Early Bird
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(Gig, Baby Maxine, and I are on our way to North Conway for another weekend of light hiking. As a passenger in the backseat next to our sleeping baby, I finally find the time to type a trip report.)
This past Wednesday, Daddy, you, and I climbed our largest mountain of late-Grand Mount Monadnock. Being the location of my first hiking experience some 13 years ago, it’d have been nice to have been able to tell you, Maxine, when you are old enough to know that at almost 3 months old this was also your first hike. But it isn’t. You’ve been out six times previously on shorter ascents to lesser peaks, starting when you were five weeks old. Practice hikes. How will you do today? It is typical that you sleep on the way up; awake, feed, and be changed on top; and sleep on the way down again. Because of this, you miss the visuals of the trip. Here I will share it with you.June 17th was forecasted to be a beautiful day: the skies clear blue, temperatures were in the mid 60’s, with summit temps in the 50’s. There was to be a bit of wind, so we brought jackets for ourselves and a blanket for you. The bugs stayed hidden all day for which we were thankful. Having hiked almost every trail on the mountain myself, I knew to begin up one of the paths less taken rather than from the Park Headquarters. The trails on the southwest side are gentler, involving less scrambling. I chose to start at the Old Halfway House Trail and on the advice of the Old Toll Road Queen continue up the Sidefoot Trail to the inevitable exposed rock slabs on the White Arrow, 2.13 miles and about 1700’ of elevation gain.
We left the house around 8:45 just in time for your first nap. Lulled by the drone of the car, you slept longer than usual, but when we arrived at the trailhead you awoke. I put you in your Ergo front carrier and off we went.
Alert, you listened to the ovenbirds, the red-eyed vireos and black throated-blue warblers in the hardwood forest, the chipmunks alarm call before it scurried back towards its safe underground hole. I named the various trees for you: beech, sugar maples, shagbark hickory and told you stories of early settlers who built the stone walls we saw, the same men and women who started fires to thwart wolves, fire that ultimately raged out of control leaving the summit bald. We climbed an almost unnoticeable grade for a mile. You listened and looked around for a while before dozing off again well before we reached the grassy landing where the Halfway House Hotel once stood.
From here, we veered right into the woods again. The terrain still gentle, soon it gave way to hemlocks and spruce trees, leaving the hardwoods behind. To our right we passed the Do Drop Trail and the Hedgehog Trail. Here I reminded you of Hedgie from one of your favorite stories, The Hat. Maybe we’d find him wearing that mitten on his head if we followed that trail I told you. But it didn’t go where we were headed, so we stayed on Sidefoot. We crossed a couple of tiny streams. Streams we might on another day not find. This week’s earlier heavy rains had them flowing so that they sang a babbling song. We stepped right over and continued on, before long reaching the easily followed yellow and white blazes of the Amphitheater Trail. Thoreau explored this area. Daddy told you about one of his favorite quotes. It goes like this: “Simplify, Simplify, said Thoreau. One ‘Simplify’ would have sufficed, Emerson said in reply.” I told you how in 1858 Thoreau took a trip to the top of Monadnock with a friend and was disappointed to find newspaper and eggshells littered about. I told you I feel the same when I see orange peels up there, and I squatted down to pick up a Trident wrapper.
Finally we arrived at above treeline. How exciting, Maxine! The beauty of life above treeline. You slept, but still I noticed the three-toothed cinquefoil in bloom and several ericaceous species and pointed them out to you. In this section we maneuvered across the large slabs of schist with extra care. I pulled myself up slowing where giant steps were needed, keeping one hand on your head at all times. We heard ravens call. The excitement grew. Before long we reached the junction of the Marlboro and Dublin Trails, mere feet from the summit. In another minute, I was placing your little foot on the USGS marker. We made it, Maxine!
The summit was unusually quiet. Any weekend day there could be dozens and dozens of hikers on the summit. Today there were six others, three other groups of two. We found a sheltered spot for lunch. Daddy and I had hummus, crackers, and GORP. You had milk, of course. Twenty feet away, four ravens sang and danced for us, swooping and diving sometimes almost synchronized. Did you notice this? You were awake for that part. Then, not to dally, for we know your attention span isn’t too long, we began to make our way down. At first the wind blew hard. The cross between a confused and alarmed expression on your face showed you weren’t sure what to make of it, so I covered you with my jacket and the hood of you carrier. As carefully as we’d made our way up, we made our way down, stopping only to admire the unique lateral rainbow colors between stratus clouds and the porcupine shuffling away from us as we neared the Hedgehog Trail once more. But you were asleep again by then.
Back on the Old Halfway House Trail, perhaps ten minutes from the end, you awoke. Maxine you’ve already heard about this area. Another day we’ll bring you up again. You’ll be older and see more and we’ll tell you more so that the stories and sounds around you are as loved as those you hear at home. And soon the mountains will feel like home for you too.
