Hale, Wildcats & Washington/Monroe, Mar 13,14,15

[JohnL]

Apologies for the length but it does encompass three hikes.

Friday. Hale.
LRP. The first time I saw this TLA on one of the group’s short and cryptic emails I thought we were going to hike on the LRP. OBP I know but what the heck was the LRP? Lafayette Ridge Path. No. After racking my brain for a while I finally realized it meant long range planning. It was Wednesday and we were talking about a Saturday hike. LRP is an abstract concept to our group. At times we decide on the day’s objective while driving to the trailhead but Friday’s decision was our latest so far. Our options boiled down to North Twin or Mt Hale. We made our decision at the first crossing of the Little River.

The trail was in pristine condition after the rain and the freeze. The crust was strong enough to hold our steps and the MicroSpikes provided just the right amount of traction. It was, to steal a phrase, a walk in the park.

The main attraction to this trail is always the wondrous birch forest. It never seems to lose its sense of enchantment. But once you round that corner above the transition zone and the morning sunlight hits you in the face as you make your way up to North Hale, you realize that this little piece of the ridge holds some delicate pieces of magic as well.

This winter as you venture out of the facial salad bar and onto the summit wasteland there is a free 330 degree panorama of the mountains. All you need to do is take about eight steps up the ramp and you are on top of an audacious viewing platform. Well done! And it’s bio-degradable.


Saturday . The Wildcats.
After the five of us plus Matthias and the like number of packs, snowshoes, poles, crampons and MicroSpikes were crammed into a vehicle that only a set of Munchkins would consider a 5-seater, I looked at Mike and said “This car’s gonna stink real bad this afternoon.”

The MicroSpikes seemed like a good idea when we first put them on but once up on the first set of steeps on the Wildcat Ridge Trail, we learned the error of our ways. Not the greatest place to put on a set of crampons and try to keep the rest of your gear from drifting down the slope away from you but you gotta make do.

Crank your way up the steeps. Make sure that foot you just placed on a loose piece of crust doesn’t slide back away from you. Hope for just one good hand hold. Don’t lean backwards. Arrive at the ledge. Admire the views. Pass your smiles all around. Repeat many times.

Crossing that thin ledge. Lots of air beneath you. Some of that air was filled with big sharp tree branches. Not much comfort there. Hope the crusty snow does not decide to slough off with your footsteps. Try not to think about it. Gotta get across. Concentrate. Just get to the other side.

Red spots in the snow. I thought it was bird vomit from too many red berries. It was blood. Turns out it was from Matthias. Blood in his urine. He seems fine. No outward signs of injury or pain. No whining. He’s eating and drinking fine. He’s wistfully begging for more. We diagnose him as having a UTI and hope for the best. But we’re all really worried just the same.

I think we passed over Wildcats H & G & F & E before we finally got to the ski area where the crowd of skiers eating lunch on the viewing platform stopped and stared at the crazy people with spikes on their feet. Who are those guys?

Alphabet PUD soup and plenty of facial salad took up the next two hours of the day. Any deviation off the narrow track put you deep into the snow pack with your foot hopelessly reaching for the bottom. Mike got his revenge on a branch that left a nice mark on his arm. He sawed it off. And it’s cousin as well. He probably saved someone’s eye in the process. The branches beat me to a pulp. Being tall is not an advantage in winter hiking through the tree tops. Neither is a pack whose top pocket is above your head. The branches that missed my head caught the pack and then the wrestling began. Only once did I get thrown to the ground by an unyielding branch and I declare that as a victory. It was hand to hand combat the whole way across. But what sweet fun!!

Kevin, Judy and Emma met up with the front of our group but I was still in the back of the pack losing another bout with the branches as introductions were going on. It was not until after they passed me by that I said “Hey, wasn’t that Emma?” Sorry I missed you guys. I would have liked to say Hi.

Getting down from A was no bargain either. I can see why it took KJ&E so long to get up. Bottomless soft snow, hard crust breaking off and becoming surf boards, disappearing footsteps. Rick stepped into a bottomless hole, losing a pole in the process. It accelerated down the slope, luckily hitting a tree and coming to a stop. Mike volunteered to retrieve it. In the process we were wondering who was going to retrieve Mike. The slide was actually one of the easier sections. A friend of ours took the long ride down the slide a few years back and that still resonates with us. I was with him as he re-crossed the slide in winter for the first time after the accident. He was nervous as hell but eager to drive away his demons. As I crossed I kicked a piece of snow crust down the slope. As it hit the lip at the bottom and was launched into the air, it looked like The Agony of Defeat. I paid very close attention to my steps.

