Mt. Chocorua--March 2010

From many of the summits that I reached while completing the list of New Hampshire 4000 footers, I would notice an interesting mountain to the south and say "What's that peak?" and Charlie would reply, "Chocorua". Hmmm, I would think--that mountain seems to look different from every angle but from every angle it looks intriguing. Eventually, I stopped asking what the funny looking peak was and just assumed that the one that caught my eye was Chocorua. Among the White Mountain hiking community, Chocorua is a name that comes up repeatedly as a favorite summit--people hike it over and over and over and now I know why.

This past Saturday, along with Sally and Elise, I headed up the Champney Brook Trail to the summit. The snow was perfect and the air temperature was cool enough to keep the snow solid and our body temperatures comfortable but high enough that we could retain feeling in our fingers and toes. The trail follows along and climbs above the Champney Brook with a side trail leading to the Champney Falls. We saw ice climbers heading to the falls and decided to take that detour on our descent.

We estimated that the snow was at least 5 feet deep based on the fact that the trail signs were right at our feet level. Sally climbed up on one of the signs for a photo shoot.

The trail took a turn to the west away from the brook and started a series of switchbacks which led us into an area just below the summit. The wind was pretty strong in the open but the views were spectacular.

We headed back into the trees to find a place to eat our lunch before heading down. Our descent went really fast and in some of the steepest parts I used the slide on your bottom and pretend you did it on purpose method. Tried and true.

We made it back to the s ide trail to the waterfall and tramped through some fresh snow in order to meet up with the ice climbers. It looked like an ice climbing class with lots of people climbing on the frozen waterfall. Good clean fun. Another great day in the mountains feeling like the luckiest person in the world

'twas the Sunday Before Christmas

While the east coast was paralyzed by the Blizzard of '09, we in Western Maine watched it pass on by without a flurry. To take my mind off worrying about Molly and how she would get home from DC in time for Christmas, I went over to my parents house where every day and every event is a party. Today, the house was full of people who work with my mother at the Buckfield-Sumner Swap Shop. That's a picture of my Dad, isn't he cute?

But, the weekend wasn't just spent partying with the In Crowd, I also took advantage

of some quiet time and followed a link from Jayne's

blog to make the perfect gift for this H1N1

Holiday Season. The directions are here.

It's a different sort of Christmas for me this year. Sara will only be here in spirit and through skype, Ethan is going to Kentucky to visit his wife's family, Archie is going to stay in Pennsylvania and work over the holiday, Molly is stranded in 16 inches of snow in our nation's capital and I am flying out Christmas afternoon for a weekend in Dallas for my sweet niece's wedding.

Here's a special story by a favorite author that made me smile this morning.

NCAA Noric Ski Championship

We have been firmly under the weather with a nasty cold all week, but this morning Charlie rallied enough to ask me to go watch the Men's Freestyle race in the NCAA Skiing Championships being held just down the road at Black Mountain of Maine.

The best nordic skiers from colleges stretching from the University of Alaska at Anchorage to Bates College in Lewiston Maine flew up and over the hilly course for 20 kilometers. It was a perfect winter day. The sky was clear and that pure blue that we get in the winter when a high pressure system is sitting right on top of us--the temperature on the mountain was just at freezing--comfortable for spectators. We were able to position ourselves at a few different points in order to see the skiers several times as they looped over the course.

Black Mountain of Maine was developed thanks to the efforts of former Olympian Chummy Broomhall who, along with other members of the 1952 U.S. Nordic team, was present and cheering on the racers.

Another olympian and favorite daughter of Maine was skiing around and watching the racers. Joan Benoit Samuelson is probably my favorite famous Mainer. Sadly, several years ago a woman that I was watching a high school race with was quite rude to the great marathoner. That was the end of me ever standing near that particular woman again and it caused me to, very uncharacteristically, speak sharply in reprimand. I've always been embarrassed when I've seen Joan wondering if she remembered and associated me with that moment. Truthfully, she probably didn't even notice, but it still rankles with me.

As we were leaving, Charlie ran into his coach from when he was on the Bates Nordic Team in the early 1970's. Charlie has such great memories of those days, I love to hear his stories about the ski races and I love the fact that nordic skiers can still enjoy their sport 40 years later.

