk and misery to feel. Plus, there’s my newfound bear phobia to work through!

Leg 8: Pierce summit to parking lot by AMC’s Highland Center at Crawford Notch; 3.3 miles, all descent (20.2 miles and 8,256 total)

Jay:

Arriving back at the intersection at 8:08 p.m., the sign indicated we had 3.1 miles to go. If we made good time, with no elevation gain to contend with, we could be done by around 9:30. Sara had devolved and was a steamy mess, but I’d somehow found myself getting stronger mentally and physically than earlier in the day. I gave her some encouragement and we started down. As a sign of my emotional maturation since I used my feeling words on the first leg of the hike, my motivational conversation wasn’t a “suck it up” and a fanny pat as if I were a baseball manager. It involved asking open-ended questions to allow her to emote and not trying to problem solve. I figured Oprah Winfrey and Lifetime Television for Women would compete for me to share my techniques if they’d been witness to my support.

We made good time in the first leg, cruising through the first 1.3 miles in forty minutes. I knew Sara was hurting, and that silence would now work best for her. Asking a rhetorical “how ya doin’?” might be unhelpful as she dwells on explaining how miserable she is. Or a succinct “fine” indicates she doesn’t want to talk. So I opted to leave us alone with our individual thoughts for a while. But hitting a trail intersection at that point in the final leg, we had a last bit of food and donned headlamps. We’d now turned onto the Crawford Path. It’s the oldest maintained trail in the country at nearly 200 years old. It’s about the age I felt at this point. I’d been hiking forever and even seen three sunsets already, with the sun setting and reappearing repeatedly through the distant mountains as we wound our way along Crawford Path. But this sunset would be the final one of the day. And now that we were back under the canopy, darkness was coming on quickly.

Originally, I wanted to finish in the light for ease of navigation. Subsequently, my rationale changed. Every hut we stopped at noted that we were in bear country, and some signs along the trails reinforced the message. Since bears are nocturnal, and since I’m akin to an enormous bucket of KFC food, ready for eating, and only missing the Colonel’s secret blend of herbs and spices, I didn’t want to be traipsing through the darkness only to find myself stalked by some enormous creature ready for dinner.

Periodically, I thought of an innocuous question or comment to throw out to Sara, ostensibly making momentary small-talk. But secretly, my goal was to make noise that would avoid startling the bear that we were destined to run across. I also worked out a game plan of using a lighter and bug spray to make a flamethrower. That’s right, some bear comes after Rock Hopper and I’m goin’ all MacGyver on him! Either that or they’d be clues of where the spot was for me to see a bear, drop what I was holding, wet myself, and fly past Sara, screaming in abject terror at a pitch so high that dogs would yelp.

As predicted, the darkness killed our progress. 9:00 became 9:30 and then 9:45. At one point, I thought I glimpsed an odd light far ahead, but then nothing came of it. But shortly before 10:00, we ran across two women sitting in the middle of the trail with a bright light. We’d seen them at the Madison Hut and a couple other times. They were two women who looked to be in their early 20’s. They’d undertaken the same challenge but were a train wreck and seemed to be contemplating sleeping in the trail. They didn’t have the gear for it and hadn’t seemed appropriately prepared when we ran across them earlier in the day. Now, they also didn’t have any energy, and were unable to figure out a plan. I was concerned and gave them a pep talk about how close they were. While I didn’t know the exact distance, I figured it was a little over a quarter-mile. If wrong, better to estimate low, since it would motivate them to continue, which was what was important. After they felt better, and Sara showed some life from running across people, we continued on and they gathered their belongings to do so as well.

Turns out, the parking lot we were in was about a quarter of a mile further than the trail sign led us to believe. So when we thought we were done, we found we had to keep going. And going. And going. When we finally emerged from the trail to the parking lot, we felt victorious and high-fived.  



This sign tells me I've been lied to,
and I have to keep walking. Not cool.



Exhausted, we threw our gear in the back of Sara’s Xterra and flopped into the seats for a moment. We saw the girls emerge from the woods and I went over to congratulate them. They were equally tired but happy. Unlike us, they didn’t have a hotel room and were contemplating next steps. I dissuaded them from driving all the way home for two to three hours, fearing they’d fall asleep at the wheel. The weather was fine and they had a tent, so they opted to pitch it and depart in the morning while I wondered when I turned into everyone’s dad, protective of three people around me, two of whom I didn’t even know.

Sara and I headed back to the hotel, finishing our hike at 10:18 p.m., 16 hours and 53 minutes after starting it. By 11:00 we’d arrived back at the hotel, showered and had a celebratory glass of wine in bed, which I used to wash down some handfuls of Doritos. By 11:30 Sara had some residual energy from her success, but I was asleep.

The next morning, neither of us could walk. We needed time and assistance navigating to the front desk for the continental breakfast and coffee and back to our room, with an altruistic employee helping with the door. Another monumental effort was packing up and heading home, each of us stuck in a vehicle alone for three hours. It was Father’s Day, and Sara hadn’t told me that my girls wanted to help me celebrate by doing a fun activity such as all of us playing tennis. Ouch. But she also surprised me with a delicious all-you-can-eat buffet which allowed me to eat an obscene amount of food. I guess all’s well that ends well!



The Presi Traverse aftermath: 1 of 2 lost toenails.



I went on to lose two toenails. My knee turned out to be fine but I re-aggravated my heel injury. Oh, and my stomach turns now at the smell of beef jerky. My next couple of trips would be beach-facing, and I wanted some variety of activities. So it would be a while before I was back to hiking in the mountains. But there was so much that got packed into this hike that it would fuel me for a while, and I knew that I – and we – would be different for having done it.

Sara:

My friend Melissa and I had hiked easily down the Crawford Path last September after a night at the Mizpah Hut.  I had remembered an easy trail, with good footing.  Well, the difference between my memory and my reality were clashing and I found myself mentally deteriorating as I struggled down the wet rocks and roots of the Crawford Path.  My ankle and knee ached and I was also fearful of injury.  Thankful that Jay knows my hiking style well by now, he left me alone so I could silently plod along, celebrating the fact that placing one foot in front of the other was the only victory I could attend to at the moment.

