Wild Northeast | Fall 2016

FA L L GR OUND S W E L L

DOCUME N T ING E V E R E S T

T E N BE S T FA L L HIK E S

Conway, NH • Glen, NH • Fryeburg, ME

www.mountaincenterpt.com

After a day in the mountains, don't forget to exercise your

brain.

Find the CLUES! Solve the PUZZLES! Escape the ROOM! A great activity for family and friends, especially on rainy days!

32 Mountain Valley Blvd, North Conway, NH (603) 730-5009 •

mysterynh.com

PHOTO ABOVE Hiking the Mahoosuc Range in Maine. Photo by Matt Baldelli.

The Approach Fall: Nature's Rager

A friend once told me fall in the Northeast is a culmination of nature, a climax after six months of hard work blooming and thriving in the sunshine. Like a fireworks display celebrating a growing season well done, the colorful leaves are nature’s way of cutting loose before bedding down for the winter. I’m paraphrasing, but the general idea was that fall around here is a party you don’t want to miss.

Fall also heralds the coming of winter. As a skier, the longing for the centrifugal force of a carved turn or the weightless moment after committing to a cliff drop becomes palpable this time of year. The ice climber begins to crave the satisfying “thunk” of ice tool into hero ice. The Nordic skier craves the breathless glide through a snow-covered landscape. Those pursuits become possible soon.

With crisp-not-cold temperatures, it’s the perfect time of year to get after it outdoors.

Send that hard climb, like Ray Rice on the Laughing Lion, or explore a new trail system on your bike, like Andy Howard in the Moosalamoo.

Run far in the mountains, like Andrew Drummond on the White Mountain Direttissima.

Don a thicker wetsuit and chase the hurricane swell along the coast. Choose one of our Top 10 Fall Hikes, or cozy up with a hot cider and go on an armchair adventure to Mt. Everest. Those stories and more are on the following pages.

This time last year, the idea of Wild Northeast was just beginning to turn into action. We knew the Northeast needed a voice for the outdoor sports community, but it seemed like a long road to get where we are now. Thanks to a supportive and passionate tribe of outdoor adventurers, we’re now two issues deep. Like a snowball rolled downhill, we’re picking up speed and size.

We’ve worked hard to grow over the summer.

Time to celebrate. Bring on the hardwood fireworks. Let’s get wild!

ABOVE Dreaming of winter under the liftline and the Aurora Borealis at Sugarloaf. Photo by Jamie Walter.

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Ian Ferguson EDITOR & PUBLISHER

This issue is dedicated to Pat Grubb, Louise Mugar and everyone at Point Roberts Press, who taught me most of what I know about publishing and enabled some awesome times in the Pacific Northwest. Most importantly, they taught me how to throw a good work party.

BELOW It’s not a party until someone straps a leaf blower and Roman candles to an office chair. Photo by Calli Miller.

Wild Northeast is printed four times per year. We welcome ideas, articles, photo submissions and feedback.

Drop us a line. editor@wildnortheast.com

The Team

Meet some of the contributors

CONTRIBUTORS PUBLISHER/EDITOR Matt Baldelli

Stephen Larson Josh Laskin

Ian Ferguson ART DIRECTOR Lee House MARKETING Kat Thorney

Adam Bidwell

Kevin McAvey

Alex Bogner

Andrew McDonagh

Cait Bourgault

Sophia Navarre

Jon Coen

Austin Perry

Maxwell Forbes

Rebecca Pickens

Richard Frisbie

Joe Radano

Jesse Georgia

Anne Skidmore

Lee Hansche

Erik Thatcher

Parker Haynes

Jamel Torres

Andy Howard

Rory Wall

Joe Klementovich

Jamie Walter

Andy Howard

Anne Skidmore

Austin Perry

Cait Bourgault

Jamie Walter

Maxwell Forbes

Erik Thatcher

Jamel Torres

Josh Laskin

Jon Coen

Matt Baldelli

Rebecca Pickens

Contents 4 Approach 6 Outlook 10 The Final Frontier 12 Good with Wood 14 White Mountain Direttissima 16 Documenting Everest 20 Trails and Views in the Moosalamoo 22 Taming the Laughing Lion 24 Fall Groundswell 26 Ten Best Fall Hikes

correction: In the article Wreckage Sites in the Summer 2016 issue, the height of Mt. Waternomee was incorrectly cited due to a copyediting error.

The correct height is 3,940 feet.

We regret the error.

28 Take a Walk on the Wild Side 29 Mercantile 30 A Hike with a Forester

on the cover: Bayard Russell climbs Acid Wall, 5.12d, at Laughing Lion in Evan’s Notch, Maine. Photo by Anne Skidmore.

Issue II. © 2016 Wild Northeast.

All views herein are those of the writers, and do not necessarily reflect the views of Wild Northeast.

po Box 232 Madison, nh 03849 (207) 595-1344

advertising web instagram ian@wildnortheast.com WildNortheast.com @Wild_Northeast_Magazine

This publication is printed with soy ink on Forest Stewardship Council certified paper.

®

FSC FPO Parker Haynes

Sophia Navarre

outlook

K E V I N M c AV E Y

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Sand skiing on Lyon Mountain in the Adirondacks.

Patrick Noonan riding trails near Mt. Chocorua, New Hampshire.

Foliage over the Sawyer River in Crawford Notch.

AU S T I N P E R RY JOS H L AS KI N

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J A M I E WA LT E R A DA M B I D W E L L

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Kayaking the Ripogenus Gorge on the Penobscot River outside Millinocket, Maine.

Ray Rice employs a textbook kneebar to negotiate a roof on The Laughing Lion in Evan’s Notch.

C A I T B O U R G A U LT

Nancy ascends the rocky ledges of the Caps Ridge Trail up Mt. Jefferson.

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THE FINAL FRONTIER

BELOW & FACING PAGE Worthwhile climbs in the “Final Frontier” section of the Rumney crags. Photos by Lee Hansche.

Preserving access for climbers at Rumney by erik thatcher IT WAS 1994 and the rapidly developing cliffs on the side of Rattlesnake Mountain in Rumney, NH were suddenly posted, “No Trespassing.” What happened next was a series of events that climbers across the country have become familiar with. The community of climbers who considered Rumney their home crag banded together to form the Rumney Climbers Association. They worked together with a national climbing advocacy group called the Access Fund to purchase the land that many of the cliffs were located on. The land was later transferred to the United States Forest Service to ensure access in perpetuity.

I was five when all this happened, and had no idea that an hour and a half away from where I sat in kindergarten, people were working to preserve access to an area that would become pivotal to my life. Twenty-two years later, climbing is my livelihood. Each year I spend more than 100 days at Rumney introducing others to the sport, coaching a high school climbing team and pursuing my own recreation and climbing goals. Rumney is where I learned to climb. It’s where I cut my teeth, had many of my climbing firsts, and grew a passion for the sport and the community of individuals who have sprung up around it.

