Hancock-Carrigain Attempt
Where: Hancock - Carrigain
When: Summer, 1987
With: Solo
The AMC White Mountain Guide says, "The ridge line joining Mt. Carrigain and Mt. Hancock has no trail and is rough bushwhacking." This sounded good to me, so off I went. My plan was to go up Hancock, bushwhack along the ridge, and then drop down to Carrigain Pond for the night. The next day, I'd head up Carrigain and then go back to the car on the Hancock Notch trail.
The first part of the trip was exactly as advertised. I hiked in and went up the North Hancock side of the Hancock Loop trail. It was easy at first, then very steep. Fortunately, it wasn't too long and I was soon on top, admiring the view. After a bit, I headed toward the South peak. I was stopped at one point by a grouse in the path, making a big fuss. I looked around and spotted 4-5 chicks nearby. I backed off a bit, let the whole family pass, and then continued on.
I was keeping an eye out to the left, looking for a likely spot to pick up the ridge. In a little col, I decided it was time and headed off trail. True to the book, it was rough bushwhacking, though not impossible. I continually checked the topography and the map to make sure I was in the right place. My sense of direction was confirmed when I came across a marker for a town boundary that followed the ridge.
[2019 Update - After revisiting the Hancock Loop, I realized that the start of the bushwhack was not in a little col, but at a small rise (sometimes referred to as Middle Hancock) marking the town boundary. The discovery of the boundary marker confirmed this.]
So far, so good. Then I heard the thunder. Before I could do anything, the rain came. The storm left just as quickly as it had come and I was left soaked and unsure of how to proceed. I checked the map to see where I was. I still had a ways to go, I was unsure of the amount and quality of the water in Carrigain pond, and like me, the woods was soaked. The possibility of making a fire to dry out with seemed remote. So I looked for alternatives.
I realized that if I headed south, down the ridge, I could pick up the Hancock Notch trail and just head for home. It seemed like a good idea, so I started to slab around the side of the slope I was on, heading to the south. Finally I came around the side of the mountain and had to go down to continue south. Below, I could see a small body of water. I checked the map and didn't see it noted, but figured I could pick up a stream from it to follow downstream and started down. The slope was incredibly steep, with tree trunks stretching across to be climbed over, and I had to hang on to small trees and branches to control my descent. The rain had left the forest soaked, and soon I couldn't see through my glasses for all the water on them. I took them off and placed them in my shirt pocket.
Eventually, I did make it to the water, which turned out to be a shallow marsh. I skirted the edge and found a stream emerging, so I stopped for another map check. A stream on the map seemed to correspond to my location, and it flowed down to a point near the trail, so I followed it down. It was some rough walking, but a least it had some direction. Soon, another stream came in from the right. I checked the map and saw just such a junction. "Well," says I, "there should be another stream coming in a bit further on." Sure enough, there was. Another map check. If those two streams were the ones on the map, and I wasn't completely wrong about my location, the trail should be just up in the woods a bit. I climbed out of the streambed and headed into the woods and about 50 feet in, I found the trail! Pardon the cliche, but I knelt on the ground and kissed the earth. Then I straightened myself out, saluted the woods, and started hiking back toward the car.
At the first opportunity, a small stream crossing, I stopped and sat down to take off my boots. I poured about a cup of water out of each boot and wrung another cup out of my socks. My shirt was also soaked, and pretty well tattered by the bushwhack. I got as much water out of everything as I could and then hiked on. A bit later, I came to a very nice little campsite on a stream. My intention had been to hike back to the car and go home, but I was feeling pretty good by this time and the site was too pretty to pass up, so I decided to stay for the night. I set up camp, made dinner, and had a very pleasant evening. The next morning, I thanked the campsite and hiked back out to the car.
Quick note: This was all pre-GPS. Learn how to use a map & compass, folks!
Link to archived Lost Trails website, with info about the ridge route I attempted (along with cool info about other former trails in the Pemi).