The Oreos I had part way down were the best I have ever eaten, reminding me of another reason of why I hike.  Hiking, and backpacking, have a way of making you enjoy the little things in life.

We delayed putting our headlamps on for as long as we could.  Although we didn’t talk much about it, I was wondering how Jay would fare with hiking in the dark.  I remembered the first time I had done so, which was during a backpacking trip with my girlfriends in the Peru Peak wilderness in Vermont’s Green Mountains.  We had hiked a few miles in on a Friday night to find our camping spot and I was rather freaked out.  Because you can see less, the rest of your senses, especially hearing, stand up on alert.  Jay didn’t say anything that night, but I later found out he was concerned about bears.  At the time, bears were the furthest worry from my mind.  For me, the gravest danger I faced was that of my body failing me, and me injuring myself as a result.

Having hiked the Crawford Path before was a bit of a curse, in that I knew that there was a waterfall near the beginning of the trail.  If only we could get there, I knew that it would be a relatively easy hike out.  I fixated on reaching the waterfall and its promise of completion.  It seemed ever elusive.

Spying a few lamps ahead of us, I figured we were coming upon the two gentlemen that we had seen on Eisenhower, and how they’d tell us of Mount Jackson and Webster (at the time I did not realize that they would not be exiting the Crawford Path if they had done those).  It turned out to be the girls we had seen at Madison Hut!

They sat along an erosion-controlling water bar in the middle of the trail.  In complete survival mode like I was at Lake of the Clouds, I was in no condition to be social.  I give Jay a lot of credit for being talkative and encouraging to them as they contemplated their options.  I regret not saying more, but I was doing all I could to keep myself moving.

I didn’t cry on the exit along the Crawford Path, but I sure was close!

Eventually we came to the waterfall and, indeed, it is close to the exit.  We hit the intersection of the Crawford Path extension which leads to the parking lot.  Shortly after (it seemed to take a really long time...again perception messing with reality), we hiked to our car!  Thank goodness I had the keys!

The girls behind us hiked out and I briefly congratulated them.  Again, Jay was doing a hero’s job of being congratulatory.  All I wanted to do was get my boots off.  We celebrated a little by taking dark selfies at the exit of the trail and headed back north to Jefferson to stay at our motel. 



Done. 17 hours later, D. O. N. E. DONE!



There was no way that I could go to bed on a meal of wine and Doritos, so I heated up some water and made a dehydrated dinner and relished the entire thing!

Jay fell asleep quickly, and I did not give him a hard time for it.  Instead, I watched him sleep while I ate my Jamaican chicken.  I was really proud of him and of us for tackling this together.  Earlier in the day I remarked, “You must really love hiking to take on something like this!”  It was a comment that was met with silence.  So I amended it, “You must really love a hiker to take on something like this!”  To this, he smiled and nodded, “Yeah!”  

Completing (or even attempting) the Presi Traverse together, I felt very loved and my love for him grew in return.  Not only did Jay take on hiking, he embraced an EPIC traverse that had originated from my passion and a goal I had set for myself.  On my side, I had to welcome him into it (which I will admit was more than a little hard to do).  It can be difficult to hike with someone else when they have different styles, strengths and weaknesses, and attitude from yourself.  

The reciprocity of our relationship felt very evident.  I had spent years investing time and energy into mountain biking - enduring extraordinary bruises and contusions as I did so.  I greatly appreciated the sacrifice he made, as well, during this spring.  Mountain biking took a complete backseat to our hiking training.

Not every couple feels like they need to share each other’s interests to the degree that Jay and I do.  But I think both of us fancy ourselves as adventurers and I learned from this hike that there is a great reward in sharing your adventures together.

The next morning brought severe aches and pains.  To say it was difficult to walk would be an understatement.  I felt terrible about the tennis event the girls had planned for Jay in that I knew it would be physically painful for the two of us, but we had been working all spring with the girls to be more active and to see them embrace tennis in that way, I just didn’t have the heart to tell them that dad and I would be too tired. So I committed us to playing tennis with them that afternoon after lunch and before ice cream.

Remarkably, though, the soreness didn’t last long and the training seemed to pay off.  In a few days, I was back to running and, again reflecting on the impact of perception; it was the easiest 5 miles I ever ran!

I welcomed a break from hiking after the Presi and we turned to mountain biking again, in advance of a trip we’d take to the Kingdom Trails in Vermont.  Initially, I said I’d never do a Presi traverse again, but I think I could be talked into it.  But first, other epic hikes await and I look forward to sharing the Pemigewasset Loop with Jay, hopefully next season.

For those who were able to endure all four installments of the write-up for this hike, thanks for following along! We’ll now resume our regular broadcast messaging, which are articles a fraction of this twenty-page tome.

See you on the trail,

Jay Bell, AKA Rock Hopper 

67 in 67, Hike #8: Presidential Traverse, Part 3, NH

Hike #8: Presidential Traverse

Elevation: 5,367 (Mount Madison), 5,774 (Mount Adams), 5,712 (Mount Jefferson), 6,288 (Mount Washington), 5,384 (Mount Monroe), 4,780 (Mount Eisenhower), 4,310 (Mount Pierce)

Date: June 15, 2013

Location: a big swath of the White Mountain National Forest, NH

Distance: 20.1 miles

Time: 16:53 (50:24/mile)

Recap: We’ve already hiked 11.3 miles, gaining 7,206 feet of total elevation and bagging Mount Madison, Mount Adams, Mount Jefferson, and now Mount Washington. We’ve been hiking since about 5:30 a.m., and it’s now 3:30 p.m. as we leave the Mount Washington visitors center. I’m a mess, Sara’s at least better than me. We’re rapidly losing time.

