Next question: does a snowmobile/ATV trail go to the top of the Bear Mountain that's in the vicinity of Dorset Vermont? I ask because when I climbed Mother Myrick Mountain last July, for some reason I got the impression that if I continued following the snowmobile trail south from the Myrick summit, it would either lead me to the top of Bear, or at least take me to the trail that goes to the top of Bear.
Routes to Vermont Mountains
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I don't recall any ATV/snow machine trail to the summit, but the woods are fairly open on Bear.
Nate said:
I finally made it up to Knox this past weekend, heading in from Provencher Road. Having done both Butterfield and Signal earlier in the day, this proved to be the (relatively) most difficult bushwhack of the three, even though it turned out to be the shortest. The woods were slightly thicker, with more things underfoot, trying to trip me up and obscuring the blowdowns. Also, there were some short, steep, ledgy sections to contend with as well. Once at the summit (the jar isn't at the true highpoint, but at the clearing just beyond it), I learned that most of the locals head up from the west, rather than the south, and the herd path I encountered on the summit seemed to descend in that direction. This might be a better option than Provencher Road, where there enough private drives at the northern end that I ended up parking only halfway up, at a wide place on the shoulder that wasn't posted.
In my previous post, I forgot to mention that in the Knox register, I saw some references to "First Knox." I presume the 3k peak is Second Knox, and if so, is the peak to the west or east of this that is First Knox? Cosidering people are taking the trouble to climb this lower peak, does that mean it has worthwhile views?
Umpire Redux
As promised, on June 25th I returned to Umpire during a five-day stint of peakbagging in northern Vermont. Since it had rained that morning, rather than get my bushwhacking pants soaked in the endeavor, I opted to go with shorts instead. This was fine through the lower portion, as I ascended up the old logging roads and through open woods, retreading my route from last time. However, I then hit the open swath halfway up that was occupied by dense overgrown weeds, whose thorny vegetation made me miss the pants. Navigating a minimally painful route through that section, it was then on to the final ascent through the woods. Since I had strayed further south than on my previous visit, this patch of forest was more dense than I remembered. Then again, it's still only Umpire Mountain, so soon enough I was on the summit. Knowing which bump to head for, I didn't have a problem reaching the canister.
Considering the whole point of this exercise was to replace the frozen, lidless jar I had found last October, imagine my quasi-dismay to find that someone had beaten me to it on this obscure Vermont peak. Indeed, back in March the Rowell boys of northern Vermont had left a small glass jar tied with orange plastic twine, similar to their handiwork that I had observed on South Seneca the previous day, which they had planted in April (I guess they had a busy spring). As you can imagine, I kvetched about this quite a bit in the journal entry I left that morning.
Anyway, had I known, I would have spent the morning hiking something that's still on my list, but considering I didn't have that knowledge at the time, at least now I don't have the thought sitting at the back of my mind that the canister on Umpire needs to be replaced. Since it's only a two-hour bushwhack (round trip), this first-hand information certainly could have come at a higher price.
Nate said:
As promised, on June 25th I returned to Umpire during a five-day stint of peakbagging in northern Vermont. Since it had rained that morning, rather than get my bushwhacking pants soaked in the endeavor, I opted to go with shorts instead. This was fine through the lower portion, as I ascended up the old logging roads and through open woods, retreading my route from last time. However, I then hit the open swath halfway up that was occupied by dense overgrown weeds, whose thorny vegetation made me miss the pants. Navigating a minimally painful route through that section, it was then on to the final ascent through the woods. Since I had strayed further south than on my previous visit, this patch of forest was more dense than I remembered. Then again, it's still only Umpire Mountain, so soon enough I was on the summit. Knowing which bump to head for, I didn't have a problem reaching the canister.
Considering the whole point of this exercise was to replace the frozen, lidless jar I had found last October, imagine my quasi-dismay to find that someone had beaten me to it on this obscure Vermont peak. Indeed, back in March the Rowell boys of northern Vermont had left a small glass jar tied with orange plastic twine, similar to their handiwork that I had observed on South Seneca the previous day, which they had planted in April (I guess they had a busy spring). As you can imagine, I kvetched about this quite a bit in the journal entry I left that morning.
