IN WHICH I RETURN TO THE MOUNTAINS TWICE,
CLIMB SEVERAL MORE OF THE "FOUR THOUSAND FOOTERS,"
AND HAVE THE MISFORTUNE OF SEEING THE OBNOXIOUS LITTLE GIRL, AGAIN.
By 1952, Abbie and I considered ourselves 100 percent, full-fledged Bay Staters - residents of Massachusetts. We dressed like our schoolmates, we liked the same kinds of things, and we knew a lot of the local history. We were even getting to sound like them, when we talked. I had s xeven overcome my dislike for winter - well, almost. I still felt cold most of the time, and hated the gray quietness of everything, but ice-skating was helping me not think about those things as much. I think I said earlier that it took me a couple of winters to learn what Abbie had learned immediately. Once I felt the thrill of racing around a frozen pond on a thin metal blade, there was no stopping me. There were very few winter days after that when you wouldn't find me on a pond, somewhere.
I'm thinking that Dad may have gone back to Mt. Washington once without us. I'm not sure how he could have pulled that off - we were all pretty eager for more mountain time - but he was so excited after the first visit to the observatory that it's hard to imagine him missing a season. I don't think we were doing anything special that summer that would have prevented our going.
Anyway, in 1952, we did go back. Abbie and I hadn't lost our interest in the "four thousand footers," and we started looking for ways that would give us chances at a peak or two, while fitting in with Dad's needs. We found what we thought we wanted in the Gulfside Trail, and this is what we proposed to Dad and Mom.
Rather than using up a day hiking up the mountain, we would all ride to the summit on the Cog. Dad would go to the observatory, and plan to stay overnight there, giving him almost two full work days. Mom, Abbie and I would start walking north from Mt. Washington on the Gulfside. There were two mountains we could add to our list of conquests - Jefferson and Adams - and still have plenty of time to make it to Madison Hut - the next "Appie" hut after Lakes - for the night. While at the hut, we could climb Mt. Madison - three check-marks on our list in one day!
While Dad was finishing up at the observatory the next day, we'd visit and explore around the hut, then hike down the north side of the mountains to Appalachia, a hiker parking area on Route 2. When Dad was finished on the mountain, he'd ride the Cog down to our car, then drive around to meet us at Appalachia.
Both Mom and Dad approved of the plan, and in August we carried it out. Everything worked perfectly. We climbed Jefferson and Adams as we passed them on the way. Madison we saved until after dinner, then climbed up to watch a great sunset, and stayed to watch falling stars. It was a week or so early for the peak of the August meteor showers, but we saw quite a few. We came off the mountain in the dark, but the trail is so well-used that we hardly needed our flashlights. Next morning, we hiked the trail called the Valley Way down to Appalachia. We had about a two-hour wait before Dad showed up - full of new information from the observatory; he was more like a little kid than I was! We hadn't minded waiting. We just lay around in the woods, snacked, and talked to all the hikers going up or coming down. A successful mission, all around.
I should back up a bit, and talk about the Gulfside. It can be one of the most dangerous trails in the mountains because it is wide open the whole way - when you're hiking it, there's absolutely nothing between the ground and the sky, but you. If a thunderstorm or a dense fog found you there, you could be in trouble. But what is better about it - compared to the Crawford Path, for example - is that there are many places where you can scramble off the ridge, and find some protection among bushes and rock crevices. We didn't have to avail ourselves of any escape tactics; our day stayed bright and clear.
There was one funny observation along the way. When we were approaching Mt. Jefferson, we came to a fairly level, grassy-stony area called Monticello Lawn, somewhat appropriately, after Jefferson's home in Virginia. In the middle of the "lawn" was an old push lawnmower, planted upside down in a pile of rocks. A sign near the mower read "This sentinel guards the plateau of Monticello Lawn in tribute to T. Jefferson." Somebody had gone to a lot of silly trouble, but it was funny!
***
In 1953, Mom decided it was time for us to take a real vacation - more than just a weekend hike. I hope I haven't given the impression that we spent all our time just sitting at home. I've been emphasizing the mountains, because that's what my story is really about. We'd actually traveled all around eastern Massachusetts, seeing Plymouth Rock, all the Revolutionary War battle sites, and Cape Cod. We'd been to Salem, location of the notorious witch trials - a horrible, horrible situation, as I learned as I got older, but to a little kid, just a very weird happening. (Some years later, Abbie discovered that one of the "witches" killed was our ancestor - and she had been accused by another of our ancestors! It was a time of widespread hysteria, but there was also a lot of carefully planned "murders" in which the accusers benefitted from their relatives' demise. It's a horrible blot on our early American history.)
Anyway, to get back on track, Mom envisioned taking our umbrella tent somewhere relatively quiet where we could spend a week just doing what we wanted to do, be it hiking, reading, fishing, roasting wieners over a fire - well, whatever we wanted. You can probably guess what Abbie and I had in mind, and we began looking for a place where we could do all the things Mom wanted, and maybe sneak in a few "four thousand footers."