Leg 5: Washington summit to Monroe summit via Lake of the Clouds hut and Monroe Loop; 2.2 miles, 350 feet of elevation gain (13.5 miles and 7,556 total)

Jay:

Alright, this sucks. We’ve set out again. The wind’s howling, I’ve got Goosebumps, I feel feverish and nauseous, and my knee’s really flaring up. In response to Sara’s question, it actually started hurting about five miles ago, but I could handle it so didn’t say anything before. Now, I’m using my hiking poles, having to step in ways to cater to it, and I’ve slowed way down. The rocky descent to the Lake of the Clouds hut wasn’t far, but it was painstaking. I felt like junk and slowed us down still further, although Sara was nothing but supportive.

Even when the trail briefly leveled out and wrapped around a lake before passing the AMC hut, I was still badly gimping along. At the hut, which was really nice, we sat at a long table. I downed more food and water, and talked to a guy and his daughter. She’d turned ten, the age of my oldest daughter. They were having a birthday event, recognizing her reaching double-digits. It was her first hike, and she was sipping the hot chocolate sludge at the bottom of her cup and munching on a brownie, looking through old logbooks for her dad’s entry when he stayed here about fifteen years ago. He was no longer single, nor as fit, and a lot of life had unfolded for him. But he was proud to be here again with his daughter, creating new accomplishments and memories that could be shared across generations and remembered for decades. It was touching, and more reason to linger appreciatively than my aches were. I always get sentimental when people are having nice moments in life, and this was sweet to witness and briefly join.

This was the last bailout point on the hike, with a navigable route down to the road for me if I needed it. But the scene I’d witnessed was really motivational. Having just seen one version of a memorable day winding down, I couldn’t stand the thought of stealing Sara’s version of today from her. Although she asked if we needed to get me off the mountain and was great about it, I was determined to soldier on. If we could continue to help each other, then we’d find some way to complete this hike and bond as we did so.

We can debate if I'm smiling or wincing on the summit
of Mount Monroe, with Mount Washington behind me.



It was a short but intense hike up to the summit of Monroe. The steepness led to potty words inside my head, but I was able to quickly be on summit #5, beyond the point of no return. I’d taken my second and last 5-Hour Energy, hoping it would aid me in making it through. Now after 5:00 p.m., the lengthening shadows warned me that finishing in the light was becoming increasingly unlikely. And by “unlikely” I mean no freaking way, but I’ll indulge in refusing to acknowledge that for a little while longer.

Sara:

Time and distance when hiking, and your perception of both, is always an interesting phenomenon to me.  Above tree line, it is often difficult to judge distance.  Sometimes, the time flies by and at other times, it progresses exceedingly slowly.  

Mount Washington represented the half-way point of our journey and, by all accounts, we were beyond half-way in time.  At this point, we’d gone about 11 miles and had been hiking for nearly 10 hours.  We had about 9 miles left and definitely wouldn’t be hiking for 10 more.  We had gotten almost all of the vertical climbing out of the way, and the vertical climbs for the remaining peaks were but a small fraction of the total.

So the half-mile hike down to the Lake of the Clouds hut should have been a breeze.  

Oh. My. God. I have never hurt so much. It took forever.

The Lake of the Clouds hut is an alpine oasis.  When we finally arrived, I welcomed another opportunity to rest and refuel.  I was fully in “survival mode”.  While Jay spent time chatting amicably with a gentleman and his ten year old, I began an internal withdrawal that I knew I’d have to fight.  I’m not sure I spoke to anyone at the hut, even though there was clearly some heartwarming moments happening. I didn’t want to pull away from Jay during the pinnacle moments of our trip that were just around the corner: in a few short hours we would be on our last peak and then on the Crawford Path, declaring victory.  I needed to stay plugged in.

We left Lake of the Clouds and almost immediately began climbing up Mount Monroe.  And before I blinked, we were at the summit, with very little perceived effort!

As tired as I was, the second half of the Presidentials was proving, as Goatman predicted, to be much easier than the first.  My body and mind had been used to the large climbs, like Mount Adams and Mount Jefferson, and these peaks were, at least to my perception, proving to be much easier.  Thoughts of mere survival were turning into optimistic anticipation.  We can do this!

Leg 6: Monroe summit to Eisenhower summit via Monroe Loop and Eisenhower Loop; 2.1 miles, 500 feet of elevation gain (15.6 miles and 8,056 total)

Jay:

Monroe to Eisenhower felt like an eternity. We were both hurting now, even on flat terrain. We actually made good time, covering over two miles in under two hours at this point of the hike. But we didn’t feel celebratory. We encountered a couple of guys who were doing well. But they were debating, one wanting to finish off the hike and the other wanting to add another side peak or two. Their pace far surpassed ours, so after chatting at the Eisenhower summit, we quickly lost sight of them, not knowing if one had his fun cut short or the other got dragged along for a couple more hours. My toes were now hurting with every step. But, miraculously, my knee pain had diminished, the first time ever that it didn’t keep getting worse. I wasn’t a pretty sight, but acknowledged that it could be worse. Sara usually enjoyed the grind, so watching her wearing down mentally was this leg’s real development in my mind.



The shadows on Mount Eisenhower are growing longer.



We continued checking in on each other, showing that this effort would be accomplished through partnership and mutual support. It kept a little conversation going, and it was helpful because we’d tend to be a bit honest but not complain too much.  We could acknowledge, “my feet are really starting to bother me, but I’ll be okay. Thanks for checking.” But we wouldn’t indulge in a, “my toes feel like they’re being held by pliers; my legs have more jelly than a Smuckers factory; and every time wind blows under my shirt I get a scent of hours of accumulated BO that’s triggering my gag reflex. I’m a vision of abject misery!”

Knowing we had a single summit left, with the bare minimum 200 feet of elevation change required to count as a legit peak, we pushed on. It was almost 7:00 p.m. when we left Eisenhower’s summit. I knew the odds of finishing in the light, with navigation being easier and the pace able to be quicker, were as long as the shadows.

