Mount Whiteface
Where: Mts. Whiteface & Passaconaway
When: 11/22-23/2003
With: Chip & Dave
I'd long advocated a late autumn hike - no crowds, no bugs, no heat, no snow - and Chip had mentioned during the summer that he might be available for just such a trip this year. Following my hike with Andy's Scout troop I was psyched to get out again, so I contacted Chip and we began making plans. I suggested a number of possible routes, all based at Lincoln Woods. They ranged from a long, tough ridge loop to a relatively easy flat amble into the backcountry. I figured trail conditions (snow?) and our mood would guide the final decision. Chip managed to recruit Dave and we started thinking about dates. We started in October but life being what it is, we kept pushing the dates out until finally settling on the weekend before Thanksgiving.
Along the way, I continued to look at routes. I began to shift my attention to the peaks between Waterville Valley and Mt. Chocorua, an area we haven't explored much. Back in 1997 I had suggested a trip up Mt. Whiteface and that came up for consideration again. Besides being a new area, it offered some good campsites (the locations of former lean-tos) as well as a loop route (always a plus) and the chance to add two more 4000+ foot peaks to my list. The others concurred so the trip was set.
As has become the norm I developed a fine case of panic in the days preceding the hike but I managed to get through it and set off from home at 6AM Saturday en route to Chip's house. Dave was already there when I arrived so we just chatted with Wendy while Chip completed his preparations, then we were off. The drive up route 93 was uneventful, with a single stop at the NH State liquor store and a pleasant ride through the Squam Lake area before landing at the Ferncroft parking area at 10. We joined perhaps 10 other cars in the lot that morning though the only sign of other hikers was a single couple who set out soon after we arrived with overnight backpacks. I worried that they were heading to the spot we'd chosen as a destination but figured we could deal with that. We made our arrangements and were on our way around 10:20.
It's worth noting the weather and the food. The long range forecast for the area earlier in the week had predicted rain all weekend and temperatures in the high 50s. Chip said that rain would cancel for him but as the weekend grew closer the forecast changed. Heavy rains came through during the week, clearing away an early snow cover (8-10 inches) that had fallen previously and the weekend turned out to be sunny and still quite mild (40s). We wound up leaving a fair amount of winter gear in the car as we packed up. I also left all of my cooking gear behind. In a change from previous trips, Chip & Dave took responsibility for the dining duties. Dave brought all of the cooking gear (stove and pots) and Chip had purchased dinner and breakfast supplies. My only contribution was a couple of venison steaks from my brother that I offered to the team carnivores.
The hike started off very pleasantly, passing farmhouses and fields before heading into the woods. The path made a moderate but constant ascent through the forest before emerging into the sunlight at some open rocky spots. These were the Blueberry Ledges that gave the trail its name and we paused there a while. We joked about just setting up camp there and calling it a day but continued on after all. Dave had led up to this point, despite expressing concerns earlier that a recent illness and general lack of conditioning would slow his pace, but Chip & I began to take the lead as the path climbed into the woods. The route got significantly steeper and we spread out along the trail. When Chip paused to rest at one point I decided to keep plodding along, figuring the slow but steady method would work best for me. I gave myself a goal of the junction with the Tom Wiggins trail. It marked the end of the lower section of climbing and the beginning of a second, steeper section and I figured it would be a good spot for a lunch break.
The hiking was tough, but eventually the route leveled off then actually began to descend before arriving at last at the trail junction. I dropped my pack gratefully, pulled on some warm clothes to ward off a bit of a chilly breeze, and gathered some lunch supplies (water, gummies, pita bread, Kashi bar). I pulled out my cell phone while I ate, deciding to check in with Jane. It was about 12:30 or so and I hadn't really spoken with her before I left that morning. We had a nice chat, with me reassuring her that all was going well. Chip arrived a short time later, followed by Dave and we all took the opportunity to catch our breath, admire the Tom Wiggins trail sign ("Not recommended. Steep and loose."), eat a little food and prepare for what we hoped would be the final part of our climb.
A note on some fellow hikers: Sometime after we left the Blueberry Ledges Chip & I crossed paths with an older gentleman coming down the trail. A dayhiker (judging by his gear and clothing), he'd apparently gotten an early start and had already summited. At the Wiggins junction we were joined by a dayhiking couple with their dog, a sprightly black lab. They continued on up the trail ahead of us. And most unusually, I encountered the couple we'd seen at the parking lot as they descended just before I got to the Wiggins trail. For the rest of the trip we debated what they'd done. Had they summited Whiteface then just turned around? Were the full packs (tent poles, sleeping pads) "just in case" or had they intended to camp out and changed their minds? Maybe they were camping below (though we hadn't passed any likely sites). We'll never know.
Water is also worth a mention. The route didn't pass any reliable water sources and Chip had begun to run out of his supply. He and Dave had checked the maps and thought there might be a stream near the Wiggins junction they could use. It meant a bushwack through the steep woods nearby though and I expressed doubts about the advisability of that action so we decided to just continue on up the trail. I still had a good amount of water and Dave did as well so we figured we were okay. We also thought we might find some sources near the former shelter sites on Whiteface. Our plan had been to summit Whiteface then continue on along the ridge to the former site of Camp Rich for the night, where a spring was available, but we were now beginning to think that a site on Whiteface might be a better goal.
The trail from the Wiggins junction began innocently enough, with the summit of Whiteface initially hidden from view. That was a good thing. I'd gotten a few glimpses of its rocky namesake faces towering above me as I approached my lunchtime stop and was glad I couldn't see them now. Soon enough though the path emerged from the forest to begin a steep assault up large sections of exposed rock. My hiking poles didn't help much as I found I had to use my hands to make the climb in spots. Views began to be offered and after a bit the trail came to a particularly exposed ledge offering a clear look to the south. Chip joined me there and we rested a few moments while we waited for Dave to catch up with us. I continued on the lead and found myself wondering a) how the dog made it up this trail and b) how any human ever did this in the winter. As noted in the trail guides, the rock showed evidence (drilled holes) of former hand/foot holds now removed. That meant we were forced to do some rudimentary rock climbing to continue upward. "You guys are gonna love this," I shouted back at one point as I encountered a particularly hairy section.
