McRat
New member
Well it’s come to this, dear reader. Another McRat trip report.
In a way, you should earn a patch for reading all of these. It has been an honor to share my journey with you over the last couple of years. From my first hike up Pierce at the VFTT 7.5 winter gathering, to this day, I have met so many great people and received more advice and encouragement than I could count. Rather than listing all the people who have inspired me along the way and risk omitting anyone (it’s a big list) - I’d just like to thank everyone in the online hiking community. You’ve made many a boring day indoors enjoyable with your many posts, and without you I would never have traveled this far this soon.
In all fairness I must thank one person – the often mentioned “She-who-must-be-obeyed.” My wife, my love, and my hiking enabler. She’s taken care of the kids on this journey, picked me up at the hospital and cared for me during the more notable injuries, and even raised some wonderful future hiking partners. While not a hiker, she humors me by reading these T.R.s and I thought it was high time I included something she’d actually want to read. I love ya, honey!
Thank you all for following my rambling antics (and rambling writings). I sincerely hope you’ve had half as much fun reading these as I have had writing them.
Happy Trails,
Russ McRat
----------------------
Though I am not known for shortness of words, it’s been hard to write a trip report for my all season NH4K finish. I’ll just start at the beginning.
The alarm clock went off at 5:30am, about four hours after I was able to brush the anticipation aside and finally get some sleep. This would not normally be a problem except I had arranged to carpool with Gary… and had told him to meet then.
My wife and I had a rousing discussion over the miscommunication for a moment or so until the cell phone rang. Gary was 5 minutes away from the house.
Bleary eyed, I made a mad dash around the house, gathering up all my gear in that slow-motion frame of mind that exists somewhere between sleep and alertness. I decided that since I was most likely going to forget something, it would be quicker to overpack and sort it out later. Five minutes later, I was in my truck and headed up to Concord for our second carpool meet.
I’m not sure if it was my panic about being late, the absence of police cars, or the almost magnetic attraction I’ve had to North Twin - but we made excellent time – meeting Brian (New Hampshire) and the Jeneral at the lot just about on schedule.
Bob (Hikerfast) arrived a bit later and there was a brief custody battle over him. In the end I prevailed and he wound up riding with Brian and Jen.
As we arrived at the Seven Dwarfs, Doug(eh) and Drewski pulled up. We geared up, chatted a bit with Franz and each other for a while, and were ready to head up after a short delay. I had been saving a bottle of Yuengling lager for my finish, only to discover it had leaked into my clean change of clothes.
Nothing says ‘hiking’ like standing in a parking lot chain-smoking and drinking a beer.
The snowmobile trail to the road was in decent shape, and we barebooted our way up to the road. We followed the gentle grade, enjoying the conversational advantages wide paths can create.
We were all in good spirits, crunching along the snow in comfortably cool 40°F temperatures. We came upon some larger cat-like tracks, which I photographed for hopeful identification.
We regrouped at the trailhead and I saw the sign – “North Twin 4.3 miles à” The thought of actually finishing the list seemed surreal and exciting at the same time. Was this some momentous occasion or just another enjoyable walk in the woods? Given North Twin’s propensity for foiling me, I decided to focus on the latter until we had made the river crossings.
This was very easy to do. The first couple of miles of the North Twin trail continue at fairly easy grades through lovely woods along the Little River. With chickadees serenading us from the birches, we walked aside the partially frozen river under blue skies. Here I was, heading onward to my final peak on the list in perfect weather – laughing, smoking like the Cog, and joking around with friends – it was one of many “magic moments” enjoyed this day and enshrined in memory.
We caught up with indefatigable Drewski, our Sherpa du jour, at the herd path for the bushwhack. We cleverly placed a few postholes to mark the turn-off before we strapped on our snowshoes for the remainder of the trip.
As bushwhacks go, this one was fairly easy to follow. Just follow the herd path, and where it gets confusing and you’ll find Drewski waiting. Just follow him as he runs out of sight, and you’ll find him at the next junction.