Sara:

My emotions are as up and down as are the peaks.  My optimism from the top of Mount Monroe collided with the reality of the situation.  We still had two peaks and about 5 miles left.

When you are this tired, a single decision can carry a lot of weight.  We made an energy-conserving decision to skip Mount Franklin, a shoulder peak that sits just below Mount Monroe.  Neither named for a president nor an official 4,000-footer, we reasoned that it was wise to skirt around it.  Emotionally, however, I still feel a bit of disappointment in myself that we skipped Clay and Franklin – after all, I love the grind.  However, I know intellectually that these were great decisions.

My feet ached at this point and my ankle was being rubbed raw by my hiking boots.  To compensate for the pain in my ankle, my gait changed slightly, with cause the opposite knee to twinge.  This was going to be a long slog.   

It was hard, too, to keep my spirits up as our shadows got longer and the sky’s colors began to change.  My dreams of hiking out while still light were vanishing.  An 8:00 exit was slipping away (as was any hopes of having enough night left with which to celebrate).  

Sara, seemingly walking of the peak of Mount Eisenhower
into the nothingness beyond it

I wish I could say that I enjoyed this part of the hike.  The summit of Eisenhower felt perfunctory.  We met a pair of Presi Traversers.  My silver lining was that one of the guys was similarly exhausted and wanted to exit at Pierce, rather than continue with his buddy to Mount Jackson and Mount Webster, neither of which are named after US Presidents.  I felt validated with my own exhaustion.

Leg 7: Eisenhower summit to Pierce summit via Eisenhower Loop and Webster Cliff Trail; 1.3 miles, 200 feet of elevation gain (16.9 miles and 8,256 total)

Jay:

Eisenhower had a plateau that allowed a glimpse beyond it to Pierce. It looked like a cliff, and I figured I’d be good with either walking off it or trusting that it would lead me to the final summit. Unfortunately, the cliff and free fall never materialized, so I had to endure the down-and-back-up to the Pierce peak. Truthfully, there wasn’t much elevation change, and we had a seemingly quick pace which somehow didn’t translate into a quick time. I began regaining some strength, although Sara continued wearing down. It was the first time I’d seen the grind outlasting her.

Conversation and check-ins had slowed. But we were a bit confused on the trail intersections, so this gave us a distraction from our internal dialogue. We luckily talked that through to choose our route correctly. Pierce’s summit was on a spur from our route to the parking lot, and we were unclear at first where the actual summit was. But a huge cairn gave us the necessary indication and we snapped our final photos of the summit and its views.  



As the sign says, I've climbed Mount Pierce and am totally spent!



Sara backtracked to the previous intersection as I lingered, photographing her with much of our traverse in the background and sun hanging low in another direction. I couldn’t believe the distance we’d covered. Whatever the details, I had no doubt we were finishing, and that we’d complete the hike in the dark – at this point it was 8:00 p.m. The odds of finishing, as they say, were slim to none. And my boy Slim had just left town. So I afforded myself a moment of appreciation. We saw almost no one since leaving the Lake of the Clouds Hut. From what we understood, the time around the summer solstice was best for this hike to provide the most hours of light. But maybe not as many people shot for this goal as we’d speculated? Maybe the March of the Crazies wasn’t much more than a two-person parade? Whatever the deal, I felt proud of what I was accomplishing. I’d never tried anything like this before and learned a lot about what I could endure, how to push myself, and how to approach it mentally over so many hours. Similar to other efforts with mountain biking and skiing, I knew today created a new perspective such that future hikes would be easier, because I could compare some event against this effort and know that wouldn’t seem as hard. And I knew that accomplishments such as this and the lessons learned carried over into other aspects of my life. 



Taking a moment to appreciate Sara and the Presidentials as we bag the last Presi peak



Watching Sara navigating a short, narrow bridge, I also loved her for bringing me along and sharing these moments. Hiking, downhill skiing, and snowshoeing were originally more her sports than mine, and mountain biking and cross country skiing were more mine than hers. But sharing each other’s activities has allowed each of us to build up the necessary skills to let the other have that outlet we crave, to learn about each other, and to learn about ourselves in the process of coming to enjoy those sports in our own way. It’s also led to a lot of experiences and bonding. Sharing major life experiences and adventures with a lifelong partner allows our lives to feel more integrated and our partnership to feel richer and fuller. Not every couple needs to have so many overlapping interests, but our chemistry works so well because our adventures are truly our adventures.

Sara:

The hike from Eisenhower to Pierce felt like a very long one, again perception really messing with the reality of the situation.  Part of what seemed to take longer is that Jay began snapping pictures.  At the time, I really didn’t appreciate that...I wanted to be done as quickly as possible.  What I can say now, is that I cherish the pictures of our traverse along the plateau between Eisenhower and Pierce.  The pictures capture one aspect of why I hike.  There is remarkable beauty in nature and you only get this type of vantage point by earning it.  



Sara, appreciating the (visible) summits she's conquered today



We meandered along the trail, heading in and out of tree line.  We paused at the intersection to Pierce to fully ensure we were going the right way and then took a left at the intersection to Pierce and quickly reached the summit.  I asked Jay to take another picture of me as I hiked away from the Pierce summit.  Indeed, as Goatman predicted, sun was setting as we summitted Pierce and I looked back across the ridge and the peaks we had just crossed.  Tears filled my eyes as it was at this moment where I knew, with complete certainty, that we had done the one-day Presi traverse.  This picture captures another reason I hike: for the personal reward of working towards overcoming physical and mental challenges.  I cried knowing that there was only option left at this point and that was to hike out and be done, having completed our goal!



A touchy-feely point like this seems appropriate for the last break for the readers. We’re not done hiking yet, but we’re close. And since we’re averaging about a page of writing per mile of hiking, you, too, can feel like you’re on a never-ending odyssey. Stay tuned for the final installment!

