AT in NH: Opportunity Knocks and An Adventure Begins - Crawford Notch to Nauman Campsite

Appalachian Trail, White Mountains, NH – 8/17/12 – Crawford Notch to Nauman Campsite – 6.4 Miles (8 Hours)

Opportunity knocked and I answered:  My hiking friend Judy (Heartfire) was working on another long section of the AT, conquering Massachusetts and Vermont, having a great time, she messaged on Facebook.  Was she heading through New Hampshire?  For years I’ve wanted to hike the AT through the White Mountains but couldn’t work it out.  Here’s my chance!  A few phone calls and emails, Judy’s willingness to rearrange her itinerary, a couple of days to think about it, a click of the mouse for a plane ticket, and New Hampshire, here I come.

If I have learned anything about hiking, especially with Judy, it is to be flexible and ready to change plans.  (Read about our infamous boat shuttle experience.)  I flew into Manchester, NH, on a Thursday.  Judy picked me up and we drove to Crawford Notch, looking for a campground to pick up her resupply package and spend the night before beginning our 5-day section.  Well, the campground people did not accept packages from the post office, did not give shuttle rides to the trailhead (we had to turn in our rental car) and did not seem all that interested in us even staying at their campground.  Plan B:  find a motel, eat a nice dinner, and arrange for a cab to shuttle us in the morning from the car rental dropoff to the post office and then to the trailhead. 

On Friday morning the logistics worked out smoothly, Judy got her resupply package with food and warmer clothing, and we found ourselves standing on the side of Highway 302 at the Webster Cliff trailhead at 9:00 a.m.  Let’s pause for a moment while the intrepid backpackers are still fresh and eagerly anticipating their adventure.

Mt. Webster, 3,000 feet straight up in 2.8 miles.  We can do this.  People do it all the time.

The trail started off in a dense forest, stepping over thick roots and some rocks, and moderately climbed, getting steeper but okay.  The first mile climbed 1,000 feet in about an hour (Judy’s altimeter helped us gauge our progress.)  Not bad – we can do this.  If it’s all like this we’ve got it made.  Just a matter of one step at a time.  The effort was heating me up plenty, with sweat dripping off my nose and elbows. I had heard that when thru-hikers get to the White Mountains they slow down from their 20+-mile-per-day pace, but this seems doable.

Yes, it’s a trail

So far the view looks like the Smokies

At the first big rock outcropping we met a couple of young AT thru- hikers.  I missed the woman’s name, but the guy was a young African-American who called himself Mr. Fabulous.  He wore a knit cap into which were tucked long dreadlocks.  We had a nice conversation, and as they moved on we wished everyone luck and we’d see them later on down the trail.  But…I’m sure they got further than we did and we’ll never see them again.  The randomness of briefly connecting and then disconnecting on the trail is mysterious and awesome.  I don’t remember everyone, but because I made a note and am writing this blog entry I will always remember Mr. Fabulous.

First overlook where we met Mr. Fab

And THEN…We faced our first wall of rock, maybe eight feet high, maybe not an impossible pitch, maybe not so bad if you didn’t have a 30-pound pack on your back.  We muttered under our breaths as we got up the first one, stepped up some big rocks for a few dozen yards, and then met our next wall of rock.  Time after time, relentless, scaling small walls.  I put my poles away once, but then wanted them back and they were impossible to retrieve from my pack without help.  When I wanted them out of the way going forward (upward? downward?) I collapsed them down and let them dangle from my wrists.  Sometimes we threw our poles up over the wall before climbing, holding onto tree roots and branches, even handfuls of spruce branches. 

Oh, and then we’d encounter a wall that we had to descend – throw the poles down and then scoot on our butts down to the bottom.  How long is this interesting and entertaining?  Not very long.  But we made it over Mt. Webster, check it off the life list, never goin’ back again.

Rock cairn at Mt. Webster, 6 feet tall

View from Mt. Webster

A little rest beside the white blaze

Judy was not amused by the amount of bouldering we encountered.  Her pack felt heavier than normal and unbalanced from her resupply.  She was concerned about the precarious footing and the possibility of slipping on the rock walls.  I was not having much fun either, but wasn’t hating it as much as she was.  I hoped to find reassurance that this was the worst of the trail and a good night’s sleep would help her regroup and regain her confidence.  We slowed down through this obstacle course and began to rethink our hike plan, agreeing to stop at the Naumann Campsite at the Mizpah Spring Hut rather than looking for a primitive site farther along the trail. 

