Sometimes crazy good things come of not so great things. I consider this such an instance. The original plan was simple: a nice winter hike of Old Speck in an attempt to summit where in 2014 Eliot and I had turned around after three miles in hopes of survival. Old Speck has been a special mountain to both of us since we both first climbed in summer of 2011. I have been back a few more times than he, but I think we can agree it holds a special place in both of us.
The proverbial monkey wrench in the situation is of course being asked to attend work the day that this adventure was planned. I agreed to an afternoon of work in hopes that I could squeeze in a small hike in the morning in lieu of Old Speck. As I drove home on Tuesday evening, my frustration of the day's plan being squashed brought me to the conclusion that I was still going to get my summit in…just much earlier. I would do a sunrise summit of Old Speck. As any guy with a pal would do, I called Eliot up to see the interest level. Within seconds, there was agreement, though I had to emphasize my choice of mountain to him.
With Baldpate under our belts from last week, we assumed a similar ascent time of 6 hours. Sunrise was at 7:20am. That meant starting the hike at 1:20am. That meant driving out at 10:20pm that night. That meant hiking a 4000 footer on no sleep. My insanity was confirmed. But sometimes you just need to take life my the throat and climb that goddamn mountain for sunrise.
We met in Belfast in case I would need to go directly from the hike to work. In order to get to work by 1pm, we'd have to be off the mountain by 10am at the latest. That is cutting it close, but I knew we could descend faster than we could ascend, so I assumed we could pull it off. I had Eliot drive because he was raging with energy.
Three goofy hours later, we arrived at Grafton Notch once again. We began getting our stuff together, and it was then I realized a crucial error on my part. I had left my water bottles filled with boiling water at home. And my gaiters. Eliot had a stove to melt snow, thankfully, though soon that was a dead end because we had no pot. In such a situation, it is hard to balance reason with my severe case of summit fever. Eliot had 2.5 liters of water, which in the end we decided would be enough for both of us to make it to the top. We finished with gearing up despite wasting nearly an hour trying to figure out how to deal with the water problem. I was expecting that we would not get sunrise, but I was okay with that.
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| Eliot climbing the lower part of the trail |
We began the climb with crampons on from the start, and the ease that they provide it staggering. No slipping whatsoever, and all the energy goes into up, up, and up! It was not long before we made it to the Eyebrow Trail junction, roughly 1.1 miles in. The ledges appeared, and we turned off headlamps to look at the stars. If you ever hike on a clear night, just turn off the light for a bit and look up. You won't regret it. We have an incredible sky.
It was around now that I began to notice the effects of the canned coffee Eliot had downed at the start. There was a raging animal of speed and precision ahead of me instead of an Eliot that I was coercing into every next step, which was the situation on our previous -20°F winter attempt on Old Speck. In any case, the energy between us was bubbling, as we wanted our sunrise quite badly. We did some quick math at this trail junction to determine our ETA for the summit. Assuming a relatively constant pace, we were going to be nearly two hours EARLY. Which is a tricky problem because staying warm even at 16° means staying moving.
We pushed on with some speed because we didn't want to miss it in case the going got hard, but not 100% because of the aforementioned problem. There were periods of mostly calm in the forest mixed with some worrying bouts of wind, warning us of what was to come later.
The spot we had reached in the winter of 2014 was still stuck firmly in our minds. It is a clearing with one rock and a small tree. We had bashed a semi-frozen water bottle on that very rock to break up our remaining half a liter of water and put some melted snow in it. It was nearly evening on that day, and I had not be so afraid of frostbite in my life. Ten seconds of exposed skin was enough to cause numbness and pain. The thought of passing this spot was overwhelming as we climbed.
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| Crescent Moon over "the Nubble" (as coined by Nathan) |
Like many places on this mountain, that very clearing (we call this the Nubble) appeared out of nowhere. We had made it to our turn around spot. It was 4:50am. A crescent moon had risen in front of us with a planet just below it. I felt alive; I felt like perhaps there was a connection to the universe, whether we call this spiritual or not. There is no way I can accurately describe how it felt to arrive at this location. It's not the summit, but it has such vivid memories of frigidness, pain, battling of decisions, and utter survival from winter of 2014.
We took a moment to take it all in, and realize that from here, we were pushing further than we had as a team before. I had ascended to the summit in another winter trip up here, but to go with a climbing partner with whom there is a rich history makes it different; it makes it better. I had Eliot lead the way from here to the top, as it is his honor to make his first winter ascent of the mountain.
There is a ledge that the trail passes on the left, and immediately after a lefthand switchback. This had been completely snowed in when I summited in March 2014, and one of the my climbing partners for the day had sunken in to his chest, and we had to pull him out by packing the snow around him with snowshoes first. On the descent, we slid down the slope instead of taking the switchback, which was truly fun with there are feet and feet of snow beneath you. This spot is just below an exposed section, so we bundled up with extra layers. (See, we've learned to do this before getting cold, as opposed to once we were already cold like in the past, and the payoff is immense.)
The time was 5:50am, and we made it to the summit of the mountain. My seventh time standing here, and Eliot's second. The summit tower also comes out of nowhere, and we were surprised at how close it seemed to the turn-around spot from 2014. Could it have been possible to summit on that very cold day? Perhaps conditions can make that much of a difference.
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| Tower in range... |
We could hear the winds howling on top of the tower as we celebrated having completed our goal of summiting Old Speck in the winter, and not missing the sunrise. It was still mostly dark, but with the slightest tinge of lighter blue on the southeastern horizon. And of course the crescent moon.
