October 7th, 2000
I have also compiled the trip distances and elevation gains
READING SUGGESTIONS: if you find it hard to find time to read this, I have compiled a couple of suggestions. First, print this; this will allow you to carry this to remote corners. Then I can suggest reading it on the bus or subway during your commute. Perhaps while talking to someone boring on the phone; during digestion. If all else fails, you can read this when you go and sit down on the throne.
If you look at the sandwich range and stroke it from right to left (later why this is a bad decision) going through the 4000 Footers, you get a hike that goes through Passaconaway, Whiteface, the Tripyramids, and the Osceolas. Then, when you combine this with the foliage, you get mind blowing, unforgettable, retinal imprinting, national geographic, award winning impressions of the most beautiful colors nature has to offer: colors from the past, colors of the present and colors of the future. That is what I did on Saturday.
More importantly are the lessons learned from this trip. Although, some of the comments I will make do not make me look good in terms of thinking and being a good primate, I will share them with you. The hopes are that they will shed light or at the very least remind you of some common sense and tips which you will be able to make use in your future planning. If not in the very least, I plan to entertain you for the next handful of minutes.
The day started at 4:40am when the four alarms of my two watches beeped at 1 minute intervals to announce that the time has come. The reason for two watches is the scientific pursuit of hiking, calls for more than just elevation data at 10 minute intervals (watch #1), but in addition a 99-lap watch will keep track of time for each leg of the trip.
After wrapping up my bivy sack, and driving down Halls Brook Rd (Andean style), I arrived at 5:03am at the New Hampshire's MITOC Headquarters (i.e. Dunkin Donuts). There I proceed to order the standard meal for long hikes, an omwich, a muffin and coffee. While they prepared the meal, I fill the water bottles and release some unnecessary weight.
At the same time, an unfortunate call is received at head quarters. The person who was supposed to join me for the hike will not be coming. As I go back to the counter, the register person tells me the news as if she knew me (I was the only client in the premises, and I presume the description of the receptor of the news given to her must have been something like: look for a tall dweeb looking guy, kind of dorky; no doubt she would find me).
I seat down (not good, the clock is ticking) to digest the shocking news; I also take this opportunity to drink some coffee. After three and a half minutes I decided, the trip is still go, I guess it would just have to be the three of us, me, myself and I. This is not good, since odd numbers means that there is one person (usually me) that is left behind or that is hiking by himself.
I jump into the vehicle and start the drive. I would like to be at the trailhead by 7am. As I am driving by myself with the stereo at full blast the first surprise of the trip makes its appearance. As I pass the 30 MPH zone leaving the town of Lincoln and entering the Kancamagus, the only other car on the road happens to be a police car!!, as I see him, surprise!! Blue lights for you. Bummer. I pull over, turn on my interior lights and put my hands on the driving wheel, awaiting the appearance of the officer (this tip was given to me, not I, by my pistol shooting P.E. teacher in 98). He inquires about my knowledge or speculation of why he is pulling me over, I sadly reply "I am on a 30mph zone, right?". He replies, "you were going at XX on a 30 zone". dough!!!. License and Registration. As I ponder the consequences of my actions (or lack of attention), like the possible multi hundred dollar ticket, increase of my car insurance, end of the world as we know it, the policeman is pulling up my records. Ten minutes later, he comes back and gives me a warning. Thank God or to my guardian angel. I apologetically accept the warning, and drive at the speed limit the remaining of the trip.
Now I am fully awake. I arrive at the Oliverian Brook parking lot at 6:50am. Since is just me, myself and I, I take out some extra goodies (weight) that I had planned to bring as a surprise (I would not be able to surprise me or myself with them, they already knew). I realize that I had forgotten to pack iodine tablets, or rather (to take only partial fault), I had assumed that the other person would bring them, as talked on the phone. Regardless, I was tabletless and hence would have to carry all the water with me. great, 4 lbs of extra water, to go please!! (One gallon total). This brings to light the first lesson, always bring iodine tablets (obvious). The other idea that comes to mind is to pack some tablets along with your water proof matches and whistle, perhaps on a tiny plastic bag. This idea is in the works.
Ahh, finally on the trail at 6:57am. The Oliverian Brook trail starts out very flat; it is even a xc ski trail during the winter. The early morning foliage was amazing. The sunrays sparkling through the yellow leaves cast a tint on all the surrounding trees. As one hikes further into the forest, there are changes in the heterogeneity and color of the leaves. Certain regions are all red, or all yellow; and some are just a plethora of colors, green, red, and yellow, even purple. Definitely some national geographic pictures here could have been taken.