  

Layers upon layers

Nearly 5 miles in we reached the summit of Mt. Jackson, a busy place with several groups passing through via the AT and different side trails.  A large church group of men and teenage boys was taking a break.  Judy had run out of water and they shared some with her.  (I ran out too by the time we reached Mizpah Spring Hut).  The trail mellowed out for a while with the occasional rock wall scramble, but it still required 1.5 hours to hike the remaining 1.7 miles to our day’s end. 

A bog on top of the mountain

Note that the trail signs don’t always indicate the AT (sometimes the symbol has been carved onto the signs).  Hikers need to know the names of the local trails that follow the AT route.

Mizpah Spring Hut

We arrived at Naumann just before 5:00 p.m. (remember the 9:00 a.m. start?) ending our 8-hour, 6.4-mile day.  The tent sites are all on raised wooden platforms, thus real estate is precious so don’t even think of spreading two tents over a six-tent platform.  The energetic young camp cop said they expected to be filled to the max.  So Judy and I found a platform where a nice man named Ian had already pitched his one-man tent on one end sliver and we set to work setting up ours.  (Ian and Judy discovered they had mutual friends in the AT long distance hiker community, i.e. small world.) 

But how to put up my Lightheart tent that requires tent stakes?  Fortunately I had the tent maker herself there to teach me.  Judy showed me how to tie guy lines to the stake loops, run the thin ropes under the platform board and secure them using the stakes as wedges.  I am a visual person so a verbal explanation was useless, but a demonstration was all it took.  I was tired and hungry but tickled to death to learn something new and valuable. 

Next we walked up to Mizpah Hut to fill up with water for drinking and for cooking – their water is already treated.  As we prepared and ate our meal, Ian gave us the scoop on what was ahead of us, as he was hiking southbound and had just covered the section we were beginning.  He did not paint an attractive picture.  He had hiked over from Madison Hut to Mt. Washington in a thick fog and struggled to go from cairn to cairn over the rocky terrain.  He also clued us in to the emergency shelter at Lake of the Clouds Hut (where we could not get reservations for the main bunk rooms), that the cost was $10 per person per night and the accommodations, although rough bunks in the “dungeon”, were better than hiking past the point of pain to get to a legal camping spot (it’s illegal to camp above tree line in the White Mtns.)  We noted all that he said and began to revise our plans for the rest of the trip.

After dinner we walked back to the far end of the camping area to store our food bags in the bear boxes provided, and along the way I slipped on the path and fell hard, flat on my back, with no backpack to soften the blow.  I had the wind knocked out of me and when Judy asked if I was okay I couldn’t speak.  After all we had done today, I can’t believe I fell down in camp!  My neck was stiff, a little touch of whiplash, for the rest of the trip.

Before calling it a night, Judy shared a little of the brandy she always carries and we toasted the end of the first day.  I was in my sleeping bag before 8:00 p.m., ready to crash, and I heard little tiny raindrops pitter-patting on my tent.  I hope it’s not raining in the morning.

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb  
~Miley Cyrus – “The Climb”

Tanawha Trail With Some New Friends

Tanawah Trail – 8/4/12 – 8.5 miles

I’ve been part of the Carolina Bergs outings committee for a while.  The job includes mentoring hike leaders, encouraging people to become hike leaders and even, yes, leading some hikes.  So far I have been lousy at this, mostly talking but not doing, because of my own hiking agenda.  There’s a big demand for moderate hikes (whatever that means) so I posted one on the calendar.  After a couple of weeks of people signing up and dropping out, I ended up meeting four new friends to hike on the Tanawah Trail.