A good day.

Great Caribou Bog Wicked Winter Ski Race

Today Charlie competed in the 24th Great Caribou Bog Wicked Winter Ski Tour and Race. The race goes from Bangor to Old Town over a 17 kilometer trail that winds through forests and bogs.

It was a mass start with all racers starting in one big bundle. By the 3 kilometer mark, he said the field had spread itself out. When the camera and I caught him at the 8 kilometer mark, he was coming through the woods alone.

The few kilometers that I skied were very enjoyable and made me anxious to ski the race next year with him--well to start with him anyway.

After the Storm

Today, everything was canceled. Maine dug out from more snow than we have seen in one storm in the ten years that I have lived here.

Archie and Brent spent the afternoon shoveling out the fire hydrants in nearby Canton. It's a nice little job and easy money after a 6 inch snow storm--today though they earned every penny. I drove them from hydrant to hydrant parking alongside, blinkers flashing, nose in a book hoping that the logging trucks rumbling past had room to get by.
After the fire hydrants, we headed over to my parents' house to help them shovel out their generator. As we traveled through a town called Hartford which must have a miniscule snow removal budget anyway, we came upon their lone plow hopelessly stuck in the snow. Just past the stranded plow, the road went to one poorly plowed lane and then to a mound of snow--no one was getting through on that road. Fortunately, after expertly executing a 16-point turn, we were able to navigate our way back through Hartford and to other roads leading to my mom and dad and steaming bowls of red beans and rice!

Blizzard

On Saturday the weather forecasters started warning of a big storm on Sunday. They were predicting that it would start at 1 p.m. and when it didn't, we threw up our hands and assumed that the alarmist weather prognosticators were wrong again.

About the time that Kate Winslet was looking beautiful on the red carpet, the first flakes were starting to fall.

At 1 a.m., I woke with a start realizing that everything was much too dark and much too silent. I got up and came downstairs and found Archie and Brent stoking up the fire and trying to find a non-electric alarm to wake Brent up at 4:15 to get to his job at the log yard behind our house. I gave him a flashlight and an alarm and then settled in on the couch to feed the fire and see the night through. For those of you familiar with the cast of characters in my life Brent is a friend of Archie's and the latest young person to share our home for a spell.

By the time that the power came back, I could see the snow piled up on my kitchen window bird feeder and realized this was a monster storm--20 inches for us. As I write, I see Brent walking up the driveway, I guess it was too much snow for the log yard to operate.

Did someone mention daffodils, returning red-winged blackbirds and salamanders? It hardly seems possible.

The Bemis Track

Yesterday I decided to hike out to Angel Falls which is located in a remote area about a mile off an old railroad bed called the Bemis Track. The Bemis track is barely passable as a road in the summer and in the winter only serves snowmobilers traveling the wild country between Lake Mooselookmeguntic and the Tumbledown region. It's a good place to be alone.

I parked my car just off Route 17 and changed into my hiking boots, adjusting my backpack with the snowshoes strapped to the outside. I knew that I would need the snowshoes for the mile hike from the Bemis track to the falls, but thought the track would be packed down enough by snowmobilers that I might be able to cover the four miles to the trailhead faster in my bare boots.

Everything was so quiet--no birds, no wind, no sound of rushing water from the brook that paralleled the trail. The rushing water was buried deep beneath many feet of ice and as I looked off the trail at the book, I could only imagine its course by the buried mounds of boulders.

So, off I went, leaving the car at 11 a.m. It's hard to judge distance along the track and with the late start, I decided that if I was not to the trailhead by 1 p.m., I would turn around. Charlie was at a ski race and would not be home to notice that I was missing until close to dark--late to mount a rescue effort--and the bargain I have struck with the ones who love me is that they won't complain about me hiking alone if I exercise extreme caution.

It was hard walking, slightly uphill at a railroad grade and the snow was not as hard packed as I had imagined it would be. My feet sank in about 2 inches with each step and by 12 when I stopped to find the trailmix in my pack and to drink some water, I was really getting tired. I munched the trail mix and kept walking wondering if maybe I should put on my snowshoes. Just before 1 p.m., I saw a big boulder up the road a ways and decided to walk to the boulder and then decide what to do. I made it to the boulder and decided to put my snowshoes on and turn around.