The excursion proceeds up the passaconaway cut-off passing the dicey trail, nothing too steep or out of the ordinary. At 8:50am I reach what is the summit of Passaconaway, nothing!!. The summit is only recognized by the fact that there is a sign few yards before it that says "summit that way". It is YANAS, Yet ANother Anticlimatic Summit. Faith is not to be lost. In another hour and fifteen (10:05) the Whiteface summit makes up for Passaconaway. It affords a wide southeast view of sandwich region. It is a very picnicable summit, it is a big flat rock, and you could probably fit 30 people on the summit. The colors and tints of red of the late morning sun are well worth the effort.
I give the pack to me, since I have been carrying it all this time.
The pack is heavy for a long day hike. Something must go. A banana is sacrificed.
The kate-sleeper trail takes us to the tripyramid trail. Before this, I am aware of the sleeper mountain bumps. The trail makers sometimes don't look at the contour lines when connecting trails, they just draw a straight line. So they end up going up and down, up and down, instead of flat and around. What gives!, not really bad, but it is nice to complain sometimes.
At tripyramid, we get into scree territory. The south slide is a big exposed rockslide that takes one to south peak. There, I take a little break and enjoy the views of the mountains on the south, and cache the pack for a quick run of the three peaks that conform the tripyramids. The truth of the matter is, that only two peaks are real, and that south peak was created only to endow the mountain with a cool name, I mean the bipyramids does not sounds as cool as the tripyramids. I embark out. It takes one hour ten to go up to south peak, middle peak, north peak and back. The highlight is the views afforded from middle peak. Not as wide as whiteface, but by all means spectacular. This time the view is West and with a noon sun.
I hope you are getting the picture that although the hike is long; it was designed to get views from all directions and at different times during the day. I could definitely consider doing this hike again during foliage.
Ahh a little rest, the next 6 miles or so would be downhill or flat and on a nice trail, we descend into the valley. The Mt. Tripyramid trail going down to Livermore tr. and Livermore Rd is narrow, but with big trees and small bushes. Colors again are very attractive; being able to look both up, down, and around at colors is very exciting.
Livermore Road is a wide road (car size) that runs east west on the valley. There I greeted many mountain bikers and hikers who were also out to enjoy nature. This road, and Greeley Ponds tr -- the next trail I would take -- would be a nice choice for anyone who wants to see the foliage on a nice flat trail.
I got to the start of the Greeley Ponds trail at 2:40pm. This trail is also narrow, but flat for most of its distance. Many mountain bikers seem to use it. It follows a brook most of the way, which reminded me that I had forgotten the iodine, and what a sucker I am for having to carry all the extra water... but anyways... happy thoughts. There were much less crowds on this trail than on the other one.
The disadvantage of traveling in a really small group is that one has to pay more attention to navigation; it is easier to get lost or to miss a trail turn. At the same time, one is in total control, and everything depends on one person. Having reached Greeley Ponds, I was unable to find the way to get on the other side of the ponds as indicated on the map. It beats me where the trail makes that transition. After looking for options (or rather for people, perhaps one can yell: "Hey buddy, how did you get to that side of the pond?"), I decided to cross over a tree... a little bushwhacking revealed the trail on the other side, even though it did not reveal how the trail got there...[if you are reading this, and made it this far, you will most likely finish reading this whole report, at this point, I ask you to remember the magical number 123]
Hmm. It is 4:20pm and I am at the base of the Mt. Osceola tr. This trail although short (1.5mi) and benign looking, is steep and sustained; key word here is steep and sustained. To increase my confidence, I ask a couple coming down, "how was the trail?". The reply was, "We had to come down, it was steeper than we expected." Great. Still being early, and reminding myself that "who does not try, does not succeed", or "if you have a credit to play, you should play the game and not lose the credit." I convinced me that we should go up. It is not that late. I took all I needed on me: water bottle, headlamp, first aid kit, food; and cached by backpack behind some trees, 30 yards off the trail (I am a little paranoiac and I am always afraid someone will steal my Ritz while I am away).
Ok, not so bad, a couple of tree roots here and there. The scenery is nice, we are looking now at the late evening sun light casting its magic on the playground of animals, the forest. I am even somewhat excited as I look at the rock cliffs on the side of Osceola, how they might be climbable (or rather top-ropable). Then, the trail says, "ce bien tout". The steep part begins, and never stops until the very top of east peak. Foot over foot works for the first 1000 feet; but then I have to cheat. I tell myself a break is needed. Me, being a conservative guy concurs. We stop for 4 minutes to take a breather. I even close my eyes, which is not looked well by me. Finally by 5:30pm, I am rewarded with the summit, which although it elusive, can be found with a little imagination.
There is very little time left before sunset, and the light has faded from the radiant noon. Having come this far, I decided to let fate make the decision for me. We played paper, rock, and scissors. I gave a rock, while me, knowing myself, played paper. This validated the decision to carry on with Mt. Osceola. At this point, we are counting all the feet of elevation gain left, going to Osceola would imply 500 feet of elevation gain to get there, and then 350 feet to get back. After that it would all be downhill. It should be doable.
