The steady breeze blowing across the summit of Mt. Hale was unusually chilly for late July … even at 8:12AM. Less than one hundred feet above the cloud bases hung unevenly, obscuring many of the surrounding peaks. No matter, I anticipated a feeling of elation upon cresting the last of New Hampshire’s 48 Four Thousand Footers.
Surprisingly, instead of reveling in the glow of my accomplishment, I found myself quietly reflecting back some forty years to my 9th summer when my dad lead me up and over the Oceolas and my first two 4,000′ peaks, now shrouded by jagged clouds a few miles to the south. Since then, I have hiked several of the state’s highest mountains time and again … while visiting others but once. Each, with the singular exception of Mt. Techumseh has left its individual imprint on my memory.
While the barren landscapes of the Presidentials and the Franconia Ridge provided spectacular, clear weather views; the trails, ridges, campsites and summits of other mountains, both on and off the Appalachian Mountain Club’s Four Thousand Footer list, have left the most vivid impressions.
The isolated, rocky summit of West Bond provided an unrivaled and wondrous vista of the heart of New Hampshire most pristine forests. From tent platform #7 at the Garfield Campsite, I witnessed a breathtaking view of as the late afternoon sun broke through a heavy gray overcast and painted the remote Galehead Hut and South Twin mountain a golden shade of green. There was an unforgettable, almost slow-motion sunset over the Presidentials from an outlook just below the Imp Shelter followed by the emergence of a distant light show as darkness settled on the towns of Gorham and Berlin, twinkling in the notches below. After slogging my way up the incredibly wet trails of Mt. Cabot I was treated to unexpectedly beautiful views of some of the state’s more northern countryside. And, I can still close my eyes and again see and hear the swift water flowing alongside Desolation Shelter where I camped while attending North Woods Camp in the summer of 1957.
On the other end of the spectrum, the northern end of the Lincoln Brook Trail (trekking south) was clearly a forgettable experience, particularly in two locations where the trail simply disappeared in to marshes, marked only by the fresh tracks of the resident moose population. Also fresh in my memory is the Webster Cliffs Trail which I hiked with my wife and two (then) young sons in 90o temperatures, running out of water before cresting Mt. Webster … and making for a long three mile hike into the Mizpah Hut. Then there was the night a very large and inquisitive black bear circled our campsite along the Ethan Brook Trail.
The existence of the 4,000′ Club became a catalyst, a voice beckoning me to some of New Hampshire’s backcountry which I would have otherwise perhaps never visited. My life is far richer for having heeded the call and taken the trails to these often out-of-the-way peaks, immersed in the sights, sounds and smells of the mountains, rivers and forests.
I look forward to returning to many of the 4,000’ers as well as visiting new (albeit) “lower” summits in the years to come.