We wanted to check out the tower, but first we applied some layers because of the ferocious winds we could hear. Slowly, we made our way up the ladder, crampons on because all the ice. Once above the trees, I couldn't hear a thing from Eliot. He had gone first, with a ski mask, and opened the door to the platform on top. I followed, and soon discovered I needed a ski mask. I could hardly hold on, the winds were so strong. The strongest I've experienced, I believe. We did not stay long, though by shouting at whisper distance, I was able to say I'd like a few photos of each other.
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| (I borrowed Eliot's mask) |
After coming to the ground, the issue now was how to stay warm for an hour and a half until the sun rose. We debated going to check out Speck Pond, which was 1.4 miles along the back side of the mountain, but I didn't feel like potentially missing the sunrise, so I voted that we go past the summit on the Grafton Loop Trail just a little bit to keep ourselves moving. No one had been here and the snow was soft and powdery. After a bit, we turned back toward the summit, just now realizing the slope we had just descended was significant. But it kept us warm.
We alternated jumping around, eating some snacks, and running in circles, and going up and down the tower, to stay warm, since the sky had grown a bit brighter to include some of the brightest reds I've ever seen in nature.
The snow bits falling off the tower looked like a meteor shower in my photos because the flash was on. I found that gave the best results of the colorful sky and getting the snowy trees in the foreground. I was also occasionally hit was some of these small bits of snow and ice.
I was in awe, not merely because it was filled with beautiful colors, but because I had finally outsmarted nature to summit a mountain without being socked in with clouds. Being able to see so far from a mountain is special. Everything felt special. I had gone out of my way to do a crazy hike, and this was the payoff.
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| Moon and Planet |
As it neared 7:20, we decided to get ready and climb the tower. I went first this time, but I was too late. I topped the trees and found the sun partially above the horizon. I was dazzled with pinks and oranges and reds as I climbed. All I could manage was shouting "we're late" to Eliot before I stopped mid-climb just to gaze and let the sun engulf me. Eventually, I gained control and made it to the top of the tower.
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| Sun was early to the party |
I looked in all directions toward mountains that I have been on, mountains that I would like to be on, and of course the first light hitting all of these peaks. Mount Washington was initially one idea I had had for hiking that day, and to look over at it was stunning. Between the gusts of wind that nearly knocked me over, I shouted to Eliot what the mountains were, and I think it was here that we decided that we will do Washington in the winter, perhaps next season when we are both around. The air was so crisp and clear that it appeared so close. We had seen a haze of the Presidentials in 2011 when we first climbed Old Speck, but it was clear to us now that it was indeed.
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| Mahoosuc Arm, Baldface, Carter Range, Presidentials (close to far) |
We looked behind us to see the triangular mountain shadow. The same very phenomenon that I had seen on Katahdin in October. It was so cold that my camera battery could only manage a few photos before dying, then I'm place it on my skin to warm up for a few minutes. Eliot got the shadow on his camera thankfully, though it will be forever stored in my memory.
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| Mountain shadow |
We stayed long enough for the sun to hit eye level on the ground, and we could feel its warmth even on a cold day like today. The color of light cast on the trees behind us as we faced the sun was unique. Perhaps just that it was the first light of the day to light up these trees. Eliot went up once more to the tower to get some photos. I warned him to keep his gloves on this time, since I had to blow on them to get the feeling back last time because he left them out for too long. Lessons, lessons.
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| Looking east |
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| The sun |
Beside the mountain being relentless in its descent, things went smoothly, and we kept looking back as the sun was rising over the mountain, making all the snow-covered trees glint like nothing ever does. I tell you, that's my favorite part of winter hiking - it's the glint on the snow when the sun is out.
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| Baldpate Mountain, Table Rock toward the bottom |
All the places we remembered on the way up flew by as we rocketed down. I took off the crampons as I found it very challenging to walk without catching them on rocks under the not-so-deep snow. I proceeded to slip and slide most of the way, which was killer fun. We had the clock ticking, hence the motivation to go so quickly.
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| Looking up toward the summit from the ledges |
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| Eliot at the ledges near the Eyebrow Trail jct. |
We saw a few people on their way up as we neared the bottom, some more prepared than others it looked. We hoped that they had some warmer layers for all body parts because it was quite unpleasant on exposed skin for us.
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| The Eyebrow |
At 10:10am, we got to the base of the mountain, exactly 8 hours after we set off the night before. The satisfaction of doing such a hike is just the best. I got to see the best sunrise in my life, with my favorite climbing partner, on my favorite mountain. All on a day that I was asked to work. The celebration continued in the car as we removed the gear and began the drive east. The ETA on the GPS was giving us mere minutes to spare before 1pm, my scheduled time to work.
For some reason, Eliot was still raging and awake, so I let him drive back. I however, despite normally being the one with excess energy, did not last very long in the conscious world. I slept on and off during the drive.
I arrived at work with 1 minute to spare, which I used to get out of climbing wear and into EBS wear. I'll be honest, I was not the most enthusiastic that afternoon. The simplest tasks were a mental challenge, but I declare it all worth the trip. As Eliot made me aware, I had picked a task that used every last minute of my free time that day, and that is something I am proud of. I promptly fell asleep after making it home that evening. Yes, 35 hours is a long time to be awake, even with some breaks while your pal drives you to work. No, I would not have rather done anything else. WIth this hike, I officially declare the 2016 hiking season here!
Hike Details
Miles hiked: 7.8 (including going passed summit a bit)
Time elapsed: 8 hours
Total ascent: 3000'
(Old Speck Trail both ways)
