2000 ended with a very cold hike to the summits of Jackson and Webster. Probably the only reason this rates as an “adventurous hike” is that I did it alone. I’ve done lots of solo hikes but not in winter. I managed to find a parking spot right off Rt 302 in Crawford notch amidst towering snow-banks. The sun had just begun peering over the eastern peaks. Winds whipped down the broad highway as I began walking towards the trailhead.
It actually took me a minute or two to find the actual trail but after a slog through another high snow-bank I was on the Webster-Jackson trail. I’d read that this was one of the shorter and easier 4,000 footers. I was eager to add it to my list and was in good spirits for the hike.
The trail through the snow covered woods quickly began to climb a sloping ridge. The area evidently had received a good amount of snow quite recently because the trees were all covered in a cottony powder. I made the top of the first ridge fairly quickly and followed a sign which said “outlook” to a nice view of the notch below.
From here it was another uphill slog. My new snowshoes were lashed on the pack; I’d never even used them before. The trail was a hard packed highway and I really didn’t need them at all. I also had instep crampons (6 pointers) but they also remained stowed away.
I was moving along at a great pace and quickly found myself behind a couple of older men. Boy they were all geared up, plastic boots, mountaineering crampons and the whole nine yards. But they were also moving pretty slowly and so I motored by them on the way to the summit.
There was one little icy spot and then I was above the stunted white shrouded trees and a final scramble got me to the top. The tiny little balsam fir trees that remained on the icy summit were completely covered in rime and snow. They looked like little goblin soldiers, I’ll show you a picture someday if you like.
The summit was COLD! I unslung my pack and pulled my camera out of my pack and snapped a few pictures. My ungloved hand quickly froze and I asked someone if they would take a picture of me. After I said thanks I mentioned how easy a hike up, He said, “I’ll bet you liked it, after all we packed it down for you.” In my mind I said “Eruhhhh?” I blankly nodded but my Tim the tool-man grunt was because I knew the hard pack trail had very little to do with their four feet.Oh well, I shrugged and headed over to a sheltered spot to sit and think of my next move. The Presidential range stretched away to the north including the resplendent clad Mt Washington. The sky was amazingly clear but those winds kept my time on the summit short. I decided on a loop hike over to Webster and down its trail to my starting point.
The two older guys (one of whom had bragged about his trail packing abilities) were getting ready to go too. I asked them if I could go with them. After all I was new to this mountain and was a little unsure about what lay ahead. The first guy nodded and said “sure.” The second guy said “Oh I don’t think so” and proceeded to grab his friends arm as if to show him something.
It’s my only time in years of hiking when a person acted like a real jerk and by now of course I was more determined than ever to go to Webster. I put on my instep crampons for the steep and snowy descent and headed back into the larger snow covered/white statue trees. Soon I was out of the sun and into the forest again.
The trail at first was clear and even though the snow was deeper I was doing OK. I knew one thing; there was no way those two older geeks were going to pass me. As the path evened out it also seemed less evident as a few trails seemed to spur off without signs. I’d looked at the map and knew the general direction so I felt pretty confident.
That confidence was really lagging about a half hour or so into the ridge hike. I kept falling down and was getting covered in snow. There was another area that the snow had blown in and the trail had more spurs heading off it. I stopped for a minute and pulled off my pack. High winds blew across the ridge, I looked back and saw my tracks fill in behind me and now saw why the trail seemed unbroken.
I thought it strange that a group of 5 had come over from the Webster side just minutes before and the path was untracked. Well, in for a penny in for a pound I guess. I undid the straps to my snowshoes and put them on for the first time. Admittedly I was nervous because I’d forgotten my hiking pole in the car.
Standing up proved all my worries to be false, soon I was storming over the nearly flat ridge with purpose. They were GREAT! I even found a somewhat broken trail ahead instead of windblown snow.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I found the trail-junction heading down-hill towards Crawford Notch. I’m not even sure if I was on the summit of Webster but I really didn’t care at that point (I counted it!) I really enjoyed the snowshoes on the moderate descent. They were more like skis on a few steep sections. I was hooked on snowshoeing then and there.
Once I reached the frozen brook I removed them and put my insteps back on and wore them all the way to the bottom. I was proud of my performance on that day. I was proud that when I had the moment of bewilderment on the ridge between peaks that I didn’t turn tail and head back for the safer Mt Jackson but rather pressed on. I never saw those two slow older guys despite taking a long break in the shelter of the snow shrouded woods above the notch.