My story is in no way unique. As anyone familiar with Rumney knows, these cliffs hold an incredible concentration of easy to moderate bolted climbs alongside some of the hardest climbs in the country, and everything in between. Only after traveling around the country to climb have I come to realize how unique the accesability of Rumney is. It’s an exceptional place to learn how to climb. Hundreds, maybe thousands of climbers have honed their skills and formed a love for the sport at these cliffs, just as I have.

Most of the cliffs that comprise the climbing area of Rumney are on National Forest land thanks to the hard work of those climbers in the ‘90s. What many don’t realize though, is roughly 12% of the climbs in the guidebook, and the vast majority of routes that have been established since the most recent guidebook came out, are still on private land. The owner of this land is now looking to sell. Many local climbers are unsettled by the uncertainty in who might buy and what this could mean for access.

In response, the Rumney Climbers Association, again with help from the Access Fund, has begun an effort to raise the capital and

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purchase the land in order to preserve access and complete the work started in ‘94. The final piece of privately held land, known as “The Final Frontier,” includes less traveled but very worthwhile cliffs such as The Prudential, Northwest Territories, The North West Passage and several others. These cliffs offer different views, unique climbing and are often less crowded than the rest of Rumney.

As climbers, we are spoiled. With few exceptions, we don’t have to pay exorbitant green fees or lift tickets to pursue our passion.

At many of the areas we climb, Rumney included, this is thanks to those in the community before us who put in the effort and

Hundreds, maybe thousands of climbers have formed a love for the sport at these cliffs. money to ensure that future generations of climbers had reasonable access. If you appreciate that access, now is the time to step up and contribute. While this plea goes out to everyone, I specifically hope that it resonates with my generation. Those of us who have found a lifelong passion thanks to the foresight and hard work of the climbers who preserved access in the ‘90s, should take the mantle of responsibility and lead the charge in raising the capital needed to finish that work. In this way, we can pay it forward and contribute to the security of access that will be appreciated by generations of climbers to come.

The parcel of land is 86 acres in total. We’ve agreed to purchase it for $184,000.

On top of that, we need to cover the cost of carrying the land until it can be transferred to public ownership, as well as putting in a second small parking lot and an alternative approach to the western crags. In total our goal is to raise $300,000 by the end of December. For more information, to donate, or to ask any questions, please visit climbrumney.com.

HERE ARE THE DETAILS:

Crags to check out in the "Final Frontier" at Rumney The Northwest Territories

This is the first cliff one encounters approaching through the Black Jack Boulders.

B-B-Buttress (5.9) is possibly the most popular climb on this collection of cliffs.

With 30 meters of full value climbing, exceptional exposure and a great view, it’s worth the walk alone. Since the last guidebook came out, a number of other 5.9 and easier climbs have been developed just to the left of this climb, making this spot a great destination for half a day. As you move further up and right along the cliff there’s a couple of short but burly climbs. Check out the re-bolted Hocus Focus (5.12c) and the new Wimp and Peel (5.12a).

The Northwest Passage

The Northwest Passage is the next collection of climbs you reach as you hike uphill along the cliff band of The Northwest Territories. Cozoned Stone (5.9) is located here. This new route is starting to challenge B-B-Buttress as the most popular route in the collection of crags. Some harder routes can also be found here including The Friend Zone (5.11c), Double-D’s (5.12c) and Forty-Six and 2 (5.12d). All these routes have gone in since the last guidebook was released.

The Prudential

The Prudential has the highest concentration of classic hard climbs on the Final Frontier land. There’s a number of large roofs that keep the cliff dry in rain or snow, and along with the southern exposure make this crag a great place for winter and shoulder season climbing. The cliff has a couple of bands of different textured rock making for varied climbing on every route. Niceland (5.10b), Finland (5.11a), and Swedish Girls (5.10c) are all found on the left of the cliff starting off a small ledge. These climbs are a good warm up for the harder lines to the right, or a worthy destination on their own. Moving back right one encounters the steep, intimidating, Red River Gorge-like overhang on Stoned Temple Pilots (5.12a). Horned Behavior (5.12b) offers a second 5.12 on the cliff with movement that feels very unique for Rumney. On the higher end at this cliff is The Premium (5.12c/d) and Losing Your Life and Living Through it (5.12c), one of the hardest traditional climbs on the mountain.

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with

Grain Surfboards turns out beautiful wooden surfboards with environmentally friendly practices in York, Maine. by jon coen

ON A SUMME R DAY with a little wave showing, the scene captures some of the magic of Malibu – if lobster rolls replaced tacos and quaint New England charm washed away the West Coast pretense. Long Sands Beach, in York, Maine, is a picturesque cove, a mix of Americana and classic surfing. It plays host to thousands of families each summer and in the winter becomes an occasional shorescape of peeling waves and snowy headlands.

A little drive around York Harbor, across Route 1, under I-95 and into the rolling hills east of the Mount Agamenticus Conservation Region, is a small farm. There are 10 cows, a coop of chickens, four pigs, a bunch of sheep, and surfboards. You might drive right past it. But here, over 3,000 miles from the surf industry breadbasket of Southern California, is where more wooden surfboards are made than anywhere else, ridden from Long Sands to breaks all over the world. This is Grain Surfboards.

Grain is, and always has been, something of an anomaly. Wood accounts for a niche, or more like a micro-niche, in the surf universe.

The weight of wood, compared to foam and fiberglass, is not particularly conducive to high performance surfing. But the global community of wooden surfboard aficionados, of which

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Grain is a pillar, is not as wholly fixated on more interested in low-key, backyard roots high performance. It’s more about craftsthan the version of surfing presented by the manship, esthetic, sustainability, glide, and a growing multi-national surf corporations, closer relationship with surfcraft (virtues also a movement that actually came prior to the true of New England surfing as a whole). current societal trend of people seeking out They’ve also built a following on the artisanal goods. experiences they offer – the chance to build a “It was really nothing more then a driveway wooden board, either at Grain headquarters to work in and a table saw that was so old you or at one of the dozens of mobile workshops couldn’t find blades for it any longer," LaVeccia around the country each year. says. "A year into it, Clark Foam closed, and Like the heritage of most great New England we were off and running, coming up with an influencers, it all began in a basement. The alternate way of building modern performance first board was made in 2005 by boat builder surfboards using methods and materials that Mike LaVecchia in his home on the Nubble both honored the past and utilized modern the Downeast headland that protects the and future-looking technology that no one surf break at Long Sands. After a career with else in the industry has used before us."

Burton Snowboards and several years in the Much of the allure of Grain is its tangibility. boat building trades in Burlington, Vermont, Not only is it about physically putting hands LaVecchia moved to York, Maine to build to wood, but it’s also about accessibility. Grain’s boats by the sea. He got custom orders for relationship with its community is something more boards than boats, and soon found more than just that of producer and consumer. himself in business.