As I was putting on my snowshoes, I heard the roar of snowmobiles that soon materialized coming from the direction of Mooselookmeguntic. The leader pulled up beside me and looked for all the world like he had just driven off the pages of an L. L. Bean catalogue with his green wool Maine guide jacket and handsome chiseled features. The people on the many sleds behind him had the look of eager weekend visitors who had paid him for a snowmobile adventure. He asked me if I was safe and I said yes. I asked him how far to the trailhead since he had just come from that direction and he said about 1/2 mile but suggested that I turn around as it was getting late and cold. I agreed. He patted the back of his sled and told me to hop on. I was tempted--tired and facing 2 hours back to my car--but I shook my head, assured him that I was fine and sent them on their way.

Before heading back I took out my camera and took one picture before the battery died. Kind of a weird day--no goals realized but I am a firm believer that in life it is the process not the product that matters. I had a wonderful day breathing fresh air, exercising my body, remembering all the other hikes to Angel Falls and casting my cares off into the snowy world.

Carter Notch, January 30, 2009

What a great day and a great hike! Thanks to all of you who wished me well. It was one of those perfect days when everything cooperated. Good company clear skies, and beautiful scenery.

We started at the trailhead at 9 a.m. and the path was fairly well packed out from last week's storm but it was still hard work climbing 2000 vertical feet over 3.9 miles in snowshoes.

Layering with synthetic layers is the way to go when winter hiking. The enemy of the hiker is not the cold but moisture--so to avoid sweating, you always want to be slightly cold in your layers, adding and subtracting as necessary. The synthetic fabrics wick the moisture away from your body and keep you dry so that when you stop and the wind picks up you don't freeze into a hikersicle.

In addition to the synthetic fabrics sold for hikers and skiers, chemical hand warmers are another thing that makes winter hiking more comfortable. I had one in each glove as I hiked up the mountain and had a new set to switch over at the hut for maximum heating. This I did at the hut after eating lunch and changing into dry socks. The mistake I made--and I'm going to try and put this delicately--was putting the still warm used handwarmers in my bra--it seemed like a good idea at the time and since this is a family blog, I won't go into detail--but CAUTION: Do Not Do This Even if It Seems Like A Good Idea At The Time.

By the time we were within a mile of the hut and climbing steeply the wind picked up and it was COLD. Maybe it's always cold in notches where the wind comes howling down the rift between big mountains but I just about froze my fingers taking very few pictures. Our lunch break at the hut was welcome, there was no fire and it was cold but at least the wind stayed outside so we could eat our lunch even if it meant putting things into our mouths to melt before chewing.

The descent went much quicker than the ascent and by the time we had lost some elevation we could once again feel our fingers and toes. It was fun getting to know Elise who is the clerk in one of my courts and her friend Sally who hiked over 2000 miles of the Appalachian Trail with her husband in 2007, the year that she turned 50. It was great to hike with them and I hope we can do it again really soon.

Heading to the Notch

Tomorrow, I'm heading into Carter Notch in New Hampshire's White Mountains. The trail we will take from the road is called the Nineteen Mile Brook trail and while the trail is not 19 miles but a mere 3.9 it does follow along a pretty little brook called Nineteen Mile Brook. I am very excited. This will be the first time that I've gotten into the mountains this winter and the trail is one of my favorites. It is a popular one and by the time my hiking buddy and I meet at the trailhead at 9 a.m., I expect the trail will be well packed for our snowshoes.

Carter Notch is tucked away between the Wildcat Range and the Carter Range just to the east of Mt. Washington. The picture on the right was taken on an ascent of Carter Dome in September. If you look hard you can see the green roof of the hut in the Notch far below us. The hut will be our destination tomorrow.

