I spent three days in New Hampshire and a little in Vermont trail running on some mountains. My school has a limited summer break, two weeks at the beginning of summer and two weeks at the end, and in the middle six weeks of summer school to help the students retain their skills. So I figured I needed to try and get at least a little trip in to fully enjoy the break, and what is more relaxing than blasting up to the top of some mountains that tower over 4,000 feet. Here are some random observations and thoughts from my weird and exciting adventure.
1. There were many signs warning about moose crossings, and one specifically said brake for moose, it could save your life. This raises the question: Do some people not brake for moose? Do they just say screw it and speed up and try to hit the moose? That does not seem likely. I feel like it is in human nature to brake if you see a towering animal, especially if it is near the road. The last thing anyone wants is a giant moose crashing through their wind shield. Alas, I did not see any moose, and I saw no one try to speed up and hit a moose either.
2. Living in the North now, there are not as many snakes, or at least not as many snake species, but I did see one snake on the mountain as I climbed, and it made me wonder about snake evolution. Is it possible that one day, there will be arctic snakes, that do not care if it is cold, and they will just wreak havoc all year long? Imagine a white snake hidden perfectly in a blanket of white snow waiting to attack an unsuspecting hiker. That just does not seem fair, and thankfully evolution takes a long time, so this is not something we will have to worry about in our lifetime. Also, global warming might eliminate the need for this as well, it might just stop snowing, but if not, you have to believe that in millions of years, there will be no cold blooded reptiles, everything will be adaptable right?
3. My last hike was up a ski mountain in a nice ski resort, Killington in Vermont. I had never technically been to Vermont, just passed through it, so I needed to do something. Why not climb a mountain? This one was relatively on the way too, so it worked out well. I found the trail on AllTrails, and someone commented that it was not really a hike, because it is mostly going up a gravel road to the top of the mountain. So is it a hike? I say yes! It goes up 1800 feet in just two miles, or if you do it the wrong way like me, and park in the wrong parking lot, then go up the wrong trail, it ends up being 2400 feet. I think it is safe to say that if are going up over a 1,000 feet on an unpaved path, it is undoubtedly a hike. Also at the top, there is no more path, it goes back to the typical rocky mess that I had become acquainted with over the trip. If climbing up and down stairs at Tallulah Gorge is a hike (and it is) then this is also a hike, or in my case a trail run, and it was by far the most runnable of all the trails. I also finally got to fly down a mountain and run my fastest miles of the trip.
4. When I was finishing my first hike on the Franconia ridge coming down Mount Lafayette, I passed a dad and his kid, who was probably 10-12, and shortly after I passed them, I heard what sounded like someone running behind me, so I turned, and the kid had been following, but he stopped when I looked. We were close to the bottom anyway. When they got back to their car, which was parked across from mine, his dad asked me how long it took me, and I told him three hours, and he told me that it took them almost ten! I heard the kid talking to his dad, and he asked his dad what he thought the fastest time was? I did not look it up at the time, but I assumed it was around two hoursish, and according to FKT, it is an hour and a half, but I think it is cool that the kid cared enough to ask. So I hope that due to hiscuriosity, that maybe one day that kid will want to run trails, and I can say I played a small role in that. We need more trail runners and on the hard stuff too. I saw no other trail runners while I was out there, and that made me sad. Now, I did not pick the easiest most runnable routes, but still.
5. Can you really tout that you are the highest mountain in the Northeast United States? It is one thing to be able to say, that you are the tallest mountain east of the Mississippi, Mount Mitchell in North Carolina, but to get much more specific than that seems a little much. Mount Washington falls short of Mount Mitchell by about 400 feet, but that did not discourage people from fleeing to the top. There is a road that takes you to the top, and they also have an inclined rail that takes people up as well. This leads to a pretty developed summit with people scurrying around everywhere. I ran to the top, and I felt like I could not actually go and touch the top, because there was a line of people waiting to take their picture with the sign. I too ended up taking a picture with the sign, but not before waiting in line for 10 minutes. They should have a fast-track line like at Disney, where if you hiked up to the top, you get priority to touch it and take a picture. (I know that is a self-serving idea, but still) Also I will say that I ran to the top of the highest mountain in the Northeast, even though that sounds a little silly.
6. This is a fun question: I won’t get hypothermia right? I have heard stories about how crazy the weather is on Mount Washington, so going into it, I checked to make sure the day I was planning on running it, that it would be okay, and it looked good, but I packed a long sleeve shirt for this day just in case, what I did not expect was for the first mountain to be so cold at the top. I was unfamiliar with the idea of an Alpine Zone, but I saw multiple signs for it on this trip. The Alpine Zone is a place above the tree line, but below the permanent snow line, which means it is very exposed. The alpine zone here is lower than out west, where it was around 10,000 feet where the trees would disappear, and the Alpine Zone is known for more extreme weather, and the moment I got into the zone, I could tell. It got freezing! Up to that point on the mountains, I was comfortable to a little hot temperature wise, and this led to buckets of sweat, because I was working so hard. Then it was like hitting a wall of cold air, and of course being so high and exposed leads to a healthy wind as well. My hands and ears would get cold, and it was uncomfortable, but I thought I am strong enough to not get hypothermia, then I thought the people that think that are the ones that get hypothermia and need help off the mountain. I was never in any real danger, but it definitely gave me pause on the first day. So when I did Mount Washington, I put my packable coat in my pack just in case. I did not end up using it, but I came close. At one point while going up the waterfall, I put my head in the water, and it felt so good, and I almost put my whole body in, but I would have frozen at the top if I had. Even at Killington, which was blazing going up, once I got close to the top, the wind started to blow and I got chills, but with limited water, this was a much more welcomed experience.
