Owl's Head & Hale

I figured it was about time to tackle Owl's Head (4025'), one of the more remote 4000 footers in the White Mountains. Situated in the Pemigewasset Wilderness west of Franconia Ridge, Owl's Head is long a thorn in the side of peakbaggers attempting to accumulate all the 4k peaks. Owl's Head is often left til the end of the list for a lot of hikers, due to the fact that the easiest route to it, and back out, is about 18 miles (maybe more like 19 with the additional mileage to the "new" summit), and there are absolutely no views from the top. There are many things to like about this little mountain, however.

I approached the Lincoln Woods from a large parking area off the Kanc at about 7:45 AM on August 19th. It's nice, with restroom facilities, a visitor center, and informational kiosks. It's the most popular area for accessing the Pemigewasset Wilderness, with trails leading to Franconia Ridge, Owl's Head, and the Bonds, among others. After finishing up the 4000 footers, I'd love to attempt a Pemi Loop, a usually-multi-day hike circling most of the Pemi Wilderness and hitting lots of peaks. I crossed a large 160' suspension bridge that crosses the Pemigewasset river and hiked north at a quick tempo, due to the fact that the Lincoln Woods trail takes the route of an old logging road. The path is very flat, smooth, and wide, and I made great time along here. I think this is why a one-day trip to Owl's Head is done so frequently; it's an 18 mile day but so much of it is on easy terrain, it can be done in a reasonable amount of time. My time for the whole trip was about 10 hours. Also, if you start later in the day or are hiking when the sun sets early, this flat, wide path could be easily taken out in the waning hours of light, or in the dark, with a headlamp.

hikers crossing a bridge

I passed some other interesting landmarks, like a stone foundation of a building, and another large bridge, before the trail hits the Franconia Brook Trail, and then turns sharply west onto the Lincoln Brook trail. The trail becomes a bit rougher at this point, and starts to angle up a bit. But still fairly easy in relation to many trails in the Whites. There were a couple of challenging brook crossings here over Lincoln Brook. The White Mountain Guide warns to be very careful during high water or the spring melt, and I can see why. We hadn't had much rain recently and the crossings were still not easy. On one, rock-hopping wasn't an option, and I took of my shoes and waded across the brook with bare feet. No complaints; the cold water felt great. Around here I met a couple of guys who'd camped out around Owl's Head and were making a 2-day trip of it. I asked where they camped (there aren't any official sites in this area) and they said something to the effect of "We threw our pads on the ground and slept!" Fair enough. The powers-that-be discourage "stealth camping", I think to minimize effects of repeated camping on delicate foliage, and also to encourage people to stay at legit sites in order to raise revenue with the site fees. They also told me the slide was dry, and in good condition.

The slide on Owl's Head is definitely the most interesting part of the day. After hiking for 8 miles over rather unchallenging terrain just to get to the mountain, you're hit with a 1500 foot climb in a mile, up the rocky, rough, and steep western slide. A little cairn in the middle of the trail, 3.4 miles after turning onto Lincoln Brook trail, shows the way up. It's an unmaintained spur, so it's kind of hard to spot. But turn right at the rather conspicuous pile of rocks, and you'll be okay.

I was a bit nervous about the slide, but it was actually quite fun. Hard, but fun. There are few places that are actually treacherous; even if you fell you'd likely just slide a few feet back down and maybe get scraped up. A couple of dangerous-looking cliffs were adjacent to the trail, but easily avoided. I was hiking at this point with a very friendly father-son duo, Henry and Jeff. Henry was trying to finish the 4000 footers before his eleventh birthday! He was a strong little hiker, and didn't complain once, and his dad and I had a lot of welcome conversation.

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I stashed my poles, and we climbed up the steep grade, rocks tumbling down below our feet, trying to find footing that would propel us up and not have us sliding back down. Most of the time you're touching the ground in front of you, finding handholds in the rock and trees along the exposed, sun-scorched trail, and looking for little cairns that guide the way. The Guide recommends staying to the right on the ascent and decent, due to the stability of the rock and availability of handholds. After getting up into some elevation, we looked behind us and had the first view of the massive Franconia Ridge, from a perspective I've never seen. It was quite beautiful. The day was hot and clear, and it was about noon.