As I'd surmised at the Wiggins junction though, this final part of the trail was very steep but relatively short. Before too long it was evident that I was nearing the top. I'd gotten ahead of the others and found myself in a more wooded area where the trail was less steep. I noticed water on the trail and looked up to see a small pool under a rock fed by water dripping down from the moss above. Snowmelt I guessed (we'd begun to see some small patches of the previous weekend's snowfall scattered about), and it looked pretty clean. I knew the others would welcome the chance refill their water bottles so I dropped my pack and waited for them there. I got a drink myself, then sat to rest. Hearing some voices, I was soon met by the day hiking couple with their dog, beginning their return trip. They let me know that I was just yards away from some awesome vistas.
As they departed down the trail, I started looking around and noticed a path leading away into the woods. Curious, I followed it and found myself in an obvious campsite. I'd found the site of the now-removed Camp Heermance lean-to! I returned to the trail to share the good news with the others. We had a campsite and a water source. Even better, it was only yards from the summit (not really...the true summit is in a wooded area further along the trail but the ledges just ahead were what most folks considered the "top" of Whiteface). Chip & Dave soon made their appearance and I led them to my find. It was a bit unattractive, with scrubby trees surrounding a small, rocky open area, but it was a site. Though the trees offered limited opportunities to hang our hammocks (we'd each brought one) we figured we'd be able to make do. With no rain in the forecast, I even gave some thought to sleeping out under the stars, something I'd never done. We dropped our packs and set out to explore the area. It was about 2PM.
As the dayhikers had said, the views from the rocks were magnificent. We looked south over the Lakes region, with the Squam and Ossipee Mountain ranges just to our west and east. A few high clouds filtered the sunlight but the visibility was basically unlimited. We rested on the ledges with our water bottles and snacks for awhile, pleased to have finished the climbing. Though no one had said anything, it was obvious to all that we were done hiking for the day. All thoughts of continuing on to Camp Rich were gone. Still, I wanted to explore a bit. The true summit was just down the trail (according to the guide books), plus I wanted to see if I could find the other summit camp, Camp Shehadi. Its lean-to had also been removed but I thought I might find a better water source there. I left the others at the rocks and wandered down the trail a bit until I came to what I figured was the true summit - a rock followed by a descent. I stood on the rock to claim the peak then continued on down the trail a bit. When the other camp didn't appear immediately I turned around to return. Just before I got back to the ledges I noticed some trails heading into the woods and went to investigate. I found myself in a beautiful open area with a soft, pine needle covered floor and lots of perfectly hammock-spaced trees. There was even a slightly charred rock for an obvious campfire spot. It was a clearly superior campsite compared to where we'd left our packs so I ran out to the rocks and called the others in. They took one look, agreed with the assessment and we all went back down the trail to retrieve our gear.
Back at the new campsite we immediately began to set up camp, hanging our hammocks, collecting firewood and settling in. While we did this we heard voices on the trail. We were far enough off the path that none of us got a good look at the visitors but it seemed to be a couple. I heard the man say, "There's someone already here" before they left and continued along the trail. Apparently they had considered using the campsite as well. Good thing we got it when we did or else we'd have been stuck down at the old Heermance site.
Once the campsite was established we returned to the ledges to enjoy the remainder of the day. We explored the area, made some cell phone calls (ah, technology), and checked out some memorial plaques. They marked the final resting places of the ashes of various people (patrons of the wilderness?) and we all wondered how one went about getting one's ashes interred up there. At one point a small plane flew by, just barely above us. At last the sun began its journey down behind the western summits and we all watched as it disappeared before heading back to the campsite to begin the dinner preparations.
I'd brought a new toy - a propane canister lantern - and I lit it when we got back to camp. It did a great job of illuminating the area, allowing us to set up the stove & cook pots and get a fire going with ease. Far better than working by the light of a small headlamp or candle lantern. With the aid of some fire starter I'd brought we soon had a roaring blaze going by the fire rock and Dave got water boiling for the pasta Chip had purchased. I fetched the venison from my backpack to find it had thawed perfectly. The question now was how to cook it. Dave had brought small wooden skewers but they hardly seemed adequate for the task. We considered pan-frying but the fire was just too inviting. Finally I found a couple of long sticks, sharpened points on them and handed them to Chip and Dave. Problem solved. The meat was skewered and held over the fire, with a great amount of debate about the best cooking method. Over the flames or over the coals?
It took a while for all of the food to cook but we were in no hurry. It was a pleasant evening out in the mountains and we were content to enjoy it. At last everything was done and the dining began. I had a large portion of the pasta with some excellent red sauce Chip had brought, while Chip & Dave gnawed on the venison (they said it was very good) and helped themselves to pasta as well. A bit of Beaujolais Nouveau wine completed the feast nicely. After we'd all eaten our fill (and managed to finish off mostly everything), we banked the fire to keep it going then went back out to the rocks so check out the stars. The view was incredible. The cloud layer had vanished and we were treated to a spectacular display of lights, both above and below. Overhead, the Milky Way stood out bright and distinct, with the rest of the sky filled from horizon to horizon with blazing lights. Down below, what had appeared to be a remote forest in the daylight was now filled with the lights, revealing the presence of hundreds of houses and communities. It was a majestic and wonderful view and we stood there a good while taking it all in. We tried to identify constellations but most were obscured by the sheer number of surrounding stars. We did manage to find the Big Dipper and the North Star, but that was it.