Anyway, had I known, I would have spent the morning hiking something that's still on my list, but considering I didn't have that knowledge at the time, at least now I don't have the thought sitting at the back of my mind that the canister on Umpire needs to be replaced. Since it's only a two-hour bushwhack (round trip), this first-hand information certainly could have come at a higher price.
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Recent Visit to Bald Mountain
During my recent five-day tour through Vermont I also made a visit to Bald Mountain. Since it was toward the end of the day I took the short Bald Mt.-Long Lake Trail, which made for a quick ascent. As Michaelb wrote, there's definitely no road that comes into the summit from the north, but only the Lookout Trail. I walked a short way down this, and from what I saw it's a very pleasant path. It goes without saying that the views from the tower are excellant, especially of northern Vermont, although when I was up there there were just enough clouds floating around that the northern Green Mountains could have been more visible. I also wandered through the old caretaker's cabin, but didn't see a log. Then again, at the time I'd forgotten Willoughby's words, and could have simply missed it. But, overall, this is a very worthwhile hike given the effort.
Nate said:
During my recent five-day tour through Vermont I also made a visit to Bald Mountain. Since it was toward the end of the day I took the short Bald Mt.-Long Lake Trail, which made for a quick ascent. As Michaelb wrote, there's definitely no road that comes into the summit from the north, but only the Lookout Trail. I walked a short way down this, and from what I saw it's a very pleasant path. It goes without saying that the views from the tower are excellant, especially of northern Vermont, although when I was up there there were just enough clouds floating around that the northern Green Mountains could have been more visible. I also wandered through the old caretaker's cabin, but didn't see a log. Then again, at the time I'd forgotten Willoughby's words, and could have simply missed it. But, overall, this is a very worthwhile hike given the effort.
Senecas Bushwhack - June 24
Well, after all this talk about the Senecas, I finally made the trip in late June. After hiking Gore for my second hike of the day on the 23rd, I then drove over to Ferdinand to scout out the roads in the vicinity of these peaks. According to DeLorme, South American Pond Road starts in the village of Wenlock (or at least it depicts the stronger branch of the road coming out at Route 105 there), but I found this to not be the case. Indeed, having not thoroughly studied the map before the drive, and (coming from Island Pond) I managed to get all the way past the Bloomfield town line before I realized I'd blown past the road. It ended up taking me another few passes before I located the correct street, and even then mostly because it's one of the few roads heading south from 105 in that area. South American Pond Road is actually about five miles east of the airport and a mile or so east of where 105 crosses the train tracks at Wenlock (since it's been about a month now, my memory's a little foggy right now on what the exact distances were). Not only does it have a street sign, but it's also marked with a green Wenlock Wildlife Management Area Sign. The road pretty much does what is depicted in DeLorme. I thought some of the road intersections might be confusing if the intersecting streets were in equal shape, but what I found is that anything that comes into South American Pond Road is either overgrown, or at least obviously rougher than it is, so it is always clear which way to go to stay on the main road. I know Pig Pen described this road as being in good condition, and while it is obvious it is maintained on a regular basis, it certainly hadn't been graded in some time when I was there, and unsure if it got rougher at some point (plus the fact it was dark out at this point), I went slow and cautiously. For doing the Senecas, one needn't go any further than North Branch Road, and at around that point, I encountered a regular sedan going the other way. I ended up talking to that couple for a bit, and learned that they were looking for Maidstone State Park, and were horribly lost. It sounded like they had driven a long ways down South American Pond Road, and if they hadn't encountered any problems, I figured I'd be all set in my Outback. As it was, since North Branch Road isn't signed, I wasn't sure it was the correct road, and so I drove a little ways past it just to make sure. It starts right where DeLorme says it should, being the only right (when heading south) in the area where South American Pond Road passes to the right of the low boggy area (it heads off the main road at about a 45 degree angle and climbs uphill immediately). With that established, I headed back north to find a place to park for the night.
The next morning, I returned to North Branch Road and, lacking a proper pull out, parked the car as far off the road as I could. North Branch looked marginally drivable, but unsure if and where it would get worse, I was content to leave the car where it was. Knowing it would be the largest hike of the five-day jaunt through northern Vermont, I was hoping for an early start (after all, one can never leave early enough when they're about to embark upon the longest, densest bushwhack Vermont has to offer, and they don't know quite what to expect), but as it turned out, heading out around nine a.m. was the best I could muster.
