Gray Jays and Sunny Summits: the Hancocks

I've been negligent in my blogging and let a couple of weeks elapse between my last White Mountain hiking trip, and writing about it. I like to do it as soon as possible, because the details are clearer in my mind, but I happen to be extremely good at procrastinating. But I took a lot of pictures that I happen to like a lot, so I definitely wanted to post something for that purpose - I've also been enjoying making those silly headers too.

On March 9, my buddy Scott and I met at the McDonald's in Lincoln at about 8:30, ready to tackle the Hancocks. The forecast looked great, and it was; extremely sunny and forecasted to climb into the high 40's. An ice climbing class had commandeered a large portion of McDonald's dining space, and was busy signing releases and donning expensive-looking gear, before piling into vans in the parking lot and heading out. I was chomping on a egg sandwich and drinking a cup of coffee when Scott came in. We caught up a bit, and then headed out, down the Kancamagus, toward the hairpin turn trailhead. We hit the trail just after 9.

The first leg from the parking lot, on the Hancock Notch Trail, is a breeze, even in the snow. The trail was pretty well packed down, and we sailed along it in just our Microspikes, admiring the warm, sunny, clear day that was presenting itself in the mountains. Most of this trail is covered, but views north open up now and then. The ice bridges on the trail, due to the warming temperatures, are beginning to look a bit unstable, but there aren't any major crossings on this hike, so I wasn't too worried about it.

Dana and I hiked this on January 21, on a much colder day, and I'd done it in the summer, so I was pretty familiar with the approach to the mountain. Dana and I didn't quite make it to the summit, but Scott and I managed to bag both peaks on this trip. When we took a left onto the Cedar Brook trail, we started to see a little bit of elevation, and a bit more after we hit the final 1.1 mile leg that would bring us to the loop. The flat approach has its advantages; you get to warm up a bit before hitting the real climb. But, you're constantly reminded that when the elevation does come, it's going to be fierce. And so it is on Mount Hancock.

We ran into a few other people right around here, most notably a man in his late 60's and his granddaughter, working on her winter 48. He was an interesting guy, and said he'd been hiking in the Whites for fifty years. We talked a bit about the advancements in gear, and the fact that back in the day almost no one hiked out here in the winter; they didn't even plow the Kancamagus Highway in the winter, limiting access to Hancock a whole other slew of mountains. We all kept about the same pace; he was like a lot of other older hikers I've met - a bit old and slightly overweight, but steady and tenacious, with a sunny disposition.


The climb up to Hancock - we took a left at the loop junction to hit the north peak first, going clockwise - is a steep one, to put it mildly. However, the trail up to the north peak is not even as steep as the one that goes to the southern peak. I did it counter-clockwise in the summer, and still remember that rocky climb. Some people say winter hiking is easier, in that everything - rocks, roots, boulders - is covered in snow, hopefully packed down, and all you have to do it "walk up it", and that the snow cushions your steps, taking stress off your joints and muscles. There is truth to that, but I don't happen to think that makes it easier. The extra

Gray Jay on the summit of Mt. Hancock

energy your body uses to keep itself warm in cold conditions, and the extra calories you have to stuff down your throat in order to produce it, negates, for me at least, any extra ease that the snowy conditions might create. I happen to think winter hiking is a hell of a lot harder, when you account for all the extra gear that needs to be carried.

The day was extremely warm and clear, and the climb was tough, and I was pretty wet when we finally made it to the summit; some sweat, some from snow melting from the trees in the 40 degree plus weather. Truly, the longest .7 mile I can remember. But, as is usually the case, the summit more than made up for the climb. A small group was congregated at the top, enjoying the sun. The views from Hancock are not panoramic, but they're excellent, and we dropped our packs to dry out and eat some food. Just a quick aside to talk gear; I finally buckled and sprang for a Merino Smartwool baselayer, and I couldn't be happier I did (apparently, a lot of other people feel the same; the reviews are virtually all raving). My Patagonia Capilene baselayer is okay, but it can't hold a candle to the wool. The Smartwool is warm, even when wet, and doesn't ever feel boggy, and I was dry in minutes in the sun. It wicks so well, you can actually see the water droplets being pulled through the fabric and beading on the outside, ready to evaporate. Pricey, but worth every penny.

Feeding cashews to the Jays

My favorite part of the hike was here, on Hancock's bright summit, thanks to some friendly Gray Jays that showed up for what these friendly little creatures usually come for: food. They fluttered around the perimeter of the summit, clearly interested in us, and when we'd hold out a nut, they'd come and land on our hands, grab the treat in their beak, and fly away. They wouldn't eat it right away, so far as I could tell, so we reasoned that they were likely squirreling it away in some undisclosed location. I'd had a visit from a Gray Jay before - I think at Garfield Ridge campsite in the summer - but had never had this close contact with them. It was a very cool experience.

