Imp Shelter
Where: Imp Shelter, Carter ridge
When: 3/11-3/12, 1998
With: Brian White, Brad Hennemuth
Buoyed by our success last year, the Crag Camp Crew started to make plans for another winter trip. After a bit of discussion we decided to head for the Carter range, just across the valley from Mt. Washington. The area offered some challenging hiking and spectacular scenery.
Instead of an enclosed cabin, this year we’d be roughing it a bit more. Brian was interested in spending a night in a tent above tree line, and even went so far as to purchase a 4-man mountaineering tent. The plan was to spend the first night at Imp shelter, an open front shelter between Mt. Moriah and the Carters. The second day we’d hike the ridge south to Mt. Hight, where we’d set up the tent camp. The third day would be a short hike down to Carter hut, for a rest day in relative comfort, and the final day would be a hike out over the Wildcat ridge. Some tough hiking, but all doable.
We made plans to go during the March full moon and everyone put in for the vacation time. Then things began to change. First, Brad announced that he was taking a leave from MEDITECH, starting at the beginning of March. He still wanted to go on the hike though, and we stayed in touch via e-mail. Brian had planned a warm-up hike for two weeks before our hike, but he got quite sick and had to cancel. A second hike a week later was also scrubbed. Jim DeLuca cancelled entirely.
As for me, I’d gone on one winter hike already and was looking forward to this trip. I had a bunch of new gear and the hike seemed well within my abilities, though I wasn’t entirely sold on the above-tree line camping idea. Then, two weeks before the hike, Jane got sick with strep. Two days later I had a sore throat and went to the clinic. An initial check showed nothing, so they ran a more extensive culture. When I didn’t hear back with a day or two, I assumed that the result had been negative (that was the usual pattern…immediate notification only for positive results), though I didn’t feel entirely well. I figured I had a little something and didn’t worry too much.
The weekend before the trip, I had a roaring headache one day and was left feeling lightheaded for several days afterwards. That worried me and I began to wonder if I should go on the hike. I sent a couple of messages to Brian warning him that I might not be able to go, though I expected to be there. The major issue was the knowledge that something was wrong, without specifics. Finally, the afternoon before the hike, I got my answer. The clinic called and asked if I’d been prescribed penicillin. I said no, and mentioned that I’d assumed my results to be negative. Wrong! Turns out I had had strep for more than a week, untreated.
I really didn’t know what to do. One voice said to forget the hike, but I didn’t feel bad at all. Besides, now I had an answer for my previous problems. I decided to get my medicine and give it some thought that evening. At home, I discussed it with Jane and decided to go, figuring I could always bail out. That meant an early start the next day, so I went to bed early. Unfortunately, bed didn’t mean sleep, and I wound up tossing and turning for hours. I was having a lot of second thoughts and sleep just eluded me.
One of my concerns was the weather. After a winter of warmer than normal temperatures (El Nino!), an Arctic air mass was moving into the region, with temps expected to be very low for the duration of the hike. Based on the rest of the winter I’d hoped I could travel light, using my 3-season sleeping bag instead of my –20 bag and leaving other heavy winter gear at home. The cold changed those plans.
As midnight came and went, I began to change my mind about going. At 1:00AM, with only four hours of sleep left to me, I decided to forego the trip. Peace finally came to me then and I slept.
At 5:00AM, the alarm went off and I found myself getting out of bed and preparing to go. I paused for a moment to consider my promise of four hours earlier and just kept going. I’m not sure why. Partly because I didn’t want to let my friends down, I suppose. Odd though…at one point I actively considered the trip ahead, thinking about the hike and the camping and such and found my heart racing with anxiety. I should have taken that as a sign to get back into bed, but I didn’t. Oh well.
At 5:30 I was out the door. I had a pleasant, relaxing drive up 93 and over the top of the White Mountains, passing through Gorham before descending to Pinkham Notch. I arrived at the stroke of 9:00, as promised, and found Brian and Brad awaiting me in the dining hall. They’d come up the night before and stayed at the hostel in Crawford Notch. We chatted a bit, packed up, and set off for the trail. My car and Brad’s were left at Pinkham, and we drove to the trailhead in Brian’s car. There had been reports of break-ins recently, but Brian was unconcerned about his car. Also left at Pinkham were our snowshoes. The deep cold following a recent thaw had left the snow hard and strong. No need for the weight of snowshoes.
