--M.
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Start: 09/29/07, 0800, Pinkham Notch Visitor Center
PNVC (2032') --> Tuckerman Ravine Trail --> Boott Spur (3.4 mi., 5500') --> Davis Path (0.7 mi.) --> Camel Trail (0.3 mi.) --> (stop)
Davis Path (1.5 mi) --> Glen Boulder Trail (2.8 mi.) --> Direttissima (1.0 mi.) --> PNVC (9.7 miles total, approx. 3460' elevation gain).
Weather at Bigelow Lawn: ~40*F, fog, wind (35-40 mph sustained, gusts to 65 mph)
I started out at Pinkham Notch Visitor Center at 8:00am. The surprise of the moment (and a factor in aborting before reaching Lakes of the Clouds) was the news that not only were both Lakes and Madison Huts closed for the seasons, but that there would be no water at the Lakes hut. As it was already, my pack was bulging with the extra layers for the trip and three liters of water. A fourth wouldn't fit, so I went with three and hoped for the best. This wouldn't quite work out.
The walk up Boott Spur was steep but otherwise uneventful. The WMG says: "Halfway up this section, a side trail leads left 100 yd. to a small brook (last water)" (27th ed., p. 27). I did attempt to visit this "last water," through thick spruce and a few blowdowns, but the brook is dry at the moment (all the WMNF rivers looked very low).
As I climbed into the open above the shelters at Hermit Lake (see attached), I met a guy coming down wearing full cover, including mittens. He said he had tried to go down Davis Path towards Mount Isolation, but had had to give up with the wind. I stopped and beefed up from shorts and a t-shirt to a fleece, Precip pants and gloves. The wind just dominated the whole scene. The sustained winds were enough to make each specific step a bit of guesswork and the random gusts made it difficult even to stand at all. The somewhat unexpected side effect of this was that my pace was just shot to hell.
I had eaten a breakfast sandwich before arriving and had another for later, but should have eaten both at once, as the trip would be quite strenuous. It's a taxing enough hike as it is, but the wind factor once above treeline made forward progress a completely different matter. It also made stopping for a bite rather difficult, as there was no place to shelter from the blow. I could find the occasional rock or cairn large enough to huddle behind to get a drink, but I kept putting off eating for this lack of a place to sit down. This was to cause problems further on.
When I reached the Boott Spur Link, I could see a pair of hikers just emerging from the treeline about a half-mile behind me. They were keeping up quite a pace, despite the wind, which seemed to affect me much worse, and caught up to me by the time I hit the Davis Path at the top of the Spur. It looked like a mother/daughter pair. They too were having difficulty in the wind, but I commented on their pace, which they said was needed to get to Isolation or down the Rocky Branch. By the way, doing Isolation from Boott Spur looks like about a fifteen-mile hike, with a hitch-hike back of over four miles! Their wind problems, though, centered on their exposed hands. I asked them if they had gloves, and the mother replied that they had extra socks but were resistant to stopping to gear up. This was also a foreshadow of troubles to come.
We parted and I headed for the Lakes hut to see about water. At this point, however, the wind was accompanied by wet fog. Visibility dropped to barely seeing the next cairn, and I resorted to making doubly sure of my route when I hit the Camel Trail. I have been up top in the mess before, and it was no surprise to read later in "The 4000-Footers of the White Mountains" (Smith & Dickerman) that "...[T]he traverse of Bigelow Lawn is very exposed and dangerously confusing in cloud, as there are few terrain features to navigate by" (p. 57). As I had experienced before, it was confusing! There's nothing to see (which is a little frustrating, knowing the views that would be possible), and even making out the next cairn is sometimes a little tricky. I knew empirically that I was on the Camel Trail, between Davis Path and the Lakes, and I knew which direction of travel to maintain, but other than that, I was almost entirely at sea. I remembered a discussion on these boards about navigating in these conditions. It was almost compass time, but not quite.
As I began the descent to the Lakes in this soup, the lack of food, the wind and now rain all began to add up to hypothermia. I had already added a Precip top and a headband, but I was still cold, and now couldn't get my fingers warm. I began to feel a growing confusion over what I needed to do: whether I could get water refilled at Lakes; whether I could do Monroe on the three liters I had brought (now half-gone); whether I could find a sheltered place to eat some lunch (now significantly overdue); whether I would get lost in the mess. Somewhere above the hut, I stopped where the trail dips into a sag and some bushes. I concluded that this all smelled a little fishy: I've had hypothermia before and knew the warning signs. When you decide you don't really need your lunch because your fingers are too cold to work the zippers, it's time to stop and get it together. It was here that I abandoned Monroe and went for lunch.