Tanawah Trail background:  This spectacular trail along the Blue Ridge Parkway was opened near the same time that the Lynn Cove Viaduct section of the Parkway was completed.  Just as the Viaduct is an engineering marvel, the Tanawha Trail is a marvel of stone work and trail building at its best.  The trail begins at the Beacon Heights parking area and goes north for 13.5 miles to Julian Price Park Campground.  For our hike we chose an 8.5-mile stretch from Beacon Heights to the Boone Fork parking area.  It’s easy, moderate and strenuous in places, something for everyone.  This trail was new to everyone.

The Mountains-to-Sea Trail runs concurrently with the Tanawha Trail and the trail blazes often appear together, a white circle for the MST and a white feather for Tanawha.

The weather forecast was that 40% chance of rain which could mean anything, and as we approached the mountains it looked more for rain than against.  First we parked a car at Boone Fork and ran up the side trail to make sure we would recognize the intersection where the Tanawah meets it:  check, a nice big sign.  Then onward through the fog to Beacon Heights.  We couldn’t even see the Lynn Cove Viaduct as we drove over it.  Not good.

Beacon Heights is a worthy side trip in itself, a big rock face with big views, but we did not detour for it today, thinking it would be fogged in.   

The Tanawha drops quickly down below Parkway level and follows along one of its retaining walls.  Water flowing down from the Parkway had a muddy brown tint, less than usually appealing.

Today may be short of big views but spectacular for wildflowers in open areas.  This is one of many sections of wild goldenglow we passed.

We stopped briefly at the Visitor Center for the Viaduct, walked past the parking lot and underneath the Viaduct as it swings out into space.  Hi, Chris!

A giant octopus?  No, giant tree roots, bigger around than my thigh.  There is moderate rock scrambling over large boulders through this mile near the Viaduct. 

A recent blowdown but not a slow-down for Chris.

A large footbridge crosses Wilson Creek and Doreen scrambled down to the water for a photo op.  That is misty fog giving the light effect, not camera operator error.  We walked through this ethereal mist for most of the day.

Waning bee balm

Past Wilson Creek the trail climbs dramatically and signs indicate a fragile environment and direct hikers to stay on the trail.  At one point we reached a very large boulder and there was a question of which way the trail went around the boulder.  This is when I lost control of the group. 

Jim, Doreen and Chris went left while Dave and I went right.  The trail was immediately obvious on the right, so I assumed it would be immediately obvious that the left was not correct.  The fog did not help, as I did not recognize how near we were to the summit of Rough Ridge, a huge rock outcropping where the big payoff views of Grandfather Mountain and the Lynn Cove Viaduct are on display.

After just a couple of minutes Dave and I were standing on the rock outcropping, but the others did not join us.  I left Dave at the top and backtracked to the big boulder where we had split up.  I went left around it and there was a sort of trail, the kind that people start out making until they realize it’s not correct.  But…where were the three hikers?  I began to yell and faintly heard a response.  After a bit of back and forth, I stood still and kept yelling while they walked back to me.  There was a very faint trail that came out below Rough Ridge (bypassed all the big views) and…well, anyway, we all made it together to Rough Ridge. 

Best view from Rough Ridge

This was our reward.  So there was no view, but a cheerful group still.  It wasn’t raining and we were hiking.  Life is good.

The view from Rough Ridge on a clear day – Grandfather Mountain in the background

The view from Rough Ridge on a clear day – Lynn Cove Viaduct

From the summit, the trail drops down along steep rock steps through a tunnel of thick rhododendron and levels out once it crosses Little Wilson Creek on another footbridge.  From here we enjoyed an easy three miles of rolling trail through hemlocks and hardwoods, more wild goldenglow and other wildflowers.

Tall bellflower

Blackberries ripening for the buffet

On the last bridge crossing before we reached our end point, Chris and Doreen and I all scrambled down to the water.  How is Doreen going to get over here with us?

Is this a good idea?

See, it worked great!

Yes, Jim and Dave were on the hike too

All together, a great time, fun meeting new people and a successful injury-free hike.  They all promised to return on a clear day to see what they missed.  Cheers!

“I try to end each day saying, ‘I am glad I did,’ rather than, ‘I wish I had.’” ~Barbara J. McMorrow

Finishing the SB6K Challenge

Black Mountain Crest Trail – Final SB6K Hike – 7-22-12 – 12 Miles

Yes, just two days after I retrieved my car from the Honda dealership (they replaced the ignition cylinder) I was ready to go hiking again.  And this time it’s a big one:  my final SB6K hike.  