The trailhead was just 9 miles up the road, so we were there quickly and a few minutes later we were in the woods. As its name implied, the Stoney Brook trail followed a stream most of the way, following a valley up to a col between Mt. Moriah and Imp Mountain. There it would join the Carter-Moriah trail, a section of the Appalacian trail that ran along the ridge. It was a very pleasant hike to begin. Easy walking up a gentle valley, a beautiful sunny day, great snow conditions, and a lovely stream with interesting ice formations. We took our time, stopping to check out the ice and the surroundings and to take pictures.
A ways up the trail, it dipped down to the stream and crossed. Unfortunately, the water was too high to ford, and a quick look upstream and down spotted no alternative crossing sites nearby. I started walking upstream, hoping to find a crossing as the stream narrowed.
A few spots looked promising, but none were sure things so I kept going up. Finally I spotted a double log (one high, one low) fallen across and knew I had our crossing. I called to the others and made my way across without trouble. The others followed and after a short bushwhack through the woods we were back on the trail.
The path continued its gentle way a bit further, proceeding up the valley. We kept our eyes out for signs of Mt. Moriah, since one of our plans was to attempt a quick hike to its summit after we’d made it to the shelter. A small summit was all we could see at first, but it seemed too low and too close to be Moriah. As we continued to climb, another peak came into view from behind the first ridge. Much taller and frosted on top…the true Moriah. Suddenly a quick summit run didn’t seem too feasible.
Our trail kept climbing slowly until it crossed a stream (a tributary of Stoney Brook, I believe). On the other side it began to climb more steeply. We began to spread out and soon we were entirely separated. Fortunately, Brian had purchased some new toys…mini walkie-talkies. Though Brad & I were skeptical at first, these little radios proved to be quite helpful. They allowed us to keep in touch, checking on each other and informing each other about our progress, without forcing the faster hikers to have to stop and wait for the slower folks to catch up every so often. Brad was in great shape, having done several hikes already this season, so he was far out in front. I was in the middle, though moving much slower than normal for me, in an attempt to conserve my strength. Brian trailed behind me, moving at what I figured to be his usual slow steady pace.
After a bit of climbing, the trail made another stream crossing and began to climb even more steeply. I was glad for the crampons I was wearing (Brian and Brad had left theirs off). They gave me some nice, positive grip on the increasingly steep, somewhat icy trail, and saved me a good amount of effort of the climb, I believe. New hiking poles (my first trip with these) also helped, mostly for balance. It was still tough going however, and I took frequent breaks. During one of these I decided to try out the walkie-talkie and managed to raise Brian. He was doing okay, but moving slowly.
A little while later, Brad called in to report that he’d made it to the junction with the Carter-Moriah trail. It was somewhat heartening to hear that someone had made it, though I was taken aback by how long it had taken Brad to get there. This was supposed to be a relatively easy hike and Brad was a strong hiker. Still, I figured I wasn’t too far away from the top myself, and continued my slow ascent.
Finally, after one last short, steep climb, I found myself in a flat, open area. I’d made it to the top. The tracks were confusing though. One set went straight ahead while another set went off to the right, and there was no trail junction sign anywhere in sight. I’d expected to encounter a path with routes to both the left & right. Blazes on the trees indicated I was on the AT, which made sense, but the lack of a junction sign really threw me.
After a few moments of thought, I headed to the right because that made the most sense in terms of where we were going. I had to believe that the tracks I was following were Brad’s, and they were heading the same way. I walked a little ways and decided to call the others for some confirmation of the route. Brad let me know that I was on the right track. There was a trail junction sign, but it was a bit further along than I’d gone. If I’d continued on another 20-30 yards I would’ve seen it.
Reassured I was going the right way, I pressed on for the shelter. Half a mile, according to my guidebook. A short walk, though not an easy one. The trail rolled along the ridge, climbing and dropping through small dips in the terrain. What’s more, the combination of small, high altitude trees and deep snow on the trail meant that I spent a lot of time pushing through gnarled branches. Also, the wind became more of a factor now that the trail was on a ridge, and it got quite cold. Along the way, Brad called in to announce he’d made it to the shelter.
The trail made its way through the trees along the ridge and then began to move out into the open. The wind was quite a problem now. First, because of the cold, and second, because it blew away the signs of Brad’s passing. As the trail passed over open rock ledges, the signs of its route disappeared, save for a faint indication of travel from previous hikers. On a couple of occasions I found myself wandering around a small area, trying to figure out which way to go.
None of these areas were too much of a problem, and at last I spied a trail junction sign nearly buried in the snow. The shelter at last, I thought, but the sign only indicated the trail, not the shelter. Then I noticed a second sign below the first, submerged in the snow save for a few visible letters that read "Shelter." I stumbled down the trail, through more tree branches, and finally arrived at the Imp shelter. I dropped my pack, called the others, and looked around.
