MrAmeche
New member
After an early rise at 4:00 AM I ate breakfast, packed up, and left the house at 4:45 for the Whites. My plan was to hike Mount Jefferson via the Caps Ridge Trail, but I ended up pushing myself a lot harder and farther than I should have. I arrived at the parking lot in Jefferson Notch at 7:25, and as soon as I opened the car door the swarm started. Hundreds of mosquitoes began landing on any exposed skin that they could find, making stretching and getting my pack together a serious chore. I was getting a workout from the violent swatting with my hands, and though I only use it in case of emergency, I sprayed DEET on my legs (I felt this qualified as one). Somehow I was able to pay the fee, stretch, and apply sunscreen, and at 7:35 I started on the Caps Ridge Trail. There were only two other cars in the parking lot. It was so humid and muggy that it felt like you could cut the air with a knife. The sky was mostly clear, but it was so hazy that it almost felt like it was overcast.
The trail started in a wet, muddy section and began ascending the wooded ridge; the bugs were almost unbearable. A few hundred yards up the trail, I could tell something was wrong (other than the mosquitoes). This was my first hike with my new Timberland waterproof boots, and my heels were beginning to burn slightly. At the granite outcrop a mile into the trail I stopped to examine my feet. There was a slight breeze, so the bugs weren’t really an issue as I removed my boots. I placed bandages on my heels and readjusted my socks, helping to alleviate the pain. I was shocked and excited as I saw what lay ahead of me on the trail, a steep climb of jagged cliffs and ledges. I resumed my pace, and though my feet felt a little better, I could still feel a mild sting with every step.
Eventually I reached the treeline and began scaling the Caps Ridge. The footing was good, the trail well marked, and there weren’t any dangerous or risky scrambles. Physically I felt great, possibly not hydrated enough but glad to be out in the exposure and away from the mosquitoes. I pushed on past the intersection of The Cornice and up the final stretch to the summit of Jefferson. I reached the top at 9:20 and took in the spectacular 360 degree views of the Southern and Northern Presidentials. Because of the humidity it was difficult to distinguish any roads or buildings down in the valleys, making for a nice “on top of the world” effect. I rested for a few minutes and rehydrated, took some pictures, and stood on each of the two rocky summits.
At this moment of the hike I should have listened to my feet and began descending the mountain back to my car. But it was still early in the day, and Washington looked so close, I decided to go for it. In retrospect, I don’t necessarily regret my decision, but it simply wasn’t a rational thing to do with the pain in my heels and feet. I started down Jefferson, met the Gulfside Trail, and descended into the beautiful Monticello Lawn and Sphinx Col. The sun was beginning to burn off the haze from earlier, the breeze was nice and cool, and the views were gorgeous in every direction. I also began seeing groups of other hikers for the first time today; nearly everyone was either coming from or going to Madison Hut or the Lakes Hut.
After 20 minutes or so I met the loop to ascend Mount Clay, and since it was on the way, I decided to climb over it rather than around it. The ascent was brief and not too difficult or strenuous, and I reached the top at 10:10. Once again, the views were excellent, especially east into the Great Gulf. I chatted with two other hikers at the summit for a moment, then continued on toward Washington. The trail descended from Clay, met the bypass trail of Gulfside, and I began ascending the north side Washington. The train on the Cog Railway was getting louder and within clear sight, as well as the few cars on the Auto Road. Though I was quite exhausted and my feet were burning, I continued on and joined the Great Gulf trail, stopping frequently to drink.
At long last I reached Washington at 11:10, and stood on the summit for a quick moment before a horde of tourists smothered it. This was my first time on the highest peak in the Northeast, and although there were a lot of people milling around, the crowds weren’t as bad as I’d expected. The inner workings of the mind can be fascinating after such strenuous physical exertion, and two words began swimming in my head like a mantra: hot dog. I was incredibly hungry, so I ventured inside the summit house to explore the cafeteria. Against any remaining shred of judgment left, I bought a hot dog and a chili dog, and along with my packed lunch, sat down at a vacant table for my feast. I would tend to my feet later. After two bites of the hot dog, I came to the conclusion that it was quite possibly the most foul thing I had ever tasted. The chili dog didn’t fare any better. Wanting to avoid a midday summit vomit, yet starving nonetheless, I returned to my usual packed lunch, mildly disappointed.
After lunch I filled up my water bottles, walked out to a picnic table and took my boots off. As I had expected, there were two silver dollar-sized blisters on my heels, and quite a few more smaller ones on the bottoms of both feet. By now the stinging pain was almost numbing, and I bandaged them up as best as I could. Logic was telling me to buy a train ticket and descend the mountain on the Railway, but that would still require an unpleasant two-mile road hike back to my car from the station parking lot. I decided to hike back down on foot, a decision that would prove to be much worse than the hot dog fiasco.