After a while we cleared the exposed part of the slide and ducked into the woods, still climbing at a steep incline, but at least now sheltered from the midday sun. At this point were were all very tired and now devoid of views, it turned into a full-fledged slog. Every bend, we'd say surely this is it! But no... more climbing. After about 15 minutes of this the trail finally leveled out, and we approached the "old" summit.

There's an old summit and a new summit. The old summit was the one they used to believe to be the highest point on Owl's Head, but some busybody with a GPS found that there is actually a higher spot. All these trails are officially unmaintained by the AMC (still haven't gotten a clear answer as to why...) but they are pretty well trampled, due to its inclusion on THE LIST. Many say no hiker with all his marbles would visit this mountain, with its long approach, super-steep slide, and viewless summit, had it not been included in the 48. Apparently the AMC doesn't require those who climbed Owl's Head before the new summit was discovered to go back and get the new summit, but many do anyway. So, after passing the old summit, we followed a maze of cowpaths and eventually got to the new sucker, where a large cairn has been built in a nondescript wooded area. I think so many paths now exist because everyone just kind of finds their own way, and creates several rough paths to the true summit. What happens when no official path is established.

uneventful summit

After getting pictures and resting for a few, we headed back down. The hike down the slide was a bit more unsettling than going up, but it was definitely easier. We enjoyed the views all over again, and eventually got back down to Lincoln Brook trail, back to flat ground! Now, another 8 miles out. I changed my socks, getting into a comfy, dry pair before the long haul, and ate some lunch. We contemplated taking a bushwack that apparently connects Lincoln Brook and Black Pond trail, shaving a couple of miles off the return trip, but decided against it. At one point, cruising down the trail, Jeff and I were talking and suddenly WHAM! I rammed my head full-tilt into a huge tree that had fallen over the path and rested about 5 1/2 feet about the trail, that I should have ducked under. But my head was down, I was hiking fast, and I had a brimmed hat on, so somehow I just didn't see it. Ouch. Not recommended. Jeff asked if I was okay, and I was, just a bit embarrassed and left with an aching neck.

We waded across the brooks again, the ice-cold water welcome on my aching feet, and at this point I hiked ahead and told Jeff and Henry I'd see them at the trailhead. My pace was slightly faster than theirs - but not by much - and I just wanted to shift to a higher gear and get this day done with. After seeing everything in reverse, I found myself again on the wide, flat Lincoln Woods Trail, and began to see families and dayhikers taking an afternoon jaunt. Eventually the suspension bridge presented itself, and I skirted down the side down to the river and stuck my feet in again. Ahhh. Nice way to end a hike. It was about 6. Henry and Jeff walked across the bridge a few minutes later, and we exchanged pleasantries and said goodbye. Hikers are great folks.

I got back to EmmyVue and got into my Birkenstocks and a dry shirt before driving a short way down the Kanc to Big Rock, where I pitched my Coleman tent at the same spot John and I stayed at a couple of weeks before. I paid the fee, got some firewood from the caretaker, and then headed into Lincoln to the Common Man, a great little bar/grille/ski lodge, where I met Dana and her dog Gretel. Dana and I had a couple of beers and some food while Gretel dozed in the car, and after a while headed back to Big Rock where we built a fire. Before long we turned in; I was bushed.

Gretel, looking for large land mammals to terrorize

The next morning we head to Mt. Hale, a 4054' foot mountain up near Zealand Notch. We took Zealand Road to the Hale Brook trailhead, and the three of us started up. The climb up this trail is a lot like Tecumseh; very lush, not too steep, but a challengingly consistent grade. Gretel, as usual, would bound off into the woods, splashing into puddles and brooks and tearing through the underbrush, occasionally looked back and me and Dana as if to say "What's taking you guys so long??"

At one point, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a big black creature tear down the mountain, about 15 feet to the left of the trail, obscured by trees. I assumed it was Gretel but simultaneously was surprised at the much-louder-than-normal noise she made crashing through the thickets and the speed at which she ran. I looked ahead, and Dana, with a look of surprise and concern on her face said "That was a bear!" At first I thought she was kidding, but then I saw Gretel far up the trail, looking down at us, a bit baffled. She'd apparently startled a small black bear, who then took off like a shot back down the mountain. It was exciting, my first black bear encounter! Even though all I saw was a black streak, it's a first. I really couldn't believe how fast it moved. We proceeded with caution.