At the time, the thought was recurring of hikers who struggled, only to find that they were within a hundred yards of shelter when at their worst point. How could someone be so close and still not make it? I was reminded of the Madison Hut rescue recounted in Nicholas Howe's "Not Without Peril," wherein a father/son team lost to hypothermia. How could this be? Given the fog and wind (to say nothing of possible cold), I could now see how easy it is to get turned around. I could have been within fifty yards of the Crawford Path, I really don't know.
After adding my last remaining fleece and eating some food & Gatorade, I started back up the rise toward Davis Path. I figured if things improved (as I expected they would), I'd still enjoy a walk down the Glen Boulder Trail. This is pretty much how it went, as I was able to banish the cold and got a little juice back in my step. By the time I got back to the Boott Spur Trail, I was fine and decided to keep on for Glen Boulder. In addition to getting my fingers rewarmed, I also now enjoyed the dry wind of the lee side of the mountain: all the rain precipitated out on the top and western sides of the ridge. The eastern lee side was windy, but dry.
I headed down the Davis Path toward the Glen Boulder Trail, meeting an older crew of backpackers who seemed a bit overwhelmed by the conditions. I encouraged them for their apparent preparedness, but they looked a little freaked out all the same. Once I got to Slide Peak, the wind was no longer as fierce as before, and the walk down was everything I had hoped: a beautiful stroll with views the whole way. There is a stand of trees in the bowl of the Gulf of Slides that looks like they all met the same avalanche. I stopped for a second lunch and was doing fine.
Now where is this mythical Glen Boulder? Eventually, it appeared. Yes, it's big, and it does indeed look like it's ready to go with a push. The topography seems to just drop off like a cliff beyond the stone, and sure enough, the trail moves to the left when it gets there. It's still a steep drop, but nothing too bad. There's some tricky scrambling just beneath it, but after that, there's a cruise-control walkout to the Direttissima and back to Pinkham Notch. Ironically, I got into the parking lot with a half-liter to spare.
Given how it all worked out, it no longer felt like I had 'failed' to make Monroe. It was exhilarating to have made the Spur, and I was grateful to have survived a brush with "exposure." The whole reason for shooting for Monroe was that I had bypassed it last time (trying to go from Nauman to the Perch), and it looks like I'll have to try again. Ammonoosuc, next time, I guess, and with more water!
I rolled into Dolly Copp Campground in time to get a good spot, and I got the fire going while I learned that the Sox had clinched the Division -- and home-field advantage -- the night before. Good day!
PNVC (2032') --> Tuckerman Ravine Trail --> Boott Spur (3.4 mi., 5500') --> Davis Path (0.7 mi.) --> Camel Trail (0.3 mi.) --> (stop)
Davis Path (1.5 mi) --> Glen Boulder Trail (2.8 mi.) --> Direttissima (1.0 mi.) --> PNVC (9.7 miles total, approx. 3460' elevation gain).
Weather at Bigelow Lawn: ~40*F, fog, wind (35-40 mph sustained, gusts to 65 mph)
I started out at Pinkham Notch Visitor Center at 8:00am. The surprise of the moment (and a factor in aborting before reaching Lakes of the Clouds) was the news that not only were both Lakes and Madison Huts closed for the seasons, but that there would be no water at the Lakes hut. As it was already, my pack was bulging with the extra layers for the trip and three liters of water. A fourth wouldn't fit, so I went with three and hoped for the best. This wouldn't quite work out.
The walk up Boott Spur was steep but otherwise uneventful. The WMG says: "Halfway up this section, a side trail leads left 100 yd. to a small brook (last water)" (27th ed., p. 27). I did attempt to visit this "last water," through thick spruce and a few blowdowns, but the brook is dry at the moment (all the WMNF rivers looked very low).
As I climbed into the open above the shelters at Hermit Lake (see attached), I met a guy coming down wearing full cover, including mittens. He said he had tried to go down Davis Path towards Mount Isolation, but had had to give up with the wind. I stopped and beefed up from shorts and a t-shirt to a fleece, Precip pants and gloves. The wind just dominated the whole scene. The sustained winds were enough to make each specific step a bit of guesswork and the random gusts made it difficult even to stand at all. The somewhat unexpected side effect of this was that my pace was just shot to hell.
I had eaten a breakfast sandwich before arriving and had another for later, but should have eaten both at once, as the trip would be quite strenuous. It's a taxing enough hike as it is, but the wind factor once above treeline made forward progress a completely different matter. It also made stopping for a bite rather difficult, as there was no place to shelter from the blow. I could find the occasional rock or cairn large enough to huddle behind to get a drink, but I kept putting off eating for this lack of a place to sit down. This was to cause problems further on.