The summit had been engulfed in clouds the entire time I had been there, but I explored the top for a few minutes anyway, taking pictures of the observatory and the minimal views. I amused myself by overhearing a few of the tourists, who said things like, “This is the highest point east of the Mississippi!” and, “Why does the train go down the mountain backwards?” At 11:50 I began my descent via the Great Gulf trail, and since I wasn’t going uphill, the pain on my heels wasn’t as bad. Around 12:30 PM or so I heard what I had been trying not to hear all morning: the low rumbling of thunder. I picked up my pace. I continued past the Mount Clay loop, going around the west side of the mountain. The sky was getting darker, and my only goal was to get below treeline before it started storming. Every ten minutes or so I would meet a group of hikers, some more nervous about the weather than others.
My heart sunk as I reached the Sphinx Col and I looked up to see my re-ascent of Jefferson. With my little remaining energy I began my way up the trail as it started to rain lightly. After what seemed like forever I met The Cornice and turned left, down toward the Caps Ridge Trail. The Cornice isn’t so much as trail as a rough rock-hop from one cairn to the next, and the rain began increasing in intensity. Thunder echoed across the sky as I took care stepping from one wet rock to the next. Pushing through the pain in my feet, I met the Caps Ridge Trail and continued my descent. Admittedly, going down the cliffs wasn’t as tough as I’d expected when coming up, but I had to use extra caution on the slippery ledges. I met a few people waiting out the storm underneath some rocks, and we had a laugh at how drenched we were and the absurdity of the situation.
By the time I entered the low scrub below treeline it had started to downpour and my body was being taxed in every way. I suffered a nasty fall trying to descend a large rock slab, but I was okay for the most part. I began to worry about a few of the items in my Camelback, in particular my cellphone and my wallet, which I had buried underneath an extra shirt for protection from the rain. The last part of the trail below treeline was a cold, numbing trudge in the rain as the trail turned from a small creek into a gushing river in places, and one of the longest miles of any hike to date. Fortunately, I didn’t succumb to any serious slips or falls, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I finally stumbled onto the parking lot at 2:35. I slumped into the front seat of my car, and winced as I removed my soaking wet boots and socks. Both feet were barely recognizable, but luckily, I could still drive without too much pain. My wallet and cellphone had made it out unscathed as well. I had hiked approximately 10.7 miles with 4300’ total of elevation gain. My “summit fever” had seriously clouded my judgment today, and my feet were going to pay for it. Oddly enough, however, and despite the pain, my new boots felt much better stability-wise than my old Tevas, and I looked forward to breaking them in. From now on, I’ll be wrapping my feet before I start hiking to avoid the onset of any blisters.
The trail started in a wet, muddy section and began ascending the wooded ridge; the bugs were almost unbearable. A few hundred yards up the trail, I could tell something was wrong (other than the mosquitoes). This was my first hike with my new Timberland waterproof boots, and my heels were beginning to burn slightly. At the granite outcrop a mile into the trail I stopped to examine my feet. There was a slight breeze, so the bugs weren’t really an issue as I removed my boots. I placed bandages on my heels and readjusted my socks, helping to alleviate the pain. I was shocked and excited as I saw what lay ahead of me on the trail, a steep climb of jagged cliffs and ledges. I resumed my pace, and though my feet felt a little better, I could still feel a mild sting with every step.
Eventually I reached the treeline and began scaling the Caps Ridge. The footing was good, the trail well marked, and there weren’t any dangerous or risky scrambles. Physically I felt great, possibly not hydrated enough but glad to be out in the exposure and away from the mosquitoes. I pushed on past the intersection of The Cornice and up the final stretch to the summit of Jefferson. I reached the top at 9:20 and took in the spectacular 360 degree views of the Southern and Northern Presidentials. Because of the humidity it was difficult to distinguish any roads or buildings down in the valleys, making for a nice “on top of the world” effect. I rested for a few minutes and rehydrated, took some pictures, and stood on each of the two rocky summits.
At this moment of the hike I should have listened to my feet and began descending the mountain back to my car. But it was still early in the day, and Washington looked so close, I decided to go for it. In retrospect, I don’t necessarily regret my decision, but it simply wasn’t a rational thing to do with the pain in my heels and feet. I started down Jefferson, met the Gulfside Trail, and descended into the beautiful Monticello Lawn and Sphinx Col. The sun was beginning to burn off the haze from earlier, the breeze was nice and cool, and the views were gorgeous in every direction. I also began seeing groups of other hikers for the first time today; nearly everyone was either coming from or going to Madison Hut or the Lakes Hut.
