“Some dirt roads make you feel welcome, like you are embarking on a wonderful escape to commune with nature and find some inner peace. Others make you feel like there’s a distinct possibility you could get shot by a deranged hillbilly, hopped up on moonshine and chewing tobacco.”
-from 4000s by 40
This page shares images from the experiences in Chapter 23 of 4000s by 40. What a crazy hike this was—one I’m not rushing back to do again anytime soon. But if you want to learn more about it and what it’s like to climb all of the 4000-footers in New Hampshire, you can find that and more [here]. And to go along with the photos below, I’ve added a brief retelling of events, along with quotes, to give a small sense of what you’ll find in the book. Happy reading!
First Mistake: The Mount Cabot Trail
Most online hiking reports aim to tell you the right way to climb a mountain—the right trail to take or the right steps to prep for the day. This is not one of those posts. The day I climbed Mount Cabot, I made just about every mistake possible, and when it was all said and done, it was a relief not to wake up in a tub of ice the next morning with a kidney missing.
I set out in high spirits. Mount Cabot is the northernmost of the New Hampshire 4000-footers, and it felt like I was off to explore completely new territory. After a quick pit stop near the Cannon Cliffs pictured above, I made my way to the supposed Mount Cabot trailhead. When I planned the day, I’d looked at a trail map showing the Mount Cabot Trail leading to the summit from the south side of the mountain. It was a shorter drive, so that’s how I made my decision to climb it. Little did I know the map didn’t account for the political climate surrounding the mountain.
Heading down a long dirt road to the trailhead, I didn’t think anything was off yet, but roads like these have often led me to trails that are hard to find.
Finding the Trail
Close to where Google Maps told me the trailhead was, there’s a little turnoff on the side of the road. Parking my truck, I got out and looked about. All I saw was a couple of houses and a ton of “No Trespassing” signs—not the welcome one comes to expect in New Hampshire’s White Mountains.
I was contemplating leaving to find an alternate trail when a nice old English lady pulled up alongside me and assured me that I could walk between the houses—that I could go right past the “No Trespassing” signs and find the trail there. She smiled broadly and made me believe that everything she said was true. “We do it all the time,” she said.
With a little trepidation, I decided to take her advice and ready my pack. I didn’t like where I had to leave my truck, but it was an hour’s drive to the other side of the mountain and the Bunnell Notch Trail. Since I was already there, and the lady said I could do it, what the hell…
I know, I don’t like this either, buddy.
Trail? What Trail?
“We do it all the time,” she says. There was no way she did it all the time. The trail was completely grown over in most places, and in many sections there was only a faint hint of a path. When the trail was clear, I had to wade through foot-high mud, and it turned into a four-mile bushwhack of misery I don’t care to repeat. As I ascended, it became clear that someone had sabotaged several parts of the trail, and I began to wonder about all the “No Trespassing” signs my “friend” told me to ignore. I started thinking I might need an alternate route for the descent.
The first real sign I saw was a relatively new one as I approached the summit, but the message sounded ominous: Last Water. I hadn’t even seen any water. Who was this sign for? Maybe “No Trespassing” guy left it as part of some version of The Most Dangerous Game he likes to conduct, letting his prey know where the last water is in order to lure them in. It could be that I didn’t see any water because I was too distracted by the ticks crawling all over me, but I decided then and there to abandon this trail and never return.
The only hint of a trail is reflected in the second image above. Otherwise, I may as well have been using a machete to hack my way through.
Big Mistake Number 2
Without so much as a cursory glance at the trail map on my phone, I decided to shoot across the ridgeline from Mount Cabot and find my way to the Unknown Pond Trail. It was a plan that didn’t make rational sense, as it would take me a great distance away from my truck, but my Spidey-senses were telling me that it would be a bad idea to descend the way I came.
As I made my way to Mount Cabot’s summit, the creepies only grew. Near the top is the Cabot Cabin, which many online trail reporters will tell you they find quite charming. After the morning I was having, though, I found it to be more like something out of The Shining. I’ve heard many tell of sleeping in it overnight, but I wouldn’t be caught dead doing that—because I’m pretty sure I’d be caught dead doing that.
The Cabot Cabin
I found some good views after summiting Cabot and making my way to The Horn, but when I got to the end of it, I couldn’t find The Unknown Pond Trail. I searched all about the peak for twenty minutes and came up with bupkis. There was nothing else to do but turn around.
Rerouted and a Meeting with Chris #1
When I returned to the trail from which I came, I had the good fortune to meet a fellow hiker equipped with an AMC hiking map. I always advise people to bring one, but unfortunately, I don’t always follow my own advice. Big mistake number 3.
