Most of my climbing these days is hard to plan out in advance. Such is life with work and kids. So, when a day suddenly pops up where there is time to climb, it comes together pretty fast. I find out if any of my peeps are around, and I go. If friends are available, that dictates a lot of what we do. One friend is interested in backcountry skiing, or skiing in general, so we’ll tackle something like that rather than a mountain ascent. Another doesn’t enjoy crummy weather, so he’ll pass on those days. And another is more interested in the scenery rather than any particular ascent. On those days, I usually pick something I know will have a good view, which is what happened on Sunday when we ascended Mount Pemigewasset.
As luck would have it, we were both in the north country with a few hours to kill on a beautiful, blue-sky day, so we decided to take a hike. We had gone to Artist’s Bluff a few weeks earlier, and I thought that, with him still being relatively new to the area, we’d go find another good view with just a little more effort involved. Mount Pemigewasset seemed like the perfect candidate. Not knowing how the trail conditions would be with all of the recent snowfall, the 1.5 miles to the summit up the Pemigewasset Trail seemed like it would be super manageable given the time constraints we were operating under. I was vaguely familiar with it having done it once before, but that was (gulp) more than twenty-four years ago! I wasn’t really sure how well my memory was going to hold up.
The Mount Pemigewasset Trail
A Look Back
Turns out, my memory is still pretty good! My previous ascent, all those years ago, was on a fall day, when a surprise storm dusted the trail with a fine layer of snow. I was with my girlfriend (soon to be wife) and another couple, and we were heading out to see some peak foliage. The sun kept peeking out from behind the clouds, fighting off the rain, so we thought we’d have a lot to see from the summit. What we got instead was a rather soupy hike.
An old picture shows there wasn’t much to see from the summit as warming temperatures created a steamy mist in the valley—a result of the evaporating snow. But one thing that stood out on the hike was the contrast of the autumn leaves against the white backdrop of the trail. That got me to stop and look more than once.
Taken long before the days of digital photography.
Sunday Surprises
On Sunday, I was surprised by a lot of things. First off, there were a ton of cars at the Flume Gorge Visitor Center parking lot. As we pulled up to the Mount Pemigewasset Trailhead, trucks with trailers were unloading snowmobiles and there was a flurry of activity. So much for being the only ones with this idea. The secret of Mount Pemigewasset was out.
Another surprise was that besides the initial section that shares the path with snowmobilers, the entire trail was incredibly packed down, rendering the snowshoes we carried absolutely useless. We hiked a good deal of the way with no traction on our feet, only opting for spikes about halfway up. I was also using hiking poles for the first time this winter, making the effort all the easier for me. I’ve been going to the gym a lot lately, working on building back muscle that I lost from some medical issues over the years, and I’m working on my posture to help realign things. The poles were perfect for keeping me standing tall on a fast ascent.
A Speedy Ascent
We saw plenty of hikers along the trail. At least twenty, mostly women, all of whom were smiling and happy to be out in such beautiful weather. Given how many people there were, it was easy to see why the trail was so packed down. Benefiting from those who came before us, we made quick work of the trail and arrived at the open summit in an hour and a half. A quick and beautiful reward for the effort.
Approaching the summit, we scoped out the edge a little, but it was hard to tell where solid ground ended and the cornice began. I recently read about some unfortunate incidents where people, hoping to get a good photo, misjudged the edge of a mountain summit and fell to their early demise. I’m not messing around with that. The view looks mighty fine to me from ten or fifteen feet back when you can’t distinguish where the actual edge is.
Careful near the edge!
One of the “52s”
Mount Pemi is part of the 52 With a View list, something I was totally unaware of the last time I climbed it. This past year, I’ve been exploring “the 52” and, having done so many of them this year, I can confidently say that Mount Pemigewasset is one of the easiest ones on the list. Pine is definitely shorter, so that’s probably the easiest, but Mount Pemi is extremely moderate, with a serpentine trail that negates much of the strain on an ascent.
My climbing partner thought the trail up was a little boring, and if it weren’t for the sun and snow, there wouldn’t be as much trail magic. But in the last fifteen minutes of the ascent, the trail gets more interesting and, like all of the 52 With a View peaks, you have a great vantage of the valley below when you get to the top. It doesn’t have the depth of the valley view from Mount Willard, nor the proximity of other big peaks like you get on Hedgehog, but it is a highly accessible summit and probably one of the best mountains to start with if you’re going to check out the “52” peaks.
You really can’t go wrong with the 52 With a View Peaks
The Good Crowd
What I was most taken with on this hike, though, was the number of people out on a winter day, ready for anything. Seeing so many smiling faces carrying snowshoes on their backs and spikes on their feet, was incredibly encouraging. The more people there are who care about such things, the better off all of us will be; a growing community of people embracing and testing themselves in the great outdoors can only help protect the future of such sacred places for our physical and mental well-being.
On some hikes I like to be alone, especially on days when I’m having writer’s block. But more often than not, I like hiking with friends, and sometimes—sometimes—I like seeing a whole bunch of people on the trail. This was one of those days.
A friendly snow troll on the trail.