The shelter was a very nice structure, a step up from the usual lean-to. The design was similar to Guyot shelter. Dug into the hillside, you could walk right on to its peaked roof. Inside, a bunk separated the living space into two sections, with a small area in front for cooking, etc.. At the back, a small window let light in to the upper bunk area. All in all, quite cozy.
Brad was out trying to get water when I arrived, so I just settled in to rest for a bit. Brian called in shortly afterwards to say he was at the junction, and I headed out after that to help Brad. I followed his tracks to the streambed that provided water during the summer but saw no sign of him. The tracks went down stream and that’s where I found him. He had dug a deep hole in the snow, attempting to get to water, but hadn’t found any. He did find some moisture, but never running water. After a brief check further downhill, we resigned ourselves to melting snow and went back to the shelter.
Brian called in soon after we returned to ask for directions (he was at one of the open, wind-blown areas). We gave him some tips and started to heat up some water so he could have some hot tea when he arrived. A short time later he clomped into the shelter. By tacit agreement we’d abandoned our original plans of a quick, packless hike up Mt. Moriah so we all proceeded to settle in for the evening, changing clothes, laying out gear, etc.. It was about 4PM.
We spent the next few hours drinking tea, eating snacks, checking out the shelter area, and preparing for the night. The stove kept up a constant low roar as we melted snow and then heated the water to boiling. After a bit we decided it was dinnertime, so tortellini was tossed into the current pot of boiling water. Brian supplied the pesto sauce and dinner was served.
After finishing our meal and cleaning up, there wasn’t much left to do but to climb into our sleeping bags. The temperature had dropped quite a bit (below zero) and the wind was blowing strong outside, but we’d rigged up a tent fly over the door and the temperature in the shelter was relatively comfortable. We all made a few trips out into the brilliant light of the nearly full moon and then retired for the night.
I figured I’d have no problem sleeping. I’d slept little the night before, was weakened by my recent illness, and had put in a long day’s physical activity. I was looking forward to a good night’s rest. Unfortunately, it was not to be. I tossed and turned for hours, rising to pee several times (too much *^#! tea…and next time, decaf!), tried my radio, but nothing helped. Several times I came close to dozing off but then awakened with a start. Around 11 I finally slept, but only until about 3. I stayed awake for awhile, then slept until 5, when I woke for good.
Lying awake during the night and in the early morning, I had a lot of time to think, and I came to the conclusion that I needed to go home. I was concerned about the effects of a week's worth of untreated strep on my stamina as it was, and with two nights of poor sleep I was worried that I’d start to have problems. Plus, given the fact that we’d be in a tent the next night, the prospect of another sleepless night was a very real possibility that I was not willing to deal with.
After a good amount of soul-searching, I made up my mind that I would return out Stoney Brook trail instead of continuing on. I figured I could borrow Brian’s keys and drive his car back to Pinkham, giving me a ride back to my car and leaving his car in a safer location at the end of his intended hike. I had a few concerns about finding my way back along the ridge on my own, especially since the strong winds overnight had likely obliterated our tracks, but I figured I could manage somehow.
At last, dawn broke and the others started to stir. Brad was up first. Brian was awake, but stayed deep in his sleeping bag. I made my announcement and to my surprise, Brian said there was a 50/50 chance he’d be joining me. Apparently his slowness the day before was more than his usual cautious pace. He’d had a very hard time on the hike in and was also concerned about the prospect of continuing on. He admitted however that he was not comfortable tackling the ridge back alone, so he had planned to go on anyway, figuring it to be the safer option. My plan to return turned out to be good news for him. He didn’t completely commit to a return though. Instead, he said he wanted to see how he felt as the morning progressed.
We spent the next few hours making breakfast, standing in the morning sunlight, looking around, and checking out the limited views of the surrounding valleys. We’d seen the lights of the valley towns the night before and now the towns themselves were visible. I found a small rise just above the shelter and went up there a number of times to check out the world. One thing I noticed was that though the day had started out sunny, there were clouds in the distance and a number of peaks to the west appeared to be enveloped in snow squalls. I predicted that some weather was moving in, and a bit later the first few flakes of snow began to fall around the shelter.