I got about half a mile down the logging road, when, while cycling through the waypoints on the GPS, I noticed an irregularity. In tracking the three main Seneca peaks, it was telling me that the South Peak was closer than East. Since this struck me as wrong, I returned to the car to check my notes again. As it turns out, I had accidentally reversed the coordinates of the two peaks, so luckily I noticed this while I was still close to the car.
With that settled, I headed out again. For the first mile or so, North Branch Road is actually not in horrible shape. It has a rough patch here and there, and the occasional large rock one should avoid, but other than that, it's not too bad. This segment is marked at its western end by a locked gate, at which there's plenty of space to pack, and my car could have made it that far with careful navigation (basically, North Branch Road gets about as rough as what one can see from North American Pond Road, and some parts are actually better than that). But then again, it's such a scenic walk through the Vermont mountains, that I really didn't mind being on foot.
On the map, it appears some other logging roads depart from North Branch Road, which might make navigation a little tricky when trying to stay on the main road. However, when in the field, the few that are readily apparent are clearly subsidiary logging roads, and so it's easy enough to stay on the main one. Once past the gate, the road got much rougher, and I definitely wouldn't want to drive past that point. As I passed by the foot of East Seneca, I took a waypoint for the return trip, then continued on. The road curves to the right a little beyond there, heading over to the foot of North Seneca. In its latter section it passes through a long flat area, and since the mountain drains into this, it made for wet going. By basically following North Branch Road to its end, I arrived at a quasi-pond/bog. Crossing over a stream on the left, I then headed into the woods to start my bushwhack to North Seneca.
Once I had gotten beyond the trees bordering that last clearing, the forest really opened up, making for pleasant 'whacking. There was even a skidder road early on, which I followed when it served me. But overall, I found the slopes of North Seneca made for typical Vermont conditions, so that soon enough I was wading through the ferns near the summit. The North Peak has a defined summit in open woods, so I didn't have a problem finding that canister. Indeed, since the whole peak is covered in broadleaf forest, I'm sure it offers decent views when the leaves are down. As it was, once I'd signed in and took a short break, it was time to move on to the Middle North Peak.
The open woods continued as I descended into the col south of North Peak then climbed up the other side (there might have been one dense stand of trees, but it was pretty minor and easy enough to side step). It was thus a straightforward walk to the summit of the 3017' Middle North Peak. While passing though, I took a moment to find the high point on this summit. Even though it doesn't have 200' of prominence, I wasn't sure if someone might have left a jar there anyway. After some investigation, I found that no one had. With that settled, I proceeded to the South Peak.
In the succeeding col, I encountered a (n unavoidable) dense section of spruce, with a wet, boggy spot in the middle. However, thankfully this didn't last very long, so soon enough I was fernwhacking again, up the gradual slopes of South Seneca.
As open as North Seneca was, South was even more so. Indeed, if it just had a few less trees, it would have really open views. As it was, I cautiously made my way along a herd path up to the summit, unsure of what blowdowns the tall ferns were obscuring.
Nate said:
Well, after all this talk about the Senecas, I finally made the trip in late June. After hiking Gore for my second hike of the day on the 23rd, I then drove over to Ferdinand to scout out the roads in the vicinity of these peaks. According to DeLorme, South American Pond Road starts in the village of Wenlock (or at least it depicts the stronger branch of the road coming out at Route 105 there), but I found this to not be the case. Indeed, having not thoroughly studied the map before the drive, and (coming from Island Pond) I managed to get all the way past the Bloomfield town line before I realized I'd blown past the road. It ended up taking me another few passes before I located the correct street, and even then mostly because it's one of the few roads heading south from 105 in that area. South American Pond Road is actually about five miles east of the airport and a mile or so east of where 105 crosses the train tracks at Wenlock (since it's been about a month now, my memory's a little foggy right now on what the exact distances were). Not only does it have a street sign, but it's also marked with a green Wenlock Wildlife Management Area Sign. The road pretty much does what is depicted in DeLorme. I thought some of the road intersections might be confusing if the intersecting streets were in equal shape, but what I found is that anything that comes into South American Pond Road is either overgrown, or at least obviously rougher than it is, so it is always clear which way to go to stay on the main road. I know Pig Pen described this road as being in good condition, and while it is obvious it is maintained on a regular basis, it certainly hadn't been graded in some time when I was there, and unsure if it got rougher at some point (plus the fact it was dark out at this point), I went slow and cautiously. For doing the Senecas, one needn't go any further than North Branch Road, and at around that point, I encountered a regular sedan going the other way. I ended up talking to that couple for a bit, and learned that they were looking for Maidstone State Park, and were horribly lost. It sounded like they had driven a long ways down South American Pond Road, and if they hadn't encountered any problems, I figured I'd be all set in my Outback. As it was, since North Branch Road isn't signed, I wasn't sure it was the correct road, and so I drove a little ways past it just to make sure. It starts right where DeLorme says it should, being the only right (when heading south) in the area where South American Pond Road passes to the right of the low boggy area (it heads off the main road at about a 45 degree angle and climbs uphill immediately). With that established, I headed back north to find a place to park for the night.
