Alander Mountain
Where: Alander Mountain
When: June 3-4, 1989
With: Chip, Seth
When: June 3-4, 1989
With: Chip, Seth
All the mountains are not in New Hampshire! According to the hiking books, there was some fine hiking in Western Massachusetts. I found some maps (one from an aerial photography outfit in the Norwood airport) and picked an area at the Mass/Conn/NY border. Chip picked up Seth, swung by my place and after stops for food and gas, we were off.
An incident on the Turnpike turned out to be prophetic. Near Chicopee, we struck a bird in flight. No damage, but we figured it had to be an omen. The first sign of trouble was when we were off the Pike and searching for the trailhead. We couldn't find it. We wound up spending a couple of hours driving on backroads and stopping in stores to ask for directions. The folks there just didn't seem to realize that they had a trail system in their backyards. At one point, we drove up a dirt road high up the ridge and came out on some vacation homes on a lake. We found later that we could have picked up a trail in that area, but we'd didn't know at the time, so back down we went.
Finally, we did find the trailhead in the back of a new development. We drank some beer, took some pictures, and were on our way. The trail passed along a field at first, then headed almost straight up the ridge, following a stream. It was tough going, but eventually we made it to the top and the South Taconic trail. We probably could've stayed right there. There was water, nice views, and plenty of things to explore. As usual though (much to Seth's chagrin), we set off down the trail, heading for Alander Mountain.
The trail followed a ridge and was pretty easy going. It was interesting to see a summit off in the distance and then be there in just a few moments. The view into the valley to the West was interesting also. Roads and farmlands. Suddenly someone spotted something in the sky...hangliders! We realized they were launching from one of the summits on the trail and headed for that hill, Brace Mountain.
We arrived to find a small crowd of day hikers and support crew and two fliers. There were also a couple other fliers in the air, heading for touchdown in the fields below. We explored the hilltop with its rock cairn and watched the show. The wind wasn't very good and the two remaining fliers were unable to take off. Some of the crowd got anxious for action and urged the two to go. Finally, most of the crowd left and sure enough, the wind picked up soon afterwards and they were off. It was amazing. One moment they were there, then they suddenly stood, lifted their gear, ran down a small slope, and were in the air. One had a high-tech cocoon harness with parachute. Once aloft, he pulled internal zippers to seal himself in. I wondered how he managed landing.
We watched for a bit and then headed off. The trail followed old roads through mountain laurel (in bloom), up on the ridge at first and then descending to the base of Alander. It was long, silent walking, for apparently no purpose. Seth described our hike as walking in, finding a beautiful spot, leaving it, walking to another beautiful spot, leaving it,... Unfortunately for Seth, the goal of the hike was Alander, which meant a long walk and now a steep climb.
At the top at last, we hunted for a cabin there, somewhere in a maze of trails. We found it in a small hollow but were greeted by a small boy who proclaimed that, "We were here first and you can't stay!" We headed down the trail past the cabin, toward what the trail guides said was the closest water source.
We descended a good ways before stopping at last at a clearing next to a stream. There was a good flow of water and it seemed a nice spot so we proclaimed it to be camp. Dinner was the usual pasta, then the entertainment began. We'd brought a ukulele and a couple of bottles of something or other, and soon we were singing our little hearts out. We also played the drinking rhyming toasting memory game...a toast is made, a drink is drunk, and the bottle is passed. The next person must repeat all previous toasts, add one more, in rhyme, and take a drink himself. 3 or 4 rounds are our usual limit before our ability to drink and/or remember previous toasts is lost. We invented this little game on a previous trip, perhaps the summer, 1987 trip to Kinsman. Here's this hike's version:
Chip: To one hell of a hike
Ritz: To a beautiful forest and a beautiful campsite
Seth: To getting you guys out of my sight
To avoiding the mosquitos tonight (without a bite)
To sleeping tight
To fighting the good fight
To getting Seth’s cigar a light
To a campfire bright
To getting us out of this plight
To getting on a trail that’s right
To having the car in our sight
To ending this rhyme without a fight
Fortunately, we have this trip's entire version on tape, courtesy of my microcassette recorder. We also have a lot of interesting music, including a Feinberg original. And we have a photo of the three of us, huddled around the fire. What we didn't manage to capture was the sound of Chip and I tossing our cookies later that evening. Somehow Seth survived, but Chip and I had exceeded our limits this time and paid the price.
Of course, the worst was the next morning. We have a picture of Chip facedown on the floor of his tent, unable to move. I couldn't even muster the energy to start a fire for coffee, and drank it cold. We avoided movement as long as we could but finally had to start the trip back. We didn't know it at the time, but if we'd continued down the trail, we could have taken a different, easier route much of the way back, linking up with our original trail just before Brace Mountain.
Since we didn't know, we didn't go, and climbed back up Alander. At one point Chip just collapsed on the trail and swore he couldn't move anymore. We all just hiked at our own pace and joined up at the cabin. From there we hiked to the summit of Alander (nice views) and descended on another trail to the old woods road along the border we'd followed in. Again, we spread out and hiked at our own pace. Seth led, followed by me, with Chip bringing up the rear. As I approached Brace Mountain, I could see Seth sitting at the base of the cairn, enveloped in a foggy mist that had rolled in. I took his picture, then hiked up to join him.
Soon Chip hiked in and we all sat to consider the situation. The hike had done wonders for Chip and I and we were feeling all right once again. We decided the hike wasn't a total disaster after all and gathered for a group portrait on the ridge before setting off.
One final mishap occurred on the descent from the ridge. Chip slipped and cut his hand on a rock. We cleaned it and bandaged it and finished the hike to the car. Chip told us later that Wendy had received a call from the NY State Police asking if she knew that the car was parked by the road at the trailhead. Anyway, the three of us drove out to a convenience store for sodas and newspapers, and found out then that the Tiananmen Square massacre had taken place over night. Quite a weekend.