Finally we began to get cold so we made out way back to the fire. We spent some time building it up to a blaze again, cooking & eating some slightly stale marshmallows Chip had brought, and enjoying the night before making one final trip to the rock for the view. On the way back we all collected containers full of snow to douse the fire. It worked very well, and before too long the lights were all extinguished and we began preparing to get into our hammocks for the night. It was only 8PM or so and Chip was concerned that we'd all be awake at 2AM. We resolved to go for a night hike or something if that happened. I wasn't too worried. I'd brought a small radio and a book and planned to stay awake for awhile longer in the comfort of my sleeping bag. I went through the usual struggle to get settled into the hammock, then put on the radio headphones and began a search of the dial. While I did this I heard a sound and felt the hammock drop a bit. I was using clothesline tighteners to secure the hammock for the first time and I thought one of them had slipped, so I got out of the hammock and retightened the lines. Back inside, I had just managed to find a Bruins game broadcast when I heard another sound and the entire hammock fell to the ground. I assured the others that I was okay, located my headlamp, extracted myself from the hammock and looked to see what had happened. I found that the bail on one of the tighteners had come out. Since the bail was the part tied to the tree, the rest of the mechanism had just fallen away. I retied the hammock to the tree directly with the hammock rope, then did the same at the other end as a precaution and finally settled in for the night.
I managed to locate the Bruins game again and happily heard them score two quick goals to tie the game in the second period. The next thing I heard were the announcers saying there were only a few minutes left in the game and Boston was down 3-2. I'd fallen asleep for most of two periods. That was a good sign to me, and when the game ended a few minutes later I shut the radio off and tried to sleep for good. As usual, it didn't feel like I fell asleep but every so often I'd check my watch to find that several hours had passed by. The final time I awoke was at 4AM. I needed to pee so I climbed out of the hammock, put on my boots and went out to the ledges. The Milky Way had left the sky and Orion now stood out clearly, though the heavens were still full of stars. The lights of civilization below blazed away as well, though in fewer numbers than before. I stood there until I got chilled enough to go back to my sleeping bag. Having been in "bed" for 8 hours, I figured I wouldn't sleep any more that night so I tried to make myself comfortable until dawn, thinking I might listen to the radio a little. A bit of a draft kept bothering me though and I tried adjusting things to keep it out. I was using a bivy sack over my sleeping bag for the extra warmth and I finally thought to pull the cover over my face. That stopped the draft nicely.
The next thing I knew I was awaking from a convoluted dream involving gangsters. It was still quite dark, then I realized I had the bivy cover over my face. I pushed it back, looked out through the screen mesh, then started pushing my way out of the hammock. The eastern skyline was glowing a bright pre-dawn orange. A check of my watch showed it was 6:15. I jumped into my boots, grabbed my sleeping bag and pad, and called to the others to join me at the rocks for the dawn. I climbed to the highest rock out there - the site of an old fire tower, judging by the bolts and bore holes remaining in the stone - and settled in. The others made their way out from the woods a few minutes later, Chip fully dressed and Dave with his sleeping gear. We each found a spot to claim, then spent a quiet few minutes greeting the day and watching the world wake up while keeping our eye on the ever-brightening horizon. A line of low clouds had us wondering if the sun had already emerged and was just hidden, but suddenly a bright dot appeared on the edge of the world and slowly grew into a blazing orange orb.
Once the sun had cleared the horizon, Chip & I made our way back to the campsite to make some breakfast. Dave decided to stay out on the rocks and snooze a bit more. Chip fired up the stove and we began to pack up our gear as the coffee water heated up. Once the coffee was made we grabbed the whole cook pot, picked up a bag of bagels and took our breakfast out to the rock. Dave got his breakfast in bed while Chip & I downed our food and drink as we all chatted about the hike to come. We decided to continue on along the ridge on the Rollins Path to Mt. Passaconaway, where Chip & I planned to drop our packs and make a run up to claim that 4060 footer. Dave wasn't interested in the climb, so he was going to enjoy the camp a bit longer and join us at the base of Passaconaway later. Dave's FRS radios would serve to keep us in touch.
Chip & I packed up the remainder of our gear pretty quickly then began our hike. It was about 8:30. We soon passed the true summit (we thought), then dropped to a col where we found the junction with the Kate Sleeper trail and the remains of Camp Shehadi. Another rather beat-up spot and no sign of water. We thought we might find the previous evening's late hikers camped there but we saw no sign of anyone. Continuing on, the trail began a short ascent to what we learned later was the true summit of Whiteface Mt. Had we known we would have noted the moment we peaked but instead we just passed by on our way along the ridge. The woods were dense and pretty, and quite silent. On the ledges we'd had some wind and could detect the sound of water rushing down streambeds far below. On the ridge there was complete silence. We spent a few moments appreciating it before hiking on.
The trail made its way along the ridge, circling a deep valley known as The Bowl. An outlook along the path offered a grand view of the forest dropping away below our feet along with a clear look at Mt. Passaconaway in the distance. I surveyed our route along the ridge and decided it didn't look too bad. Shortly after the overlook Chip sent me on ahead and I spent the next hour or so on my own, hiking along, stopping at the occasional outlook, thinking my thoughts and trying to figure out about where I was on the ridge I'd seen earlier. For the most part the route was quite evident, though one section at the base of a significant descent on switchbacks could have used better marking. I recall thinking I'd hate to have to route-find in there in the winter with snow obscuring the trail.