The next morning, I returned to North Branch Road and, lacking a proper pull out, parked the car as far off the road as I could. North Branch looked marginally drivable, but unsure if and where it would get worse, I was content to leave the car where it was. Knowing it would be the largest hike of the five-day jaunt through northern Vermont, I was hoping for an early start (after all, one can never leave early enough when they're about to embark upon the longest, densest bushwhack Vermont has to offer, and they don't know quite what to expect), but as it turned out, heading out around nine a.m. was the best I could muster.
I got about half a mile down the logging road, when, while cycling through the waypoints on the GPS, I noticed an irregularity. In tracking the three main Seneca peaks, it was telling me that the South Peak was closer than East. Since this struck me as wrong, I returned to the car to check my notes again. As it turns out, I had accidentally reversed the coordinates of the two peaks, so luckily I noticed this while I was still close to the car.
With that settled, I headed out again. For the first mile or so, North Branch Road is actually not in horrible shape. It has a rough patch here and there, and the occasional large rock one should avoid, but other than that, it's not too bad. This segment is marked at its western end by a locked gate, at which there's plenty of space to pack, and my car could have made it that far with careful navigation (basically, North Branch Road gets about as rough as what one can see from North American Pond Road, and some parts are actually better than that). But then again, it's such a scenic walk through the Vermont mountains, that I really didn't mind being on foot.
On the map, it appears some other logging roads depart from North Branch Road, which might make navigation a little tricky when trying to stay on the main road. However, when in the field, the few that are readily apparent are clearly subsidiary logging roads, and so it's easy enough to stay on the main one. Once past the gate, the road got much rougher, and I definitely wouldn't want to drive past that point. As I passed by the foot of East Seneca, I took a waypoint for the return trip, then continued on. The road curves to the right a little beyond there, heading over to the foot of North Seneca. In its latter section it passes through a long flat area, and since the mountain drains into this, it made for wet going. By basically following North Branch Road to its end, I arrived at a quasi-pond/bog. Crossing over a stream on the left, I then headed into the woods to start my bushwhack to North Seneca.
Once I had gotten beyond the trees bordering that last clearing, the forest really opened up, making for pleasant 'whacking. There was even a skidder road early on, which I followed when it served me. But overall, I found the slopes of North Seneca made for typical Vermont conditions, so that soon enough I was wading through the ferns near the summit. The North Peak has a defined summit in open woods, so I didn't have a problem finding that canister. Indeed, since the whole peak is covered in broadleaf forest, I'm sure it offers decent views when the leaves are down. As it was, once I'd signed in and took a short break, it was time to move on to the Middle North Peak.
The open woods continued as I descended into the col south of North Peak then climbed up the other side (there might have been one dense stand of trees, but it was pretty minor and easy enough to side step). It was thus a straightforward walk to the summit of the 3017' Middle North Peak. While passing though, I took a moment to find the high point on this summit. Even though it doesn't have 200' of prominence, I wasn't sure if someone might have left a jar there anyway. After some investigation, I found that no one had. With that settled, I proceeded to the South Peak.
In the succeeding col, I encountered a (n unavoidable) dense section of spruce, with a wet, boggy spot in the middle. However, thankfully this didn't last very long, so soon enough I was fernwhacking again, up the gradual slopes of South Seneca.
