I decided to find a place to stay to save me the morning
drive to Mt. Tom. Based on the price and
the last minute availability, I knew the room wouldn’t be a palace but I didn’t
expect to be assaulted by a cloud of dust and a room full of moose motif when I
opened the door. I took off the spread,
opened the windows and grabbed my emergency blanket from the car. I would be sleeping on top of the sheets tonight. When I got into bed I was immediately sucked
down into a black hole of sagging mattress.
Cute in the photo but unclean sheets and dust everywhere took away any cuteness.
I got up, packed my gear, happy to be leaving that room and heading
off to Tom. I was surprised to see the
parking lot hadn’t been plowed. When I
hiked Field last winter the entire lot had been cleared. Today I had to park on the side of the road.
The rain washed away a lot of the snow and turned some of
the lower trail into a muddy mess. Most of the trail was packed snow but some areas, that looked solid, actually had running water under it.
an earlier hiker must have had wet feet after postholing here.
There are a few water crossings. The first
two can be a little tricky but you can get across without getting wet. The second one is only tricky because the
rocks move when you step on them. The
rest are small easy walkovers.
There were lots of hikers on the trail today. I chatted with a few and got to meet “Emerel” and “Franko” who frequently log their
hikes on NE Trail Conditions. It’s
always nice to connect a face to a trail log.
As I approached the summit, three very boisterous hikers
came up behind me. They were nice but definitely
not quiet. Although there wasn’t a view
on the summit today, I was hoping to have a few minutes of solitude and a brief
yoga practice. Since I’m a winter hiking
newbie, hiking on the weekend adds a level of 'safety in numbers' I wouldn't have hiking during the week. The trade-off is I can’t
expect to have the summit to myself.
Before heading down, I placed a wooden "happiness ornament" in a tree just off the trail. You are
supposed to write wishes on it. If you
see it, write your own message.
Just be careful, I stepped knee-deep reaching for the tree.
I left this before I realized just how important it is to "leave no trace", no matter how well-intentioned.
On the way down I decided to amuse myself and glissade down
some of the quiet areas of the trail.
Lots of fun and a few minor scratches.
One of these days I'll get a view, but all and all it was a good day to be on the trails.
Muddy trail
that little rock bump in the middle is the buried summit cairn
I'm starting to understand the allure of winter hiking. I stepped onto the trail and the trees were heavy with snow, the sky was a luminous white, heavy with winter fog.
The temperature was a comfortable 27 degrees, no wind to speak of, quiet with a few hikers moving past after some pleasant conversation. It was a nice mix of hiking solo and feeling safe knowing others were on the trail. This was only my second solo 'winter' hike and it would test my ego.
The forecast indicated bright, sunny skies. When I asked a woman at the front desk of the Highland Center, she said, "...you want views? Come back in spring. You're not going to get them today."
Knowing I wouldn't find views on the summit, I took my time enjoying the mild temps, appreciating the beauty, making friends with gray jays, and revelling in the antics of chickadees and red squirrels.
I was wearing my Katoola microspikes thinking they wouldn't 'ball' as much as the Hillsound crampons. There was no difference. Both make snowballs under the feet. I felt like I was wearing Earth Shoes from the 70's.
At 3000 feet I decided to try out my new Tubbs Flex Alp snowshoes. They took a little getting used to but once I got them fitted correctly they were effortless to hike in!
As I approached the 4000 foot mark, I talked to a number of hikers coming down from the summit.
"No views"
"Blistering cold"
"White out conditions"
"I lost the trail a few times"
"Are you going to be okay? Do you have warmer clothes? It's cold up there."
As I emerged onto the treeless section of the trail, I was blinded by the white fog, white snow. It was a new, incredibly beautiful world. I stood there just staring, eyes watering, not from the cold but from awe.
I see a group of 6 hikers emerge from the white wall of fog... I talk to them about the remaining distance to the summit. They continue on and I watch them disappear.
I start to walk on knowing I am the last one on the mountain. Alone. Inexperienced in an alien world. I look at my GPS. I look behind me. I can no longer see the snowshoe trail of the hikers. I can't see their tracks ahead. The choice was easy; it wasn't worth the risk. I surrendered to the mountain. It was time to go down.