A few years ago, I hiked into the hut with Archie and two of his ice climbing buddies. We planned to spent three days and two nights and somehow managed to choose the coldest two nights of the winter. The hut is unheated except for a woodstove that is only lit at night. In the main hut building with the wood stove, there are tables and a propane cook stove and hikers can cook their meals but to sleep, you must venture from the woodstove and go to one of the bunk houses which have no heat and no insulation. That year that I hiked in with the boys, there were no other people there except the caretaker who had his bunk in the building with the wood stove. The boys and I claimed our bunks and laid out our sleeping bags and shivered. I don't think I slept at all the first night but was somewhat comforted by the snores of the 3 teenage boys who apparently have metabolisms like furnaces. I have never been that cold and of course in the deepest darkest part of the night I had to go to the bathroom. I tried mind games, I tried counting sheep but all I could do was imagine the filling of my bladder. Finally, I could stand it no more and got out of my down bag, put on my clothes including hiking boots and crampons for the trip to the outhouse. It was a long night and you can be sure that the following evening I drank no liquids. Honestly, though, that frigid adventure with the ice climbers is one of my fondest memories and one made extra special because I shared it with my eccentric, knows-no-limits son.

But tomorrow, I am heading up the Notch with a new hiking friend and we won't scale any high peaks, we are just hiking along the brook to the hut, we'll eat our lunch and we'll head back and be home in time for supper.

Cardinals in the Snow

The Bluejays spent most of the day at the feeders, but just before dusk, Mr. Cardinal arrived. He ate and looked around and ate some more then flew off and brought back Mrs. Cardinal. What a cute couple--look how he dotes on her.

As the rest of the country digs out and recovers from the storm, we are in the thick of it. At this point, we probably have close to a foot and it is supposed to continue until midnight. Bee class was canceled.

I am planning a hike into Carter Notch with a friend on Saturday. It should be beautiful but I hope some hearty souls get in there to pack out Nineteen Mile Brook Trail before we head in. In fact, if I could have my preference it would be a group of very heavy people on snowshoes or perhaps even a large group of boyscouts. The harder the snow is packed down, the easier for those that follow.

Here it comes

Just as I follow the migration of birds and the coming of Spring through my google reader and updates from fellow bloggers to the south and the west, I have followed the track of today's storm as it passed through Kentucky and Virginia and Ohio and Pennsylvania and southern New England before coming to Maine to dump up to two feet of snow on us before passing off to the maritime provinces and the north atlantic.

Nothing is coming out of the sky yet, but the call from school came already, making the predictions by the teacher and the teenager accurate. Fortunately, for me, I had planned an office day so my commute is the twenty feet from my barn door to my little carriage house office. I will fill up the feeders before the snow starts so the birds can dart out for calories and I can be distracted by them. The weatherman says that it will be snowing 2-3 inches per hour for most of the afternoon. I guess bee class will be canceled tonight.

A few months ago, a friend from another state asked me to join facebook--I joined with trepedation thinking that it was the domain of the hip and happening crowd--it isn't. Well, it may be for some people--the hip and happening ones--but it is also a fun place to reconnect with people. Recently, several of the bloggers that I follow have joined. So, maybe we have a shot at being hip and happening after all!

Working on a Snowy Sunday

My primary bird feeding station is just outside of my office window. I was feeling a little sorry for myself having to work all weekend after finishing a long trial week but the Blue Jays came out in the snowstorm to keep me company.

What a long week it was, this first week of January, and did I make my goal to snow shoe or ski at least twice this week? Sadly, no, but hopes and resolutions spring eternal--perhaps next week.

Amateur Meteorologists

With a teenage boy and a high school teacher living under this roof, the night before a predicted storm is full of research, analysis, discussion, speculation and prayer. Adding to my bemusement with the situation is that all of the other River Valley Bloggers are teachers so the research, analysis, discussion and speculation continues through my google reader. Personally, I hope the snowstorm does not materialize, I have a day of driving deeper into 6-10" territory planned and it will be a pain in the neck to re-schedule all of the appointments. But, I won't say that out loud.

When the phone rings at 5:15 a.m. and the school secretary says, "Will you let Charlie know that school is canceled," I will share the excitement along with everyone else and re-schedule my appointments, strap on the snowshoes, stoke up the fire, fill the bird feeders and watch the kids make snow angels.

Solstice Storm, 2008

Well, Western Maine got wallopped with snow through the shortest day and into the longest night.

With school canceled, today is for the cleanup. Charlie kept up with the snow pretty well yesterday with the snowblower and is out for the final cleanup this morning.