After a slow, lazy morning, we packed up and bid the shelter goodbye. Brian declared that the climb back up to the main trail would be the final test for his decision, though I think we all knew he and I would be hiking back out. We’d already lent Brad some gear (a cookpot) and supplies (toilet paper), in anticipation of his continuing on solo. Sure enough, when we got to the trail, Brian declared he was heading home. We wished Brad good luck and parted around 11AM. He said he was hoping to make it to the Carter Notch hut, some 7 miles away. He figured that he had about 7 hours of daylight to work with, so it seemed a reasonable goal. Brian and I both agreed that we had no qualms about leaving Brad to hike on his own, despite the deteriorating condition. He’s a tough, strong, resourceful guy with a lot of brains and experience.
Soon after leaving Brad, Brian and I were up on the open ridge where we’d all had trouble following the trail the previous day. Surprisingly, our tracks were still evident in the snow so we had little trouble finding our way. We stopped several times to admire the view and spent some time at one especially scenic spot, taking pictures and watching the storm roll in. Continuing on, we made our way back into the trees and along the ridge toward the junction with the Stoney Brook trail.
I arrived well ahead of Brian and took some time to head over to the junction marker I’d missed the day before. As Brad had said, it was only a short ways further on, and it marked the junction of the Carter-Moriah and Moriah Brook trails. Looking at the sign, I noticed that the distances cited didn’t jibe with distances in the guidebook or on other signs. The book said the distance from the junction to the shelter was 0.5 miles. The sign at the junction with the spur trail to the shelter indicated it was 0.7 miles. The sign here said it was 0.9 miles. Which to believe?
Brian soon joined me at the junction and after a brief rest, we started our descent down Stoney Brook trail. I was glad for my crampons and hiking poles as I made my way down the steep slopes. Not surprisingly, we moved much faster and more easily in the direction compared with the uphill struggle of the hike in. I remember being somewhat taken aback by how quickly we encountered various notable spots along the trail (turns, fallen logs, etc.). The distances had seemed much greater when climbing up.
For the most part, the hiking was not difficult at all, and it offered a chance to look around a bit. The weather made it interesting too. The storm was built in bands of snow, so one moment we’d be in a near whiteout and then the sun would be shining through the trees. All very pretty.
I had separated from Brian as I walked, so I stopped at the stream crossing at the bottom of the final steep section to wait for him. I had a little snack and explored along the stream a bit, taking pictures of some of the ice formations. Brian finally appeared and said he’d had some gear trouble with his crampons, requiring a couple of stops and some repair work. All seemed well now as we proceeded to the final portion of our walk.
The path was much more level now, following an old road along a bank high above the stream. As we walked, the stream grew nearer and soon we spotted our tracks heading down to the log crossing. We made the crossing again without incident, proceeded up the bank to the trail, and switched to automatic mode for the final distance back to the car. I arrived first and was glad to see the car was undamaged. Brian emerged from the woods a few minutes later. In short order we packed up, returned to Pinkham, and parted ways.
I elected to drive home via Conway, rather than return back through Gorham. My first thought was to just take route 16 down to 95, but since I had time to spare I decided to explore a bit. After passing through Conway and the Kancamaugus highway, I headed west toward the Lakes region, looking to cut across to route 93. I made a few wrong turns, but eventually I did make it across. From there it was just a long, pleasant ride back home. By pure luck, I arrived at the house at exactly the same time as Jane & Andy. Jane was surprised, but very happy to see me and said she’d had a premonition I’d be coming home that evening.
Afterthoughts:
Good hike. In hindsight I know I made the right decision to return when I did. I could have continued I’m sure, but Brian’s pace would’ve ensured a night in a tent and that would’ve been tough. Especially with howling winds and super-subzero temperatures. Brad did make it to the shelter just fine and he reported overnight temps of –18. Brrrrr! I’m also glad I returned for Brian’s sake.
And above all, it was a good hike as it was. A 4.5 mile climb to around 3500 feet elevation and a night at a new shelter – that’s more than I’ve done on many a winter hike.
I’ve got to do something about sleep. For one thing, decaf tea next time! And maybe melatonin or Sominex or something. Or perhaps the answer is all in my head. Too much worrying going on, too much self-doubt, too many demons screaming. One step I want to take to address this is a warm weather solo hike. I need to shed some baggage, both literal and figurative. I want to hike with a light pack, at my own pace, and eat dinner without mittens! A return to basics to remind myself that hiking can be enjoyable. There have been too many instances on recent trips where I’ve said to myself, "I don’t like doing this."
The hiking poles were interesting, though I still don’t regard them with the same zeal some folks do. They mostly helped keep me upright, preventing me from stumbling from time to time. My hands and arms were sore afterwards from the new activity, but otherwise the poles seemed to work fine.
