wardsgirl
Active member
After recently realizing that I only had a couple hills left to climb before achieving O-10 status, I set off yesterday afternoon to climb Big Ball, AKA Tate, Mountain. I wasn’t sure where the trail began, so I parked at the intersection of McDuffee Road and the right turn for the “camp.” I hiked up the road, looking for the trailhead, and came to a white Subaru parked on the left side of the road in a small parking area. So, is this where the trail starts?
I decided that my car was parked rather precariously back at the intersection, so I walked back and moved it into position next to the Subaru. I still didn’t see a trailhead, so I walked along a logging road and soon came to a road. I scratched my head for a bit, and a car came along. The driver opened his window and I asked about the “Gorilla Trail.” The friendly fellow told me that I should follow his car tracks and I would eventually see the blue blazes. I asked where this road went if I continued to follow it, and he replied, “My house.”
Ooops! Sorry to bother the guy by hiking on his driveway! His directions were good, and I soon came to the blue-blazed trail. A light coating of snow made the leaves slippery, so I wore my imitation Chinese knock-off prototype traction thingys over my Sorells. No snowshoes were necessary. After awhile, I noticed that I was following another set of footprints- white Subaru hiker, perhaps.
The trail was easy to follow, although there were a lot of twists and turns. I set a few waypoints with my GPS as I hiked. Eventually I reached the first of a few false summits. The wind picked up a bit. Although it was snowing when I left home and the weather was predicted to be crappy, this was shaping up to be a beautiful day. I could see all of the Belknap Range and I thought I could even make out some skiers on Gunstock.
I pushed on to the true summit of Big Ball, after a slippery descent into the col between the two highest points. At the summit, I layered up and enjoyed a coffee/cocoa concoction that I had made at home. There were plenty of views from the top. It was about 2:45 when I began my descent, following the same path that I had ascended.
Somehow, I have no idea how, on the way down, I realized that I was no longer on the trail, AKA LOST. I was at a weirdly-shaped cairn, that may have not been a cairn at all. I went back to the last real cairn I had passed and looked for the trail. My footprints in the snow had been wiped clean by the wind. No matter how many different angles I considered leaving the last real cairn, none seemed even remotely trail-like.
I checked the good ol’ GPS and struck off for a waypoint I had previously set at a brook crossing on my ascent. It was easy ‘whacking in the nice snowy open woods. I eventually came to a set of descending footprints. I considered following them, but when they headed off more toward the west, and Route 171, I decided that the owner of those prints could be more lost than me, so I decided to stick to my heading.
When it started to get dark, I checked my cellphone and was happy to see that I had reception. I kept laughing out loud about zman’s Bushwhacker Commandment- “Thou shall not tell your significant other you will return at a certain time!” Although my bushwhack was unplanned, I called my S/O and apprised him of the situation. I told him I would call him periodically with my progress, and assured him that I had enough food and gear in my pack to rival Bear Grylls in a hotel room.
As the sun set, I could make out a road in the distance, maybe a mile ahead of me. I repeatedly counted a hundred steps and checked my progress as I headed for my waypoint. Eventually, I came to a gorgeous solar powered cedar-sided house! There didn’t appear to be anyone home as I skirted around to the driveway. The house was at the end of a dead end road. I bet it was the house of the guy who gave me directions to the trail.
I followed the long driveway downhill, passing close by to the waypoint that I had set at the stream crossing earlier in the day. Just before I really dropped into the valley and lost cell phone reception, I called my S/O to let him know that I thought I would be at the car soon.
Although I never needed to put my headlamp on, when I reached the car, it was dark! Fortunately, I didn’t have to spend a night LOST in the Ossipees. I even made it home in time to make Chicken Marsala for dinner.
I decided that my car was parked rather precariously back at the intersection, so I walked back and moved it into position next to the Subaru. I still didn’t see a trailhead, so I walked along a logging road and soon came to a road. I scratched my head for a bit, and a car came along. The driver opened his window and I asked about the “Gorilla Trail.” The friendly fellow told me that I should follow his car tracks and I would eventually see the blue blazes. I asked where this road went if I continued to follow it, and he replied, “My house.”
Ooops! Sorry to bother the guy by hiking on his driveway! His directions were good, and I soon came to the blue-blazed trail. A light coating of snow made the leaves slippery, so I wore my imitation Chinese knock-off prototype traction thingys over my Sorells. No snowshoes were necessary. After awhile, I noticed that I was following another set of footprints- white Subaru hiker, perhaps.
The trail was easy to follow, although there were a lot of twists and turns. I set a few waypoints with my GPS as I hiked. Eventually I reached the first of a few false summits. The wind picked up a bit. Although it was snowing when I left home and the weather was predicted to be crappy, this was shaping up to be a beautiful day. I could see all of the Belknap Range and I thought I could even make out some skiers on Gunstock.
I pushed on to the true summit of Big Ball, after a slippery descent into the col between the two highest points. At the summit, I layered up and enjoyed a coffee/cocoa concoction that I had made at home. There were plenty of views from the top. It was about 2:45 when I began my descent, following the same path that I had ascended.
Somehow, I have no idea how, on the way down, I realized that I was no longer on the trail, AKA LOST. I was at a weirdly-shaped cairn, that may have not been a cairn at all. I went back to the last real cairn I had passed and looked for the trail. My footprints in the snow had been wiped clean by the wind. No matter how many different angles I considered leaving the last real cairn, none seemed even remotely trail-like.
I checked the good ol’ GPS and struck off for a waypoint I had previously set at a brook crossing on my ascent. It was easy ‘whacking in the nice snowy open woods. I eventually came to a set of descending footprints. I considered following them, but when they headed off more toward the west, and Route 171, I decided that the owner of those prints could be more lost than me, so I decided to stick to my heading.
When it started to get dark, I checked my cellphone and was happy to see that I had reception. I kept laughing out loud about zman’s Bushwhacker Commandment- “Thou shall not tell your significant other you will return at a certain time!” Although my bushwhack was unplanned, I called my S/O and apprised him of the situation. I told him I would call him periodically with my progress, and assured him that I had enough food and gear in my pack to rival Bear Grylls in a hotel room.
As the sun set, I could make out a road in the distance, maybe a mile ahead of me. I repeatedly counted a hundred steps and checked my progress as I headed for my waypoint. Eventually, I came to a gorgeous solar powered cedar-sided house! There didn’t appear to be anyone home as I skirted around to the driveway. The house was at the end of a dead end road. I bet it was the house of the guy who gave me directions to the trail.
I followed the long driveway downhill, passing close by to the waypoint that I had set at the stream crossing earlier in the day. Just before I really dropped into the valley and lost cell phone reception, I called my S/O to let him know that I thought I would be at the car soon.
Although I never needed to put my headlamp on, when I reached the car, it was dark! Fortunately, I didn’t have to spend a night LOST in the Ossipees. I even made it home in time to make Chicken Marsala for dinner.