McRat
New member
Another viewless day on Mount Moosilauke. It was awesome.
Gary (scoutmaster) and I met up with Brian (New Hampshire) and Amy (getawaygirl) for the carpool up to Moosilauke, where Karen (HappyHiker) was already geared up and waiting.
Temps were fairly reasonable, and our pace relaxed as we ambled up the mostly well- packed Glencliff trail in our snowshoes. The Glencliff trail is pretty steady on the ascent without being too steep, and travels through some pretty woods up to the Carriage road. Aside from one pair of hikers heading up, a group of five headed down, a few chickadees and plenty of bunny tracks - we had the trail to ourselves.
At the carriage road junction we stopped for lunch. Brain had brought along one of those heat in bag meals, which was very popular - at least the warm bag we passed back and forth to hold was. We ate and layered up before heading above treeline. Visibility here was about 150-200 feet, and the winds started out fairly gentle. Once again, as I arrived at the summit conditions worsened. Visibility was decreased and the winds began gusting pretty strong. When I lifted my snowshoes too high off the ground, they caught the breeze like a sail and made for some interesting dances to prevent a fall.
I hunkered down behind a rock and waited for the others to emerge from the fog. Gary was the last to appear, a simple shadow in the fog gradually becoming clearer over the next 30 seconds. Small particles of ice were caught in the wind, stinging any exposed skin. I’m guessing wind was at least 40mph, with higher gusts. We did not dally long at the summit. We snapped a couple of quick shots and headed back.
Brain and Amy headed back first, and vanished in the fog almost immediately while Gary and I packed up. While heading back, I commented on how the wind seemed to have blown away all our tracks. My goggles had pretty much frozen up giving me the choice between zero visibility and fifty feet.
Before long, I commented on how things were looking rather different, and when we got back to the trees the descent was steeper than I imagined. At this time I wasn’t sure if we had taken the Gorge Brook trail or not. I pulled out the GPS and got a quick fix on our position, but discovered one interesting facet of being lost – until you admit you are lost (or rather, misplaced on the map ) you will still trust your own misguided sense of direction over the very solid data in front of you. I kept looking to reconcile a walk from the Gorge Brook Trail to the Carriage Road, and the GPS map was not cooperating.
At this point I decided to go low tech, and a got out the map and compass. Two things were discovered – first, I was on the Benton Trail heading AWAY from my intended direction, even the accidental one. Second, good luck opening a paper map in 40-50mph winds.
The damn map flapped in ways that would be comical, if not for the sense of urgency to locate our way back before Brian, Amy and Karen might try to head back looking for us. Trying to separate the folds was impossible with my gloves. I was able to open it and determine our position and direction when I took off one of my gloves; which proceeded to take off on it’s own. It did not take long for it to fly out of view. For the record, I have lost one glove/mitten on two consecutive NH4K hikes. By luck, the mitten was recovered, but I suspect this glove may as well have vanished from reality as it vanished from sight.
Gary and I slowly shuffled back to the summit trying to keep each other in sight when the next cairn was sometimes tricky to find. Once we got back to the relative comfort of the trees, I ran ahead and was pleased to hear that Brian and Amy were there and that Karen had decided to head down because of a pulled muscle.
At this point, we unstrapped our Ass Shingles Of Death, and headed down. Brian had come to the conclusion that the Glencliff trail would make a great ASOD run, and he was dead on. Barring a quarter mile of flat section around 3500’, this was about as perfect a run as possible.
I hesitate to mention it, because if the government had any idea how much fun we had, they would probably make it illegal. Not sure which was more fun, quarter mile runs dodging trees and trying to manage speeds, or the great laughs we had at each others expense when the sleds went off the hardpack and into the soft snow. At one point I was seated, flying towards a turn. Then I’m buried to my shoulders with my head sticking out of the snow like a periscope. Gary and I caught up with Karen and we sledded down the final sections laughing like a bunch of schoolkids with a day off.
At the parking lot, we packed away gear, tried removing as much snow as possible from our backs and pants, and said our goodbyes.
In the future, when faced with the lack of reference points that low visibility brings, I will be taking a quick compass reading. I felt pretty stupid about the incident, particularly since THERE IS ALSO A SIGN POINTING THE WAY to the Glencliff trail on the summit itself.