When: 3/11-3/12, 1998
With: Brian White, Brad Hennemuth
Buoyed by our success last year, the Crag Camp Crew started to make plans for another winter trip. After a bit of discussion we decided to head for the Carter range, just across the valley from Mt. Washington. The area offered some challenging hiking and spectacular scenery.
Instead of an enclosed cabin, this year we’d be roughing it a bit more. Brian was interested in spending a night in a tent above tree line, and even went so far as to purchase a 4-man mountaineering tent. The plan was to spend the first night at Imp shelter, an open front shelter between Mt. Moriah and the Carters. The second day we’d hike the ridge south to Mt. Hight, where we’d set up the tent camp. The third day would be a short hike down to Carter hut, for a rest day in relative comfort, and the final day would be a hike out over the Wildcat ridge. Some tough hiking, but all doable.
We made plans to go during the March full moon and everyone put in for the vacation time. Then things began to change. First, Brad announced that he was taking a leave from MEDITECH, starting at the beginning of March. He still wanted to go on the hike though, and we stayed in touch via e-mail. Brian had planned a warm-up hike for two weeks before our hike, but he got quite sick and had to cancel. A second hike a week later was also scrubbed. Jim DeLuca cancelled entirely.
As for me, I’d gone on one winter hike already and was looking forward to this trip. I had a bunch of new gear and the hike seemed well within my abilities, though I wasn’t entirely sold on the above-tree line camping idea. Then, two weeks before the hike, Jane got sick with strep. Two days later I had a sore throat and went to the clinic. An initial check showed nothing, so they ran a more extensive culture. When I didn’t hear back with a day or two, I assumed that the result had been negative (that was the usual pattern…immediate notification only for positive results), though I didn’t feel entirely well. I figured I had a little something and didn’t worry too much.
The weekend before the trip, I had a roaring headache one day and was left feeling lightheaded for several days afterwards. That worried me and I began to wonder if I should go on the hike. I sent a couple of messages to Brian warning him that I might not be able to go, though I expected to be there. The major issue was the knowledge that something was wrong, without specifics. Finally, the afternoon before the hike, I got my answer. The clinic called and asked if I’d been prescribed penicillin. I said no, and mentioned that I’d assumed my results to be negative. Wrong! Turns out I had had strep for more than a week, untreated.
I really didn’t know what to do. One voice said to forget the hike, but I didn’t feel bad at all. Besides, now I had an answer for my previous problems. I decided to get my medicine and give it some thought that evening. At home, I discussed it with Jane and decided to go, figuring I could always bail out. That meant an early start the next day, so I went to bed early. Unfortunately, bed didn’t mean sleep, and I wound up tossing and turning for hours. I was having a lot of second thoughts and sleep just eluded me.
One of my concerns was the weather. After a winter of warmer than normal temperatures (El Nino!), an Arctic air mass was moving into the region, with temps expected to be very low for the duration of the hike. Based on the rest of the winter I’d hoped I could travel light, using my 3-season sleeping bag instead of my –20 bag and leaving other heavy winter gear at home. The cold changed those plans.
As midnight came and went, I began to change my mind about going. At 1:00AM, with only four hours of sleep left to me, I decided to forego the trip. Peace finally came to me then and I slept.
At 5:00AM, the alarm went off and I found myself getting out of bed and preparing to go. I paused for a moment to consider my promise of four hours earlier and just kept going. I’m not sure why. Partly because I didn’t want to let my friends down, I suppose. Odd though…at one point I actively considered the trip ahead, thinking about the hike and the camping and such and found my heart racing with anxiety. I should have taken that as a sign to get back into bed, but I didn’t. Oh well.
At 5:30 I was out the door. I had a pleasant, relaxing drive up 93 and over the top of the White Mountains, passing through Gorham before descending to Pinkham Notch. I arrived at the stroke of 9:00, as promised, and found Brian and Brad awaiting me in the dining hall. They’d come up the night before and stayed at the hostel in Crawford Notch. We chatted a bit, packed up, and set off for the trail. My car and Brad’s were left at Pinkham, and we drove to the trailhead in Brian’s car. There had been reports of break-ins recently, but Brian was unconcerned about his car. Also left at Pinkham were our snowshoes. The deep cold following a recent thaw had left the snow hard and strong. No need for the weight of snowshoes.