When I reached the Boott Spur Link, I could see a pair of hikers just emerging from the treeline about a half-mile behind me. They were keeping up quite a pace, despite the wind, which seemed to affect me much worse, and caught up to me by the time I hit the Davis Path at the top of the Spur. It looked like a mother/daughter pair. They too were having difficulty in the wind, but I commented on their pace, which they said was needed to get to Isolation or down the Rocky Branch. By the way, doing Isolation from Boott Spur looks like about a fifteen-mile hike, with a hitch-hike back of over four miles! Their wind problems, though, centered on their exposed hands. I asked them if they had gloves, and the mother replied that they had extra socks but were resistant to stopping to gear up. This was also a foreshadow of troubles to come.
We parted and I headed for the Lakes hut to see about water. At this point, however, the wind was accompanied by wet fog. Visibility dropped to barely seeing the next cairn, and I resorted to making doubly sure of my route when I hit the Camel Trail. I have been up top in the mess before, and it was no surprise to read later in "The 4000-Footers of the White Mountains" (Smith & Dickerman) that "...[T]he traverse of Bigelow Lawn is very exposed and dangerously confusing in cloud, as there are few terrain features to navigate by" (p. 57). As I had experienced before, it was confusing! There's nothing to see (which is a little frustrating, knowing the views that would be possible), and even making out the next cairn is sometimes a little tricky. I knew empirically that I was on the Camel Trail, between Davis Path and the Lakes, and I knew which direction of travel to maintain, but other than that, I was almost entirely at sea. I remembered a discussion on these boards about navigating in these conditions. It was almost compass time, but not quite.
As I began the descent to the Lakes in this soup, the lack of food, the wind and now rain all began to add up to hypothermia. I had already added a Precip top and a headband, but I was still cold, and now couldn't get my fingers warm. I began to feel a growing confusion over what I needed to do: whether I could get water refilled at Lakes; whether I could do Monroe on the three liters I had brought (now half-gone); whether I could find a sheltered place to eat some lunch (now significantly overdue); whether I would get lost in the mess. Somewhere above the hut, I stopped where the trail dips into a sag and some bushes. I concluded that this all smelled a little fishy: I've had hypothermia before and knew the warning signs. When you decide you don't really need your lunch because your fingers are too cold to work the zippers, it's time to stop and get it together. It was here that I abandoned Monroe and went for lunch.
At the time, the thought was recurring of hikers who struggled, only to find that they were within a hundred yards of shelter when at their worst point. How could someone be so close and still not make it? I was reminded of the Madison Hut rescue recounted in Nicholas Howe's "Not Without Peril," wherein a father/son team lost to hypothermia. How could this be? Given the fog and wind (to say nothing of possible cold), I could now see how easy it is to get turned around. I could have been within fifty yards of the Crawford Path, I really don't know.
After adding my last remaining fleece and eating some food & Gatorade, I started back up the rise toward Davis Path. I figured if things improved (as I expected they would), I'd still enjoy a walk down the Glen Boulder Trail. This is pretty much how it went, as I was able to banish the cold and got a little juice back in my step. By the time I got back to the Boott Spur Trail, I was fine and decided to keep on for Glen Boulder. In addition to getting my fingers rewarmed, I also now enjoyed the dry wind of the lee side of the mountain: all the rain precipitated out on the top and western sides of the ridge. The eastern lee side was windy, but dry.
I headed down the Davis Path toward the Glen Boulder Trail, meeting an older crew of backpackers who seemed a bit overwhelmed by the conditions. I encouraged them for their apparent preparedness, but they looked a little freaked out all the same. Once I got to Slide Peak, the wind was no longer as fierce as before, and the walk down was everything I had hoped: a beautiful stroll with views the whole way. There is a stand of trees in the bowl of the Gulf of Slides that looks like they all met the same avalanche. I stopped for a second lunch and was doing fine.
Now where is this mythical Glen Boulder? Eventually, it appeared. Yes, it's big, and it does indeed look like it's ready to go with a push. The topography seems to just drop off like a cliff beyond the stone, and sure enough, the trail moves to the left when it gets there. It's still a steep drop, but nothing too bad. There's some tricky scrambling just beneath it, but after that, there's a cruise-control walkout to the Direttissima and back to Pinkham Notch. Ironically, I got into the parking lot with a half-liter to spare.
Given how it all worked out, it no longer felt like I had 'failed' to make Monroe. It was exhilarating to have made the Spur, and I was grateful to have survived a brush with "exposure." The whole reason for shooting for Monroe was that I had bypassed it last time (trying to go from Nauman to the Perch), and it looks like I'll have to try again. Ammonoosuc, next time, I guess, and with more water!
I rolled into Dolly Copp Campground in time to get a good spot, and I got the fire going while I learned that the Sox had clinched the Division -- and home-field advantage -- the night before. Good day!
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