The trail to the Mt. Osceola is not bad, it is very gently for most of the way, except for a short chimney that would definitely make it a class 3 trail if it was not for the little switchback option on the left. I took the chimney going up, but took the switchback going down. I reach Mt. Osceola Summit at 6:04pm; the views of the sunset, fading foliage make it all worth it. We sit down and sigh. All the power and beauty of nature are absorbed, and we get a second wind for the way back.
When we reach the summit of the East Peak of Osceola, night has already befallen. Three people I bumped on the way up, are starting their stoves and cooking dinner on the middle of the trail. I cannot avoid them and I must stop for some social interaction and to get my headlamp out. They are from Vermont and Maine, and came up to spend the night. I interject (to cheat), and ask them for a bit of water. In addition to water, they offer carrots and celery. I not being rude, accept their offer. After few minutes, I say good by, although they slip out that if things don't work out, they have extra space in their tents, I joke to the not to be surprise if I return in few minutes.
For the record, I have 3/4 of a quart on my backpack and some on me, I just figure it can't hurt to drink plenty of water.
If you thought going up was interesting, going down was more. The first section was not so bad and well trodden. Unfortunately after a quarter of a mile, I started to notice, that they yellow blazes (those blazes that give you the happy feeling that you are on the right trail), did no longer make their appearance. I check my altimeter: elevation 2800 feet. The last elevation I saw them is at 3000 feet. I am informed by me, that we are not going up. Having done my white mountains trail apprenticeship with Mr. Zeithammer, I have learned how to read white mountain trails (sure, I would not have gotten off trail if I had applied this knowledge earlier). I started to think and be like a trail. The facts: no blazes for a long while, many blow down trees, pine tree branches covering the trail, not many tracks. This was definitely not the trail I went up, but there was not doubt in my mind that was 'a' trail, and perhaps 'the' trail some years ago (probably 2 or 3). I mean this trail looks like a hypothetical 1 mile hurdle race; there are trees every 15 yards!!. After playing paper, rocks, scissors, we decided to carry on. No one spoke of the dread we felt, should the trail come to a dead end, and we would have to bushwhack 500 vertical feet to locate the trail at night. Of course I am making this sound a little bit worse than it was (this was suggested by myself). In the end, after going through some trees, I intersect the original trail. A very warm feeling is felt as I see the yellow blaze. This must have been an old trail that was out of use when the trail was relocated. Few minutes later I am back at the Greeley Ponds/Mt. Osceola tr. junction.
As I come to the junction I see that the signs points to the Greeley Ponds trail, in the direction I came from. This is very confusing, since I just came from the Mt. Osceola tr. Hmm could someone have rotated the sign, like they do in the movies? I quick check reveals the sign is very sturdy, and hence not a likely explanation. Anyways let's find the pack... Ahhh, where was I sitting? Where did I place it?. This is when I learned the second lesson of the trip. Do NOT cache your backpack too far off the trail. I said to myself, "it would be very embarrassing to lose my backpack." I quick thorough search revealed nothing. The next idea, was to look for peanuts. I remembered that I ate some while sitting down before stashing the backpack. If I found one, I would be certain of where I was before I stash it. It would be a good story if I did manage to find some peanuts, and that they were crucial to finding the pack. But no. After ten minutes, I did recognize the place I was sitting; I quick sit on the rock fired the same nerves as few hours ago (the rock was somewhat uncomfortable if you know what I mean). Five minutes later, the lurking pack was found, exactly where I left it (surprising, isn't it!).
At last, 1.3 miles would bring me to the end of the hike. I guess, and you will only hear this once, I was not a 100% energetic (something less than slightly tired). I was very excited at seeing a picnic table at a distance. Picnic table equals trailhead, parking, and civilization. It resulted to be two horizontal branches. Just a bit more. Few minutes later, I hear the sound of a generator. I must be close. But no. It was a stream (but really it does sound like a generator). Finally moving lights; I mean these got to be cars!!. Yes they were. I had come to the conclusion of the excursion. It was 8:32pm. It was dark, and therefore no more impressive foliage scenes, no purpose in hiking any longer.
Having completed the hike, I proceeded with the next part of the plan. My car is 13 miles or so east on the Kancamagus. The plan calls for hitching a ride back to my car. Simple right?. I get onto the highway and wait for cars. Sounds come from the back, and many cars go by. Unfortunately they are going the wrong direction. They are heading west. Ahh!!, five minutes later the first car. Piece of cake, I stick out my arm, lift my thumb, and wait for the car to stop. Yeah right!! the car passes me faster than Robert can sucker me into doing a hard climb above my limits. Ok no problem, the next car will stop. This continued up for 30 minutes. Then I realize the problem is what real estate people call: location, location, location. I decide to move up the road pass the sharp hairpin turn on the highway. The rationale is that they have to come out of the turn going slowly, it is a very sharp turn. They will see me, there is a nice pull out after me, and they will pick me up. I get into position. After few minutes another car comes. Piece of cake, I stick out my arm. As soon as the car is done with the turn, it shoots up faster than the space shuttle. I mean come on!! what's going on here, these people are driving like maniacs.