After that drop the trail leveled off, then began to climb a bit. Finally it entered into a pretty little open marshy area and suddenly I found myself at the junction with the Dicey's Mills trail. I dropped my backpack, grabbed some snacks and water and awaited Chip's arrival. It was about 9:40 and he was only a few minutes behind me. We gave Dave a call to let him know where we were, stashed our packs in the woods and started up to the summit of Passaconaway. A young man (dayhiker) arrived about the same time and started up the trail before us. He'd come down the Rollins Trail as well and we tried to figure out where he could have come from to make it here so early.
Hiking without the full packs made the going much easier. I was practically jogging up the trail. In a few minutes we passed the intersection with the Loop trail that led over to the Walden trail, and we found the location of Camp Rich. Like the other sites, it was pretty beaten up and not especially inviting. The nearby water supplies were flowing nicely but otherwise there wasn't much to recommend the spot. We were glad we'd stayed where we did. Leaving Camp Rich, we continued up the trail. It climbed easily on switchbacks at first, then did a quick scramble up some rocks and emerged at an overlook to the west. From there it was a short distance to a spur trail to the wooded summit, which we followed just to say we'd reached the top. Back on what was now the Walden trail, Chip led me toward a lookout he recalled from a previous visit. A sign by a side trail said, "View" so we decided to follow it down. Down it did go, on and on to the point where we were just about to turn back when we met up with the young day hiker, who assured us that the view was nearby and worth the visit. A few moments later we heard voices and found ourselves at another majestic overlook with the entire Pemigewasset Wilderness spread before us. In the distance the summit mass of Mt. Washington loomed above a partially hidden Crawford Notch.
We shared the view with a couple and their dog, Cardigan. The woman, a cute redhead, said they'd stayed the night at Camp Rich. It turned out they were the folks who had passed by us the previous evening. The dog, almost 2 years old, was named after the mountain we could see in the distance. We spent several minutes there, chatting with the couple and trying to figure out which mountains were which before we decided we needed to get back to Dave. After saying our good-byes we hoofed it back up to the summit trail then back down toward the junction. Chip paused at the first outlook to check in with Dave while I continued on ahead, and I soon was on my own again. It was a quick trip back to the junction where I retrieved my pack. I was surprised that Dave was nowhere to be found, but Chip arrived a few minutes later and said Dave had gone down the trail in hopes of getting to the water we could hear rushing nearby. We called Dave again and he was only about 5 minutes away, having not made it to the water as quickly as he thought. It was now 11:30, the run up/down Passaconaway taking almost 2 hours (it didn't seem that long).
We became a trio once again a few minutes later and began our final walk out of the woods. Our short-term objective was to get to that darned water we could hear so clearly. A straight bushwack was tempting but we stayed on the trail, knowing it would get us to the water before too long. I went out ahead again, determined not to stop until I found the stream. The trail made an unrelenting descent down the side of the ridge, dropping altitude as it pretty much made a beeline to the south. At times rough, I thought it wasn't the easy back-up route I'd assumed from the trail descriptions. Apparently there's really no easy way back to these summits.
At last the roar of the stream grew louder and the trail dropped off the ridge and flattened out at the water's edge. I put my pack on a rock by the stream, then grabbed some lunch. Chip & Dave showed up soon afterwards, and we all spent a good while relaxing by the water. Dave even dipped his feet in the frigid flow. We learned later that this was the site where Dicey's Mill (the trail's namesake) had once stood, though we didn't see any evidence of it. I noted some paths on the opposite shore and thought they might be routes to campsites, but Chip pointed out that I was seeing the trail, which crossed the stream at this point. We considered a couple of options for crossing, then finally all used the same log to get to the other side.
From here on out, the walking was flat and easy, though a bit wet. The trail was frequently easily mistaken for a streambed, filled with mud and water more often than not. We made our way over, around and through it without much trouble though. Soon after the crossing we noted the junction with the bottom of the infamous Tom Wiggins trail. I looked up at the ridge looming above us through the trees and tried to imagine what it would be like to follow that trail on its nearly vertical ascent to where I'd had lunch the previous day. Intimidating, but still a possibility for a future hike. From there the trail continued on through the woods, finally coming close to the stream once again. We took a few moments to visit some particularly active cascades we'd spied, then got back on the path and found ourselves at the trail's end. We passed signs for the Blueberry Ledge cutoff trail and a fine streamside campsite, then emerged into an open meadow where we passed a beautiful farmhouse and barn. Now on private property (though hikers are welcome), we followed the farm's dirt entrance road across a broad field to a gate, passed that and were back where we'd started. Another few minutes of walking brought us back to the car to complete the journey. It was 1:30PM.
Packing up the car, changing clothes, etc. took but a few minutes and soon we were on the road again, leaving the mountains behind. We decided to head east, aiming to return to Topsfield via NH16 and Route 95. We wound our way through Tamworth and Ossipee and eventually landed on Route 16 about where we'd hoped. It was a quick, 2 hours drive from there back to Topsfield where we said our good-byes and went our own ways. I was home by 4:45.
Notes:
What a great hike. Not November weather, by any means. No snow, lots of sunshine, no wind, mild temperatures. It's hard to believe we only encountered 6 other people all weekend, particularly on Sunday when we walked out on the main trail in the area. There were a fair number of cars in the parking lot when we got out though, so maybe everyone was on one of the other 3 or 4 trails starting from the same parking area.
It was nice to leave the cooking/food duties to someone else for a change. A savings of both weight and responsibility.
Once again, I'm pleasantly surprised at how well I was able to hand the physical effort. Though it seemed tough at the time, I don't recall any point when I felt I just wanted to quit. Slow and steady plugging along seemed to work well. My hiking poles helped too.
That campsite was easily one of the best we've ever had. Water, views, isolation, protection. Can't be beat. My only regret is that I didn't take my sleeping bag out when I went out at 4AM to spend the rest of the night under the stars.
One other regret...no digital camera. We wound up using up all of the shots on Dave's disposable camera on Saturday, so we have no photographs at all from Sunday. Phooey!