It ain’t easy being a fool, but it is better than being one of my gloves.
Gary (scoutmaster) and I met up with Brian (New Hampshire) and Amy (getawaygirl) for the carpool up to Moosilauke, where Karen (HappyHiker) was already geared up and waiting.
Temps were fairly reasonable, and our pace relaxed as we ambled up the mostly well- packed Glencliff trail in our snowshoes. The Glencliff trail is pretty steady on the ascent without being too steep, and travels through some pretty woods up to the Carriage road. Aside from one pair of hikers heading up, a group of five headed down, a few chickadees and plenty of bunny tracks - we had the trail to ourselves.
At the carriage road junction we stopped for lunch. Brain had brought along one of those heat in bag meals, which was very popular - at least the warm bag we passed back and forth to hold was. We ate and layered up before heading above treeline. Visibility here was about 150-200 feet, and the winds started out fairly gentle. Once again, as I arrived at the summit conditions worsened. Visibility was decreased and the winds began gusting pretty strong. When I lifted my snowshoes too high off the ground, they caught the breeze like a sail and made for some interesting dances to prevent a fall.
I hunkered down behind a rock and waited for the others to emerge from the fog. Gary was the last to appear, a simple shadow in the fog gradually becoming clearer over the next 30 seconds. Small particles of ice were caught in the wind, stinging any exposed skin. I’m guessing wind was at least 40mph, with higher gusts. We did not dally long at the summit. We snapped a couple of quick shots and headed back.
Brain and Amy headed back first, and vanished in the fog almost immediately while Gary and I packed up. While heading back, I commented on how the wind seemed to have blown away all our tracks. My goggles had pretty much frozen up giving me the choice between zero visibility and fifty feet.
Before long, I commented on how things were looking rather different, and when we got back to the trees the descent was steeper than I imagined. At this time I wasn’t sure if we had taken the Gorge Brook trail or not. I pulled out the GPS and got a quick fix on our position, but discovered one interesting facet of being lost – until you admit you are lost (or rather, misplaced on the map ) you will still trust your own misguided sense of direction over the very solid data in front of you. I kept looking to reconcile a walk from the Gorge Brook Trail to the Carriage Road, and the GPS map was not cooperating.
At this point I decided to go low tech, and a got out the map and compass. Two things were discovered – first, I was on the Benton Trail heading AWAY from my intended direction, even the accidental one. Second, good luck opening a paper map in 40-50mph winds.
The damn map flapped in ways that would be comical, if not for the sense of urgency to locate our way back before Brian, Amy and Karen might try to head back looking for us. Trying to separate the folds was impossible with my gloves. I was able to open it and determine our position and direction when I took off one of my gloves; which proceeded to take off on it’s own. It did not take long for it to fly out of view. For the record, I have lost one glove/mitten on two consecutive NH4K hikes. By luck, the mitten was recovered, but I suspect this glove may as well have vanished from reality as it vanished from sight.
Gary and I slowly shuffled back to the summit trying to keep each other in sight when the next cairn was sometimes tricky to find. Once we got back to the relative comfort of the trees, I ran ahead and was pleased to hear that Brian and Amy were there and that Karen had decided to head down because of a pulled muscle.
At this point, we unstrapped our Ass Shingles Of Death, and headed down. Brian had come to the conclusion that the Glencliff trail would make a great ASOD run, and he was dead on. Barring a quarter mile of flat section around 3500’, this was about as perfect a run as possible.
I hesitate to mention it, because if the government had any idea how much fun we had, they would probably make it illegal. Not sure which was more fun, quarter mile runs dodging trees and trying to manage speeds, or the great laughs we had at each others expense when the sleds went off the hardpack and into the soft snow. At one point I was seated, flying towards a turn. Then I’m buried to my shoulders with my head sticking out of the snow like a periscope. Gary and I caught up with Karen and we sledded down the final sections laughing like a bunch of schoolkids with a day off.
At the parking lot, we packed away gear, tried removing as much snow as possible from our backs and pants, and said our goodbyes.
In the future, when faced with the lack of reference points that low visibility brings, I will be taking a quick compass reading. I felt pretty stupid about the incident, particularly since THERE IS ALSO A SIGN POINTING THE WAY to the Glencliff trail on the summit itself.
It ain’t easy being a fool, but it is better than being one of my gloves.