Eventually Drew had scouted out a crossing back to the trail, and we made our way over the mostly frozen river. There were large holes in the ice revealing a thickness of about two and a half feet thick. We walked over it with the knowledge that the melting snow was all that stood between us and certain wetness. I took a step and heard a groan beneath me, while Dougeh felt the seismic shift underfoot – wakes you up better than coffee.
The long approach was fairly easy, but came with the realization that easy approaches usually have steep finishes. After the final crossing, the trail became a lot more uppity.
Gary had recently got over a cold, and the trail seemed to be hitting him hard. With Drew scouting ahead, we let Gary lead the pack. We took several breaks, but we were all having so much fun the time flew by.
When we got our first views through the scrubby pines toward Washington, I was beside myself with anticipation. I briefly knew what my dog must have felt like when we would drive by the lake. Though she was a medium sized mutt, she would loose all control and try to squeeze out through a one-inch opening in the windows.
As the views opened up, the grades started becoming less steep. I looked ahead and saw Drew enjoying a rocky ledge. I asked him in disbelief, “is this it?!”
“Nope, about another half mile.”
I caught up with him at the false summit and saw it in the distance. While the others stopped to enjoy the view, I kept walking towards it. I kept thinking, “this is it”. I began to think of how long it had been since I started, and all the memories of the journey flooded my head. Two years, two months, and nine days.
I started getting emotional, while at the same time feeling ridiculous for getting a bit choked up. I’m thinking of how long I’ve been at it, how it’s just like any other hike. I told myself to calm down, that I’d be there soon – only to hear my inner dialogue interrupted by one command.
RUN.
Most people who’ve hiked with me know I’m usually the slow and steady type. I’ve answered repeated requests to speed up with my stock answer, “I have five speeds, and the all the others are slower.”
But I ran. Slamming my snowshoes through the mashed potato snow, I imagine I was an amusing spectacle. Overweight smoker in overdrive. By the time I hit the trail junction, breathing was tight and I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. I slowed down and panted my way up the short spur to the summit and outlook.
I made it. The peak that denied me harshly was comfortably under my bootheels.
I can’t really describe the feeling- the wash of emotion and memory congealed into a manageable reality and the short run bought me some time to compose myself before the others arrived. The ecstatic thrill of accomplishment mixed with some sadness at escaping the tyranny of the list. Maybe it’s some variant of Stockholm Syndrome, but the list had become an organizing principle for my hikes/(life?), and now that impetus was gone.
The others arrived I feasted on champagne and girl scout cookies, having left my sandwich in the car in the rush to get moving. Hikerfast’s ankle was bothering him and he did not make the summit, but in Fool Scout tradition, he sent a bottle up with Dougeh as his proxy.
Gary, the hardest working man on the trail that day, claimed his 14th 4K, and we enjoyed a couple of swigs of an 18 year old Caol Ila single malt scotch. While visibility had decreased since the start of the day, the weather was great for soaking in the summit and pointing out all the peaks.
We walked down to find Hikerfast resting comfortably on a groundpad in the middle of the trail. Since we were feeling the log day in our knees, we took a short break while Gary walked ahead in one-foot-in-front-of-the-other mode. I thanked Bob for the delicious scotch, and we shared another swig before moving on.
We walked back down to the river, and picked up a mushroom I had overlooked before. Carved onto the cap was “McRat – 48”. I carried my commemorative fungus during the last few miles back pondering the journey. We watched the snow up in the mountains and even got some light flakes. I thought they were a beautiful touch to the scenery.
When we arrived back at our cars, Brian presented me with an AMC 4000 footer patch.
I thought it would be bigger. I wasn’t disappointed; it just struck me funny. The NH Firetower Quest gives you a lot more patch area for the effort.
On April 2nd, I’ll get my next patch – Nicotine. If I can hike hundreds of miles, and tens of thousands of vertical feet for a list – I can quit smoking again.