LaVecchia will be the first to tell you that Grain The dawn of Grain happened to coincide boards don’t do well in surf retail shops. Many with the infamous departure from the surf surfers want to make their own board, or at industry of Clark Foam, which had supplied least have a hand in customizing it. Wooden the foam blanks for 90 percent of surfboards board enthusiasts are encouraged to become made in the world. It was also timed with part of Grain, which is best exemplified by the a newfound movement among waveriders board building classes and custom kits that

FACING PAGE Photo by Jamie Walter

they put together in their own garages and workshops.

Folks get involved long before they build a board, create accounts on the site to communicate with others, and stay connected to Grain long after the class.

The predecessor to the Grain classes happened when Ben McBrien, a friend, pro surfer, and woodworker from New Jersey experimented with a short retro fish at LaVechhia’s workshop, one that would become a trademark of Grain.

Then, in June of 2008, Grain was asked to hold a board building class on the campus of Wooden Boat Magazine in Brooklin, Maine. The next logical move for Grain was to have folks pick out a shape, then come out to York and actually build it with five other students. They would leave with the fruits of their labor to hang on the wall between sessions and the experience of being part of a truly sustainable process, all in a picturesque place dripping with maple syrup goodness.

In 2007, Brad Anderson, a woodworker and former captain on a research vessel, came on board. He had the skills and know-how to help take Grain to the next level.

“He’s really focused a lot of energy on building our cad technology, board design and streamlining the board building process,” LaVecchia says.

The Northeast is somewhat of an anomaly when it comes to ethical business practices. There aren’t many regions of the world where companies make environmental responsibility part of their overall scope. From the first board, Grain was built on the ethos that if surfers are going to continue to enjoy the ocean and beaches, or any outdoor realm for that matter, humans are going to have to curb our practices of consumption. Riding boards without toxic petroleumbased material may be a drop in the proverbial bucket of environmental responsibility, but it’s a step. Grain boards are built of sustainably harvested Northern White Cedar, offcuts are saved, wood shavings go to animal beds on the farm and their bio-based epoxy, which emits no volatile organic compounds, is made in part from the waste stream of paper pulp and biofuels industries. And these boards last much longer than their foam/glass counterparts.

Today, Grain is actually dialing in their performance shapes, using 3D scanners to accurately gauge a board’s shape.

They’ve opened a second workshop on Long Island. They have 19 different board models, with different sizes of most.

They also make skateboards, handplanes, and bodyboards.

While there may have been a growth of surfers wanting a more eco-friendly board with a personal connection, it isn’t simply a trend that will die. There’s an overall consciousness for not only eco friendly practices, but mindful products made to last.

“Eleven years in, I’m proud that we’ve stayed true to our roots,” LaVecchia says, “building surfboards and helping others to enjoy the process, using local woods and ecofriendly materials, and pushing the limits of what’s possible.”

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In a pioneering run of New Hampshire’s tallest peaks, Andrew Drummond set a fastest time and a standard for style.

by ian ferguson

T

he light of Andrew Drummond’s headlamp bounced off the bearded trees and jumbled boulders of Kilkenny Ridge Trail, an endless maze of switchbacks, boulders and blowdowns that can send hikers off course if they don’t pay attention.

Drummond had every excuse to be delirious and exhausted; he had run and hiked more than 200 miles in the past five days, over the 47 tallest mountains in New Hampshire, and he had one more to go. It was three in the morning.

Sandwich Range, then to the southern Presidentials, east to the Carter/Wildcat Range, then to the northern Presidentials before finishing in the Kilkenny Range.

The route had the fewest out-and-backs and saved the Presidentials for the second half when his pack would be lighter, which made sense to Drummond. But the beauty of the White Mountain Diretissimma is there is no right or wrong way to do it.

“This is a really cool project because it’s long enough that there are a ton of variables along the way,” Drummond said. “Route, water, sleep, gear, nutrition. No matter Following the beam of his headlamp, Drummond how many times its been done, you’re going to have a popped in headphones to help him focus. The sound of night critters around him, and the thought of a moose one-of-a-kind experience. At the same time, it’s short enough that it’s accessible.” crashing through the nearby bushes, was a distraction he didn’t need. He was hoping to get up Mt. Cabot and Although he grew up in Mt. Washington Valley and was down to the trailhead before 5:30 a.m. Doing so would a ski racer through high school, Drummond didn’t get mean he had successfully summited all 48 of New into endurance sports until 2012. A friend who is Hampshire’s 4,000-footers in under six days. It takes similarly built (Drummond is 6’2”) told him about his most people years to complete the list, and Drummond experiences in ultramarathons, which piqued his was doing it all in one hike, unsupported. He didn’t interest into what was possible. Then he watched his drive from trailhead to trailhead. He didn’t cache food girlfriend Hilary McCloy do the Wildman Biathlon. or gear. The clock started when he stepped onto the trail up Mt. Moosilauke, and would end when he got back to “The takeaway was, ‘Why am I not doing this?’” Drummond said. “And that led into this whole thing over the the parking lot at the bottom of Mt. Cabot, after next year where I was entering races and trying traveling 216 miles on foot over the roughest terrain in everything from multisport triathlons to snowshoe the eastern United States. races, Nordic Meisters, doing three different alpine beer Called the White Mountain Direttissima (Direttissima leagues, entering my first ultra, the Vermont 50 Miler is Italian for “most direct route”), the project had been and doing the Tuckerman Inferno.” done before, but Drummond was the first to attempt a Drummond would end up winning the Inferno in 2015 continuous hike of New Hampshire’s 4,000-footers in the light-and-fast style of a trail runner. His route began and 2016. To say he is hitting his stride as an endurance/adventure athlete would be both a corny pun and in the Kinsman Range, went over Franconia Ridge into an understatement. the Pemigewasset Wilderness, headed south to the

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ABOVE Looking south from Mt. Haystack at Liberty and Flume on Franconia Ridge.

Photo by Andrew Drummond.

FACING PAGE Drummond’s dog

Squall joined him for a section of the project. Photo by Joe Klementovich.

Now a sponsored athlete, Drummond is known for posting real-time (or close to realtime) videos and photos of his backcountry ski pursuits in the winter and spring. These almost-real-time postings allow avid backcountry skiers to get a sense of current conditions, and they provide the armchairadventurer with a more real and raw perspective than a polished, edited ski film released a year later.

“Anyone can take a pretty photo, and at this point, everyone knows there are gorgeous places out there,” Drummond said. “To me, it’s fake and means nothing unless you have a compelling story behind the shot.”

