So I joined a Random Group Meetup trip up to Carter Dome for Saturday, February 16. This time, we'd be approaching Carter Dome from Rt. 16, up the Nineteen Mile Brook Trail. The plan also included summiting Mt. Hight, but we didn't get to it due to the trail conditions; it wasn't broken out, meaning that the trail was covered in powdery, fresh snow, and wasn't packed down yet. It takes considerably more energy to snowshoe on an unbroken trail, and we didn't feel it was worth the effort, since Mt. Hight, known for its exceptionally sweeping view of Mt. Washington, was socked in by fog and clouds, just as Carter Dome was.
I met Jocelyn at the La Quinta inn in Andover at the absurd hour of 4:30 AM, a good two hours before the sun even came up. I left my car in the lot, and she drove up, heading north into some pretty squirrely weather. Reports of a small nor'easter predicted a few inches of snow, but after last weekend's blizzard that dumped 30 inches on Boston (strangely, New Hampshire and Vermont got a fraction of that), a few inches seems like child's play. But Jocelyn maneuvered through the inclement weather well, and by the time we got up into New Hampshire on Rt. 16, it was starting to clear. The sun never quite came out until the end of the hike, but the temperatures stayed pretty steady (I think low 20's at the trailhead and low/mid-teens at the summit) and the wind was very calm, which is always a nice treat. We met up at the trailhead, just past the Pinkham Notch Visitor Center, with the other "Randomites" (members of the Random Group of Hikers), and geared up, and were on the trail by about 8:15.
The only obstacle on this hike was my own brain. It likes to try to psyche me out when I step outside my comfort zone, and winter hiking (at least the kind we did yesterday) is still outside my comfort zone. This was my first big snowshoe, and I've yet to quite dial in my clothing situation. When cold-weather hiking, staying as dry as possible is important, which is why layering is key. I started off wearing a Patagonia Caplilene baselayer, my fleece, and my waterproof shell. A few minutes into the hike, we took a minute to delayer, I removed the shell, and kept going. Despite this, snowshoeing is strenuous and I built up a pretty good sweat, and I started down the "what if?' rabbit hole. what if I get hypothermia; what if I get a muscle cramp; what if all my water freezes and I become dehydrated? What if I just become exhausted, 5 miles in on a snowy mountain, and can't get myself out? It's normal, irrational anxiety/panic stuff I deal with on a regular basis, and when it starts, it's hard to stop, and being in the backcountry - as much as I love it - doesn't help. By the time we reached the top, I did indeed feel exhausted, less from the physical effort - which really wasn't that bad - and more from the constant barrage of negative, spiraling thinking. But, I powered through, trying to remind myself of the fact that I was able and prepared to do this. I thought about the day I did the Presi Traverse, and how much more difficult and treacherous that was, and I did it. There's just something about the cold and ice and snow that still freaks me out, on some primal level. But, I'm working through it, it's becoming more controllable, and I'm sure it will get better. I hate that I can't seem to just enjoy things like this, without becoming a knot of anxiety. But, while hiking brings out these feelings, it also can assuage them. It's almost like therapy; it drwas out these issues in a controlled way, laying them out on the table so I can face them, work through them, and put them behind me. And of course, none of the bad things came to pass. I was cold, but I was on a 4800 foot mountain in February. Cold is part of it. I did get a muscle cramp in my right quad, but it passed. I didn't become exhausted, due to the fact that I was shoving as much food as possible into my face, and drinking water consistently, both of which are extremely important in order to have the energy to burn to keep your body warm. I'm reminded of the Mark Twain quote: “I've had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened". 