After feeding the birds and feeding ourselves, we packed up and headed down the connecting loop trail toward the South summit. Shortly after descending into the col between the two mountains, Scott and I decided to put on our snowshoes; the snow was not as packed here, possibly due to fewer people traveling the whole loop. We made pretty good time, and encountered some excellent views of Franconia Ridge on the way up to South Hancock. This summit is more wooded, but there's a outcropping nearby with some good views to the east and south. We ate more here (in winter, eating every time you stop is basically essential), chatted more with granddad and granddaughter, and headed down the steep trail to complete our loop.

This descent was tough - we could have done a butt-slide (or glissade, if yer fancy), but I'm still not quite comfortable with it, and so I just walked down with my snowshoes, as best I could. Scott and I both wiped out a couple of times, sliding inadvertently a yard or two before arresting ourselves by grabbing a tree or digging our feet into the snow. It was slow going, and torture on the quads. After an arduous half a mile, we got back to the junction and headed out the way we came. It was soon after that we

snow-capped Franconia Ridge from the loop trail

ran into a couple of young men - late teens or early twenties - who were heading up with no apparent gear of any kind. One held his jacket casually, and neither seemed to have any water or food. This was surprising, and I asked where they were headed. "To do the loop." It was well after 3 o'clock at this point, and there's no way they'd be back out before dark, in my estimation. I asked if they had a headlamp and they said yes, but I didn't really believe them. They asked if we were camping out due to "all our gear", but we said no. We wished them the best, and I hoped we wouldn't be reading in a few days about two young men found half-frozen in the White Mountains. On the way back to the Cedar Brook trail, we noticed a camp set up, and figured it was theirs and that's where their gear was; still, just hiking the loop with no supplies is a pretty foolhardy thing to do, especially in winter.

We got back to the car around 5, after managing to cross some sketchy ice bridges that had seen considerate loss of mass just since the morning, due to the warm day. Our plan was to do Moriah the next day, so we headed down the Kanc east, and up 16, toward the north country, and stopped at Pinkam Notch Visitor's Center to see about getting some grub. Unfortunately, they were full up, and out of dinners, so after consulting with the crew about the best way to tackle Moriah, we continued up to Gorham and hit the local Italian place, where we ate pasta in various forms, topped with copious amounts of cheese and sauce. It hit the spot. We headed up to the Hiker's Paradise, where I'd procured a room with two beds for about 60 bucks, a pretty good deal. The man at the desk was eccentric and funny (at least he was trying) and spoke with an Eastern European accent, and told us we only had to fill our our car license information if we were "planning on causing trouble." We were not, I assured him. They had turned on the heat in our room prior to our arrival, and it was pretty cozy - certainly not fancy but all you need after a 10 mile winter hike. We watched part of an episode of Star Trek (TNG) and crashed hard.

The Northern Presidentials from Mt. Surprise

We were up at about 8, and packed up our stuff that had been drying overnight. We grabbed some coffee at the gas station and headed to the trailhead that would take us up to Moriah, off of Bangor Road, a very short distance from the motel. We opted to take the Carter-Moriah trail from the north, as opposed to the Stony Brook trail (finding the Stony Brook trail apparently required cutting through someone's property) and we were soon cruising up what one online report called a "superhighway"; usually a sign that the trail is packed. It was, for the most part, and we used only our spikes for the first couple of hours.

We didn't quite summit Moriah; we got most of the way there, but we were beat from the day before and going slow, and had gotten a pretty late start. So we turned around, which is always a little hard, but it's not always about "bagging" the peak. It was a beautiful, warm day, much like the day before, the forest was quiet and still with snow, and the views of the Northern Presidentials from (what I'm assuming was) Mount Surprise were fantastic.

So was my last winter hiking trip of the year, in the White Mountains. It was my first winter season hiking up there, and I completed four four-thousand-footers, which isn't a lot but I'm proud of them. I "get" winter hiking now; I understand what the die-hards are always raving about. I'm certainly more comfortable in the snowy conditions than I was in December, and I've dialed in my gear a bit. I've relearned things I thought I knew, like how to walk and feed myself properly. I'm glad I did it, glad I bought the snowshoes and water bottle coozy and balaclava, but I won't lie and say I'm not good and ready for the sunny, scrubby summits of summer.