Mt. Washington: the Top of the World; Eastcoast Style

By Michael Hermann; Lizard Tracks, Centre Daily Times, August 1999

Only a days drive from Centre County I found an adventure of grand proportions. Looking to escape the heat, we traveled North to climb Mt. Washington in New Hampshire. My partner, Basia, has been climbing Mt. Washington since she was a child. It is the highest peak in the Northeast at 6288 feet and is accessible by foot, car and rail.

The trail system is one of the worlds best, built and maintained by the Appalachian Mountain Club, which sets the standard for modern trail design. Wooden bridges are built over most of the rocky streams to minimize human impact. In some places wooden ladders are used to scale steep rock faces where a footpath would be impractical. Signposts mark every intersection.

We began our hike in perfect weather: 70° and sunny. The lush forest of the foothills feels like a rainforest. A dense understory of ferns, moss and thick evergreens provides a magical environment to walk through. Beautiful mushrooms and colorful berries dotted the forest floor which was rich with moisture. Perhaps my Pennsylvania summer of drought magnified the experience for me, but I paused at every stream crossing and waterfall with awe.

Our hike began at 2400 feet elevation. As we hiked up the mountain the ecosystems change. The dense, lush forest begins to thin and dry out as the trees become short and stout. We noticed clouds clustering at the peak and knew there would be no clear view from the summit today. But we were still below the clouds and had great views of the valleys to the west. The hiking here is arduous, the elevation gain averages 600 feet per mile, and our day packs began to feel heavier.

At 4000 feet we literally hiked into the clouds. A thick mist enveloped us and water droplets accumulated on our clothes. Visibility dropped to a hundred yards, then to a hundred feet, at times it was downright dark and we could only see the next 30 feet of trail. The trees became shoulder height, then waist height, then a low scrub brush. Then they disappeared altogether.

We had reached the Alpine Zone, an above treeline area that is primarily rock. The lichens glowed bright green, almost phosphorescent, in the low light. The grass grew in thick patches when it could find soil. The wind began to pick up and I felt exposed, insignificant and vulnerable. It was perfect.

At this point we were less then 2000 feet from the summit with two miles of trail left. The density of the clouds would vary, from thick as soup to an occasional clearing. When the sun burst through an incredible vista would present itself for a few cherished seconds, then the mist closed in again. The trail relies on large rock cairns for markers, some over eight feet tall, looming above the barren rock fields. The landscape was surreal, the cairns hazy through the mist, moisture clinging to us as if it was raining. The lichens were slippery and the wind got progressively stronger, slowing our progress. As we rounded the cone to the summit the rain began and the wind howled, and we loved every minute of it.

The temperature plummeted and the wind screamed. I felt a stinging sensation on my face and realized the rain had become hail. My jacket was flapping mercilessly and a gust of wind spun me around and planted me on my butt. I looked at Basia, who was grinning insanely, and she shouted something unintelligible. I could hear nothing but the sound of storm.

The wind was so fierce it demanded we scramble using one, or both, hands for support. Climbing over the sharp, slippery rocks we were unable to see more than a few yards ahead. The wind would stop completely for a second, then resume so powerfully we were forced to crouch low and hang on. The hail would come in sheets, pelting us, reminding us the mountain was not going to allow easy access today.

But soon we were standing at the signpost marking the peak, 6,288 feet high, laughing with our success, and we could see faint outlines of buildings. We traversed to the summit lodge and burst inside.

This is one of the truly remarkable things about climbing Mt. Washington. In 1980 a full service museum was built near the summit, complete with tourist amenities: food service, bathrooms and gift shop. We took a seat among those who chose safer transport to the peak. I enjoyed the luxury of ordering a hot bowl of chili and watched the meteorological instruments display the statistics: outside temperature was 28° and wind speed 62 mph. A sign stated the highest wind ever observed by man was recorded here in 1934, at 231 mph, just in case we thought we had it rough.

It was one o’clock as we bundled up to go back outside...we still had the challenge of the descent before us. It would be 5 PM before we reached the car, in glorious sunshine and 70°. What a long, strange hike it was.

For more information on Mt. Washington call (603) 466-2727 or www.outdoors.org.