See you on the trail,

Jay Bell, AKA Rock Hopper

67 in 67, Hike #8: Presidential Traverse Part 2, New Hampshire

Hike #8: Presidential Traverse

Elevation: 5,367 (Mount Madison), 5,774 (Mount Adams), 5,712 (Mount Jefferson), 6,288 (Mount Washington), 5,384 (Mount Monroe), 4,780 (Mount Eisenhower), 4,310 (Mount Pierce)

Date: June 15, 2013

Location: a big swath of the White Mountain National Forest, NH

Distance: 20.1 miles

Time: 16:53 (50:24/mile)

To recap part 1, we started off at 5:30 a.m., after our first setback of the day when we didn’t have the keys to the truck where we’ll finish the hike, and we had to backtrack to the hotel to get them. But it’s mid-morning, we’ve got Mount Madison and Mount Adams in the bag, and we’re doing well.

Leg 3: Adams summit to Jefferson summit via Thunderstorm Junction and Edmands Col; 2.2 miles, 800 feet of elevation gain (8.0 miles and 5,885 total)



The view of our next two mountains, from Mount Adams:
Mount Jefferson (right) and then Mount Washington (left)

  

Jay:

Leaving Adams, we stared at a barren landscape of rocks and boulders stretching for miles. The views were great, but it was clear that we would not be plodding along hardpacked trails amidst fragile flora. Instead, we’d be bouldering and rock scrambling for hours, since most of the route was above tree line and much was within view.

Given my love of rock scrambles, I fell into a rhythm. When I was in middle school, I lived about a half-mile away from the school. I sometimes walked home instead of riding the bus, and my route took me past an old, private school that had a rock retaining wall for much of the way. I’d walk on top of it, predicting how many steps each large rock would take to cover, and before I knew it I’d be within sight of my home. Now, picking my way through the debris field from Adams to Jefferson, I again lost myself as I transitioned from one enormous rock to another. 



Plaque to Edmands, a founding AMC member



The hang-up in this was that there was not an obvious trail, just periodic signposts and cairns scattered about and people hiking in multiple directions. Noticing where the majority of the crowd headed, we thought we could identify the route for the March of the Crazies. But at Thunderstorm Junction, we took a wrong turn, adding about a quarter of a mile to the trip. Once back on the correct route, we plodded along before Edmands Col established a more obvious trail.

Sara was bonking, and we allowed ourselves a breather. We ate, drank, rested tiring legs, and then resumed. We reached Jefferson’s summit and didn’t linger; we were beginning to lose the pace we’d had earlier, and the wind and chill gave us no place for cover.

I've got plenty of energy. Honest. Really. Eesh...

Sara:

We made our way down the large boulders from the peak of Mount Adams.  It was really difficult to determine the trail ahead...and we had the best conditions!  It was sunny with bluebird skies on this day. The wind was brisk, and although a bit chilly, it kept the bugs at bay.  



Rock scrambles for miles. And miles. And miles...



I am very slow going down rocks.  Jay kept jumping far ahead of me, but he was good about pausing to wait.  As I ambled along rather far behind him, I thought of a good trail name for him.  We had joked about some trail names for him before, but there was really nothing from hiking that had yet to stand out.  I kept it to myself for a little while, wanting to mull it over before deciding on it.

We set out toward a signpost only to realize that we had taken a wrong turn -- and we had the best of weather!    I can now imagine, though, how difficult hiking across the Presidentials is in bad weather - which is frequent up there!  I can’t say that we were lost, but we were definitely heading the wrong way off of Adams.  Wind blowing like mad, I briefly checked the map.  There was a bit of frustration between me and Jay at this point, in part because it just was really hard to figure out where to go and the last thing we wanted to do is set out in a different but equally wrong direction.  Time was ticking and it was dispiriting to think that we were needlessly adding miles to an already arduous hike.  

We didn’t have much of a choice but to hike back up and over the other side of Thunderstorm junction and, as we did, I thought I saw the two girls we had seen at the Madison Hut, leaving me more confident that we were correcting ourselves.

We hiked over through Edmands Col without incident.  I had been a little nervous from Goatman’s e-mail and I wasn’t sure how dangerous this would be.  We started up to summit Mount Jefferson and, although I was very tired, I was thrilled to be hiking a peak that 10 years ago, during a backpacking trip through the Great Gulf Wilderness,  I had vowed I would return to do.  I put my head down and plodded towards the summit, with one singular goal at the moment: do not stop until you get to the peak of Jefferson.
 

On the peak of Jefferson, with our next target (Washington)
looming in the background.



Leg 4: Jefferson summit to Washington summit via Gulfside, Sphinx, Mt Clay Loop; 3.3 miles including the wrong turn, 1,321 feet of elevation gain (11.3 miles and 7,206 total)

Jay:



We're a whole mountain closer to Washington,
but it seems like it's just as far away! Aargh!



From our vantage point on Jefferson, Mount Washington, the highest of the New England peaks, seemed to be incredibly far away. I focused on moving from cairn to cairn, similar to a runner focusing on the next telephone pole instead of on how many miles remain.

It was still fun, and the 5-Hour Energy helped. I was in a groove with the rocks, at one point finding myself on a long rock starting to fall over, and casually riding it to its destination and stepping off just prior to its crash. Sara, too, was comfortable behind me. Normally nervous on rocky sections, the immersion seemed to have led her to get into the flow of it, with her hands outspread and fingers delicately positioned in the ballerina stance she used as a kid. She never realizes she does that, because it only happens when she’s a little worried about her balance and concentrating, but not freaking out. I took this as a good sign.

As we continued on, rock after rock, she declared that she was ready to give me my nickname. All serious hikers wind up with trail names not of their choosing, which are bestowed by fellow hikers. They are to be earned, not given gratuitously like soccer trophies for kids. As a guy, we live for nicknames, sometimes having or using multiple. A bad nickname is like a scarlet letter, other guys docking you Man Points. We don’t want generic and insulting nicknames such as Ace, Dude, or Slick. We wince at ones given because of an embarrassing back story: Strikeout King, Balcony Puker, or Captain Acid-Washed. My previous thought was that I’d inevitably hike someday to a hut, sleep on a wooden platform, have gas in the wee hours that would reverberate off the wood, and henceforth be known as He Who Thunders in the Night. Luckily, this particular reality had not materialized, but we’d see what I’d inherit.