The trailhead was just 9 miles up the road, so we were there quickly and a few minutes later we were in the woods. As its name implied, the Stoney Brook trail followed a stream most of the way, following a valley up to a col between Mt. Moriah and Imp Mountain. There it would join the Carter-Moriah trail, a section of the Appalacian trail that ran along the ridge. It was a very pleasant hike to begin. Easy walking up a gentle valley, a beautiful sunny day, great snow conditions, and a lovely stream with interesting ice formations. We took our time, stopping to check out the ice and the surroundings and to take pictures.
A ways up the trail, it dipped down to the stream and crossed. Unfortunately, the water was too high to ford, and a quick look upstream and down spotted no alternative crossing sites nearby. I started walking upstream, hoping to find a crossing as the stream narrowed.
A few spots looked promising, but none were sure things so I kept going up. Finally I spotted a double log (one high, one low) fallen across and knew I had our crossing. I called to the others and made my way across without trouble. The others followed and after a short bushwhack through the woods we were back on the trail.
The path continued its gentle way a bit further, proceeding up the valley. We kept our eyes out for signs of Mt. Moriah, since one of our plans was to attempt a quick hike to its summit after we’d made it to the shelter. A small summit was all we could see at first, but it seemed too low and too close to be Moriah. As we continued to climb, another peak came into view from behind the first ridge. Much taller and frosted on top…the true Moriah. Suddenly a quick summit run didn’t seem too feasible.
Our trail kept climbing slowly until it crossed a stream (a tributary of Stoney Brook, I believe). On the other side it began to climb more steeply. We began to spread out and soon we were entirely separated. Fortunately, Brian had purchased some new toys…mini walkie-talkies. Though Brad & I were skeptical at first, these little radios proved to be quite helpful. They allowed us to keep in touch, checking on each other and informing each other about our progress, without forcing the faster hikers to have to stop and wait for the slower folks to catch up every so often. Brad was in great shape, having done several hikes already this season, so he was far out in front. I was in the middle, though moving much slower than normal for me, in an attempt to conserve my strength. Brian trailed behind me, moving at what I figured to be his usual slow steady pace.
After a bit of climbing, the trail made another stream crossing and began to climb even more steeply. I was glad for the crampons I was wearing (Brian and Brad had left theirs off). They gave me some nice, positive grip on the increasingly steep, somewhat icy trail, and saved me a good amount of effort of the climb, I believe. New hiking poles (my first trip with these) also helped, mostly for balance. It was still tough going however, and I took frequent breaks. During one of these I decided to try out the walkie-talkie and managed to raise Brian. He was doing okay, but moving slowly.
A little while later, Brad called in to report that he’d made it to the junction with the Carter-Moriah trail. It was somewhat heartening to hear that someone had made it, though I was taken aback by how long it had taken Brad to get there. This was supposed to be a relatively easy hike and Brad was a strong hiker. Still, I figured I wasn’t too far away from the top myself, and continued my slow ascent.
Finally, after one last short, steep climb, I found myself in a flat, open area. I’d made it to the top. The tracks were confusing though. One set went straight ahead while another set went off to the right, and there was no trail junction sign anywhere in sight. I’d expected to encounter a path with routes to both the left & right. Blazes on the trees indicated I was on the AT, which made sense, but the lack of a junction sign really threw me.
After a few moments of thought, I headed to the right because that made the most sense in terms of where we were going. I had to believe that the tracks I was following were Brad’s, and they were heading the same way. I walked a little ways and decided to call the others for some confirmation of the route. Brad let me know that I was on the right track. There was a trail junction sign, but it was a bit further along than I’d gone. If I’d continued on another 20-30 yards I would’ve seen it.
Reassured I was going the right way, I pressed on for the shelter. Half a mile, according to my guidebook. A short walk, though not an easy one. The trail rolled along the ridge, climbing and dropping through small dips in the terrain. What’s more, the combination of small, high altitude trees and deep snow on the trail meant that I spent a lot of time pushing through gnarled branches. Also, the wind became more of a factor now that the trail was on a ridge, and it got quite cold. Along the way, Brad called in to announce he’d made it to the shelter.
The trail made its way through the trees along the ridge and then began to move out into the open. The wind was quite a problem now. First, because of the cold, and second, because it blew away the signs of Brad’s passing. As the trail passed over open rock ledges, the signs of its route disappeared, save for a faint indication of travel from previous hikers. On a couple of occasions I found myself wandering around a small area, trying to figure out which way to go.
None of these areas were too much of a problem, and at last I spied a trail junction sign nearly buried in the snow. The shelter at last, I thought, but the sign only indicated the trail, not the shelter. Then I noticed a second sign below the first, submerged in the snow save for a few visible letters that read "Shelter." I stumbled down the trail, through more tree branches, and finally arrived at the Imp shelter. I dropped my pack, called the others, and looked around.