After 20 minutes or so I met the loop to ascend Mount Clay, and since it was on the way, I decided to climb over it rather than around it. The ascent was brief and not too difficult or strenuous, and I reached the top at 10:10. Once again, the views were excellent, especially east into the Great Gulf. I chatted with two other hikers at the summit for a moment, then continued on toward Washington. The trail descended from Clay, met the bypass trail of Gulfside, and I began ascending the north side Washington. The train on the Cog Railway was getting louder and within clear sight, as well as the few cars on the Auto Road. Though I was quite exhausted and my feet were burning, I continued on and joined the Great Gulf trail, stopping frequently to drink.
At long last I reached Washington at 11:10, and stood on the summit for a quick moment before a horde of tourists smothered it. This was my first time on the highest peak in the Northeast, and although there were a lot of people milling around, the crowds weren’t as bad as I’d expected. The inner workings of the mind can be fascinating after such strenuous physical exertion, and two words began swimming in my head like a mantra: hot dog. I was incredibly hungry, so I ventured inside the summit house to explore the cafeteria. Against any remaining shred of judgment left, I bought a hot dog and a chili dog, and along with my packed lunch, sat down at a vacant table for my feast. I would tend to my feet later. After two bites of the hot dog, I came to the conclusion that it was quite possibly the most foul thing I had ever tasted. The chili dog didn’t fare any better. Wanting to avoid a midday summit vomit, yet starving nonetheless, I returned to my usual packed lunch, mildly disappointed.
After lunch I filled up my water bottles, walked out to a picnic table and took my boots off. As I had expected, there were two silver dollar-sized blisters on my heels, and quite a few more smaller ones on the bottoms of both feet. By now the stinging pain was almost numbing, and I bandaged them up as best as I could. Logic was telling me to buy a train ticket and descend the mountain on the Railway, but that would still require an unpleasant two-mile road hike back to my car from the station parking lot. I decided to hike back down on foot, a decision that would prove to be much worse than the hot dog fiasco.
The summit had been engulfed in clouds the entire time I had been there, but I explored the top for a few minutes anyway, taking pictures of the observatory and the minimal views. I amused myself by overhearing a few of the tourists, who said things like, “This is the highest point east of the Mississippi!” and, “Why does the train go down the mountain backwards?” At 11:50 I began my descent via the Great Gulf trail, and since I wasn’t going uphill, the pain on my heels wasn’t as bad. Around 12:30 PM or so I heard what I had been trying not to hear all morning: the low rumbling of thunder. I picked up my pace. I continued past the Mount Clay loop, going around the west side of the mountain. The sky was getting darker, and my only goal was to get below treeline before it started storming. Every ten minutes or so I would meet a group of hikers, some more nervous about the weather than others.
My heart sunk as I reached the Sphinx Col and I looked up to see my re-ascent of Jefferson. With my little remaining energy I began my way up the trail as it started to rain lightly. After what seemed like forever I met The Cornice and turned left, down toward the Caps Ridge Trail. The Cornice isn’t so much as trail as a rough rock-hop from one cairn to the next, and the rain began increasing in intensity. Thunder echoed across the sky as I took care stepping from one wet rock to the next. Pushing through the pain in my feet, I met the Caps Ridge Trail and continued my descent. Admittedly, going down the cliffs wasn’t as tough as I’d expected when coming up, but I had to use extra caution on the slippery ledges. I met a few people waiting out the storm underneath some rocks, and we had a laugh at how drenched we were and the absurdity of the situation.
By the time I entered the low scrub below treeline it had started to downpour and my body was being taxed in every way. I suffered a nasty fall trying to descend a large rock slab, but I was okay for the most part. I began to worry about a few of the items in my Camelback, in particular my cellphone and my wallet, which I had buried underneath an extra shirt for protection from the rain. The last part of the trail below treeline was a cold, numbing trudge in the rain as the trail turned from a small creek into a gushing river in places, and one of the longest miles of any hike to date. Fortunately, I didn’t succumb to any serious slips or falls, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I finally stumbled onto the parking lot at 2:35. I slumped into the front seat of my car, and winced as I removed my soaking wet boots and socks. Both feet were barely recognizable, but luckily, I could still drive without too much pain. My wallet and cellphone had made it out unscathed as well. I had hiked approximately 10.7 miles with 4300’ total of elevation gain. My “summit fever” had seriously clouded my judgment today, and my feet were going to pay for it. Oddly enough, however, and despite the pain, my new boots felt much better stability-wise than my old Tevas, and I looked forward to breaking them in. From now on, I’ll be wrapping my feet before I start hiking to avoid the onset of any blisters.