More pictures
When: 11/22-23/2003
With: Chip & Dave
I'd long advocated a late autumn hike - no crowds, no bugs, no heat, no snow - and Chip had mentioned during the summer that he might be available for just such a trip this year. Following my hike with Andy's Scout troop I was psyched to get out again, so I contacted Chip and we began making plans. I suggested a number of possible routes, all based at Lincoln Woods. They ranged from a long, tough ridge loop to a relatively easy flat amble into the backcountry. I figured trail conditions (snow?) and our mood would guide the final decision. Chip managed to recruit Dave and we started thinking about dates. We started in October but life being what it is, we kept pushing the dates out until finally settling on the weekend before Thanksgiving.
Along the way, I continued to look at routes. I began to shift my attention to the peaks between Waterville Valley and Mt. Chocorua, an area we haven't explored much. Back in 1997 I had suggested a trip up Mt. Whiteface and that came up for consideration again. Besides being a new area, it offered some good campsites (the locations of former lean-tos) as well as a loop route (always a plus) and the chance to add two more 4000+ foot peaks to my list. The others concurred so the trip was set.
As has become the norm I developed a fine case of panic in the days preceding the hike but I managed to get through it and set off from home at 6AM Saturday en route to Chip's house. Dave was already there when I arrived so we just chatted with Wendy while Chip completed his preparations, then we were off. The drive up route 93 was uneventful, with a single stop at the NH State liquor store and a pleasant ride through the Squam Lake area before landing at the Ferncroft parking area at 10. We joined perhaps 10 other cars in the lot that morning though the only sign of other hikers was a single couple who set out soon after we arrived with overnight backpacks. I worried that they were heading to the spot we'd chosen as a destination but figured we could deal with that. We made our arrangements and were on our way around 10:20.
It's worth noting the weather and the food. The long range forecast for the area earlier in the week had predicted rain all weekend and temperatures in the high 50s. Chip said that rain would cancel for him but as the weekend grew closer the forecast changed. Heavy rains came through during the week, clearing away an early snow cover (8-10 inches) that had fallen previously and the weekend turned out to be sunny and still quite mild (40s). We wound up leaving a fair amount of winter gear in the car as we packed up. I also left all of my cooking gear behind. In a change from previous trips, Chip & Dave took responsibility for the dining duties. Dave brought all of the cooking gear (stove and pots) and Chip had purchased dinner and breakfast supplies. My only contribution was a couple of venison steaks from my brother that I offered to the team carnivores.
The hike started off very pleasantly, passing farmhouses and fields before heading into the woods. The path made a moderate but constant ascent through the forest before emerging into the sunlight at some open rocky spots. These were the Blueberry Ledges that gave the trail its name and we paused there a while. We joked about just setting up camp there and calling it a day but continued on after all. Dave had led up to this point, despite expressing concerns earlier that a recent illness and general lack of conditioning would slow his pace, but Chip & I began to take the lead as the path climbed into the woods. The route got significantly steeper and we spread out along the trail. When Chip paused to rest at one point I decided to keep plodding along, figuring the slow but steady method would work best for me. I gave myself a goal of the junction with the Tom Wiggins trail. It marked the end of the lower section of climbing and the beginning of a second, steeper section and I figured it would be a good spot for a lunch break.
The hiking was tough, but eventually the route leveled off then actually began to descend before arriving at last at the trail junction. I dropped my pack gratefully, pulled on some warm clothes to ward off a bit of a chilly breeze, and gathered some lunch supplies (water, gummies, pita bread, Kashi bar). I pulled out my cell phone while I ate, deciding to check in with Jane. It was about 12:30 or so and I hadn't really spoken with her before I left that morning. We had a nice chat, with me reassuring her that all was going well. Chip arrived a short time later, followed by Dave and we all took the opportunity to catch our breath, admire the Tom Wiggins trail sign ("Not recommended. Steep and loose."), eat a little food and prepare for what we hoped would be the final part of our climb.
A note on some fellow hikers: Sometime after we left the Blueberry Ledges Chip & I crossed paths with an older gentleman coming down the trail. A dayhiker (judging by his gear and clothing), he'd apparently gotten an early start and had already summited. At the Wiggins junction we were joined by a dayhiking couple with their dog, a sprightly black lab. They continued on up the trail ahead of us. And most unusually, I encountered the couple we'd seen at the parking lot as they descended just before I got to the Wiggins trail. For the rest of the trip we debated what they'd done. Had they summited Whiteface then just turned around? Were the full packs (tent poles, sleeping pads) "just in case" or had they intended to camp out and changed their minds? Maybe they were camping below (though we hadn't passed any likely sites). We'll never know.
Water is also worth a mention. The route didn't pass any reliable water sources and Chip had begun to run out of his supply. He and Dave had checked the maps and thought there might be a stream near the Wiggins junction they could use. It meant a bushwack through the steep woods nearby though and I expressed doubts about the advisability of that action so we decided to just continue on up the trail. I still had a good amount of water and Dave did as well so we figured we were okay. We also thought we might find some sources near the former shelter sites on Whiteface. Our plan had been to summit Whiteface then continue on along the ridge to the former site of Camp Rich for the night, where a spring was available, but we were now beginning to think that a site on Whiteface might be a better goal.
The trail from the Wiggins junction began innocently enough, with the summit of Whiteface initially hidden from view. That was a good thing. I'd gotten a few glimpses of its rocky namesake faces towering above me as I approached my lunchtime stop and was glad I couldn't see them now. Soon enough though the path emerged from the forest to begin a steep assault up large sections of exposed rock. My hiking poles didn't help much as I found I had to use my hands to make the climb in spots. Views began to be offered and after a bit the trail came to a particularly exposed ledge offering a clear look to the south. Chip joined me there and we rested a few moments while we waited for Dave to catch up with us. I continued on the lead and found myself wondering a) how the dog made it up this trail and b) how any human ever did this in the winter. As noted in the trail guides, the rock showed evidence (drilled holes) of former hand/foot holds now removed. That meant we were forced to do some rudimentary rock climbing to continue upward. "You guys are gonna love this," I shouted back at one point as I encountered a particularly hairy section.