“You love the rock scrambles. You lose yourself in them and have a blast. You move faster in them than on normal trails,” she explained. “You’re Rock Hopper.” Baby’s all growed up! I liked it, I could go with it and it made total sense. It also had a way better ring to it than Tripper, Mud Slipper, Chronic Faller, or Slip-n-Slide. Rock Hopper it is!

My new name, the credit it took to get one, and my 5-Hour Energy fueled me on towards Washington. Amazingly, the rocks switched to a fairly normal path for a bit, and we were making good time. We could see the toll road and railroad tracks to the summit, but as we approached it was like a bad movie scene where the perspective changes and some object close by gets stretched back as if it’s an eternity away. We plodded on, as the Mount Washington Observatory kept backpedalling away from us. At least we were passing some people, showing some indication that we were actually moving forward and not on an enormous hamster wheel, working furiously and pointlessly. Finally, we summitted. It was a weak high five, and the place was mobbed. But we’d arrived on New England’s highest summit.

Peak #12, and the highest of New England's 4,000-footers.

The cool part was that there was a hikers section on a lower floor of the visitor’s center. We had it largely to ourselves, using the break to wolf down a bunch of beef jerky, energy goo, and a sandwich. I changed my socks, which felt nice. And I pulled out my insoles, which had turned sideways from all the hiking. Sara seemed fine, which didn’t surprise me as she has an endless reservoir of endurance. I, conversely, was really hurting, and didn’t feel good about only being about halfway through the hike, with the 3:00 p.m. time showing we were continuing to fall off a pace that would allow us to finish before dark. I worried about becoming an anchor on her trip, possibly robbing her of a bucket list hike through my own physical failings. Not good.

Sara:

My descent down Jefferson was the second lowest point for me on the trail.  My feet were aching and Mount Washington appeared so far away.

Between Mts. Jefferson and Washington lay Mount Clay (or Mount Reagan, as named by the state of NH).  We had decided, even prior to this traverse, that we would skip Mount Clay as it is not named after a President (by the USGS standards and Appalachian Mountain Club), nor does it count as one of the 48 4,000-footers in NH.  Many consider Clay to be a peak along the Presidential Traverse, however, we felt comfortable omitting it, especially if not doing it gave us better odds of completing all of the true Presidential peaks.

Now it was my turn to ask to stop.  I croaked, “Can we stop for a second?”  Jay willingly stopped so that I could eat a bar.  My appetite disappears during hiking and I tend to opt for quick energy through gooey syrups and gummy blocks, but I knew I needed more sustenance.  I forced down a Clif bar and felt much better.

Trudging towards the Mount Washington
Observatory and Visitors Center

We trudged along the trail toward Mount Washington.  In comparison to what we had just done, the rocks leveled out a little and when we did ascend Mount Washington, the pitch was more gradual, albeit longer. Jay took the lead up Mount Washington, which is not our normal summit strategy, but I was thankful that he was pulling me up the mountain with him.  In my Internet research, I had read about a group of hikers who got lost at this point, so I was super diligent to make sure I was following the correct path up the mountain. The traffic increased significantly with folks who were completing day hikes of Mount Washington or, who had ridden up to the top via car or train, and were hiking down briefly for the experience.

A few of my hiking friends had commented that they were disappointed to reach the top of Mount Washington.  I can understand this sentiment when you consider that hiking often entails a sense of remoteness, with the accompanying solitude that that brings.  The top of Mount Washington may be remote, but solitude is elusive there.

Amid the crowds, I spied a sign: “Hiker bathrooms downstairs”.  Yay!  I found a bathroom without a line!  Jay and I headed downstairs to use the facilities and then spread our stuff out along the long, cafeteria tables in a room that was just for hikers.  This is what Goatman had talked about in his e-mail!  It was a great spot for a quiet break and the crowds stayed upstairs at the snack bar and lookout spaces.

We took an extra long and well-deserved break on Mount Washington.  While we were falling behind book time, we knew that breaks were going to be key if we were to finish.  Although Goatman had referenced seeing sunset on Pierce and hiking out the Crawford Path by headlamp, at this point, I was still optimistic that neither would occur.

OK, we’re now at the half-way point. Instead of putting out an eighteen page novella, we’ll take a time-out here. Stay tuned for Part 2!

See you on the trail,

Jay Bell, AKA Rock Hopper

67 in 67, Hike #8: Presidential Traverse Part 1, New Hampshire

Hike #8: Presidential Traverse

Elevation: 5,367 (Mount Madison), 5,774 (Mount Adams), 5,712 (Mount Jefferson), 6,288 (Mount Washington), 5,384 (Mount Monroe), 4,780 (Mount Eisenhower), 4,310 (Mount Pierce)

Date: June 15, 2013

Location: a big swath of the White Mountain National Forest, NH

Distance: 20.1 miles

Time: 16:53 (50:24/mile)

This hike will go down as one of the most epic hikes I ever do. Since Sara’s such a big part of hiking for me, and since this was her idea, it seemed fitting to compare our versions of how this went down.

Prelude: Preparations, pre-start activities and thoughts

Jay:

Sara and I drove up separately to northern New Hampshire the night before the hike, with me arriving at the hotel a couple hours before her. In the lead-up to this hike, I was nervous about re-aggravating my foot injury, or my bad knee forcing me to quit, and not knowing what kind of a predicament that might put us in – not life or death, but it could still really suck. But at some point, you have to commit or quit, and I’d committed. Then it’s a choice about what attitude you choose to have, so we’d talked through identifying bail-out points if needed, and I then focused on the thrill of accomplishing a bucket-list hike.

