Where: Mt. Isolation, NH
When: 18 November, 2021
With: Steve & Sam
Here's how it started:
While I continue to work on summiting the 48 NH 4000' peaks, Steve is working on The Grid, and in a post about another hike he'd done for his November summits, he mentioned Mt. Isolation. It's true to its name. Remote and genuinely isolated, it requires a long, tough hike to get to it. It's just barely over 4000 feet (4004'), and despite spectacular views from the top, it probably wouldn't get much traffic if not for the 4K list. I figured I'd get it eventually, but there were plenty of other peaks to get to first. Still, here was an opportunity to check it off.Though I had a few chances to back out (or not agree to go in the first place), I kept saying I was still in for the hike. The final call from Steve came the day before the hike. Showers were predicted all day, and I hadn't been sleeping well the past few days, and there was that twinge in my back, and... I said I was still up for it and Steve said he'd pick me up at 3:30. AM. Ouch.
My alarm went off at 3:00, but I was already awake. I'd slept a few hours, then had a few more hours of restless napping. Oh well. I got up, dressed, made myself some coffee & oatmeal, then met Steve in the driveway. We picked up Sam and were on our way. To a great extent, having Steve & Sam to hike with made a huge difference. I didn't have to drive or plan the route. I was just going along as one of the crew (the junior member of the team, in fact). I could be a cog!
It was a comfortable three hour drive to the trailhead, arriving just as the sky was beginning to brighten. We spent a half hour packing up and dressing before we were ready to go. Anticipating showers, I wore my mountain parka with a fleece vest over my base layer and North Face pullover. A neck gaiter added some warmth for my head. As it turned out, I was overdressed. The trail began ascending right from the parking lot, and it didn't take long for us to warm up enough to warrant a strip-down. About the same time, the sun made its first appearance in the east, adding light & warmth to the day and revealing a spectacular blue sky. The jacket, vest, and gaiter went into my pack and I hiked the rest of the day in just the base layer and the pullover. Steve & Sam went further, both stripping down to just shirts. Short-sleeves for Steve.
The trail (Rocky Branch Trail) continued to climb steadily until it topped a ridge and leveled off somewhat. Steve (in front) kept up a steady pace, and Sam (in back) and I did our best to keep up. The ground had been just leaf-covered at the trailhead, but we began to see patches of snow, the first of the season. Though we'd all brought snowshoes, they stayed in Steve's truck. Steve had some concerns about that decision, but so far it seemed okay. The bigger issue was water in the trail. We were constantly trying to avoid wet and muddy sections, with mixed success. Fortunately, we'd all worn winter boots, which we hoped would keep us warm and dry.
The trail to Isolation is a zig-zag route, roughly the shape of a capitol Z. Over the years, unofficial shortcuts have developed and become common enough to gain names. Steve wanted to take one known as the Engine Hill bushwhack, which cut off the first corner of the Z. In addition to being a bit shorter, it bypassed a section where the trail descended to a stream and then climbed back up to the original elevation. The bushwack stayed roughly at the same elevation, and was a shorter route. It's a true bushwack, with no marked or even mildly-defined route. In the winter, the tracks of previous hikers can be followed, but ours were the first tracks in the sparse snow this season, so we had to find our own way.
Fortunately, popular bushwack routes were visible in an app Sam had on his phone, recorded by previous hikers. Sam was able to alert us to the start of the bushwack, confirmed by a small pile of logs along the side of the trail. Once we stepped off the trail and began the bushwack, Sam kept us going in the right direction. Hiking behind us and holding his phone while he walked, he'd call out "left" or "right" to keep us on the main track. On the map below, our route is in red, while the official trail is marked with green dots. It's easy to see why a bushwack developed. We took the higher of several bushwack routes. Others (red dots) hit the trail lower, then cross the stream to get to another bushwack (Iso Express) that shortcuts the other corner of the Z.
Almost immediately, the bushwack proved to be problematic. It went through a marshy area, and we kept stepping into water or deep mud. Route-finding was also tough. Eventually Sam told us to head upslope, getting us onto solid ground. We climbed a bit to get to the contour level we wanted, then did our best to stay there. Though Sam would tell us were were "right on" the primary bushwack path, there was little evidence of it. From time to time we'd spot broken branches on a tree, or might see a rough opening through the woods, but mostly we made our own way. The snow cover had increased to a few inches, and though we did see some tracks along our route, they weren't human.