Drummond brought his signature documentary approach to the Direttissima. He set his InReach satellite communicator to ping his location every ten minutes, so people could follow his progress through his website, Skithewhites.com. He also posted Snapchat videos and took photos and videos that he posted to social media. While some might criticize his use of social media on a pioneering FKT attempt, Drummond said the response has been positive.

“The social thing is a lot of stopping, waiting and uploading, but on the other hand, every stop gave my legs a chance to recover,” Drummond said. “I know there’s always going to be Internet trolls who are negative about

the social aspect, but in general it has been 100 percent positive. The stuff people did chirp about was more like, ‘How can you enjoy it if you’re going that fast?’ And my response would be that I get to see and experience so much more in a day than most hikers. Where they might get to experience 10 miles, I get to see 50 miles of trail in a day.”

Mt. Cabot and ran down to the York Pond Trailhead. He reached the parking lot at 5:28 a.m. on July 30, two minutes shy of six days.

Not only had he hiked and run 216 miles in six days, he had gained and lost about 80,000 feet of elevation while carrying a pack that weighed an average of 45 pounds. That’s more than two-and-a-half Everests. In six days.

Over six days, Drummond experienced many highs. He saw distant thunderstorms during golden hour on Bondcliff. He felt the unexpected euphoria of a flow state on Moriah, five days into what he thought would be mostly torture for his body. He also experienced lows; trying to outrun sleep monsters that inevitably caught up with him, forcing him to catch 15-minute power naps in the middle of the trail. The final section between Mt. Waumbeck and Mt. Cabot was one of those lows.

The White Mountain Direttissima pushed the limits of what Drummond thought his body was capable of, and he learned a lot in the process. For one thing, he learned he could probably do it faster with a better balance of nutrition (he brought more food than he needed) and time management (he took it slow in the first half because he was more focused on completing the project than getting a fastest time). He learned summer nights can be colder than expected; his solution was to sleep during the twilight hours and run at night. He learned that the White Mountain Direttissima is a classic of a route that deserves repeated attempts.

“It was just a few more miles, but these were not easy miles,” Drummond said. “Anyone who knows the White Mountains knows that some miles are tougher than others.

There are no water stops between Waumbeck and Cabot, and I was really sick of my food at that point. It was a real culmination of the whole project; it was like, just get this done.”

The jams on his headphones got him through the grind of the Kilkenny Range. After navigating the ridge, Drummond summited

He set the bar high by anyone’s standards, except his own.

“My record’s going to get smoked,” Drummond said. The gauntlet has been thrown.

Any takers?

MAP Drummond tagged all 48 4,000-

footers in just under six days, hiking and running a total of 216 miles.

F I N IS H

START

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Documenting Achieving the ultimate summit in an ongoing mission to give back conclusion to a six-part blog series story and photos by parker haynes

ABOVE The view of Mt. Everest and the Khumbu Icefall from basecamp.

thom pollard and lhakpa sherpa stood upon the peak of a mountain at 2:40 a.m. on May 22, 2016. They had reached the highest point on Earth, the summit of all conquered fears. Pollard was at 29,035 feet looking below, where once he walked as just a man with a dream. Paul Giorgio, the expedition lead, producer and four-time Everest summitter, was on his way to the bottom from camp 4. Oxygen tanks and ropes had been stolen and he didn’t need to risk his life again for a fifth summit. Scott Barber, director of the expedition film, and I were in Kathmandu. Both of us were stomach sick from the hotel buffet food. This is just the end of the story though. Let me go back to the start, where it all began with a word: Everest.

Scott Barber approached me in the early winter of 2015.

He asked me to assist him in making a film about Mount Everest and the Khumbu valley. He wasn’t sure at first if it was actually going to happen or if it was a total fabrication. It all seemed like a fantasy, but soon the unimaginable was real. Scott was hired by Paul Giorgio, an investor from Boston, to direct and create a film. Giorgio had been to Everest many times in his career. He had fallen in love with the mountain and the area surrounding it. Giorgio’s plan was to create a film with several vignettes for a traveling museum about the mountain. The film would generate revenue and support the building of schools in the Khumbu Valley for the Sherpa people. The Sherpa people are losing

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their culture and language to the modern world.

Sharing Everest would be the title, but “giving back” would be the theme.

The traveling museum exhibit would bring Everest to people who know nothing of its true challenges, the cultures surrounding it, its rich history or its position in the global context. What is Everest like? Who are the Sherpa? Who was the first person to summit?

How does basecamp feel? What is it like to climb the mountain? Those are just some of the questions the exhibit would answer. The films would play a crucial role as the visual representation of the mountain, going beyond the basic images and objects in a typical exhibit.

of the expedition would be the most central part of the film series and would be entered into film festivals.

Since this film would get the most exposure, it would build support for the traveling exhibit. It seemed so simple, but everything can’t be perfect.

During our time in Nepal I sent back regular blog posts to Wild Northeast so everyone could get a glimpse of my travels and know I was alive. I will pick up my story now where those blog posts left off. The blog posts can be found on wildnortheast.com and are worth the backstory.

TOP Scott Barber films

a village high in the Himalayas.

BOT TOM The Sharing Everest team.

The film task was bestowed upon Scott, and Scott had to hire help. His first hire was Thom Pollard, a high-altitude cinematographer from Jackson, New Hampshire.

This would be Pollard’s third time going to Mount Everest. Next he hired me, maybe for my creative eye for film, or maybe to be a jester so he wasn’t alone at basecamp. He won’t tell me, which is probably for the best. Scott, Paul, Thom and I were the “Sharing Everest” expedition crew of 2016.

We were also on a secret task. We were carrying a research flag of the Explorers Club, which is over 60 years old. Its members are the most accomplished adventurers and explorers from all over the world.

Thom and Paul are both members. The flag was to be carried up Everest as part of a search for artifacts, but that is all the information I can say for now. This part

Paul and Thom were heading up the mountain again for the second time. Scott and I waited safely at basecamp, as Thom, Paul and the Sherpa team got caught in a horrible storm heading to Camp Four. They were so severely beaten by this storm they had to retreat all the way back to Basecamp. When they arrived, it looked like the storm had aged them 10 years: they were thin, with burned, chapped lips and a look in their eyes beyond explanation. They had lost to Everest. The film’s ending was still to be determined.

A couple days passed, and a decision had to be made.

It was May 13th and Scott and I were running out of time on the mountain. We had to begin our journey back home soon. Work and life were calling us. We decided to break the expedition up, leave for home on the 15th of May and hike the three long days back to Lukla to catch that damn scary flight to Kathmandu.

May 15th was a sad day. The last few days were spent enjoying the time we had with our new friends, the Sherpa and climbers we shared basecamp with. I often found myself on the outhouse, door wide open, so ADVENTURE MAGAZINE

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They had become brothers bonded by the hardships of the mountain.