As open as North Seneca was, South was even more so. Indeed, if it just had a few less trees, it would have really open views. As it was, I cautiously made my way along a herd path up to the summit, unsure of what blowdowns the tall ferns were obscuring.
The Senecas Continued
South Seneca actually has a really open, albeit really flat summit. It's the type of summit where the true highpoint would be easy to find, as long as the jar is readily apparent. As it was, I think I'd forgotten Pig Pen's warning that the South Seneca canister was missing. Thus, I spent a good twenty minutes or so looking for it (which is a really long time for me). Usually, once I locate the highest spot, the canister is right there, and if it's not, then clearly it is missing. However, in this case, the South Seneca summit is so flat, and so overgrown with tall ferns, that determining the true highpoint is difficult without an altimeter. I still wonder if the old jar is still up there on the ground somewhere, but is really well hidden under all the vegetation. I certainly kicked over a fair number of large ferns while operating under this belief. Early on, I was able to narrow my search to a fifteen-yard radius, but from there, which spot was it? Was it the blowdown over here, the elevated patch of soil on the roots of the group of trees over there? In this area, I happened to find a vest hanging from a tree, bottle of water in one pocket, a bag of what looked like soil in the other. It was still in okay condition, so I imagine it hasn't been hanging there all that long (and to my knowledge it hangs there still).
I finally hit upon a spot I liked, an elevated patch of moss between a group of birches that were growing next to each other (this spot is located on the north side of the highest summit area). My searching in the vicinity failed to uncover the canister, and I was about to plant my own when I happened to notice something across the clearing. A narrow band of bright orange on one of the trees happened to catch my eye, and upon closer inspection, I found it was some twine, which was holding a small jar aloft. I hadn't noticed this before because the thing was eight feet off the ground, and the jar (besides being small) was on the other side of the tree from the highpoint. Even though I could touch the jar, I had to shimmy up the tree a bit in order to reach it well enough to remove the tightly sealed lid and remove the contents. From the small register I learned that the canister had been planted in April by the Rowell Brothers of northern Vermont (I would find a similar jar the next day when I revisited Umpire), and I was the first person to sign in since then. Once I had done my business and returned the register, I then rotated the jar around the tree so that it now faces the highpoint clearing. For anyone who wants to located it, once you've identified the general area where the peak's high point is, on the south side of this clearing is a deciduous tree (it's not a birch, and I'm not sure what type of tree it is) which is about fifteen to twenty feet tall and is standing by itself. The canister is a small glass jar with a red lid that is tied to the tree with orange plastic twine.
Anyway, even once I had signed in, I still suspected the old register was out there, so as I was leaving the summit, I continued to tag all the potential high points I encountered and check around in the ferns, in the off chance I might uncover the jar. Obviously this came to no avail.
I headed north a bit, dropping off the summit, trying to determine the best spot to drop off the north-south ridge and head east. I suspected gunning straight for the East Peak wouldn't quite be the way to go, so I got a fair way toward the col before the Middle North Peak before turning right. As it was, once I started to drop off the ridge, the ferns gave way to denser stands of trees. Unfortunately, these patches weren't as short-lived as what I'd encountered earlier, and with the denser vegetation it became difficult to gauge where the next peak was. But, once I approached the nadir of the col, things opened up enough to see where to go, and once I started ascending to the Middle East Peak, open, fern-covered areas alternated with dense trees. Reaching the Middle East summit, I took a moment to visit the true high point, but it was no surprise that it didn't have a canister.
Continuing on to East Seneca, the open ferny areas continued to alternate with the denser spruce ones, and I tried my best to maximize use of the former. As I was climbing the last peak, I hit some clearings where I could look south and see the buildings on East Mountain. That might have been an easier mountain to be hiking at that moment, but at least I only had one peak left by then.
Approaching the summit, the fern stretches became more useful, and some herd paths kicked in. Indeed, one herd path led me right to the canister. I'm sure you can imagine how appreciative I was to come out right at it, in light of my experience on South Seneca. In the register, I noted how Karl Dokla mentioned how when he planted the jar, he wasn't sure if it was at the true high point. Hence, I made a point of wandering around the summit area, but I wasn't able to find anything taller.