Because of the constant route-finding, our progress was fairly slow, but finally Sam began to announce that we were getting close to the trail. We could hear the stream that the trail followed and after descending a small slope, we were just a few feet from the stream's bank. Steve wondered where the trail was and I pointed out that it was right at his feet! Happy to have successfully negotiated the bushwhack, we turned and ascended the trail (Isolation Trail). After crossing the stream, it continued up the hillside, and became quite difficult. Filled with rocks, and flowing with enough water to seem more like a stream than a path. There were patches of ice, too thin to walk on, and mud, and the snow depth had now increased to 4-6 inches.
Complicating things further, it wasn't always clear where the trail went. There were no painted blazes to show the way (Wilderness Area), and true streams wound their way through the area. More than once we followed one of those before Sam guided us back to the correct route. An occasional sawn log provided confirmation of trail maintenance, but those were rare. A sign back at the trailhead had warned of difficult route-finding because of a recent weather event that had destroyed or disrupted the trails. It went on to say: These trails may have changed dramatically since your last visit. Please be aware that this trail now requires good route-finding skills, a river crossing, and an awareness of your surroundings at all times. Welcome to Wilderness!
By now we'd been doing pretty tough walking for more than four hours and we were tiring, so it was a welcome sight when we came to a small sign with a tent symbol and an arrow. We were at a camping site very close to the junction with the Davis Path, the trail that would take us to Isolation. A shelter that had been at the site had recently been removed, part of the program to remove structures from Wilderness Areas. Sam announced that a bushwack ran through the camping area to a point along the Davis Path, but Steve said he was tired of bushwhacking, so we continued to the trail junction before turning toward Isolation.
Almost immediately the trail began to descend, a disheartening development since it meant that much more elevation we'd have to climb to summit Isolation (and climb on the return trip). Down we went, then up again. The trees grew short and I was sure the summit was near. Alas, we shortly came into an open area and I looked up to see the bulk of Isolation looming ahead of us. Another descent followed, then yet another climb. There was less water on the trail now, but more snow.
Finally a small wooden sign appeared. We'd arrived at the spur trail to the summit of Isolation. It was a steep, tough scramble up slick, snow-covered rocks, but thankfully a short climb. Steve popped out into the open first and announced, "It's a cairn." We'd been wondering how the summit was marked, with a cairn, or a medallion, or both, or none. Now we had our answer. I joined Steve, and Sam was close behind. It was just before noon.
We congratulated each other on the accomplishment and took in the view. Pictures were taken, then Steve noticed that there seemed to be slightly higher spot in the brush nearby and said he wanted to check it out. Sam spotted another cairn there, so we all made our way up to what turned out to be the true summit, with a medallion. More photos, and then we returned to the lower area (it had better views) for lunch. Anticipating winds and cold, we'd planned to tag the peak, then return to the trail junction to eat lunch in the shelter of the trees, but the weather on top turned out to be perfect - warm temps, blue skies, and no wind - so we stayed on top. We were quickly joined by a pair of Canada Jays (Grey Jays), who came hunting for food. They're common on the White Mountain summits, having learned they can get hikers to offer them treats in return for a picture of them posing on an outstretched hand.
As we ate lunch and fed the Jays, another hiker joined us. Another Gridder, he had less then 30 peaks to go to finish. He commented on what a slog the hike up had been and said he'd followed our bushwack, though he didn't think it helped much. Still, he'd made the climb an hour faster than us. He also said he wouldn't have made the trip if not for the Grid, and was looking forward to finishing.
We chatted while we finished our lunches, then all four of us left the summit at the same time. The other hiker went out ahead and was gone quickly. We were cautious coming down to the bottom of the summit spur trail, then began moving along with more speed. The descents and climbs we knew were coming didn't seem that bad, perhaps because we'd gotten the peak and were heading home. We were still a good ways away from the Isolation Trail junction when we spotted footprints in the snow leading off the trail. It was the other end of the bushwack through the camping area. We didn't hesitate to follow, and it wound up saving us a fair amount of time and effort. I was somewhat surprised at how quickly we arrived at the small sign we'd seen on the way up.