I could look at the beauty of the icefall and the enormous mountains protruding around it. We discussed what we still needed for the production, which Thom now had to finish shooting. We said our goodbyes to the crew, the Sherpa mountains guides, cooks, and friends. Still to this day I can see the tears of some as we walked down the rocky path back to our forgotten lives and a time before Everest that seemed to only exist in fragmented dreams. We were a family at basecamp, and that was the most powerful learning experience: the power of friendship. No one is a stranger after you say hello (although I'm still pretty strange after that).

Scott and I were back in a hotel in Kathmandu eating lots of food to regain the weight we lost from high altitude. Meanwhile Paul and the crew headed back up to the highest camp on Everest, hopeful for the chance of going to the summit.

Paul and Thom had reached Camp Four at the top of the South Col. The next day, May 21st, a team of six brave, determined men walked out of their tents: Thom, Paul, Lhakpa, Densa, Temba, and Rinzi Sherpa, to conduct research along the route.

Scott and I reached an all time low, taking shifts to use the restroom, sick from food. Jurassic Park played loud in the background, the volume probably matching the wind blowing into Paul and Thom’s face as they set out on the snowy ice desert.

ABOVE Tengboche Monastery in the Khumbu Region of northeastern Nepal.

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Paul and Thom hiked at 27,000 feet as if they were snails crawling on the ocean floor. They were conducting research along the route, but they were caught in an unexpected storm that blurred their vision. One mistake up at this level is certain death. Paul made the call to abandon the research mission and return to Camp Four to recuperate. It was just too dangerous to continue. As the team returned to their camp to prepare for a summit push, they noticed some of their gear was missing. During the night or while they were on their research mission, oxygen tanks and key ropes were stolen from our expedition group, something that has become all too common on Mount Everest since its commercialization in the early 90’s. Paul and some of the Sherpa had to retreat down the mountain due to the missing supplies.

BELOW Children playing in Kathmandu.

Not all was lost though. Thom Pollard and Lhakpa, who two months ago didn’t even know each other, had become brothers bonded by hardships on the mountain.

Together they drudged into the abyss of the last push to summit mighty Everest. For 17 years, Thom had been longing to scratch this unbearable itch that had begun when he was close to the summit in 1999, but failed to reach it. Finally the deadly itch was gone as he stood on the top of the world. Thom had made it, had conquered Mount Everest. Thom confided in me after the trip that his sons encouraged him the whole time, and also would call him a wimp if he didn’t summit.

By this time Scott and I were on the flight back home, cuddled up in the same row, missing the adventure, wondering what was going on. We made it home safely to be welcomed by a group of friends. A couple weeks later Thom and Paul also made it home and so ended the expedition of 2016. After a week, I was already back into my bad habits and working. I will never forget the journey, and I will miss my new friends that I met over there. Now we must wait for Paul to complete his goal and launch another attempt next year. After that, Scott will create a masterpiece, and I will be singing an epic theme song in my best high-pitch Adele voice to go along with it. Look for me in the credits.

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ADVENTURE MAGAZINE

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TRAILS &VIEWS IN THE MOOSALAMOO

Mountain biking the Moosalamoo National Recreation Area near Middlebury, VT

by andy howard

“Just beware of the stinging nettles.” Those were the words of Chas, co-owner of Frog Hollow Bikes in Middlebury after recommending that I check out the Leicester Hollow/Chandler Ridge Loop in Moosalamoo National Recreation Area.

I’m no stranger to brambles, having stumbled through more than my fair share of bushes over the years. I regularly fished for baseballs in raspberry bushes wearing only shorts and a t-shirt when knee high socks and parachute pants were all the rage. You’ll still find me waist high in thickets of prickers looking for hidden singletrack. I’ve picked more thorns out of my body and cursed more burdock than I care to remember. So a warning about “stinging nettles” didn’t phase me, until he repeated with any hint of a smile now gone from his face: “Really, watch out for those stinging nettles.”

I was up in Vermont to visit my mother in the Middlebury area and drop off my boy for his first long weekend at Grandma’s. This was a joyous occasion for us both. To him it meant an endless supply of blueberries, new toys and wide-open spaces to explore, while for me it offered an opportunity to go find some new (to me) mountain biking trails in my favorite corner of the world.

Snake Mountain, which practically sits in my mother’s backyard, is my typical destination when visiting, but there isn’t a lot of dedicated singletrack there and moreover I was looking to scratch the exploration itch. I’ve also biked the Trail Around Middlebury or “The TAM” as it is known locally, and even though it has 20

WILD NORTHEAST

some decent singletrack, it was still old hat.

Instead I decided to go check out the trails in Moosalamoo National Recreation Area, as I had heard there was some recently built trails designed by mountain bikers.

My first order of business was to drop in on Frog Hollow Bikes, formerly known as the Bike Center in downtown Middlebury. Busily working behind the counter was one of the new co-owners, Chas, who greeted me warmly and didn’t bat an eyelash when I whipped it out a gift certificate to ask if it was still good.

“No problem” he assured me.

After picking out a new Frog Hollow Jersey, I asked Chas what he thought of Moosalamoo and which part I should explore. Without hesitation he directed me to the Minnie Baker parking lot at the south end of the Leicester Hollow/Chandler Ridge Loop. He noted that it was less crowded than the Silver Lake lot next to Lake Dunmore. He added that the best approach was to ride the loop counterclockwise. Although there were plenty of other trails in Moosalamoo, he confirmed that the loop would be perfect for my three-hour window. And then he added his ominous warning about the stinging nettles. I thought to myself, “How bad can they really be?”

I pulled into a dirt lot lined with pine trees just off of Route 53 near Goshen. As I threw on my pack and maneuvered around a gate on the Minnie Baker trail, it was late morning on a humid summer day. I started my climb

up the doubletrack and into an old hardwood stand. The trail shot straight up the mountain, giving no quarter to my sputtering legs.

Although the trails are well known, this section was quiet enough for me to come upon a deer munching on grass in the middle of the trail. Or maybe I was just hallucinating; the trail rocketed up nearly four hundred feet in the first three quarters of a mile, which had me struggling for breath. I pedaled hard and the sweat dripped down onto the bike as I lunged at the pedals, trying to keep my forward momentum. Just as I was reaching my breaking point, the trail mercifully dipped downward briefly where it intersected with the descent off of Chandler Ridge. I continued on the doubletrack, making another short climb and longer descent into Leicester Hollow and the start of the Leicester Hollow singletrack.

After turning left on the Leicester Hollow Trail I followed it up into a gully with hills rising steeply on each side. The trail was rocky and well built, skirting along the left side of the narrow canyon with the assistance of sculpted rock ramps and buttresses. The cool rocks were sweaty in the humid morning air, which called for careful riding. I was riding my Scott Genius plus-sized bike, and the extra half-inch of rubber on my 2.8” tires gave me just enough traction to keep moving over the slippery rocks. The trail made several quick dips and drops while slowly ascending the hollow toward Silver Lake. After crossing

to the right side of the gully on a long wooden bridge I rolled along a low-grade climb for the three remaining miles up to Silver Lake. In contrast to the first part of the Leicester Hollow Trail, this section was smooth and fast. The climb is so gradual, it feels flat in comparison to the first few miles of trail.