7. I found a random place online to stay. I was looking for a place to camp that was cheap to save money, but instead I found something called The Humming Bird Center. It was out in the middle of nowhere, there was no phone service, and their main house had Wi-Fi…sometimes. It also felt like no one was there. They have a bunch of random things that they have turned into hovels to stay in, like an old bus, I stayed in a tree house, there were smaller wooden structures as well, a bigger bus, and you could even sleep on the floor in their yoga room for cheap. While I was there though, it felt like I was the only one there besides the people that worked there, who only appeared every once and a while, and it was a little lonely, and a little creepy. So at what point is it too creepy? Now was there ever any real sense of danger? No, but that does not prevent your mind from running wild, especially when you feel so alone out there, and the darkness was unreal. My little treehouse cabin was surrounded by windows with no curtains, but when it was dark, I could not even see my hand. Then when I had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, and I used my phone as my light, it was lit up just like the hundreds of scary movies I had seen. I know, I do it to myself… It also did not help that there were two small creepy gargoyle statues sitting outside my cabin, and inside there was a creepy Mayan art piece.
8. I feel like I mentioned this in the Adirondacks paper, but is there a difference between East Coast and West Coast mountains, or am I just picking easier mountains on the west coast? Over the course of three days, I gained 11,000 feet in 26 miles, which is a hearty amount. To compare, I ran 26 miles for Pikes Peak, and I got close to 8,000 feet of gain. Now that is just one mountain, and this week was three different hikes, but there was no scaling of rocks on Pikes Peak, but all of these hikes had rocks to scale. Like I could actually run up Pikes Peak, but beyond the first couple of miles in New Hampshire I was scrambling up big rocks or taking giant steps. Some of the stairs were like three or four feet tall. I am lucky enough to be tall, so it was not too outrageous for me, but most people are not that lucky. On Mount Washington I literally had to climb a waterfall, and right when I thought I was safe, I then had to navigate a boulder field. That last mile had 1,800 feet of gain, and it took almost as long as the whole first three miles combined. Then going down took just as long as going up. It took an hour and thirty-eight going up and an hour and thirty-eight going down, which shows how rough the rock is to navigate. To compare, it took me an hour less to bomb down Pikes Peak compared to my climbing time.
9. On my first hike, I was running down the mountain, and a guy said something about me running, and then he asked me which way I went up, and I told him I was doing the loop, so I went up the other side. Then I said going down this way is easier, referring to the path I was on, because the other side had some rocks and also went up a waterfall like Mount Washington, but he took it as it is easier to run down the mountains, and he said he does not have the knees for that any more, which is fair, but it raised the question: Is it easier on the knees to run down the mountain? I know at first thought this seems absurd, but bear with me and my lack of scientific proof. As mentioned, the dad and son said it took them ten hours to do the hike walking, so let us say that it took them four hours to do the downhill part. That is longer than my whole run. I know not the average person could keep up that pace, but those four hours going down revolve around step after step of landing on one leg with all your weight and then moving your other leg to now take all of your weight. While running, the point is to move quicker, and this does require more force, but it is not a total pounding of body weight on each step. You are trying to stay lighter on your feet, so there is not nearly the pounding that there is when walking, and you are not on your feet for nearly the same amount of time. Plus at times it is also small quick steps, which also helps. So maybe it is better on your knees to run down a mountain…
10. My last question is a pessimistic one: How many people give up? Given all of this information about the New Hampshire mountains, especially Mount Washington, there have to be people that have no idea what they have gotten themselves into, turn a corner and go, “Hell no!” Specifically, if they go up the way of the waterfall, where the trail blaze is just yellow arrows painted on rocks pointing up like climb this rock, now climb this rock, and so on. There were people of all ages out there, and there were families, and although the way down I went was a little easier, it was not by much. Some of these people have to take into account some level of safety or fitness and decide nope, not doing that, and I want to know how many people make that choice. Also Mount Washington can be driven up, so there is an easy cop out, in saying well I can still make it up. This also makes me wonder how many people get to the top and decide there is no way I can go back down that, which I think is a perfectly reasonable thought. The boulders at the top feel like a giant life threating game of Jenga, one wrong step and down come all the boulders, obviously it is not that dangerous, because there are people doing it every day, but it feels like it could be that dangerous, so there has to be some people who make it to the top and take the bus back down and find a way back to their car.
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