About halfway up the Hale Brook Trail the grade steepened, and a couple of little switchbacks carried us around toward the summit, positioned to our left. It wasn't extreme but I was dragging, maybe due to the long day I had up Owl's Head. Of course Dana barely broke a sweat (:P). The weather was clear and warm, a great day for hiking. Eventually the trail opened to a partial view out toward Tom, Field, and Willey, and after a couple more minutes, we found the summit. It was a small clearing surrounded by trees, not much view, but with a huge pile of rocks, the top of which granted a limited view of the surrounding mountains. Though mostly viewless, it was a very nice open summit; the sky was bright blue and the midday sun was warm, a nice change of pace from the humid woods we'd been hiking in. We had some lunch and lingered on the summit, resting and chatting. Gretel enjoyed licking the inside of my tuna-pouch quite clean, and we tried to get her to sit still for a photo on top of the rocks. Almost.

Atop the Hale Summit rockpile

We moved on, starting down the Lend-a-Hand trail, toward Zealand Hut. This is actually one of the nicest trails I've been on in the Whites, fairly easy and passing through swampy marshes, fields of grass and mossy trees, and beautiful, rocky forests. There seemed to always be something interesting to look at. One of the cooler things was a very small venus fly-trap plant growing near some water; almost too tiny to even see. I'd imagine the bugs it eats are actually too tiny to see. The biodiversity in these woods seems boundless, and never gets boring.

We eventually got down to Zealand falls, and took a break at the top, where Gretel found a natural waterslide down into a basin, which she rode down a couple of times, her legs flailing around. Zealand falls is an incredible natural occurance, and the mind reels at the infinite number of shapes water, given enough time, can carve from rock. Ice cold water cascades down from shelves of varying sizes, creating clear basins and pouring down again, over and over. Swaths of smooth, hot granite, baked in the sun, provide excellent places to lounge and lose track of time, contemplating these ancient falls.

We hiked down to the hut, where we took another break and leisurely watched the visitors come and go. A northbound thruhiker shared his adventures, and a somewhat socially awkward AMC guy was inviting folks to look at sunspots through a telescope. Gretel tried to infiltrate the hut, probably smelling something delicious inside, but we intercepted her. After taking in the beautiful view of Zealand Notch opening before us for a few minutes, we hiked down a short but steep rocky descent from the hut and tramped north on the fairly easy Zealand Trail. Easy, but quite scenic, with rustic bridges over ponds, well-worn paths, and nice views of Mt. Hale on the left and many peaks to the right. After reentering the woods for a while, we eventually hit the parking area. The trek down Zealand Trail seemed an awful lot shorter this time than when I did it coming back from the Bonds. Maybe because my pack was lighter, or I hadn't hiked as many miles that day, or because of conditioning, I'm not sure.

We walked back down the road for about a mile to get back to the car. Our mileage for the day was about 8.6 miles, and other than the Hale Brook Trail, was relatively easy; and the hard stuff was out of the way pretty quick, leaving us to enjoy the day on some of the nicest trails in the area. No super-amazing views, but a side trip up to Zeacliff would be a fantastic addition to this hike. I'll definitely recommend this one to people looking for a nice tour of the Zealand area.

Another beautiful, challenging, and memorable weekend in the White Mountains, with big miles and great conversation.

Tecumseh and Carrigain

Over the weekend of July 28th and 29th, my buddy John and I went up North to do a little camping and hiking. We did a long hike last September, when I summited my first 4000 footers, and we both needed Tecumseh and Carrigain for our list. So we headed up early on Saturday, accompanied by The Best Dog In The World, Gretel. Gretel's human, Dana, was working all weekend and asked if Gretel could come with us, and I'm glad she did.

We drove up 93, keeping an eye on the weather, and headed down the Kanc to secure a campsite. We found one at Big Rock, and I set up my Coleman tent, to secure the space (these spots are first-come-first-serve, and on the weekends in the summer fill up quick. It's a good idea to stake one out early if possible), we paid our 20 bucks at the self-pay station, and headed back down to Tripoli Road (one exit south off 93 from the Kanc) to find our trailhead.

Summit of Mt. Tecumseh

Last time I was on Tripoli Road was to go to the trailhead for my Oceolas hike. We went a bit further this time, and turned off onto a gravel lot to access the (trailhead name?) to hike up Mt. Tecumseh. On the way down Tripoli I saw a sketchy character walking the opposite way, who looked very unlike a hiker, walking along the road looking into parked cars. I think he actually tried to open one. Break-ins at trailheads are common, and I hoped my car wouldn't be his next victim. But we were on a somewhat secluded lot, off the road, which I wasn't sure was better or worse.