As I flew along, ankle high plants on the sides of the trail brushed against my exposed legs. About the time I remembered Chas’ warning, I started to feel the sting.

Like sweating, hay-scraped arms or a mild sunburn, my legs sizzled. This was my first experience with stinging nettles. Until that moment, I had always thought people were talking about briars or thorn bushes when they mentioned “stinging nettles”. Only after I looked them up afterward did I realize I was dealing with their chemical warfare cousin that injects a histamine into your skin from small hair-like needles as you brush against it.

Having expected another steep climb, I was downright stunned when Silver Lake appeared between the trees ahead. The trail around the lake is lined with campsites, and there’s a large sandy beach where I waded into the cool water to extinguish the fire on my legs.

On the northern tip of the lake, the Chandler Ridge Trail begins its ascent. After crossing a dam, the first hundred yards wound between rocks hugging the side of the lake before climbing a series of switchbacks up onto the ridge above. The trail is well designed and maintains a steady pace all the way to the top.

Upon reaching the crest of the ridge, the narrow singletrack snakes nearly two miles, occasionally dipping along the western edge of the ridge giving breathtaking views down into the valley and Lake Dunmore below.

The real fun began on the southern tip of the ridge where, over the next two miles, I descended on singletrack nearly six hundred feet back to the junction with the Minnie Baker Trail. Like the climb, the descent was shepherded by a series of bermed switchbacks, which were easily navigable. I sailed over small drops and rumbled through the occasional rock garden or bundle of roots on the dry, dusty trail. Despite the drought, the trail was in excellent condition with no hint of washouts and only one blowdown near the bottom from a recent storm.

After reaching the junction with Minnie Baker I took my hands off the brakes and flew down the wide doubletrack, occasionally jumping off large rocks and bumps in the trail. Reaping the rewards of the hard-earned vertical on that three quarters of a mile made the perfect ending to my adventure. I rolled back around the gate into the parking area with a huge smile on my face, and a new respect for stinging nettles.

I’ll definitely be back for another ride, but next time I might dig out those knee high socks.

ADVENTURE MAGAZINE

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A backcountry sport-climbing crag in Maine boasts big-wall exposure and minimal crowds by josh laskin

TOP Ray Rice climbs Lazy Boy, 5.11a, at Laughing Lion in Evan's Notch, Maine.

Photo by Josh Laskin.

BOT TOM Bayard Russell climbs Mainline, a 5.10d trad route.

Photo by Anne Skidmore.

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As the car ascended into the notch and we Being fairly new to climbing myself, it was approached our first vantage point, my eyes difficult for me to imagine what it must take immediately fell upon the immense slab to get up even the easiest routes at this spot. of rock, perched eight hundred feet above the The massiveness of the Lion and the challenge valley floor and protruding a few hundred it offers those willing to try their hand at one feet further, sitting a mile or so back from the of the many lines was finally beginning to set road. This cliff was reminiscent of crags I had in. It had been confirmed; this New England seen during multiple journeys out west, yet climbing destination deserves much more over the past six months of diligent climbing recognition than it actually gets. in the Mount Washington Valley area of I decided to meet up with Ray to find out New Hampshire, I had not yet heard of The more about this cliff and to figure out why Laughing Lion until the day prior. The desire such a seemingly prime climbing spot goes to feel its monumental size towering above virtually unheard of. We sat down and started me, and to examine the cracks and features talking about climbing in the valley and in that I may one day be capable of climbing general. A few beers later, we got to talking grew, and so we continued onward. We parked about the Lion itself. at the trailhead where we ran into Ray Rice, or “Half-Day Ray” as the locals like to call him “It’s unreal. Your balls shrivel up your first couple times up there,” Ray told me, as I tried due to his time being split between working to absorb and imagine. “We have these sport and climbing, who has spent a good bit climber’s bomber bolts, but you just hold on of time over the past five years establishing extra hard, get pumped super quick; it just routes on this gem. has this intensity. It’s pretty amazing.”

After brief introductions and stories, Ray and One of the more appealing and curious his climbing partners headed home for the aspects about this cliff is its neglect, despite day, while my friends Kat, Ian, and I contina fairly long history of established climbs. ued up the trail, following directions that In the early ‘90s, Bob Parrott developed consisted of no more detail than “cross a few a route called the Main Line. Once Bob streams, turn onto an overgrown climber’s established this route, which ascends straight trail at the scattered rocks, and take a right up the center of the main wall, he quickly onto another trail at a downed tree.” After packed up and left the remainder an unhalf an hour of debating over what counted tapped climbing mecca that would see very as a stream and what was and was not a trail, few routes established during the following we miraculously found ourselves standing years. In the early 2000’s, as climbers in the hundreds of feet above the valley floor, at the base of the Lion. I stared up the four-hundred area continued to progress, more and more routes slowly popped up on the Lion. Then, foot wall, a mixture of granite, schist, and about five or six years ago, Ray, Bayard Russell, mica, at bolted climbing routes that ascended and a few of their buddies began frequenting straight through the center of massive roofs and overhangs via a series of miniature finger- the cliff and really started putting up new routes, development that continues to this day. cracks and small features that would have Despite there being 30-some lines currently anyone hanging on by their toenails. The established on this cliff, it still sees very little incandescent mica particles glittered as the sunlight was reflected back towards the valley traffic due to the density of more accessible below, the rock’s mixed shades of silver, white, crags in the area combined with the mentality of many northeastern climbers who are not and orange burning beneath the waning sun.

willing to carry their gear up more than a 15-minute approach.

Why hump your gear a mile in to a gold mine when there are plenty of easily accessible climbs in the area?

I knew that I had to get back out to Laughing Lion to observe the way the more experienced climbers carefully smear the soles of their shoes against the most unnoticeable aberrations in the rock, to shoot photos while suspended over a roof on the exposed face, and try my hand at climbing the wall myself. A few weeks and logistical hurdles later, I found myself back at the cliff, this time with Ray, Ian and our buddy Ryan.

Ryan and I arrived at the trailhead on a crisp and clear Friday evening, around 6. The two of us split the weight of our overnight and climbing gear, and headed up the trail to a great campsite where Ray and Ian were patiently waiting. We discussed the option of setting up ropes that night so we could start shooting and climbing first thing in the morning, but quickly decided that it would be a much better idea to get straight to drinking bourbon, cooking pork ribs over an open flame, exchanging stories, and even doing a bit of bouldering.