As I'd surmised at the Wiggins junction though, this final part of the trail was very steep but relatively short. Before too long it was evident that I was nearing the top. I'd gotten ahead of the others and found myself in a more wooded area where the trail was less steep. I noticed water on the trail and looked up to see a small pool under a rock fed by water dripping down from the moss above. Snowmelt I guessed (we'd begun to see some small patches of the previous weekend's snowfall scattered about), and it looked pretty clean. I knew the others would welcome the chance refill their water bottles so I dropped my pack and waited for them there. I got a drink myself, then sat to rest. Hearing some voices, I was soon met by the day hiking couple with their dog, beginning their return trip. They let me know that I was just yards away from some awesome vistas.
As they departed down the trail, I started looking around and noticed a path leading away into the woods. Curious, I followed it and found myself in an obvious campsite. I'd found the site of the now-removed Camp Heermance lean-to! I returned to the trail to share the good news with the others. We had a campsite and a water source. Even better, it was only yards from the summit (not really...the true summit is in a wooded area further along the trail but the ledges just ahead were what most folks considered the "top" of Whiteface). Chip & Dave soon made their appearance and I led them to my find. It was a bit unattractive, with scrubby trees surrounding a small, rocky open area, but it was a site. Though the trees offered limited opportunities to hang our hammocks (we'd each brought one) we figured we'd be able to make do. With no rain in the forecast, I even gave some thought to sleeping out under the stars, something I'd never done. We dropped our packs and set out to explore the area. It was about 2PM.
As the dayhikers had said, the views from the rocks were magnificent. We looked south over the Lakes region, with the Squam and Ossipee Mountain ranges just to our west and east. A few high clouds filtered the sunlight but the visibility was basically unlimited. We rested on the ledges with our water bottles and snacks for awhile, pleased to have finished the climbing. Though no one had said anything, it was obvious to all that we were done hiking for the day. All thoughts of continuing on to Camp Rich were gone. Still, I wanted to explore a bit. The true summit was just down the trail (according to the guide books), plus I wanted to see if I could find the other summit camp, Camp Shehadi. Its lean-to had also been removed but I thought I might find a better water source there. I left the others at the rocks and wandered down the trail a bit until I came to what I figured was the true summit - a rock followed by a descent. I stood on the rock to claim the peak then continued on down the trail a bit. When the other camp didn't appear immediately I turned around to return. Just before I got back to the ledges I noticed some trails heading into the woods and went to investigate. I found myself in a beautiful open area with a soft, pine needle covered floor and lots of perfectly hammock-spaced trees. There was even a slightly charred rock for an obvious campfire spot. It was a clearly superior campsite compared to where we'd left our packs so I ran out to the rocks and called the others in. They took one look, agreed with the assessment and we all went back down the trail to retrieve our gear.
Back at the new campsite we immediately began to set up camp, hanging our hammocks, collecting firewood and settling in. While we did this we heard voices on the trail. We were far enough off the path that none of us got a good look at the visitors but it seemed to be a couple. I heard the man say, "There's someone already here" before they left and continued along the trail. Apparently they had considered using the campsite as well. Good thing we got it when we did or else we'd have been stuck down at the old Heermance site.
Once the campsite was established we returned to the ledges to enjoy the remainder of the day. We explored the area, made some cell phone calls (ah, technology), and checked out some memorial plaques. They marked the final resting places of the ashes of various people (patrons of the wilderness?) and we all wondered how one went about getting one's ashes interred up there. At one point a small plane flew by, just barely above us. At last the sun began its journey down behind the western summits and we all watched as it disappeared before heading back to the campsite to begin the dinner preparations.
I'd brought a new toy - a propane canister lantern - and I lit it when we got back to camp. It did a great job of illuminating the area, allowing us to set up the stove & cook pots and get a fire going with ease. Far better than working by the light of a small headlamp or candle lantern. With the aid of some fire starter I'd brought we soon had a roaring blaze going by the fire rock and Dave got water boiling for the pasta Chip had purchased. I fetched the venison from my backpack to find it had thawed perfectly. The question now was how to cook it. Dave had brought small wooden skewers but they hardly seemed adequate for the task. We considered pan-frying but the fire was just too inviting. Finally I found a couple of long sticks, sharpened points on them and handed them to Chip and Dave. Problem solved. The meat was skewered and held over the fire, with a great amount of debate about the best cooking method. Over the flames or over the coals?
It took a while for all of the food to cook but we were in no hurry. It was a pleasant evening out in the mountains and we were content to enjoy it. At last everything was done and the dining began. I had a large portion of the pasta with some excellent red sauce Chip had brought, while Chip & Dave gnawed on the venison (they said it was very good) and helped themselves to pasta as well. A bit of Beaujolais Nouveau wine completed the feast nicely. After we'd all eaten our fill (and managed to finish off mostly everything), we banked the fire to keep it going then went back out to the rocks so check out the stars. The view was incredible. The cloud layer had vanished and we were treated to a spectacular display of lights, both above and below. Overhead, the Milky Way stood out bright and distinct, with the rest of the sky filled from horizon to horizon with blazing lights. Down below, what had appeared to be a remote forest in the daylight was now filled with the lights, revealing the presence of hundreds of houses and communities. It was a majestic and wonderful view and we stood there a good while taking it all in. We tried to identify constellations but most were obscured by the sheer number of surrounding stars. We did manage to find the Big Dipper and the North Star, but that was it.