When: Summer, 1987
With: Solo
The AMC White Mountain Guide says, "The ridge line joining Mt. Carrigain and Mt. Hancock has no trail and is rough bushwhacking." This sounded good to me, so off I went. My plan was to go up Hancock, bushwhack along the ridge, and then drop down to Carrigain Pond for the night. The next day, I'd head up Carrigain and then go back to the car on the Hancock Notch trail.
The first part of the trip was exactly as advertised. I hiked in and went up the North Hancock side of the Hancock Loop trail. It was easy at first, then very steep. Fortunately, it wasn't too long and I was soon on top, admiring the view. After a bit, I headed toward the South peak. I was stopped at one point by a grouse in the path, making a big fuss. I looked around and spotted 4-5 chicks nearby. I backed off a bit, let the whole family pass, and then continued on.
I was keeping an eye out to the left, looking for a likely spot to pick up the ridge. In a little col, I decided it was time and headed off trail. True to the book, it was rough bushwhacking, though not impossible. I continually checked the topography and the map to make sure I was in the right place. My sense of direction was confirmed when I came across a marker for a town boundary that followed the ridge.
[2019 Update - After revisiting the Hancock Loop, I realized that the start of the bushwhack was not in a little col, but at a small rise (sometimes referred to as Middle Hancock) marking the town boundary. The discovery of the boundary marker confirmed this.]
So far, so good. Then I heard the thunder. Before I could do anything, the rain came. The storm left just as quickly as it had come and I was left soaked and unsure of how to proceed. I checked the map to see where I was. I still had a ways to go, I was unsure of the amount and quality of the water in Carrigain pond, and like me, the woods was soaked. The possibility of making a fire to dry out with seemed remote. So I looked for alternatives.
I realized that if I headed south, down the ridge, I could pick up the Hancock Notch trail and just head for home. It seemed like a good idea, so I started to slab around the side of the slope I was on, heading to the south. Finally I came around the side of the mountain and had to go down to continue south. Below, I could see a small body of water. I checked the map and didn't see it noted, but figured I could pick up a stream from it to follow downstream and started down. The slope was incredibly steep, with tree trunks stretching across to be climbed over, and I had to hang on to small trees and branches to control my descent. The rain had left the forest soaked, and soon I couldn't see through my glasses for all the water on them. I took them off and placed them in my shirt pocket.
Eventually, I did make it to the water, which turned out to be a shallow marsh. I skirted the edge and found a stream emerging, so I stopped for another map check. A stream on the map seemed to correspond to my location, and it flowed down to a point near the trail, so I followed it down. It was some rough walking, but a least it had some direction. Soon, another stream came in from the right. I checked the map and saw just such a junction. "Well," says I, "there should be another stream coming in a bit further on." Sure enough, there was. Another map check. If those two streams were the ones on the map, and I wasn't completely wrong about my location, the trail should be just up in the woods a bit. I climbed out of the streambed and headed into the woods and about 50 feet in, I found the trail! Pardon the cliche, but I knelt on the ground and kissed the earth. Then I straightened myself out, saluted the woods, and started hiking back toward the car.
At the first opportunity, a small stream crossing, I stopped and sat down to take off my boots. I poured about a cup of water out of each boot and wrung another cup out of my socks. My shirt was also soaked, and pretty well tattered by the bushwhack. I got as much water out of everything as I could and then hiked on. A bit later, I came to a very nice little campsite on a stream. My intention had been to hike back to the car and go home, but I was feeling pretty good by this time and the site was too pretty to pass up, so I decided to stay for the night. I set up camp, made dinner, and had a very pleasant evening. The next morning, I thanked the campsite and hiked back out to the car.
Quick note: This was all pre-GPS. Learn how to use a map & compass, folks!
Link to archived Lost Trails website, with info about the ridge route I attempted (along with cool info about other former trails in the Pemi).