“Let’s go!” I looked at my clock. It was five in the morning, on the dot, as we had discussed in our stupor the night before. The sun had not yet started to creep up over the surrounding mountains, and the cold, fall, New England air had not yet begun to warm.

Getting out of my -30 degree sleeping bag did not seem like the best option, but I knew Ray wasn’t about to start playing games when it comes to climbing. Minutes later, we found ourselves clawing our way up a near vertical gully by headlamp to get into a good spot for a rappel. The sun began to emerge over the mountains on the east side of Evans Notch as we rappelled in, almost a thousand feet above the valley floor, breaking through a dispersed layer of undercast strewn throughout the valley below.

The fact that we were missing the best lighting for a photograph did not matter. I was finally able to feel the magnitude of the Lion. I pressed my feet against the wall while looking far below me as the sun ascended above the mountains, attempting to reach where we were. I thought about the lack of people who had been where I was at that moment, and how few people would ever get that experience.

After I had myself tethered in at a solid belay station and had finally accepted that I was going to have to get over my fear of heights once and for all, I slowly began to move around and explore my angle options for shooting. Twenty minutes later, Ray came seamlessly cruising up one of his routes, “Lazy Boy,” named after a small nook that a fearless individual has the option to lounge in, hands free. The morning progressed, and I found myself suspended in mid-air, ten feet away from the wall, shooting photos as Ray pulled his way through roof crux moves, clipping the bolts that he and his friends had placed in the wall. I imagined what it must be like to climb some of the routes on this cliff for the first time; not knowing what kind of steep overhangs, roofs, sketchy run-outs, or unstable rock lie ahead. Once we had

finally had enough, I lowered myself down to the ledge that Ian had been belaying Ray from, and we decided to spend the rest of the morning focusing on climbing ourselves. The rock, unlike the overly climbed, polished granite of the more popular cliffs such as Cathedral Ledge, tore into our hands as we climbed and bit into the soles of our shoes just as well. My un-seasoned hands and arms couldn’t take much, so while Ray and another of his friends who had showed up to climb continued on, Ian, Ryan, and I called it a day. We decided to swing north on our way out of Evan’s Notch and hit up Ebenezer’s Pub in Lovell to sample its world-class beer menu.

Although delicious Belgian beers were calling my name, I couldn’t stop thinking about what we had just done; rappelled over the roofs of this lesser-known New England cliff that has a big wall feel, watched Ray climb the routes that he, Bayard, and their friends had all discovered and bolted themselves, and felt the challenge of trying to climb one of its routes myself. My desire to become a better climber so that I could one day be capable of climbing these routes was stronger than ever. The Lion had given me a gift; it had inspired me. I knew it would only be a matter of time before I make my way back out there again, maybe next time without the camera.

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Fall Groundswell Though elusive, Maine waves quench the souls of a core surf community. Black Point Surf Shop in Scarborough, home of McDermott Shapes, is the friendly hub for many who chase the Chupacabra.

by rory wall illustrations by jesse georgia

If you are new to surfing, have only surfed a few times or have never set foot in our surf shop, here is a taste of the Maine experience to wet your whistle. The following article consists of the Atlantic’s conditions as metaphor for our existence here at Black Point Surf Shop in Scarborough, Maine. Enjoy the rhetorical shredding (may we get waves soon).

Here's what it's like on a...

Flat summer Day

Sloppy windswell

The shop dog, Wren, sprawls in the shade.

All the windows are wide open. I'm thinking about the latest beautiful French Canadian woman who just came in here with her boyfriend. Sun-drunk beachgoers are stuck to their chairs somewhere. Crystal smiles to everyone, and Andy and Ryan are blowing foam-dust off their latest custom McDermott shape, blowing like some hard offshore wind that’s knocking the waves into pancakes.

The phone is ringing (“Is my board repaired?”) and shop grommet Gus is touching all of the boards just to touch them. Sweep the stairs and talk with dads about their last trip to Central America.

Jack stops in after teaching a lesson, after which he got a tattooed lady’s phone number using the line, “We have this spot with a hot tub by the beach...” I’m answering the phone again while a set of people begin stacking up out the back, further and further.

One-to-two foot morning glass-off

The Higgins Beach cam is crammed with beginners. Higgameia Bay, loaded with more shark-food than any other time of the year. The goings, comings and flailings of unsteady feet, THEN paddle, drop, fade, slow knock-kneed bottom turn as the wave sets up in front, rail set midway up the face, cross step, cross step, hands outstretched like an orchestra conductor, foot near the nose. Ocean ballet with Jesse Georgia, shop artist/vagabond.

Chuck a shaka. Aloha.

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Short period swell, offshore wind

As customers browse the shop, we browse the web: earth.nullschool.net, Wave Watch iii model, buoy number 44007, Surfline Maine-New Hampshire regional forecast, Swellinfo.com outlook for Kennebunkport. Fuck Magic Seaweed forever. Cross reference, triangulation accuracy. The employees rotate between giving lessons to the newly stoked, spelling each other to surf an hour or two and working in the shop. Surfers rest and chat between sessions. Double shaka, double rainbow, aloha.

Long period fall groundswell

Elusive as the Chupacabra, understood only by the seasoned surfer, without words to do it justice. Holy surrender. Drop everything.

Thank higher power, Ra, Buddha, Satan, whomever. Travel to the spots or surf local.

Somewhere is working: southeast facing beach break, east facing reef, mysto slab, left wedge off the cliff? There are secrets here.

Don't look for them. Your wetsuit has gained a millimeter. Get used to it. Eat, sleep, search, surf, repeat and end up with a bleary-eyed salt water droopy smirk reminiscent of a flat summer day (see above) that makes all your non-surfer friends think you’re stoned.

Curtain Call In order of appearance WREN: Shop dog. Always stoked. Runs around as she pleases. Digs holes and chews on a toy porcupine. Jesse (below) says Ren is the shop’s spirit animal.

CRYSTAL: Shop owner. Multicolored eyes. Matriarch of all grommets. Light footed noserider. Said to me, “There’s a distinction between surfing in Rhode Island, New Jersey and even Mass. There’s no Joey’s or Gina’s. It’s way more real here. You can tell who surfs year-round. It’s a core group, but there’s not a lot of attitude.”

ABOVE A bird’s-eye-view of the Black Point Surf Shop.

Photo by Joe Radano.

Finally, here's where I’m at.

Tropical Storm Gaston is spinning its wild way towards us. He’s the first in a series of storms that will be swinging our way this fall and winter.

If I think about it too much, I’ll get butterflies and have to take a deep breath. Speaking of breathing, Gaston is breathing heavy in our direction. He’s off the coast, lazy, gigantic, and blowing onto the ocean from 100s of miles away. The water will be pushed, inch-worm style, into waves. The waves will get bigger. The winds will eventually switch as the storm passes us, sucking back into the ass of the storm.