Leaving my own rambling words in the jar, it was time to find civilization again. Considering it was Vermont, I figured I'd just follow the fern patches down off the summit and into the open woods lower down, and have an easy bushwhack angling northwest back over to North Branch Road. However, I soon found that I should have dropped back into the col rather than take a more direct route.
As it was, the ferny areas at first lead through some rather open stands of mature spruce trees. However, for the route I was following, as the grade became steeper, the ferns died out and the trees became thicker and younger. Hence, before I knew it, I was in the Seneca Christmas Tree Stand. Even though I was heading down hill, it was still very slow going. The trees were so thick that they obstructed most of the blowdowns, which I would then walk into. I was walking along one blowdown, and due to the denseness, I couldn't see where the tree truck ended, although I sure found that point when I accidentally walked off of it. Luckily I didn't land on any of the rocks that were nearby.
I continued to persevere, and after dropping enough elevation, the woods opened up a little bit, so that I could slowly work my way to the left. Continuing to angle over and down, I finally reached open woods a short distance from the road. I descended the final part, crossed the stream, and once I ascended the bank on the other side, I was finally back on North Branch Road. Thank goodness.
From there, it was an easy down hill walk back through the charming Vermont mountains.
I guess overall this hike wasn't as bad as I expected, since I though all the peaks would be dense, and only East Seneca proved to be. In fact, if I was just doing North and South Seneca, this actually would have been an easy bushwhack. As it was, walking this route took more time than doing the Bakers (by about forty minutes). But then again, the distance between the Seneca Peaks is noticeably longer, and there's a longer road walk at the beginning and end. Plus, I lost some time looking for the South Seneca canister. Regardless, I did this bushwhack on a lovely late June day, so at least the weather was cooperating. Finally, what I took away from this experience is that if the Senecas are truly the most challenging bushwhack in Vermont, then, with them conquered, everything else will be easy in comparison.
Onward!
South Seneca actually has a really open, albeit really flat summit. It's the type of summit where the true highpoint would be easy to find, as long as the jar is readily apparent. As it was, I think I'd forgotten Pig Pen's warning that the South Seneca canister was missing. Thus, I spent a good twenty minutes or so looking for it (which is a really long time for me). Usually, once I locate the highest spot, the canister is right there, and if it's not, then clearly it is missing. However, in this case, the South Seneca summit is so flat, and so overgrown with tall ferns, that determining the true highpoint is difficult without an altimeter. I still wonder if the old jar is still up there on the ground somewhere, but is really well hidden under all the vegetation. I certainly kicked over a fair number of large ferns while operating under this belief. Early on, I was able to narrow my search to a fifteen-yard radius, but from there, which spot was it? Was it the blowdown over here, the elevated patch of soil on the roots of the group of trees over there? In this area, I happened to find a vest hanging from a tree, bottle of water in one pocket, a bag of what looked like soil in the other. It was still in okay condition, so I imagine it hasn't been hanging there all that long (and to my knowledge it hangs there still).
I finally hit upon a spot I liked, an elevated patch of moss between a group of birches that were growing next to each other (this spot is located on the north side of the highest summit area). My searching in the vicinity failed to uncover the canister, and I was about to plant my own when I happened to notice something across the clearing. A narrow band of bright orange on one of the trees happened to catch my eye, and upon closer inspection, I found it was some twine, which was holding a small jar aloft. I hadn't noticed this before because the thing was eight feet off the ground, and the jar (besides being small) was on the other side of the tree from the highpoint. Even though I could touch the jar, I had to shimmy up the tree a bit in order to reach it well enough to remove the tightly sealed lid and remove the contents. From the small register I learned that the canister had been planted in April by the Rowell Brothers of northern Vermont (I would find a similar jar the next day when I revisited Umpire), and I was the first person to sign in since then. Once I had done my business and returned the register, I then rotated the jar around the tree so that it now faces the highpoint clearing. For anyone who wants to located it, once you've identified the general area where the peak's high point is, on the south side of this clearing is a deciduous tree (it's not a birch, and I'm not sure what type of tree it is) which is about fifteen to twenty feet tall and is standing by itself. The canister is a small glass jar with a red lid that is tied to the tree with orange plastic twine.
Anyway, even once I had signed in, I still suspected the old register was out there, so as I was leaving the summit, I continued to tag all the potential high points I encountered and check around in the ferns, in the off chance I might uncover the jar. Obviously this came to no avail.