We hiked along Nineteen Mile Brook, and it was quite beautiful. The brook was mostly frozen and covered in snow, but here and there, holes in the ice reveal waterfalls and small pools, surrounded by icicles and endlessly fascinating formations. The trail was fairly well broken in up to Zeta Pass, when the snow became a bit deeper and hard to navigate. Though everyone wore snowshoes, I think most of the trail would have been navigable with Microspikes, but random postholing (stepping through deep snow due to lack of flotation, creating a "post hole" - bad trail etiquette, and potentially dangerous) may have been a concern. I enjoyed the snowshoeing. I spent some serious cash on some very nice MSR snowshoes, and I have to say I'm glad I did. I've always bought the nicest gear I could afford. When you're miles into the backcountry, you don't want something to fail because you were trying to save a few bucks. The bindings on the Lightning Ascent snowshoes are extremely easy to adjust, even with gloves, and you can walk with a normal stride and they feel natural. Don't skimp on gear, if you can help it.
The original plan was to go to Mt. Hight, but we instead took the Carter Dome Trail directly to Carter Dome. I remember the top of the Dome was a small clearing, mostly wooded, with an opening in the trees affording a great view northwest. When we got to the summit at about noon, it was socked in and no views were to be had. I layered up with my down OR jacket and my vest, along with my shell, but was still pretty cold. It was in the low teens up there, but the wind was calm. We had a quick lunch, took a summit pic, but headed back down pretty quickly since everyone was starting to get cold. It's part of winter hiking I'm still getting accustomed to; I really enjoy hanging out on a sunny summit, laying on a hot slab of granite, enjoying an extravagantly long summer day and taking my time. That's just not how it is in winter; you kind of have to keep moving in order to keep yourself warm. For me it adds a sense of urgency that I find unsettling sometimes.
We came down the same way we ascended and made good time, we'd broken the trail on the way up so it was nice and packed for our descent. Free from the rigors of upward travel, we talked a lot, joking and sharing stories about things hikers talk about; gear, triumphs and tribulations on the trail, weather. The people on this trip were great; I'd hiked with John, the leader, and Jocelyn on the Whiteface hike, and the Cannon hike, respectively. I felt like I was dragging a bit on the way up but everyone was encouraging and patient, which really helped get my head out of its funk. I really enjoyed the trip down; finally found my snowshoe stride, finally stopped worrying, and just enjoyed being in such a beautiful place with such interesting folks. About 10 minutes before we arrived at the trail head, around 3 o'clock, we passed a large group of hikers that were heading to the Carter Notch hut, which is open in the winter but "self-serve"; it's not staffed but you can use the kitchen, bunks, and other amenities. They were just starting out and the first couple of miles is pretty easy, but they seemed winded already. They were also carrying a kind of insane amount of gear; one guy's pack reach far over his head and looked to be upwards of 80 pounds. I'm hoping they got there safe, but I'm sure they were hiking into Carter Notch in the dark. I didn't envy them. | |
| topo map at Pinkham Notch Visitor Center |
We said our goodbyes in the parking lot, congratulating each other for a job well done. Jocelyn and I hit the Pinkham Notch visitor center a few miles down the road, where we used their facilities to change into some clean clothes. We browsed the store and chatted with the staff about our hike. The PNVC and the adjacent Joe Dodge Lodge is really one of my favorite places on the planet; it's got a great vibe and knowledgeable people, and everyone there is bound by their love for the White Mountains. I bought a copy of The AMC Guide to Winter Hiking and Camping, which I'd been meaning to pick up for a while, and we meandered South, toward home.
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| parking lot on 16 |
I've made this out to sound like kind of an unpleasant hike, which is not true at all. That said, I won't lie and say the thought of hanging up my boots till the spring thaw didn't cross my mind yesterday. But this is a process; in the grand scheme I'm still a pretty inexperienced hiker, especially in winter. I'm just going to keep learning, keep dialing in my gear, and keep at it. Because damned if I'm going to let something as inconsequential as anxiety and irrational fear keep me away from the mountains.
| Distance | 10.02 mi |
| Book Time | 6 hr 48 min (almost exactly our actual time) |
| Elev Gain | 3584 ft |
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