Tecumseh is a pretty no-nonsense mountain. It is the smallest of the 4000 footers, and the trail pretty much goes straight up, at a consistent grade, to a sub-summit, then down a bit into a small valley, and up to the true summit. Not terribly taxing (which was a bit surprising because the guy I met on the Hancocks said it was deceptively difficult...maybe he used a different approach). But the views at the summit were very nice. This would be a great dayhike for beginner hikers wanting to get a taste of the mountains, especially those coming up from the south. It's pretty much a 2 hour drive from Boston, it's a truly beautiful trail, resplendent with lush green in summer and giving off a very Hobbit-y vibe, John and I decided, with great views from the top. And with about a 6 mile round trip hike up and down, it's a pretty quick dayhike, you could be back home before dark.

I hadn't done much hiking with dogs, and it was quite fun. Gretel would bound off into the woods after a critter, crash into brooks with abandon, leaping like a deer through the brush off in the forest. I was impressed at her abiliby to tear through thickets and water and rock with little effort or resistance, almost like she was made for this terrain. She didn't ever seem to tire (at least on the first day!)

Me and Gretel on Tecumseh

We ate some lunch at the summit and enjoyed the view, and Gretel ran to a couple happily expecting them to share their lunch with her. The man suddenly said to me, "Are you a Redditor?" Reddit is an online community of folks who post photos, links, stories, and other tidbits and then comment and vote on the content. "Yeah!" I replied, a bit taken aback. He subscribes to the "Camping and hiking" community on that page, and had seen the pictures I posted of my Presidential Traverse the weekend before, and recognized me. Small world! We talked for a bit; turns out he'd commented on my photo album, saying he and his girlfriend were going up Washington this weekend. Turns out they didn't, and came to Tecumseh instead. I felt a tiny bit famous.

I contemplated the vast difference between last weekend's Traverse and today's hike. One, an epic 20-mile 9000-foot-gain journey over the highest terrain (and up the highest peak in the Whites, and the entire Northeast) and today's hike, a quick jaunt up the smallest 4000 footer of them all. Starkly different, but both very enjoyable in their own ways.

Camping at Big Rock on the Kanc

We got back to the car in the early afternoon and headed back up to the Kanc. Big grey clouds were starting to roll in. After a quick stop at that awesome roast beef place in Lincoln (check it out) and at an outdoor supply place, just to poke around, we went to our site at Big Rock. It was starting to rain. We rigged up my Equinox tarp over the picnic table, made tea and had some more food, and chit chatted for a few hours. The rain was coming down pretty hard at times, and our attempt to make a fire in the pit was not successful. After the sun set, we turned in, John in his hammock and me and Gretel in my Coleman. The tent kept us pretty dry through the night, and it rained pretty steadily for most of it. I slept pretty well, considering I was snuggling with a stinky wet dog, and we were up at around 8.

AMC Highland Center - photo from mtwashingtonvalley.org

John wasn't feeling up to another day of hiking, so we decided that I'd drop him at the AMC Highland center and Gretel and I would go hike Mt. Carrigain. We drove east down the Kanc and took Bear Notch Road to 302, and headed up toward the Highland Center. On the way up we saw that Sawyer River Road, the road that would bring me to Carrigain's trailhead, is closed. At the Highland Center they told us it had been closed ever since Irene blew through, almost a year before, and that the only way down it was to walk. After some deliberation I decided to go for it, even though the road walk would add time to the hike. I left John and headed back down, parked at the top of the road, and started hiking in with Gretel at about 10:30.

The road didn't look too bad, some wash outs, but it looked as if it could be driven on. Perhaps it's unstable in parts with the weight of a car. I hope they can get it fixed up soon. The road walk took almost exactly 30 minutes, and I came across the trailhead for the Signal Ridge trail, that heads straight to the summit of Mt. Carrigain. The first couple of miles were quite easy, a flat trail that skirts Whiteface Brook. Still a lot of blow-downs and storm damage that has yet to be addressed, but pretty easy going. I made great time on this part. After the junction with the Carrigain Notch Trail, things started to get tougher. After a while, it was a straight-up slog that seemed to go on forever. It was very humid, the rain we'd gotten the day before seemed to linger, making everything wet and slick. Gretel bounded off the path now and then, after god knows what. I was completely soaked, and I couldn't even tell if it was sweat or if I was just soaking up ambient moisture like a sponge. I passed a couple coming down, and they said the top was basically inside a giant cloud. Great. They also said they'd heard thunderstorms might be coming through. This made me a little nervous, but we pressed on.