During the drive up, I got more excited to tackle an epic challenge: 7 peaks, 20 miles, 17,000 feet of elevation change. Big stuff. And as I snagged a cheesesteak sub at a convenience store on the northern fringes of the White Mountains, with its every spare inch of wall and counter filled with vehemently anti-government propaganda, I felt as if I were on the edge of civilization. Sitting alone in my room in a small hotel, chowing my wonderfully cheesy cheesesteak and having a single beer as a Friday refreshment, I wished Sara were already with me to share my energy.

Sara arrived after sunset at the AMC Highland Center in Crawford Notch. She’d leave her car there, where we’d exit the trails, and we’d use my truck to shuttle us to the start. We spent the remainder of the night prepping our gear, food, and clothes for a quick morning departure. I never sleep well when I get up much earlier than usual, and I knew that tackling a huge hike after getting up at 4:00 a.m. would exact some sort of toll. So it was compounded by sleeping lightly.

The alarm seemed to go off a moment later. We bounced out of bed, dressed, and were off in no time. We were on track for our 5:00 a.m. start… when Sara realized she’d forgotten her car keys. OK, bad start. We had no choice but to turn back, which led to some no-talking time and a 5:30 a.m. start to the hike. I’d known we’d have some setbacks and challenges, but hoped this was one of the few obstacles, not foreshadowing a slew of problems from the get-go.

Sara:

I’ve always had a “thing” for the summer solstice.  For several years in a row, a group of friends and I would take some sort of hike on the summer solstice to celebrate the longest day of the year.  Hearing this, my mom pointed out that it’s a big Swedish tradition to celebrate “midsommar” and that my great-grandmother was a big fan.  So for me, nothing could be better than a one-day Presidential traverse to celebrate the longest day of the year!

You know it’s a bad sign when your boss declares, “this hike is really messing with you.”  Great, the activity that is supposed to be an outlet for what is frequently a stressful job has now turned my life upside down on me: work is now my outlet.   

The hike will allegedly go really well!

Indeed, this was one of the most stressful hikes I have ever planned.  Some of the stress involved knowing the sheer physical demands of the terrain.  Some of the stress came from knowing that the hike is completely weather-dependent, and that the weather on the range can change rather quickly and dramatically, necessitating having a plan B.  Some of the stress came from knowing that we’d be physically drained and had to high-tail it back to MA on Sunday for Father’s day.  Some of the stress came from the concern about planning the hike for two; Jay’s an admitted “newbie” to hiking and so I couldn’t help but assume a lot of responsibility on my part for making sure we’d be safe and have fun.  And some of the stress came from me being completely honest with myself that I have a tradition of completely over-estimating what I can hike in a given trip.

For several months ahead of time, I scoured every article I could find to anticipate what the 20+ mile journey would be like.  There are some great resources out there and here are two of the best:

http://www.chauvinguides.com/presitraverse/presirouteplanguide.htm

http://home.earthlink.net/~ellozy/presidential-traverse.html

I also tapped into my trusty friend, Goatman (1995 AT Thruhiker), for advice.  After all, I got this crazy idea to hike the entire ridge in one day from him last September when I related the story of my friend Melissa and me hiking Mount Madison and Mount Pierce, unable due to weather to cross the Presidentials during a two-night overnight trip.  

According to Goatman, “I say you are not crazy for thinking/wanting to do the traverse. Not crazy at all if you are able to assess your condition, progress, and weather while up there and make good (safe) decisions regarding the use of your escape routes.”

Additionally, “If you are doing it in a day, I’d recommend going southbound as there are more/easy escape routes off the ridge in the southern half… not much in the northern half. The quintessential date for a Prez-Traverse is June 21… the longest daylight day of the year. There will be a lot of crazies up there doing the same thing. Plan on starting at first light and finishing via head-lamp. The crux would be Edmunds Col (the most dangerous spot on the ridge)… find a place to hide from the tourists on Washington, take a nap, slow your pace for the Southern Prez… they are easier, you can relax and enjoy. Catch the sunset on Pierce.”

But the fact remained, I wasn’t 100% sure of my ability to do this hike much less Jay’s ability – gimpy knee and weird heel tendonitis thing he has been battling. I could only hope that the progressively challenging hikes and obsessive reading of all things Presi yielded enough conditioning (both physical and mental) in order to tackle the traverse.

And so, on a beautiful, warm Friday in June, I departed work, dropped off the dog and began my drive up north to rendezvous with Jay.

Leg 1: Trailhead to Madison summit to Madison hut; 4.8 miles, 4,135 feet of elevation gain

Jay: 

I should still be asleep!

This leg had almost half of the total gain in elevation, so I knew it would be intense. The parking lot revealed that we were one of the last to depart, and we were somewhat quiet and focused as we initiated our ascent. We originally intended to climb via the shorter but steeper Watson Path, but opted to stay on the Valley Way Trail, thinking the lesser intensity might help avoid burning out our legs getting to the first peak.

My foot hurt since the very beginning of the hike, which wasn’t a good sign, but probably was a good sign of over-training. I’d been largely sedentary for months because of the injuries, and then averaged six workouts a week for two months, and pain might be the payback for my refusal to moderate my training. About halfway up, I also started bonking. We’d stopped a couple of times and I was trying to hydrate and chew some shot blocks for electrolytes, and had already eaten breakfast before we left. This wasn’t a good sign and I was wearing out fast.

Sara started driving me nuts with her refusal to ease her pace to give me a chance to recover. It’s an hours-long ordeal, this is the hardest leg, and she’s running me into the ground. This isn’t right! Anger fueled me briefly, before despair took charge again. I couldn’t understand why she was doing this to me. Glimpsing the peak of Madison through the trees, I lamented the climbing that remained and her desire to kill me by the first summit.

And then I had my epiphany of my Man’s Dilemma: if I don’t use my words, how’s she supposed to know I’m hurting? Alas, her ESP powers aren’t perfect and I haven’t said anything, and am not giving her any indication I’m having a problem. Aah, but if I say anything then it requires emoting and asking for help and being vulnerable. But I’m a man and therefore genetically programmed to be abysmal at that sort of thing! But if I don’t, I’ll wind up like the unlucky members of the Donner Party, left to die in the woods. Oh, what to do!