19 Mile Brook Trail. Hmmm, it only seemed like 3 ½ miles to me.

(continued)

 

[JohnL]

Part 2 The Conclusion

Sunday. Washington and Monroe.
At Gem Pool I heard voices up high off to my right and another set lower to my left. The left voices were a couple of campers whose site became visible after a short walk above the pool. The right voices disappeared. Up until Gem Pool my breathing and cadence were searching for a rhythm and with the steeps came the regularity I was seeking. Just before the ledges I heard the voices again. I was hoping they were not in my head.

I was nervous about the brook crossing at the ledges. I had broken through the ice bridge a few winters back and I was stuck in so solidly, I needed to be pulled out. I didn’t get wet but it was disconcerting just the same. I scurried across today’s bridge and felt better once I was across and heading up the stairs.

Fifty yards up the stairs, the trail bore left and broke out into the open. There were those voices again. The sun was glorious. My first glimpse of Washington’s summit showed a low wispy cloud accelerating across the summit slopes like a gossamer phantasm flying around Vincent Price’s castle. It was windy up there. Get ready.

The track was a profusion of tracks and broken crust interspersed with long stretches of open solid surface with only crampon holes showing that someone had passed through. I looked up and saw four hikers moving across the snowfield to my left. There were those voices! As I moved higher I saw the hikers had stopped and were taking a break. Perhaps they went over there for a peaceful rest stop. As I got higher and they started up again, I noticed they were taking a track decidedly away from the summer Ammo route. They were heading across the open snowfields to intercept the Crawford Path between the Hut and the summit. I scanned their intended route and decided to follow them.

The open snowfields were a delight. Only seldom did I break through the Styrofoam and it was a magical crossing. I frequently tested the texture and hardness of the track ahead of me to avoid any boilerplate. It might be a long ride before I came to a stop. I reveled in dancing across the open slopes. The gawk factor today was very high and it was all I could do to concentrate on my foot placements.

I met up with the four hikers, chatted a bit and hiked with them for a short while until they began to fall behind. I continued along my way, taking a line that took me to the left of the summit buildings. The higher I went, the thicker the ice became and the rougher the surface texture became. When I could not bash my foot through the crust, I stepped gingerly and made sure of my purchase before committing my weight to the step. It was tricky going. I was remembering the admonition on the MWO site from two days previously: Crampons are required. The surface up here is boilerplate. I was on thick ice and I was concentrating like crazy. Eventually the slope eased off and I made my way to the summit complex.

I took the obligatory photo of the summit sign and the summit buildings. Three guys were basking in the sun on the south side of the Auto Road Stage Office building where the snow plastered wall was melting fast. Two other groups of two summited within minutes and I took some summit photos for one of the groups. They were on their first winter hike in NH and were with a guide. I did not recognize them at first but they were two of the four hikers whose voices I heard earlier.

I enjoyed a quick snack (cheese and cocoa) and changed into crampons for the descent. Sensing that I dodged a bullet on the way up I was not about to set myself up a second time. I descended by way of the Crawford Path and headed for the Lakes Hut. I met up with a smiling guy who said he was certainly glad to be alive today when I asked him how he was doing. His name was Boyd and he was finishing up his NH48 with Washington. I congratulated him and wished him well. He is a reader of VFTT and hope he sees this. Congratulations, Boyd!

At the Hut four hikers were just getting ready to go up Monroe and four skiers were getting ready to ski on the slopes south of the Hut. I grabbed another snack (Fig Newtons and cocoa) and basked in the sun for a while as the crowd cleared out. To prevent a bit of glacier lassitude, I geared up and headed straight up Mt Monroe, taking about the most direct route I could handle. It was grand! The slope was hard packed and perfect Styrofoam and I crunched my way up into the winds, which I measured at 20mph, the strongest winds I encountered all day. I topped out on Monroe and found a quiet spot to take some photos and gather in the views. It had been a winter of redemption for me. After losing about a year of hiking including all of last winter to a nagging injury, I was feeling on top of the world. I stepped off the summit rocks and an hour and a half later I was at the car changing into a clean cotton shirt and basking in the hot 45 degree sunshine. What a weekend and what a way to end my winter!

Photos are up. http://outdoors.webshots.com/photo/2417677760027359582cxepBl?vhost=outdoors

JohnL

 

[wardsgirl]

Wow! What a long weekend and strange combination of peaks (and snacks)! I think you needed to continue on to perhaps an easy Cannon and Tecumseh and you would have covered a peak in every region of the Whites? Crazy! Hope Matthias is doing well.