The list has been whittled down to just three peaks on the Black Mountain Crest Trail going north from Mount Mitchell – Mount Craig, Balsam Cone and Potato Hill.  This is an out-and-back hike, so we’ll go over every mountain twice.  I’ve already summited Mt. Mitchell several times and I’ve also tagged the three outer SB6K peaks on a strenuous day about a year ago.  I’ve left this particular hike until last because the views are dramatic and because I wanted Jim to accompany me.  

Typical of summer weather patterns in the NC mountains, it was sunny at our house and grew increasingly cloudy and drizzly as we approached the Blue Ridge Parkway.  Our view of the Black Mountain Crest Trail from the Parkway was not cheerful.  Would we be in the fog all day?

Nothing to do but to do it.  The trail begins from the picnic area below the main parking area, with impressive trail work and stone steps. 

I was thrilled to see these pink turtleheads, blooming profusely everywhere.

The first mountain to the north is Mount Craig, where the trail passes through a fragile area and is clearly designated to keep hikers on track. 

Clouds were fascinating, boiling up and shifting around all day

Summit photo at Mount Craig – a total whiteout behind me

A plaque in case you didn’t know – I wish every summit had these

In between the three SB6K peaks there are other mountains.  The next peak that Jim and I passed over was Mount Tom, also with an informative plaque.  “Found the body of” refers to Elisha Mitchell, the man for whom Mount Mitchell is named and who fell to his death at nearby Mitchell Falls.  Elisha is buried at the summit of Mount Mitchell.

Next the trail goes over the top of Balsam Cone’s narrow ridge, but the summit is not marked, so I stepped up onto every rock I could find to assure that I hit the summit.  Funny, Jim could stand right next to it and not worry about tagging it.  Maybe if there was a bike on top of it…

Michaux saxifrage was also abundant along the trail, hard to photograph, but I kept trying.  I really love the delicate laciness of this flower and its foliage.

Indian pipe, always love to see this.

The Black Crest Trail does not mess around, going straight up and down the peaks with no thought of switchbacks or avoiding obstacles.  Occasional ropes are helpful, especially on a very wet day. 

Another mountain between the SB6K’s, Cattail Peak coming up next.

Don’t look behind you, it’s a little ominous

Cattail Peak has a big sign saying it’s the summit when it’s really not.  Using my skills gained in my off-trail seminar with Jeff and his trusty directions that it’s “over there about a quarter-mile,” Jim and I bushwhacked and actually found the benchmark!  I felt as triumphant at this accomplishment as I did finishing the whole hike today.

Acting like I know what I’m talking about, pointing out the high peak of Balsam Cone.  This photo was taken from near the summit of Potato Hill.  At this point I had officially completed all of the SB6K peaks!  But I still had to go back over all five peaks from today to get to the car.

Since we were here and I might want to someday say I had hiked all the connecting trails in the Black Mountains, Jim and I scurried downhill to Deep Gap, where my Black Mountains hike last summer had passed through. 

We were rewarded for our effort with these spectacular Turk’s cap lilies

Deep Gap is a great lunch stop.  As Jim pulled out his sandwich, we heard the unmistakable rumble of thunder.  Yikes!  Chew faster!  We were aware that it would take several hours to go back over all the bumps and the ridge line is not the place to be during a thunderstorm, so we kept a close eye on the sky and were prepared to hunker down and get really wet.  

Something with serious claws was here

Moving so fast I am just a blur

We got caught in about 15 minutes of light rain, nothing dangerous, and were able to enjoy the rest of the hike back.  A pause for reflection back at Mount Craig.

Pink turtleheads galore!

“The End”

So I’ve touched the summits of 40 peaks above 6,000 feet in the Southern Appalachian Mountains.  Some of them I will see again, some I am sure will only be revisited in my memories and photographs.  It’s a worthy challenge that took me to many places I would not otherwise have ventured, and I feel enriched and humbled by the experience. 

“There are days when I question my sanity, but I’ve never had a moment in the mountains when I wished I was at home watching football.” ~Rick Shortt