I headed north a bit, dropping off the summit, trying to determine the best spot to drop off the north-south ridge and head east. I suspected gunning straight for the East Peak wouldn't quite be the way to go, so I got a fair way toward the col before the Middle North Peak before turning right. As it was, once I started to drop off the ridge, the ferns gave way to denser stands of trees. Unfortunately, these patches weren't as short-lived as what I'd encountered earlier, and with the denser vegetation it became difficult to gauge where the next peak was. But, once I approached the nadir of the col, things opened up enough to see where to go, and once I started ascending to the Middle East Peak, open, fern-covered areas alternated with dense trees. Reaching the Middle East summit, I took a moment to visit the true high point, but it was no surprise that it didn't have a canister.
Continuing on to East Seneca, the open ferny areas continued to alternate with the denser spruce ones, and I tried my best to maximize use of the former. As I was climbing the last peak, I hit some clearings where I could look south and see the buildings on East Mountain. That might have been an easier mountain to be hiking at that moment, but at least I only had one peak left by then.
Approaching the summit, the fern stretches became more useful, and some herd paths kicked in. Indeed, one herd path led me right to the canister. I'm sure you can imagine how appreciative I was to come out right at it, in light of my experience on South Seneca. In the register, I noted how Karl Dokla mentioned how when he planted the jar, he wasn't sure if it was at the true high point. Hence, I made a point of wandering around the summit area, but I wasn't able to find anything taller.
Leaving my own rambling words in the jar, it was time to find civilization again. Considering it was Vermont, I figured I'd just follow the fern patches down off the summit and into the open woods lower down, and have an easy bushwhack angling northwest back over to North Branch Road. However, I soon found that I should have dropped back into the col rather than take a more direct route.
As it was, the ferny areas at first lead through some rather open stands of mature spruce trees. However, for the route I was following, as the grade became steeper, the ferns died out and the trees became thicker and younger. Hence, before I knew it, I was in the Seneca Christmas Tree Stand. Even though I was heading down hill, it was still very slow going. The trees were so thick that they obstructed most of the blowdowns, which I would then walk into. I was walking along one blowdown, and due to the denseness, I couldn't see where the tree truck ended, although I sure found that point when I accidentally walked off of it. Luckily I didn't land on any of the rocks that were nearby.
I continued to persevere, and after dropping enough elevation, the woods opened up a little bit, so that I could slowly work my way to the left. Continuing to angle over and down, I finally reached open woods a short distance from the road. I descended the final part, crossed the stream, and once I ascended the bank on the other side, I was finally back on North Branch Road. Thank goodness.
From there, it was an easy down hill walk back through the charming Vermont mountains.
I guess overall this hike wasn't as bad as I expected, since I though all the peaks would be dense, and only East Seneca proved to be. In fact, if I was just doing North and South Seneca, this actually would have been an easy bushwhack. As it was, walking this route took more time than doing the Bakers (by about forty minutes). But then again, the distance between the Seneca Peaks is noticeably longer, and there's a longer road walk at the beginning and end. Plus, I lost some time looking for the South Seneca canister. Regardless, I did this bushwhack on a lovely late June day, so at least the weather was cooperating. Finally, what I took away from this experience is that if the Senecas are truly the most challenging bushwhack in Vermont, then, with them conquered, everything else will be easy in comparison.
Onward!
dms
Active member
Nice report Nate. I well remember the Senecas, it's a long day out, and the descent from East Seneca is nasty. BTW, in the "old" days South American Road was gated, thus doing all 3 in a day required an epic 30 mile + car spot.
RoySwkr
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Some people like driving more than hiking. Seems like I hiked all 3 from Lost Nation, with enough time after to climb Bald from the N.dms said:
http://www.topozone.com/map.asp?lat=44.69496&lon=-71.80439&s=100&size=l&u=4&datum=nad27&layer=DRG
If the gate used to be locked, does that mean that the wildlife refuge and state land in there are relatively new acquisitions?
Also, has anyone been to the fire tower on West Mountain? If so, in what shape is it in, and how straightforward is it to locate the old access road in from the north?
Also, has anyone been to the fire tower on West Mountain? If so, in what shape is it in, and how straightforward is it to locate the old access road in from the north?
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