The shelter was a very nice structure, a step up from the usual lean-to. The design was similar to Guyot shelter. Dug into the hillside, you could walk right on to its peaked roof. Inside, a bunk separated the living space into two sections, with a small area in front for cooking, etc.. At the back, a small window let light in to the upper bunk area. All in all, quite cozy.
Brad was out trying to get water when I arrived, so I just settled in to rest for a bit. Brian called in shortly afterwards to say he was at the junction, and I headed out after that to help Brad. I followed his tracks to the streambed that provided water during the summer but saw no sign of him. The tracks went down stream and that’s where I found him. He had dug a deep hole in the snow, attempting to get to water, but hadn’t found any. He did find some moisture, but never running water. After a brief check further downhill, we resigned ourselves to melting snow and went back to the shelter.
Brian called in soon after we returned to ask for directions (he was at one of the open, wind-blown areas). We gave him some tips and started to heat up some water so he could have some hot tea when he arrived. A short time later he clomped into the shelter. By tacit agreement we’d abandoned our original plans of a quick, packless hike up Mt. Moriah so we all proceeded to settle in for the evening, changing clothes, laying out gear, etc.. It was about 4PM.
We spent the next few hours drinking tea, eating snacks, checking out the shelter area, and preparing for the night. The stove kept up a constant low roar as we melted snow and then heated the water to boiling. After a bit we decided it was dinnertime, so tortellini was tossed into the current pot of boiling water. Brian supplied the pesto sauce and dinner was served.
After finishing our meal and cleaning up, there wasn’t much left to do but to climb into our sleeping bags. The temperature had dropped quite a bit (below zero) and the wind was blowing strong outside, but we’d rigged up a tent fly over the door and the temperature in the shelter was relatively comfortable. We all made a few trips out into the brilliant light of the nearly full moon and then retired for the night.
I figured I’d have no problem sleeping. I’d slept little the night before, was weakened by my recent illness, and had put in a long day’s physical activity. I was looking forward to a good night’s rest. Unfortunately, it was not to be. I tossed and turned for hours, rising to pee several times (too much *^#! tea…and next time, decaf!), tried my radio, but nothing helped. Several times I came close to dozing off but then awakened with a start. Around 11 I finally slept, but only until about 3. I stayed awake for awhile, then slept until 5, when I woke for good.
Lying awake during the night and in the early morning, I had a lot of time to think, and I came to the conclusion that I needed to go home. I was concerned about the effects of a week's worth of untreated strep on my stamina as it was, and with two nights of poor sleep I was worried that I’d start to have problems. Plus, given the fact that we’d be in a tent the next night, the prospect of another sleepless night was a very real possibility that I was not willing to deal with.
After a good amount of soul-searching, I made up my mind that I would return out Stoney Brook trail instead of continuing on. I figured I could borrow Brian’s keys and drive his car back to Pinkham, giving me a ride back to my car and leaving his car in a safer location at the end of his intended hike. I had a few concerns about finding my way back along the ridge on my own, especially since the strong winds overnight had likely obliterated our tracks, but I figured I could manage somehow.
At last, dawn broke and the others started to stir. Brad was up first. Brian was awake, but stayed deep in his sleeping bag. I made my announcement and to my surprise, Brian said there was a 50/50 chance he’d be joining me. Apparently his slowness the day before was more than his usual cautious pace. He’d had a very hard time on the hike in and was also concerned about the prospect of continuing on. He admitted however that he was not comfortable tackling the ridge back alone, so he had planned to go on anyway, figuring it to be the safer option. My plan to return turned out to be good news for him. He didn’t completely commit to a return though. Instead, he said he wanted to see how he felt as the morning progressed.
We spent the next few hours making breakfast, standing in the morning sunlight, looking around, and checking out the limited views of the surrounding valleys. We’d seen the lights of the valley towns the night before and now the towns themselves were visible. I found a small rise just above the shelter and went up there a number of times to check out the world. One thing I noticed was that though the day had started out sunny, there were clouds in the distance and a number of peaks to the west appeared to be enveloped in snow squalls. I predicted that some weather was moving in, and a bit later the first few flakes of snow began to fall around the shelter.