Finally we began to get cold so we made out way back to the fire. We spent some time building it up to a blaze again, cooking & eating some slightly stale marshmallows Chip had brought, and enjoying the night before making one final trip to the rock for the view. On the way back we all collected containers full of snow to douse the fire. It worked very well, and before too long the lights were all extinguished and we began preparing to get into our hammocks for the night. It was only 8PM or so and Chip was concerned that we'd all be awake at 2AM. We resolved to go for a night hike or something if that happened. I wasn't too worried. I'd brought a small radio and a book and planned to stay awake for awhile longer in the comfort of my sleeping bag. I went through the usual struggle to get settled into the hammock, then put on the radio headphones and began a search of the dial. While I did this I heard a sound and felt the hammock drop a bit. I was using clothesline tighteners to secure the hammock for the first time and I thought one of them had slipped, so I got out of the hammock and retightened the lines. Back inside, I had just managed to find a Bruins game broadcast when I heard another sound and the entire hammock fell to the ground. I assured the others that I was okay, located my headlamp, extracted myself from the hammock and looked to see what had happened. I found that the bail on one of the tighteners had come out. Since the bail was the part tied to the tree, the rest of the mechanism had just fallen away. I retied the hammock to the tree directly with the hammock rope, then did the same at the other end as a precaution and finally settled in for the night.
I managed to locate the Bruins game again and happily heard them score two quick goals to tie the game in the second period. The next thing I heard were the announcers saying there were only a few minutes left in the game and Boston was down 3-2. I'd fallen asleep for most of two periods. That was a good sign to me, and when the game ended a few minutes later I shut the radio off and tried to sleep for good. As usual, it didn't feel like I fell asleep but every so often I'd check my watch to find that several hours had passed by. The final time I awoke was at 4AM. I needed to pee so I climbed out of the hammock, put on my boots and went out to the ledges. The Milky Way had left the sky and Orion now stood out clearly, though the heavens were still full of stars. The lights of civilization below blazed away as well, though in fewer numbers than before. I stood there until I got chilled enough to go back to my sleeping bag. Having been in "bed" for 8 hours, I figured I wouldn't sleep any more that night so I tried to make myself comfortable until dawn, thinking I might listen to the radio a little. A bit of a draft kept bothering me though and I tried adjusting things to keep it out. I was using a bivy sack over my sleeping bag for the extra warmth and I finally thought to pull the cover over my face. That stopped the draft nicely.
The next thing I knew I was awaking from a convoluted dream involving gangsters. It was still quite dark, then I realized I had the bivy cover over my face. I pushed it back, looked out through the screen mesh, then started pushing my way out of the hammock. The eastern skyline was glowing a bright pre-dawn orange. A check of my watch showed it was 6:15. I jumped into my boots, grabbed my sleeping bag and pad, and called to the others to join me at the rocks for the dawn. I climbed to the highest rock out there - the site of an old fire tower, judging by the bolts and bore holes remaining in the stone - and settled in. The others made their way out from the woods a few minutes later, Chip fully dressed and Dave with his sleeping gear. We each found a spot to claim, then spent a quiet few minutes greeting the day and watching the world wake up while keeping our eye on the ever-brightening horizon. A line of low clouds had us wondering if the sun had already emerged and was just hidden, but suddenly a bright dot appeared on the edge of the world and slowly grew into a blazing orange orb.
Once the sun had cleared the horizon, Chip & I made our way back to the campsite to make some breakfast. Dave decided to stay out on the rocks and snooze a bit more. Chip fired up the stove and we began to pack up our gear as the coffee water heated up. Once the coffee was made we grabbed the whole cook pot, picked up a bag of bagels and took our breakfast out to the rock. Dave got his breakfast in bed while Chip & I downed our food and drink as we all chatted about the hike to come. We decided to continue on along the ridge on the Rollins Path to Mt. Passaconaway, where Chip & I planned to drop our packs and make a run up to claim that 4060 footer. Dave wasn't interested in the climb, so he was going to enjoy the camp a bit longer and join us at the base of Passaconaway later. Dave's FRS radios would serve to keep us in touch.
Chip & I packed up the remainder of our gear pretty quickly then began our hike. It was about 8:30. We soon passed the true summit (we thought), then dropped to a col where we found the junction with the Kate Sleeper trail and the remains of Camp Shehadi. Another rather beat-up spot and no sign of water. We thought we might find the previous evening's late hikers camped there but we saw no sign of anyone. Continuing on, the trail began a short ascent to what we learned later was the true summit of Whiteface Mt. Had we known we would have noted the moment we peaked but instead we just passed by on our way along the ridge. The woods were dense and pretty, and quite silent. On the ledges we'd had some wind and could detect the sound of water rushing down streambeds far below. On the ridge there was complete silence. We spent a few moments appreciating it before hiking on.
The trail made its way along the ridge, circling a deep valley known as The Bowl. An outlook along the path offered a grand view of the forest dropping away below our feet along with a clear look at Mt. Passaconaway in the distance. I surveyed our route along the ridge and decided it didn't look too bad. Shortly after the overlook Chip sent me on ahead and I spent the next hour or so on my own, hiking along, stopping at the occasional outlook, thinking my thoughts and trying to figure out about where I was on the ridge I'd seen earlier. For the most part the route was quite evident, though one section at the base of a significant descent on switchbacks could have used better marking. I recall thinking I'd hate to have to route-find in there in the winter with snow obscuring the trail.
After that drop the trail leveled off, then began to climb a bit. Finally it entered into a pretty little open marshy area and suddenly I found myself at the junction with the Dicey's Mills trail. I dropped my backpack, grabbed some snacks and water and awaited Chip's arrival. It was about 9:40 and he was only a few minutes behind me. We gave Dave a call to let him know where we were, stashed our packs in the woods and started up to the summit of Passaconaway. A young man (dayhiker) arrived about the same time and started up the trail before us. He'd come down the Rollins Trail as well and we tried to figure out where he could have come from to make it here so early.
