One of the inevitabilities I’ve found when it comes to hiking is that no matter how experienced you are, or how good you get at it, you will eventually have a hiccup and take a wrong turn again. It can happen on a big mountain, or deep in the wilderness, and yes, it can even happen on what was supposed to be a smaller effort, like the day I headed up to Mount Percival.
In November I was making a lot of calls to bookstores in New Hampshire about carrying my book, 4000s by 40, and one of those stores was the Water Street Bookstore in Exeter. They were one of the first ones to welcome me, and I was asked to bring in a few copies. In the spirit of the book, I thought it would be great to go climbing afterwards, but since I didn’t have much time for a big mountain, I settled on Mount Percival. I had never climbed it before and wanted to give it a look.
So cool seeing my book displayed for the first time!
Hiking The Mount Percival Trail
The Mount Percival Trail starts off easy enough, with a nice, simple grade. You only gain about 1,400 feet in elevation during the hike, which lends itself to a gentler incline. But the last two hundred feet head straight up a large set of rocks and boulders that got more than a little hairy at times. Climbing over one particular outcropping, I voiced my surprise that I hadn’t heard about the difficulties of this trail before. Feels like this should be on a list or something. Turns out I was right, just ignorant, because apparently the Mount Percival Trail is on a list called the Terrifying 25, which details the “scariest” trails New Hampshire has to offer.
With only a tenth of a mile to go before reaching the top, I came across a sign giving me two options: I could either scale some cliffs or spelunk some caves. Always up for seeing something new, sometimes against my better judgment, I opted for the caves. But I lost track of the trail blazes as I traversed the rocky path. Up until this point, the trail was well-marked and clear, but now on a jumble of rugged granite, the blazes disappeared, and I climbed right past the cave entrance. Climbing hand-over-hand, the cave route turned into my own unique cliff route, and as I surfaced above a sculpted boulder jutting out from the edge of the mountain like an eagle leaning out of its nest, I realized I was standing atop of the very cave I was supposed to have climbed through.
A Bottleneck on the Trail
Fifteen feet across from my perch was a lady who was stuck trying to squeeze herself through two boulders. She was on her way down and I surmised that she elected to pinch herself through because scaling the boulders would have been a little too, well, terrifying. She brushed off any need of help, but I gave her all the time she needed. Even if I wanted to continue on, the position she was in created a bottleneck of the trail, and it would have been foolish to try and circumvent her. I was just happy to have found the trail again.
In the minutes that followed, we exchanged notes about what we had learned so far. I had little to offer except informing her which way NOT to go. After pushing her way through the boulders, she collected her pack and poles, which were too cumbersome to carry as she passed through the vise. Then, turning to continue her descent, she wished me good luck.
Troubleshooting Mount Percival’s Rocky Ascent
I let a few minutes pass to make sure enough space was cleared and then turned my attention to the boulder problem. Taking off my pack, I tried to squeeze my body through, but I was too large. Hey to be fair, the lady was very tiny. It’s not that I’m enormous, come on. So, my only option was to climb up and over them. It wasn’t easy. There were few fingerholds and fewer footholds, and eventually I ended up splaying myself over one of the boulders with all four extremities searching for grip. I imagined it looked like something out of a Wile E. Coyote cartoon. It wasn’t pretty, but I successfully shimmied the slab and before long, was on my way up the final leg of the ascent.
After reaching the summit, I decided to head over to a little-known peak called Sawtooth, which required some bushwacking. I could have done without it, really, but I was trying to gauge if it would be worth it to summit Morgan too. It wasn’t. By the time I reached Sawtooth, it was getting late, and I knew I wanted to go back to Percival and see the caves, because that would be a new experience. Having already climbed Morgan twice before, I didn’t need to see it again. The caves on the other hand were a different matter.
The Caves on Mount Percival
When I returned to the boulder predicament where I met the lady before, I draped my body over ledge blocking the route and slid down it carefully, using my belly for friction as I searched with my feet for a secure stone to step on. Then it was off in the direction of the blazes, more visible on the way down then they were on the way up. Gingerly making my way over some sharply hewn granite, I came to a little bend before I was steered directly into the caves I missed before. Eureka!
I’m no geologist, but I wouldn’t call the caves on Percival true caves. They look more like boulder formations, created by large slaps leaning up against or upon each other, forming tunnels with which one can pass through. Nonetheless, they’re still cool. And I did have to take my pack off to squeeze through their entryways, which made me feel like a little kid again. And if I’m being honest, I’d much prefer this kind of cave over something where bats could be living in. I’ve had enough run-ins with bats to last a lifetime.
Lost on the Descent
I thought the rest of the adventure was going to be fairly benign after passing through the caves, but on the way down I met the lady I had seen before and her position on the trail led me astray, because she wasn’t on the trail at all. She was lost. Following in her footsteps, I became lost as well, and we reviewed where we went wrong. Similar to my issues on the way up, I hadn’t seen a blaze in a little while, and neither had she. We consulted my favorite climbing app and using it to locate where the trail picks up, we bushwacked for about a half mile down the valley before we found it again.
Along the way, my new companion shared a ton of stories. She had come up for the day from Connecticut, as she frequently does, to go exploring the mountains all over New England. From the sounds of it, she’s been lost in the woods many times before, with some particularly close calls in the wilderness of Maine. She tends to travel alone a lot, she said, without any beacon, and has given her husband back home more than a few scares when her excursions went on well after dark. I recalled putting my own family through a rough night when I lost cell service on the day I traversed the Carter-Moriah Trail, and suggested a beacon might be a good idea for those Maine excursions going forward. She agreed. Probably.
A Reminder from Mount Percival
I’ve been reintroducing myself to climbing these past couple of months with some deliberation. I’ve been picking some smaller New Hampshire mountains, including some smaller 4000-footers, to build up my stamina, familiarity with the terrain, and comfort level with the risks. Each week, as the weather changes, I’m taking note of what gear I’ll likely need on the next journey, and what I’ll need to make sure I don’t get lost. On Percival, I hadn’t really considered the possibility of getting lost though, because it’s not too “out there” and is a relatively modest mountain. It was a good reminder that if I could lose the trail here, how easy it could be to get lost when I venture deeper into the wilderness.
One of the perks of exploring new mountains: stumbling upon beautiful finds like this covered bridge on the way home!