It starts to rain. Great!!!. Since it is raining, people will take more pity on me, and will pick me up. Yeah right. Some people even accelerate as soon as they see me. They either want to think they did not see me, or think I am going to chase them.
This is not good. One hour has passed, I am getting cold. Great idea: in addition to being a bit cold, I will stick out my right thumb, while with my left arm, I embrace myself, looking cold. They will definitely take pity on a lonely, wet, cold-looking hiker. Yeah right, please play again.
I consider the option of sleeping on the side of the road with my space blanket. I have a hard time convincing myself that it is impossible to hitch a ride, and that spending a cold night, when my car, with my toasty sleeping bag is only 20 minutes away by car, is absurd. I mean, come on, in the woods it is possible to convince yourself, but being in civilization so close to your car, that is another story.
Nothing.
I give up. I put on the thinking cap. The light bulb goes on. The latest idea calls for hitching a ride into Lincoln, and calling AAA. The amount of traffic going towards Lincoln (away from my car) is about 5 to 10 times that of going towards Conway (towards my car). I would probably have a better chance getting a ride in that direction. Then I would call AAA, and say I got locked out of my car, but the catch is that there was no phone near my car, so I am in town, so the tow truck will have to pick me up.
Having conjured that unique and clever solution, I give one last try to the next car. Voila!! Alleluia!!, there is a God. A van stops. I get it, and meet a couple going to Maine. They gladly give me a ride towards my car. I am grateful. I comment on the difficulty of getting a ride, and they concur with me: in the east coast is a little bit more difficult. They also agree that is a little harder at night and just one person. Couples usually have a higher chance of getting picked up; but triplets and anything bigger would have smaller chances. Again, location is crucial, they said that they hardly had time to see me. It seems, that if I was further back from the road I would have had a better chance, but at the same time, other people (those speedsters) would have less time to see me, since I would have been red-shifted by the time they got to me.
This brings up the third lesson of my trip. If you are hiking one way and plan to hitch a ride on the Kancamagus, think about traffic. Hike west to east, so that you hitch a ride westbound towards Lincoln were there are more cars heading in that direction.
Which brings up the fourth lesson of my trip. Do not use the previous lesson, but rather plan your trip so that you don't have to hitch hike. Perhaps in the worst case, you can consider caching some dry clothing and sleeping gear at the place you are going to end your hike (see the lesson on caching); so that when you end your hike you can potentially sleep until the next day or a better time to hitch a ride or to have somebody else pick you up at a reasonable hour.
A half of bags of Ruffles Potato Chips and Big Coke allowed me to drive all the way back to the cabin. I got there around midnight. I was so excited to be back to share the news. Fate would have me tell my story through these printed pages, or screens since everyone was pretty much tucked in and getting to bed by the time I got back.
Overall, I had a wonderful time with me and myself, thanks guys. The scenery, vistas, viewpoints, vantages, impressions, memories were magnificent and unforgettable. The colors that nature provides during the Fall are a constant reminder of the beauty of life.
Hector Briceno
Tips and Lessons,
Tip #1, when getting pulled over, it is nice to turn on the interior light, lower the window, take out your wallet, and await for the officer. Do not make any weird motions. If your wallet is stored on a non visible location, tell the officer what you are going to do, like I will now fetch my wallet from my jacket.
Lesson #1, always brings iodine tablets on any hike, especially long ones. Perhaps consider putting some on small plastic bags and storing them along with your waterproof matches.
Lesson #2, when you stash your backpack for side trips, do not stash them too far off the trail. You may even consider stashing it in a place where you could give directions to a stranger if you needed somebody else to fetch it for you.
Lesson #3, think about traffic patterns if you plan to hitch a ride,. Think where there would be more cars heading to. There is more traffic going towards Lincoln than away from it.
Lesson #4, disregard lesson #3 and don't count on hitch hiking. Instead, perhaps cache dry clothing and sleeping gear at the place you are going to end your one way hike, and then have someone else pick you up in the morning or at a time you are guarantee to be there. This is nice, because it will be unlikely that the person that has to pick you up, will have to wait for you. You have your sleeping hours as a buffer zone, should the hike take you longer than expected. Even better use two cars, but as we say at MIT, this would be intuitively obvious, and as we say also, you would need at least two people with a car each to do this (which I did not have).