The hiker’s name was Chris and when I told him that I came up via the old Mount Cabot Trail, he showed visible alarm. “You came from there?” he asked. When I told him yes, he launched into a whole story about how the guy who owns the land is in a big fight with the federal government and had decapitated a moose’s head to ward off visitors. “Holy shit!” Now it was a certainty, I would not be going back that way. Should something go wrong, all I had was a Leatherman for protection. Hmm. Better put it on my belt for quicker access.
Yeah, that’s not gonna do much.
Terrace Mountain and a Chance
“It was a plan inspired by fear, inappropriately supported by an overzealous belief in my ability to conquer distances.”
Never again.
After a consult with Chris, we decided that it was doable to get back to my car via the York Pond Trail if I was willing to take the Kilkenny Ridge Trail over Terrace Mountain. According to the AMC map, it was totally doable, and after extending my appreciation, I was off. I would soon learn that the AMC needs to update their map.
My mind was occupied by mysterious landowners, so I don’t recall too much about Terrace Mountain, except that there were three peaks and I was on a desperate mission to make this alternate route work. It’s never a good thing to be hiking desperate. When I reached the York Pond Trail, I turned right onto it but soon found myself running into a headwall of broken trees and debris. The carnage wasn’t natural. As I scouted the destruction, I saw that the trees had been felled by human machinery—a clear sign that I wasn’t wanted.
It was time for a quick decision. Do I risk bushwhacking for miles on a trail where some guy was willing to kill a moose and decapitate its head, or do I call an audible and sprint my way to the Berlin Fish Hatchery on the other side of the mountain? Maybe, I thought, Chris will be there and I can hitch a ride from him! I had to move. With pack on, I never sprinted so fast in my life and managed to catch Chris as he was hopping into his car. His eyes went wide again—both from my appearance and from the story about the sabotaged York Pond Trail.
Hitchhiking in New Hampshire
Chris was kind enough to drive me ten miles or so out to a gas station in the city of Berlin, but I still had some thirty miles to go to get back to my car. After fueling up on some Gatorade and Dr Pepper, I called home to let Liz know it was going to be a while and then started thumbing it. Along the way I was picked up by Dale, who may have been a little drunk as he took me to Gorham. Once there, I made my way down Route 2 before I was picked up by another guy named Chris. His car was breaking down when he picked me up, and by some miracle he was able to drive me back to my truck.
Fortunately, I wasn’t held at gunpoint or left for dead somewhere, but this was certainly a day I will never forget. I’d like to say that my hiking preparation is much better these days, and I don’t expect something like this to happen in the future, but I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t think it was possible.
A place nobody wants to be… hitchhiking back to the car.
“I told him all about the decapitated moose head, the lunatic supposedly living there, and all of the ‘No Trespassing’ signs. ‘So,’ I said, ‘hopefully my truck is still there and if it is, it’s not shot to hell. There, just in case Chris isn’t a saint, he knows there is probably a crazy dude up here with a gun. Chris promptly replied, ‘Well, if it’s been shot to hell, we’ll shoot back.’ Wait, what? Oh my God, he’s got a gun. Of course he has a gun you idiot!”
More Mountain Stories
If you like reading about mountains, the 4000-footers, or the ups and downs of getting “out there,” come check out more stories at 4000s by 40.
Looking for photos of more 4000-footers? Head back to the 4000s by 40 Visual Companion to explore the other peaks.
The Road Home – Even on a crazy day like this I can’t stop taking pictures of things that strike me.
🧭 Ascent Details: Mount Cabot, The Horn & Kilkenny Ridge via Old Mount Cabot Trail Loop – DO NOT RECOMMEND!
- Route: Old Mount Cabot Trail → The Horn → Kilkenny Ridge Trail over Terrace Mountain → attempted York Pond Trail → backtrack to Berlin Fish Hatchery
- Distance: ~18 miles total
- Elevation Gain: ~3,800 feet
- Trailhead: Arthur White Road (unofficial/Old Cabot Trail access point) – DO NOT RECOMMEND THIS!
- Difficulty: Strenuous
Trail Features
- Steep, unmaintained climb via the closed Cabot Trail
- Summit stops at Mount Cabot (4,170′), The Bulge (3,950′), and The Horn (3,905′)
- Long ridge traverse over Terrace Mountain
- Failed descent via sabotaged York Pond Trail; rerouted back to Berlin Fish Hatchery
Summit Notes: - Cabot: Wooded summit; open cabin nearby
- The Horn: Short spur with one of the best views in the northern Whites
- Terrace: Low-traffic, forested ridge with occasional viewpoints
Warnings: - The Mount Cabot Trail and York Pond Trail cross private land and are officially closed. Use at your own risk and discretion.
- Expect unmaintained conditions, erosion, and limited signage.