I'm not sure what is wrong with my muse lately, but writing seems difficult. I just finished reading The Snoring Bird by Bernd Heinrich and want to write a post about how fascinating it was, but perhaps tomorrow.

Until then, stay warm.

A morning on a windowsill

When the outside is cold and frosty, you can always find a sunbeam that calls your name.

The ice is coming in, Beaver Family

The ice is starting to close in the beaver's pond and they seem to be ready for it. Their two lodges look sturdy and there are enough freshly cut tree trunks in the vicinity to indicate that they have stored plenty of food for the winter.

Their dam is finished and the ice should make it stronger. The dam has raised the water level about three feet.


If I could be any animal for 24 hours, I would want to be a beaver. Since I probably won't get my wish I will have to be satisfied with keeping an eye on them all winter. It will be fun to snowshoe out to their lodge in a month or so when the ice is thick.

The ice is already making some beautiful formations both in the dam and in the puddles along the path.

Last snow shoe hike

I went snowshoeing at my folks' place today, probably the last snow shoe of the season for me. The snow is losing it's weightbearing properties and next weekend I'm heading to DC to see 3/4 of my children and cherry blossoms.

As we ate lunch after my difficult hike, my mother, the Missisissippi girl, said "well, it's been interesting to make it through a hard Maine winter but next year I don't think I'll be quite so excited when I see the first snowflake."

Signs of Spring are everywhere

With Spring only a week away, it is probably time to start defrosting the sports car.

Signs of Spring

Somehow my postings about anticipated storms are losing some of the glee that they contained in December.

We are expecting another 9-14 inches tomorrow night as even the promise of a snow day loses its luster and fear builds of going to school into the summer.

Chores are getting difficult. In order to feed the bunny, I have to walk over a four foot snow pack and then kick my way down to the hutch door. Despite, his virtual burial, he seems fat and happy with plenty of nice warm hay.

But despite the difficulties of this much snow, the days are getting longer, the sun is at a higher angle in the sky and easter candy is in the store.

Further positive signs of Spring: according to the Stokes Birding Blog, robins are preparing for their northern migration and in Florida, baseball players are preparing for the season.

Pinkham Notch, President's Day 2008

The weekend at Pinkham Notch definitely exceeded expectations. Upon arrival Friday evening, I discovered that most of the rooms at the Lodge had been reserved for the Boston AMC Chapter's Mountains and Music weekend. Three times a year this group spends the weekend together making beautiful music and hiking in the mountains.

In addition to the musicians, there was a multitude of people out to climb Mt. Washington on this Saturday before Washington's birthday. I met one man from Washington, DC who had attempted the mountain every year on this weekend for the last 14 years.

My job was to talk to the hikers as they came in to register before climbing, to help them look at the weather forecast and to talk to them about their plans. There is a huge model of the Presidential Range in the middle of the visitor center information room. All of the trails are marked on the model and it is easy to use the model to demonstrate the direction of the winds, the areas of high exposure and the pitch of the trail in the steepest areas.

There was a lull in the middle of the day while all of the hikers were on the mountains so I was able to go out for a few hours on my snow shoes. The woods were beautiful and I enjoyed the time but there was nary a bird. The closest that I came to a bird were trees full of woodpecker holes.

By the time I got back to the visitor center, the hikers were starting to arrive back from their days. Without a doubt, the part of the weekend that I enjoyed the most was listening to the hikers talk about their experience. Whether or not they had reached the summit, their red cheeks were held up by wide smiles and crowned with twinkling eyes of accomplishment. As they removed their gators and hats, they told stories about the wind and the views and the blowing snow. The high on Saturday was -1 and there were wind gusts up to 70 mph.

Sunday morning as I walked from the staff housing to breakfast, I saw two ravens soaring off the side of Wildcat Mountain. Finally a bird!!! Later in the morning, I noticed an empty bird feeder near the visitor center window. I searched around until I found the bucket of bird food and climbed through the snow drift to put some sunflower seeds in the feeder--soon the feeder was full of chickadees and a red squirrel.

The weekend was a nice change of pace and something that I'm sure to enjoy. In two weeks, I'll do it again on the western side of Mt. Washington at the Highland Center in Crawford Notch.