Mountain Journal

From Mt. Washington, we went on to other New England mountains. Steve and I climbed Mt. Mansfield, the highest mountain in Vermont. It was a rainy climb, and we stayed in a hut with several other people. We also climbed Mt. Katahdin in Maine. The first time was another rainy trip, but it was memorable because we saw many moose. While on the main trail up the mountain, in a light rain, we came face to face with a moose and her two calves. We all froze for a minute or two, and then the moose calmly stepped off the trail and went around us. The next day, which was sunny and nice, we came face to butt with a big bull moose. He wasn’t more than 15 feet from us, and calmly turned to check us out while munching on some greenery. I think I actually got a photo of him. A few years later we went up Katahdin again, and spent 2 nights in a lean-to by Chimney Pond. The weather was much better this time, and we got to do the famous Knife Edge trail. It was spectacular!! A real rugged climb with some great exposure and good views. I remember bathing in the cold clear water in a place where the water was studded with giant boulders you could bask on or hide amongst. After a while the mountains began to draw many more people, and regulations were enforced that prevented us from camping where we wanted. Summer climbs just weren’t fun any more, and Steve doesn’t really like the cold. One year we took a young guy from Rotman’s up with us on one of our annual after Thanksgiving climbs. His name is Bob, and he likes the snow. Eventually Bob and I progressed to the point where we could survive anything the mountain could throw at us, and climbed many a winter night.

Mountain Journal

I started climbing with Steve sometime around 1976. Our first climb was up Mt. Washington in the summer. We went up the Huntington Ravine trail and slept by the river. In those days no one bothered us, and we had nice campfires right there on the trail. We took our full packs up to the summit, and I remember what a struggle it was. I think I worked harder on that climb than ever. We stopped every few feet near the end, as people walked past us. Every year we’d climb the mountain 2 or 3 times. We got to know it very well and had our favorite spots to rest, and hang out. There was a place on the ridge between Boote Spur and Lake in the Clouds, where a rock outcropping protected a flat grassy spot, and there was Lake in the Clouds itself. There was the grassy ledge on the way up the Huntington Ravine trail, as well as the campsites further down. As the years went by, we started to climb later and later in the season till finally we were climbing in the snow. The first time we were on the snowfields, we sat on space blankets and butt slid down. I remember two scary times. The first was the time we went up the Huntington trail in the spring, and somehow got on the wrong side of the river. We used to ditch some of our gear at the Huntington campsite and come down the trail to get it. There was a good spring melt, and the river was running fast, cold, and deep. I guess we went wrong up where the river was just a stream. By the time we got to the place our gear was stashed, it was a torrent. We searched for a safe crossing till we were nearly exhausted. Finally we just decided to jump across. We found a stick to pole vault with, and Steve went first. He vaulted across to a big boulder that sloped precariously towards the rushing river and slapped hard against it banging his knee. We both made it over. If either of us had fallen, it could have been disastrous. Another time we were glissading down the cone with our new ice axes, and as we went over the edge of Tuckerman’s Ravine Steve went over a rock bulge and nearly disappeared into a crevasse. I looked down and he was in up to his armpits with both arms out holding himself from falling in. I got to him to try and help, but he insisted I stay back, and he lifted himself up and out. We never made that mistake again. Gaps tend to form on the warm downward side of the rock outcroppings as they melted their way through the winter snow cover. If you fell into one, you could drop hundreds of feet and not be found till the last remnants of ice melted in the spring.