Signal Ridge trail kicked my ass

The trees started getting scrubby, and the fog got thicker and thicker. The mist that hung over the trail was unsettling, and visibility was getting worse. We finally got up to a clearing, but views were non-existent. I'm not even sure if it were the summit; I know there's supposed to be a tower somewhere but I didn't see it, either because I was at a false summit or the visibility was so poor that it was hidden in the clouds. It started to rain at this point, and I called it - we headed back down. The hike down was long and hard, and eventually we the rain sunsided and we emerged from the cloud and it was sunny again. Strange how quickly the conditions can change in the mountains. We made it back to the trailhead and Gretel and I horsed around for awhile before taking a quick break. I took my shoes off and ate a snack and drank water before walking the road again. I realized I hadn't really taken a break the whole time, and had had little to eat. Not the way I like to do things, but the weather and the rough terrain distracted me from taking an opportunity to take breaks and eat. I was a bit disheartened by this hike; due to the fact that I am unclear if I even was on the summit, and that apparently Carrigain has amazing views on clear days, I'll be doing this one again. Ah well. It was a good workout, anyway, and Gretel and I had fun. It was a 10 mile hike and took 5 hours. The road walk added another hour to the total time.

"why are you doing this to me?"

We made it back to the car and I was so wet I felt like I'd jumped in a lake. I put on some dry clothes and loaded Gretel up. She collapsed in the seat, immobile. Tired pup. We met John back at the Highland Center, where I was delighted that a barbeque buffet was happening on the patio. We paid for our meal tickets and I got a cheeseburger, potato salad, ribs, sausage, cornbread, and a beer. I ate every bite, and I felt a lot better. We sat at a table with some folks - a mom and her two sons - who were visiting from New York. The younger son had volunteered on the A-Z Trail during the summer, and the older son was planning a thru-hike of the Vermont Long Trail. They were extremely friendly and John and I recommended hikes for them to do. The hiker community, whether moms and sons on weekend trips, or scrawny, bearded thru-hikers with names like Furbag or Teflon, is wonderfully friendly and open, and I enjoy their company a great deal.

After stuffing ourselves and bidding our new friends adeui (and purchasing a new book) we headed to the Sugerloaf II campsite where we grabbed a lovely campsite above the Ammonoosuc River. The caretakers were friendly, warning us of bears while they collected our fee. They even said to put the food in the car and cover it, because if a bear sees food in your car he'll peel the thing open like a tin can to get at it. I'd never heard about this behavior before, I thought they went by sense of smell. I get a bear warning so frequently, but I still haven't seen one! I wasn't worried, bears rarely will come to a site with a dog; Gretel will protect us. John pitched his hammock (or as he calls it, his "bear pinata" and I pitched my tent - we rigged the tarp again over the table, in case of rain, but it never came. We built a nice campfire and I drank a couple of beers we'd picked up on the way to the site. We had a great view of the sunset and the night was great, with a little nip in the air. After sitting around the fire for a while Gretel and I turned in - we were both beat. Other than waking up once to Gretel growling at something outside the tent - this was disconcerting - I slept great.

Camp at Sugarloaf II near the Ammonoosuc River

I didn't like what happened on Carrigain, and I'm looking foward to going up it again on a nice day. But it was a very enjoyable weekend of hiking, camping, and fellowship with nature and friends, old and new.

What I brought: Everything. For car camping I usually just throw everything into EmmyVue Harris and go. For the actual hiking, it was my standard fare, but with very few warm clothes and lots of water, due to the heat and humidity. I probably could have taken my little Flash 18 pack up Tecumseh, it was such a short hike. For the quickie dayhikes I have left, I might do that.

What I was glad I had: My Equinox Tarp. though I still haven't used it as a primary shelter, I like carrying it. It came in handy at camp the night it rained, though I might pick up a much larger, cheap blue tarp at a hardware store for car camping. My silnylon tarp is only 6' x 8' and left us susceptible to some residual rain splatter here and there, but when weight isn't an issue, the bigger the tarp the better. I'll probably pick one up and just leave it in the car.