More pictures
Audio files (from microcassette)
An incident on the Turnpike turned out to be prophetic. Near Chicopee, we struck a bird in flight. No damage, but we figured it had to be an omen. The first sign of trouble was when we were off the Pike and searching for the trailhead. We couldn't find it. We wound up spending a couple of hours driving on backroads and stopping in stores to ask for directions. The folks there just didn't seem to realize that they had a trail system in their backyards. At one point, we drove up a dirt road high up the ridge and came out on some vacation homes on a lake. We found later that we could have picked up a trail in that area, but we'd didn't know at the time, so back down we went.
Finally, we did find the trailhead in the back of a new development. We drank some beer, took some pictures, and were on our way. The trail passed along a field at first, then headed almost straight up the ridge, following a stream. It was tough going, but eventually we made it to the top and the South Taconic trail. We probably could've stayed right there. There was water, nice views, and plenty of things to explore. As usual though (much to Seth's chagrin), we set off down the trail, heading for Alander Mountain.
The trail followed a ridge and was pretty easy going. It was interesting to see a summit off in the distance and then be there in just a few moments. The view into the valley to the West was interesting also. Roads and farmlands. Suddenly someone spotted something in the sky...hangliders! We realized they were launching from one of the summits on the trail and headed for that hill, Brace Mountain.
We arrived to find a small crowd of day hikers and support crew and two fliers. There were also a couple other fliers in the air, heading for touchdown in the fields below. We explored the hilltop with its rock cairn and watched the show. The wind wasn't very good and the two remaining fliers were unable to take off. Some of the crowd got anxious for action and urged the two to go. Finally, most of the crowd left and sure enough, the wind picked up soon afterwards and they were off. It was amazing. One moment they were there, then they suddenly stood, lifted their gear, ran down a small slope, and were in the air. One had a high-tech cocoon harness with parachute. Once aloft, he pulled internal zippers to seal himself in. I wondered how he managed landing.
We watched for a bit and then headed off. The trail followed old roads through mountain laurel (in bloom), up on the ridge at first and then descending to the base of Alander. It was long, silent walking, for apparently no purpose. Seth described our hike as walking in, finding a beautiful spot, leaving it, walking to another beautiful spot, leaving it,... Unfortunately for Seth, the goal of the hike was Alander, which meant a long walk and now a steep climb.
At the top at last, we hunted for a cabin there, somewhere in a maze of trails. We found it in a small hollow but were greeted by a small boy who proclaimed that, "We were here first and you can't stay!" We headed down the trail past the cabin, toward what the trail guides said was the closest water source.
We descended a good ways before stopping at last at a clearing next to a stream. There was a good flow of water and it seemed a nice spot so we proclaimed it to be camp. Dinner was the usual pasta, then the entertainment began. We'd brought a ukulele and a couple of bottles of something or other, and soon we were singing our little hearts out. We also played the drinking rhyming toasting memory game...a toast is made, a drink is drunk, and the bottle is passed. The next person must repeat all previous toasts, add one more, in rhyme, and take a drink himself. 3 or 4 rounds are our usual limit before our ability to drink and/or remember previous toasts is lost. We invented this little game on a previous trip, perhaps the summer, 1987 trip to Kinsman. Here's this hike's version:
Chip: To one hell of a hike
Ritz: To a beautiful forest and a beautiful campsite
Seth: To getting you guys out of my sight
To avoiding the mosquitos tonight (without a bite)
To sleeping tight
To fighting the good fight
To getting Seth’s cigar a light
To a campfire bright
To getting us out of this plight
To getting on a trail that’s right
To having the car in our sight
To ending this rhyme without a fight
Fortunately, we have this trip's entire version on tape, courtesy of my microcassette recorder. We also have a lot of interesting music, including a Feinberg original. And we have a photo of the three of us, huddled around the fire. What we didn't manage to capture was the sound of Chip and I tossing our cookies later that evening. Somehow Seth survived, but Chip and I had exceeded our limits this time and paid the price.
Of course, the worst was the next morning. We have a picture of Chip facedown on the floor of his tent, unable to move. I couldn't even muster the energy to start a fire for coffee, and drank it cold. We avoided movement as long as we could but finally had to start the trip back. We didn't know it at the time, but if we'd continued down the trail, we could have taken a different, easier route much of the way back, linking up with our original trail just before Brace Mountain.
Since we didn't know, we didn't go, and climbed back up Alander. At one point Chip just collapsed on the trail and swore he couldn't move anymore. We all just hiked at our own pace and joined up at the cabin. From there we hiked to the summit of Alander (nice views) and descended on another trail to the old woods road along the border we'd followed in. Again, we spread out and hiked at our own pace. Seth led, followed by me, with Chip bringing up the rear. As I approached Brace Mountain, I could see Seth sitting at the base of the cairn, enveloped in a foggy mist that had rolled in. I took his picture, then hiked up to join him.
Soon Chip hiked in and we all sat to consider the situation. The hike had done wonders for Chip and I and we were feeling all right once again. We decided the hike wasn't a total disaster after all and gathered for a group portrait on the ridge before setting off.
One final mishap occurred on the descent from the ridge. Chip slipped and cut his hand on a rock. We cleaned it and bandaged it and finished the hike to the car. Chip told us later that Wendy had received a call from the NY State Police asking if she knew that the car was parked by the road at the trailhead. Anyway, the three of us drove out to a convenience store for sodas and newspapers, and found out then that the Tiananmen Square massacre had taken place over night. Quite a weekend.
More pictures
Audio files (from microcassette)