(pics later)
In a way, you should earn a patch for reading all of these. It has been an honor to share my journey with you over the last couple of years. From my first hike up Pierce at the VFTT 7.5 winter gathering, to this day, I have met so many great people and received more advice and encouragement than I could count. Rather than listing all the people who have inspired me along the way and risk omitting anyone (it’s a big list) - I’d just like to thank everyone in the online hiking community. You’ve made many a boring day indoors enjoyable with your many posts, and without you I would never have traveled this far this soon.
In all fairness I must thank one person – the often mentioned “She-who-must-be-obeyed.” My wife, my love, and my hiking enabler. She’s taken care of the kids on this journey, picked me up at the hospital and cared for me during the more notable injuries, and even raised some wonderful future hiking partners. While not a hiker, she humors me by reading these T.R.s and I thought it was high time I included something she’d actually want to read. I love ya, honey!
Thank you all for following my rambling antics (and rambling writings). I sincerely hope you’ve had half as much fun reading these as I have had writing them.
Happy Trails,
Russ McRat
----------------------
Though I am not known for shortness of words, it’s been hard to write a trip report for my all season NH4K finish. I’ll just start at the beginning.
The alarm clock went off at 5:30am, about four hours after I was able to brush the anticipation aside and finally get some sleep. This would not normally be a problem except I had arranged to carpool with Gary… and had told him to meet then.
My wife and I had a rousing discussion over the miscommunication for a moment or so until the cell phone rang. Gary was 5 minutes away from the house.
Bleary eyed, I made a mad dash around the house, gathering up all my gear in that slow-motion frame of mind that exists somewhere between sleep and alertness. I decided that since I was most likely going to forget something, it would be quicker to overpack and sort it out later. Five minutes later, I was in my truck and headed up to Concord for our second carpool meet.
I’m not sure if it was my panic about being late, the absence of police cars, or the almost magnetic attraction I’ve had to North Twin - but we made excellent time – meeting Brian (New Hampshire) and the Jeneral at the lot just about on schedule.
Bob (Hikerfast) arrived a bit later and there was a brief custody battle over him. In the end I prevailed and he wound up riding with Brian and Jen.
As we arrived at the Seven Dwarfs, Doug(eh) and Drewski pulled up. We geared up, chatted a bit with Franz and each other for a while, and were ready to head up after a short delay. I had been saving a bottle of Yuengling lager for my finish, only to discover it had leaked into my clean change of clothes.
Nothing says ‘hiking’ like standing in a parking lot chain-smoking and drinking a beer.
The snowmobile trail to the road was in decent shape, and we barebooted our way up to the road. We followed the gentle grade, enjoying the conversational advantages wide paths can create.
We were all in good spirits, crunching along the snow in comfortably cool 40°F temperatures. We came upon some larger cat-like tracks, which I photographed for hopeful identification.
We regrouped at the trailhead and I saw the sign – “North Twin 4.3 miles à” The thought of actually finishing the list seemed surreal and exciting at the same time. Was this some momentous occasion or just another enjoyable walk in the woods? Given North Twin’s propensity for foiling me, I decided to focus on the latter until we had made the river crossings.
This was very easy to do. The first couple of miles of the North Twin trail continue at fairly easy grades through lovely woods along the Little River. With chickadees serenading us from the birches, we walked aside the partially frozen river under blue skies. Here I was, heading onward to my final peak on the list in perfect weather – laughing, smoking like the Cog, and joking around with friends – it was one of many “magic moments” enjoyed this day and enshrined in memory.
We caught up with indefatigable Drewski, our Sherpa du jour, at the herd path for the bushwhack. We cleverly placed a few postholes to mark the turn-off before we strapped on our snowshoes for the remainder of the trip.
As bushwhacks go, this one was fairly easy to follow. Just follow the herd path, and where it gets confusing and you’ll find Drewski waiting. Just follow him as he runs out of sight, and you’ll find him at the next junction.