Hiking without the full packs made the going much easier. I was practically jogging up the trail. In a few minutes we passed the intersection with the Loop trail that led over to the Walden trail, and we found the location of Camp Rich. Like the other sites, it was pretty beaten up and not especially inviting. The nearby water supplies were flowing nicely but otherwise there wasn't much to recommend the spot. We were glad we'd stayed where we did. Leaving Camp Rich, we continued up the trail. It climbed easily on switchbacks at first, then did a quick scramble up some rocks and emerged at an overlook to the west. From there it was a short distance to a spur trail to the wooded summit, which we followed just to say we'd reached the top. Back on what was now the Walden trail, Chip led me toward a lookout he recalled from a previous visit. A sign by a side trail said, "View" so we decided to follow it down. Down it did go, on and on to the point where we were just about to turn back when we met up with the young day hiker, who assured us that the view was nearby and worth the visit. A few moments later we heard voices and found ourselves at another majestic overlook with the entire Pemigewasset Wilderness spread before us. In the distance the summit mass of Mt. Washington loomed above a partially hidden Crawford Notch.
We shared the view with a couple and their dog, Cardigan. The woman, a cute redhead, said they'd stayed the night at Camp Rich. It turned out they were the folks who had passed by us the previous evening. The dog, almost 2 years old, was named after the mountain we could see in the distance. We spent several minutes there, chatting with the couple and trying to figure out which mountains were which before we decided we needed to get back to Dave. After saying our good-byes we hoofed it back up to the summit trail then back down toward the junction. Chip paused at the first outlook to check in with Dave while I continued on ahead, and I soon was on my own again. It was a quick trip back to the junction where I retrieved my pack. I was surprised that Dave was nowhere to be found, but Chip arrived a few minutes later and said Dave had gone down the trail in hopes of getting to the water we could hear rushing nearby. We called Dave again and he was only about 5 minutes away, having not made it to the water as quickly as he thought. It was now 11:30, the run up/down Passaconaway taking almost 2 hours (it didn't seem that long).
We became a trio once again a few minutes later and began our final walk out of the woods. Our short-term objective was to get to that darned water we could hear so clearly. A straight bushwack was tempting but we stayed on the trail, knowing it would get us to the water before too long. I went out ahead again, determined not to stop until I found the stream. The trail made an unrelenting descent down the side of the ridge, dropping altitude as it pretty much made a beeline to the south. At times rough, I thought it wasn't the easy back-up route I'd assumed from the trail descriptions. Apparently there's really no easy way back to these summits.
At last the roar of the stream grew louder and the trail dropped off the ridge and flattened out at the water's edge. I put my pack on a rock by the stream, then grabbed some lunch. Chip & Dave showed up soon afterwards, and we all spent a good while relaxing by the water. Dave even dipped his feet in the frigid flow. We learned later that this was the site where Dicey's Mill (the trail's namesake) had once stood, though we didn't see any evidence of it. I noted some paths on the opposite shore and thought they might be routes to campsites, but Chip pointed out that I was seeing the trail, which crossed the stream at this point. We considered a couple of options for crossing, then finally all used the same log to get to the other side.
From here on out, the walking was flat and easy, though a bit wet. The trail was frequently easily mistaken for a streambed, filled with mud and water more often than not. We made our way over, around and through it without much trouble though. Soon after the crossing we noted the junction with the bottom of the infamous Tom Wiggins trail. I looked up at the ridge looming above us through the trees and tried to imagine what it would be like to follow that trail on its nearly vertical ascent to where I'd had lunch the previous day. Intimidating, but still a possibility for a future hike. From there the trail continued on through the woods, finally coming close to the stream once again. We took a few moments to visit some particularly active cascades we'd spied, then got back on the path and found ourselves at the trail's end. We passed signs for the Blueberry Ledge cutoff trail and a fine streamside campsite, then emerged into an open meadow where we passed a beautiful farmhouse and barn. Now on private property (though hikers are welcome), we followed the farm's dirt entrance road across a broad field to a gate, passed that and were back where we'd started. Another few minutes of walking brought us back to the car to complete the journey. It was 1:30PM.
Packing up the car, changing clothes, etc. took but a few minutes and soon we were on the road again, leaving the mountains behind. We decided to head east, aiming to return to Topsfield via NH16 and Route 95. We wound our way through Tamworth and Ossipee and eventually landed on Route 16 about where we'd hoped. It was a quick, 2 hours drive from there back to Topsfield where we said our good-byes and went our own ways. I was home by 4:45.
Notes:
What a great hike. Not November weather, by any means. No snow, lots of sunshine, no wind, mild temperatures. It's hard to believe we only encountered 6 other people all weekend, particularly on Sunday when we walked out on the main trail in the area. There were a fair number of cars in the parking lot when we got out though, so maybe everyone was on one of the other 3 or 4 trails starting from the same parking area.
It was nice to leave the cooking/food duties to someone else for a change. A savings of both weight and responsibility.
Once again, I'm pleasantly surprised at how well I was able to hand the physical effort. Though it seemed tough at the time, I don't recall any point when I felt I just wanted to quit. Slow and steady plugging along seemed to work well. My hiking poles helped too.
That campsite was easily one of the best we've ever had. Water, views, isolation, protection. Can't be beat. My only regret is that I didn't take my sleeping bag out when I went out at 4AM to spend the rest of the night under the stars.
One other regret...no digital camera. We wound up using up all of the shots on Dave's disposable camera on Saturday, so we have no photographs at all from Sunday. Phooey!
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