After a slow, lazy morning, we packed up and bid the shelter goodbye. Brian declared that the climb back up to the main trail would be the final test for his decision, though I think we all knew he and I would be hiking back out. We’d already lent Brad some gear (a cookpot) and supplies (toilet paper), in anticipation of his continuing on solo. Sure enough, when we got to the trail, Brian declared he was heading home. We wished Brad good luck and parted around 11AM. He said he was hoping to make it to the Carter Notch hut, some 7 miles away. He figured that he had about 7 hours of daylight to work with, so it seemed a reasonable goal. Brian and I both agreed that we had no qualms about leaving Brad to hike on his own, despite the deteriorating condition. He’s a tough, strong, resourceful guy with a lot of brains and experience.
Soon after leaving Brad, Brian and I were up on the open ridge where we’d all had trouble following the trail the previous day. Surprisingly, our tracks were still evident in the snow so we had little trouble finding our way. We stopped several times to admire the view and spent some time at one especially scenic spot, taking pictures and watching the storm roll in. Continuing on, we made our way back into the trees and along the ridge toward the junction with the Stoney Brook trail.
I arrived well ahead of Brian and took some time to head over to the junction marker I’d missed the day before. As Brad had said, it was only a short ways further on, and it marked the junction of the Carter-Moriah and Moriah Brook trails. Looking at the sign, I noticed that the distances cited didn’t jibe with distances in the guidebook or on other signs. The book said the distance from the junction to the shelter was 0.5 miles. The sign at the junction with the spur trail to the shelter indicated it was 0.7 miles. The sign here said it was 0.9 miles. Which to believe?
Brian soon joined me at the junction and after a brief rest, we started our descent down Stoney Brook trail. I was glad for my crampons and hiking poles as I made my way down the steep slopes. Not surprisingly, we moved much faster and more easily in the direction compared with the uphill struggle of the hike in. I remember being somewhat taken aback by how quickly we encountered various notable spots along the trail (turns, fallen logs, etc.). The distances had seemed much greater when climbing up.
For the most part, the hiking was not difficult at all, and it offered a chance to look around a bit. The weather made it interesting too. The storm was built in bands of snow, so one moment we’d be in a near whiteout and then the sun would be shining through the trees. All very pretty.
I had separated from Brian as I walked, so I stopped at the stream crossing at the bottom of the final steep section to wait for him. I had a little snack and explored along the stream a bit, taking pictures of some of the ice formations. Brian finally appeared and said he’d had some gear trouble with his crampons, requiring a couple of stops and some repair work. All seemed well now as we proceeded to the final portion of our walk.
The path was much more level now, following an old road along a bank high above the stream. As we walked, the stream grew nearer and soon we spotted our tracks heading down to the log crossing. We made the crossing again without incident, proceeded up the bank to the trail, and switched to automatic mode for the final distance back to the car. I arrived first and was glad to see the car was undamaged. Brian emerged from the woods a few minutes later. In short order we packed up, returned to Pinkham, and parted ways.
I elected to drive home via Conway, rather than return back through Gorham. My first thought was to just take route 16 down to 95, but since I had time to spare I decided to explore a bit. After passing through Conway and the Kancamaugus highway, I headed west toward the Lakes region, looking to cut across to route 93. I made a few wrong turns, but eventually I did make it across. From there it was just a long, pleasant ride back home. By pure luck, I arrived at the house at exactly the same time as Jane & Andy. Jane was surprised, but very happy to see me and said she’d had a premonition I’d be coming home that evening.
Afterthoughts:
Good hike. In hindsight I know I made the right decision to return when I did. I could have continued I’m sure, but Brian’s pace would’ve ensured a night in a tent and that would’ve been tough. Especially with howling winds and super-subzero temperatures. Brad did make it to the shelter just fine and he reported overnight temps of –18. Brrrrr! I’m also glad I returned for Brian’s sake.
And above all, it was a good hike as it was. A 4.5 mile climb to around 3500 feet elevation and a night at a new shelter – that’s more than I’ve done on many a winter hike.
I’ve got to do something about sleep. For one thing, decaf tea next time! And maybe melatonin or Sominex or something. Or perhaps the answer is all in my head. Too much worrying going on, too much self-doubt, too many demons screaming. One step I want to take to address this is a warm weather solo hike. I need to shed some baggage, both literal and figurative. I want to hike with a light pack, at my own pace, and eat dinner without mittens! A return to basics to remind myself that hiking can be enjoyable. There have been too many instances on recent trips where I’ve said to myself, "I don’t like doing this."
The hiking poles were interesting, though I still don’t regard them with the same zeal some folks do. They mostly helped keep me upright, preventing me from stumbling from time to time. My hands and arms were sore afterwards from the new activity, but otherwise the poles seemed to work fine.