From there, it was back down the Isolation Trail, the toughest part of the route. Lots of rocks, mud, ice, and water. Mostly water. Steve and I both topped our boots several times, and all three of us fell more than once. Slippery rocks and tired legs. No injuries however, other than to our egos. At least we knew where the path went now. We focused on just pushing on through, though at one point I stopped and looked around. The surrounding forest was beautiful, something we'd been overlooking as we focused on the trail.
It was a relief when the stream crossing appeared, because our return bushwack was just beyond. We spotted our tracks, left the trail/streambed, then climbed into the woods. It was much easier & faster going now, since we didn't have to route-find. Also, since we were staying on a contour, there was less climbing. Sam enjoyed it because he didn't have to be staring at his phone the whole time. We made pretty good time in the woods, slowed through the final marshy area (where our feet got even more wet), and arrived back at the Rocky Branch Trail.
From there, it was all downhill (mostly) back to the car. Thank goodness the wet trail stuff was behind us, we said. Immediately after, the trail became a stream again. That continued all the way back to the car. It became a running joke - "Thank goodness..." We were tired though, and all looking forward to the end of the hike, so there was less conversation as we walked. Our light began to fade as both a cloud cover and twilight approached. Add in the leaf-covered trail and it became tougher to see rocks and other issues on the path.
At last the trail made a final turn and we arrived back at the parking lot. It had taken us a little over four hours to make the return trip, and darkness descended five minutes after we arrived. Steve, wearing his headlamp to pack up his gear, noted that if we hadn't taken the return bushwack through the camping area, we'd all have needed our headlamps for the walk out.
We doffed our boots, with many sighs of relief, changed our clothes, climbed into Steve's truck, and started for home. Everyone commented on how tough the hike had been, how great it was to NOT be walking, and what a fantastic time we'd had.
Post-hike thoughts:
- I carried the smallest backpack of our group, but I could have gone much smaller. The majority of my pack was filled with the parka, fleece vest, and neck gaiter I took off 10 minutes into the hike. The only things I used from my pack (other than the water in the hydration bladder) were my lunch - bagel, gummies, and apple. A smaller pack could have held those, my water, my emergency bag, my microspikes (not used, but worth carrying), and my Patagonia puffy jacket (also not used, but worth carrying).
- This was the toughest hike I've done in a long time, and the longest, both in miles and duration. The most challenging too, with the ground conditions (rocks, snow, mud, water) and the route-finding. Of course, all of that made it the most satisfying hike in recent memory, and it will serve as a reference point for future hikes ("Compared to Isolation, this is nothing."). As I keep saying, it's good to know my aging body can still do this sort of stuff. At one point along the hike, Sam asked about my conditioning routine between hikes. I told him I sat on my ass and drank beer. Of course I do more than that, working in the yard, hiking with Wilma, etc., but both Sam & Steve have regular exercise routines.
- I was initially proud of my no-training training, until my left hip began to complain. It was pretty painful at points (mostly when I had to lift my leg in the snowy sections), but never incapacitating. Still, it made me think I should look into some conditioning exercises if I want to hike the Long Trail, or even the Midstate Trail some day.
- 13.2 miles walked, 9.5 hours total time (9 hours walking, 30 minutes lunch).
- My boots required a week to get fully dry. And a week later, my left hip was still sore.
- #26 of my NH48
Post-script: Trip reports from later in the season describe a near-ideal pair of bushwack tracks - Engine Hill and Iso Express - that make the hike a breeze. Direct, efficient, and well-groomed. One poster admitting to being in less than ideal shape, yet completed the trip out & back in 5 hours. Rather than the soggy, rocky, tortuous trail we walked, folks describe a fast, smooth path of hard packed snow. Several posts contained some version of, "If you need to get this peak, this is the time to do it." Oh well!
Post-post-script: I found a track someone recorded of this year's bushwack paths, and it confirmed the reports. 10.4 miles round trip, and they did it in 6 hours.