The place we picked was just west of the Cog Railroad, but not in the high area of the Presidential Range, where we had been on our previous trips. The Zealand campground was off the main road, beside what looked like a nice stream that might have some good fishing. There were several short trails in the area, good for easy exploring. The trail up Mt. Hale - a "four thousand footer" - was only a short distance away (imagine that!). There were three others - Tom, Fields, and Wiley - that were all on the same ridge, and looked like they could all be climbed in just a few hours from our campsite. Even better, the Zealand Falls hut (another "Appie" hotel) was in the same area, and we ingenuously suggested we might spend a night there, to vary our experiences. (I think we may have failed to mention that staying in the hut would make it easy for us to check off a sixth peak, Zealand Mountain.) Waiting for Dad and Mom to approve our plan was agonizing, but they liked it all. Dad liked the fishing idea so much that he bought New Hampshire licenses, and because all his and Mom's fishing gear was still in California, went out and bought some inexpensive rods and reels for all of us. They also liked the idea of another night in a hut, and made reservations for us.
When we got to the Zealand campground, it turned out to be everything that Mom had been looking for. There were other people, but the area wasn't crowded. The stream turned out to be very nice, and the area was a nice, lazy place to hang out. Of course, Abbie and I had no intention of just "hanging out." We had mountains to climb.
Dad and Mom weren't interested in immediately racing up Mt. Hale. Abbie and I had never hiked by ourselves, but I was thirteen and she was almost fifteen, and we had shown ourselves to be good hikers on our previous trips. The trail up the mountain was well-marked, and there was a fire lookout tower on top. Our parents agreed on our doing our first "solo."
It was a very easy hike, through really nice woods. We talked to the fire lookout, a college boy. He hadn't spotted a fire yet - which was fine with him - but he had seen one bear. He said that most of the time, he sat and read, or studied his textbooks for the next semester. He had regular hiker visitors, like us. He liked the job quite a lot.
Even visiting at the fire lookout, our trip only took a couple hours. We came back to camp to find that Dad had caught several small brook trouts. (They were delicious when cooked over the open fire that evening.) Mom claimed to have been reading, but I think that's hard to do with your eyes closed. She was enjoying her day, whatever she was doing; Abbie and I settled down to read and nap, ourselves.
The day after we climbed Hale was the day we had the reservation at Zealand Hut. Dad and Mom decided they were up for a long hike, so we decided to do the loop that gave us the four thousand footers Tom, Fields and Willey. We took down our tent, drove the car to the trail parking area, and started walking south. The trail up to the ridge leaves the valley to the east just about the same place one turns the other direction to the hut, so we didn't have to do any backtracking.
The hike is long, but it isn't very hard. You climb fairly steeply to the ridge, then walk south until the ridge ends. The three "peaks" really are just little bumps on the ridge, each one climbable in a few minutes. The most excitement comes at the south end, where Mt. Willey drops off so steeply that ladders made of logs have been placed to make the downward trip easier and safer. At the bottom, you meet the trail coming from our car, and walk back to the hut turnoff.
Dad, Mom and Abbie climbed immediately to the hut. I became fascinated with a pair of beavers, doing all they could to flood the whole valley with their dams. (I was told later, at the hut, that the beavers were so "efficient" the trail had to be rerouted every week or so, to keep it above water.) I must have watched for a half-hour or so, and I was by myself when I climbed up to the hut.
Four people had just exited the hut, and looked like they were on their way elsewhere. There had just been a brief shower (but not down where I was), and everybody had their hoods drawn up. As I moved to pass them, someone grabbed hold of my sleeve, and said "Hey, Boy." It was obviously a girl but, since I didn't know any girls in the mountains, I was surprised. I started to say something about that not being a very nice greeting for somebody you didn't know, when I happened to glance at her feet. Nice boots! Then, I knew what I would see if she dropped her hood. She did. Pigtails! I felt a nightmare coming on, as she was insisting that she did know me.
A man asked me if I knew his daughter. I said no, but then relented. "I don't know her, sir, but I met her once - several years ago at Lakes. I was trying to enjoy the scenery, and she kept bugging me about "four thousand footers."
"You didn't know what they were," she said, and I realized she still was holding onto my sleeve.
"You're right, but I know now."
"How many have you climbed?" she ask.
"Well, the three you got at Lakes, then here we got Hale, Tom, Fields and Willey."
"I have all those," she said - rather dismissively, I thought.
"I figured that. I guess my best climbs were last year, when we hiked the Gulfside..." Before I'd finished my sentence, she screamed - really loud! - and started mumbling, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. He did the Gulfside."
I thought she was having a fit. A woman, who was clearly her mother, told her to watch her language, dear.
"I know, Mom," she muttered, "But he did the Gulfside!" She still had hold of my sleeve, and she kind of pulled me toward her. "Did you climb all three? How were they?" I told her, yes, I'd climbed Jefferson, Adams and Madison, and they were all great peaks. Before I could describe them, she seemed to have lost interest, and had wandered away.
I turned to her father. He gave a big shrug. "She can be different," he said .
"I'll say," I responded. We introduced ourselves. He noted that they were on their way home now, but that maybe they'd see me, again.
"Definitely not," I said, only half-kidding. "I think twice is my limit."
He laughed, clapped me on the shoulder, and then they were gone. I went into the hut, hopefully to reclaim the sanity of my normal family.
Next morning after breakfast, Abbie and I set off to climb Zealand Mountain. It was a nice little hill - completely forested, with no view except trees. We were back to the hut within about two hours. Mom and Dad had already started, but we soon caught up with them, and all reached the car, together. We started home immediately, all pronouncing it a very satisfactory vacation.
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