Eventually Drew had scouted out a crossing back to the trail, and we made our way over the mostly frozen river. There were large holes in the ice revealing a thickness of about two and a half feet thick. We walked over it with the knowledge that the melting snow was all that stood between us and certain wetness. I took a step and heard a groan beneath me, while Dougeh felt the seismic shift underfoot – wakes you up better than coffee.
The long approach was fairly easy, but came with the realization that easy approaches usually have steep finishes. After the final crossing, the trail became a lot more uppity.
Gary had recently got over a cold, and the trail seemed to be hitting him hard. With Drew scouting ahead, we let Gary lead the pack. We took several breaks, but we were all having so much fun the time flew by.
When we got our first views through the scrubby pines toward Washington, I was beside myself with anticipation. I briefly knew what my dog must have felt like when we would drive by the lake. Though she was a medium sized mutt, she would loose all control and try to squeeze out through a one-inch opening in the windows.
As the views opened up, the grades started becoming less steep. I looked ahead and saw Drew enjoying a rocky ledge. I asked him in disbelief, “is this it?!”
“Nope, about another half mile.”
I caught up with him at the false summit and saw it in the distance. While the others stopped to enjoy the view, I kept walking towards it. I kept thinking, “this is it”. I began to think of how long it had been since I started, and all the memories of the journey flooded my head. Two years, two months, and nine days.
I started getting emotional, while at the same time feeling ridiculous for getting a bit choked up. I’m thinking of how long I’ve been at it, how it’s just like any other hike. I told myself to calm down, that I’d be there soon – only to hear my inner dialogue interrupted by one command.
RUN.
Most people who’ve hiked with me know I’m usually the slow and steady type. I’ve answered repeated requests to speed up with my stock answer, “I have five speeds, and the all the others are slower.”
But I ran. Slamming my snowshoes through the mashed potato snow, I imagine I was an amusing spectacle. Overweight smoker in overdrive. By the time I hit the trail junction, breathing was tight and I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. I slowed down and panted my way up the short spur to the summit and outlook.
I made it. The peak that denied me harshly was comfortably under my bootheels.
I can’t really describe the feeling- the wash of emotion and memory congealed into a manageable reality and the short run bought me some time to compose myself before the others arrived. The ecstatic thrill of accomplishment mixed with some sadness at escaping the tyranny of the list. Maybe it’s some variant of Stockholm Syndrome, but the list had become an organizing principle for my hikes/(life?), and now that impetus was gone.
The others arrived I feasted on champagne and girl scout cookies, having left my sandwich in the car in the rush to get moving. Hikerfast’s ankle was bothering him and he did not make the summit, but in Fool Scout tradition, he sent a bottle up with Dougeh as his proxy.
Gary, the hardest working man on the trail that day, claimed his 14th 4K, and we enjoyed a couple of swigs of an 18 year old Caol Ila single malt scotch. While visibility had decreased since the start of the day, the weather was great for soaking in the summit and pointing out all the peaks.
We walked down to find Hikerfast resting comfortably on a groundpad in the middle of the trail. Since we were feeling the log day in our knees, we took a short break while Gary walked ahead in one-foot-in-front-of-the-other mode. I thanked Bob for the delicious scotch, and we shared another swig before moving on.
We walked back down to the river, and picked up a mushroom I had overlooked before. Carved onto the cap was “McRat – 48”. I carried my commemorative fungus during the last few miles back pondering the journey. We watched the snow up in the mountains and even got some light flakes. I thought they were a beautiful touch to the scenery.
When we arrived back at our cars, Brian presented me with an AMC 4000 footer patch.
I thought it would be bigger. I wasn’t disappointed; it just struck me funny. The NH Firetower Quest gives you a lot more patch area for the effort.
On April 2nd, I’ll get my next patch – Nicotine. If I can hike hundreds of miles, and tens of thousands of vertical feet for a list – I can quit smoking again.
(pics later)