Mustering my spare breath and all my courage, I reluctantly uttered, “Sara, can we take a break for a minute? I’m hurting.” Sara stopped, wheeled around to face me, and miraculously responded, “sure”. It was as if she had backlighting and doves flying forth from behind her, accompanied by an invisible choir. I rested my legs for a moment, took some hits of water, and realized that if I tell her what I need, she’ll then know what I need. Amazing! With newfound love, emotional maturity, and energy, I continued on.



One peak down, six to go!

The Madison Hut emerged shortly after, and we passed it, moving above the tree line to the rock scramble that left us atop Mount Madison. We encountered a number of hikers, unclear which were tackling the traverse and which were doing their respective routes. But we felt as if we and the others who shared our goal were part of the March of the Crazies. One summit down, six to go! We allowed ourselves a breather back at the Madison Hut, having been hiking for just over three hours now, much faster than the pace in the guidebook. Next stop: Mount Adams!

Sara:

#@%^&!

 

I canNOT believe that I left my car keys in the hotel room.  Are you kidding me?  There was nothing that I could do other than to let go of my frustration, but I was really annoyed that we were departing about 25 minutes after I wanted to.  Naturally, I’d seek to make up some time on the trail.

The Valley Way is a beautiful trail and I had hiked it once before with Melissa, with overnight gear to stay up on the ridge.  I appreciated starting on a trail with which I was familiar.  It was amazing to me how quickly I could fly up the trail now that I was carrying 15 pounds less on my back and being juiced by the excitement of the traverse that lay ahead.  Also knowing that Jay has a naturally faster hiking pace than I do sometimes pushes me to climb faster.

“Um...Sara, can we stop for a second?”  Whew...I can slow down.

We skipped the turn for the Watson Path and continued up the Valley Way.  I was eager to get all of this elevation out of the way as quickly as possible, and the Valley Way is the easiest trail up to Madison.  The hut appeared ahead of schedule and, as much as we wanted a break, we scampered up the Osgood Trail to the Mount Madison peak.  

On the way up, some of the hikers we saw in the parking lot were coming down, giving us cheers and encouragement.  It made me smile because, indeed, we were doing well.  We were about an hour ahead of book time and I was elated!

Naturally it was windy up there, but we paused long enough to take a few selfies and shots of the ridge that we were about to cross.  We hiked off of Madison down to the hut for a welcome mid-morning break and took a chance to refill the water bottles.  While breaking, we chatted with a pair of girls who had hiked down from Madison just behind us.  They had hiked up the other side of Madison and they, too, were attempting the complete traverse.

Leg 2: Madison hut to Adams summit; 1.0 miles, 950 feet of elevation gain (5.8 miles and 5,085 total)

Jay:

We set forth from the Madison Hut, heading from Mount Madison to Mount Adams via the Airline Trail. Then we got confused and promptly took the wrong trail. However, the Star Lake Trail worked fine. The route was initially flat, followed by a rock scramble before mellowing out briefly. But the final section was much more rock climbing than hiking.  



View of Mount Madison from part-way up Mount Adams

I knew enough by now to be quiet, and gave Sara the lead, me behind her for support as needed. At one point, there was a largely vertical wall with a small outcropping about three feet high, with more wall above it. Sara tried to climb on top of it by facing front, pulling herself up, putting a knee on it, and straightening up, as if she were a kid pulling herself up on top of a pommel horse. The problem was that the wall above the outcropping was too close to give her room to lean forward and finish getting her knee onto the ledge. So she became stuck, unable to finish it and afraid to jump down to start over. She hung there, like a frog whose stomach was superglued to a wall, with its legs helplessly flailing. We were both laughing as she struggled, stuck yet not in danger. After a couple of minutes she finally finished it off and moved on. I then took a different route, stepping onto a rock a couple feet high to the left of where she’d been. I then stepped onto her outcropping, before continuing on, total time: about fifteen seconds. Total chuckles: too many to count. Total fingers shown to me by her: maybe one. 

Two peaks down, and now at ten peaks in my
67 New England 4,000-footers!

Sitting on the summit of Adams, I felt very plugged into the hike. It was now just after ten o’clock. We were a couple of summits in, both doing well, hydrating and eating, and were now within sight of Mount Jefferson, the next target.

Sara:

We departed confidently from the Madison Hut with Mount Adams in our sights.  We passed by Star Lake, a beautiful alpine lake laying at the col between Madison and Adams.  It turns out we took an unintended trail up Adams, but it really didn’t matter.  We could see the peak ahead and there was plenty of company along the way.

Two down, five to go. Lovin' life on Mount Adams!

The climb up was a lot of rock scrambling and Jay had a great time.  I fared pretty well, even though I often get nervous on such exposed rock.  I was thankful that we had tackled the long scars of the Tripyramids in our preparation hikes a few weeks before.  At one really tricky section, I gave myself a big mental high-five for not pausing in fear, but for using arms, legs and stomach to balance and slide up past a huge rock that poked out from the trail.  Unfortunately, my kudos were replaced with a touch of embarrassment when I learned that, had I paused to really take a look at the trail, I would have seen a much easier route that required only your feet.  All I could do was laugh.

  

It was about a mile up Adams from the hut and it took about an hour -- we were on book time, but still ahead over all.  

This was my favorite stretch of the journey.  Although many of the bailout points lay on the opposite side of Adams, I felt something of a commitment being made to completing the traverse by summiting the second peak.  I also felt really connected to Jay once we reached the top...it was clear we were tackling this together as a team and were having fun along the way. 

Looking from Mount Adams to Mount Jefferson (right) and
Mount Washington (left) - gonna take a while!

OK, we’re now fully immersed in the hike. In order to try to make this not take as long to read as it did to hike, we’ll break it up into sections. Stay tuned for Part 2!

See you on the trail,

Jay Bell, AKA Rock Hopper