People will score. Bottom turn to lip-smack (Wapah!

Shwack! Insert batman comic exclamation). The further south, the bigger the crowds will be.

I won’t be sleeping in or watching Game of Thrones. I’ll be doing that thing that has no proper word. It’s not business or pleasure, not passion or addiction. It circles necessity, as in if I were to ever get into the muck of life, like real bad, like my brother is addicted to heroin and my mom dies and I can’t find a job, there’s this thing that spins off the coast to which I would still make my pilgrimage.

Holy surrender, amen.

ANDY: Shop owner and McDermott Shapes shaper.

Beautiful long-limbed late drops on his backhand. When asked about the shop’s origins he said, “We needed a surf shop. We couldn’t even get wax around here. Before we had a shop, [Ryan and I] made eight boards a month. We’d meet people in the woods or at the park-andride with our trailer. We eventually needed a place to meet people.” Behold! The shop was born RYAN: Shop owner and McDermott Shapes shaper.

Heart of gold. The first time we met, I was new to Maine and surfing alone. He left his number and said to call if I needed a surf buddy. Rad. He is often wrist deep in resin. He says he’s just created the perfect board, the only board he’s been able to do carving 360s on.

JESSE: Shop vagrant/artist. He actually lives in his van there sometimes. He asked me, “Have you ever been to any of the shop parties? The community backs us and throws in tons of prizes to raffle. Crystal makes sure every kid leaves with a prize. Kids are running around everywhere.”

He continued to talk about the shop: “It’s a hub for a lot of people. Many people meet here. Surf culture isn’t saturated here like it is out west, so people come here to get that vibe.”

SHAKA: Turn your thumb’s-up 90 degrees and add a pinky. Share with your neighbor.

GUS: Shop grommet. Rode his bike more miles than he can likely count in the rain to hang out at the shop the other day. He hung out for over three hours and helped. He got 10 bucks and a Milky Way. It’s not uncommon for parents to drop their kids off to hang out, often without asking. Gus is in the throes of adolescence, has a squeaky voice and has grown multiple inches in the last week. It’s a blessing that this shop is a factor in the shit show of raging hormones that are flooding his once virgin synapses (reminiscent of a sloppy windswell, above).

JACK: Golden-haired shop employee. Smooth as butter. Just landed a fakie bigspin. Barefoot.

In front of said tattooed girl.

CHUPACABRA: Owl dog thing that drinks goat’s blood.

Andy says that this is the shop's spirit animal, contrary to Jesse’s answer.

ADVENTURE MAGAZINE

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10 B E S T F A L L H I K E S

by maxwell forbes & jamel torres

IN THE NORTHEAST

Fall is a magical time of year in the Northeast. Spectacular displays of vibrant colors, coupled with cool temperatures, make it the perfect time to hit the trails. From easy walks for

the whole family to strenuous outings for the serious adventurer, there are thousands of amazing hikes to choose from.

In no particular order, here are ten of our absolute favorites.

Note: Length listed as round trip, difficultly ranked Easy > Moderate > Advanced > Strenuous

L E NG T H: 1.2 miles DIF F ICULT Y: Moderate PHOTO

Sophia Navarre

L E NG T H: 6–10 miles DIF F ICULT Y: Moderate PHOTO

Jamel Torres

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OWL’S HEAD MOUNTAIN ADIRONDACK STATE PARK, NY

SQUARE LEDGE JACKSON, NH

Owl’s Head Mountain is a magnificent short hike for the whole family. Located just south of Lake Placid, this 1.2 mile round trip hike takes a somewhat steep trail to an amazing panoramic rock outcropping with incredible views of the surrounding mountains. As an added perk, this location is host to stellar rock climbing. If you’re not a climber yourself, you can sit and watch people scale the face of the cliff while you enjoy the view from above. Because of its easy access, Owl’s Head is a popular hike and it’s a safe bet you won’t be alone. If you are looking to beat the crowds, head up early and catch the sunrise.

You surely won’t be disappointed.

For a view with maximum reward for a short effort, Square Ledge would be the number one choice. Located just north of Jackson, New Hampshire in the heart of the White Mountains, Square Ledge is a short .8 mile out-and-back trail that leads to a large rock outcrop. From the top enjoy incredible views of the magnificent presidential range, including New England’s highest peak, Mt. Washington. Square Ledge is just across the notch from Mt. Washington, and its elevation below treeline offers an up-close view of prime foliage. For those who are more vertically inclined, Square Ledge offers numerous moderate traditional rock climbs, and makes for a great day of fun climbing.

L E NG T H: 8.9 miles DIF F ICULT Y: Advanced PHOTO

Austin Perry

TUMBLEDOWN MOUNTAIN FRANKLIN COUNTY, ME

TRAVELER MOUNTAIN LOOP BAXTER STATE PARK, ME

For those looking for a more relaxed day, Tumbledown Pond is a fantastic choice. A less frequented area, Tumbledown Mountain features awesome hiking with numerous trail options, as well as a gorgeous alpine lake situated below the summit of the peak itself.

Enjoy beautiful foliage views throughout the day and dip your feet in the cool lake as you travel through this silent Maine wilderness.

This incredible 10-mile loop makes for a fantastic full day for the fit adventurer. With nearly 4,000 feet of elevation total, enjoy three mountain summits and fantastic ridge hiking in remote Baxter State Park in northern Maine.

For those looking to beat the crowds this fall, the Traveler Mountain loop is the way to do it. As an extra bonus, finish your day by renting a canoe for just $1 at South Branch Pond, right next to the trailhead.

L E NG T H: 10.6 miles DIF F ICULT Y: Strenuous PHOTO

Jamel Torres

L E NG T H: 4–6 miles DIF F ICULT Y: Advanced PHOTO

Andrew McDonagh

L E NG T H: 10 miles DIF F ICULT Y: Advanced PHOTO

Ian Ferguson

L E NG T H: 4 miles DIF F ICULT Y: Moderate PHOTO

Kat Thorney

CAMEL'S HUMP DUXBURY, VT

NOONMARK MOUNTAIN ADIRONDACK STATE PARK, NY

One of the most iconic peaks in Vermont, Camel’s Hump is not to be missed. Located just a half hour from Burlington, it makes for a memorable half- to full-day outing.

With numerous paths to the summit, Camel’s Hump offers hikes ranging from 4 to 6 miles, each ending on the rocky exposed summit of the mountain. With a panoramic view that stretches west to New York and east to New Hampshire, you’ll feel like you’re on top of the world.

Located just south of the Keene Valley in New York, Noonmark offers an amazing half-day outing. Wind slowly through the colorful deciduous forest before reaching Noonmark’s isolated summit. With fantastic views of the Adirondack Park’s numerous rocky peaks all decked out in their fall colors, Noonmark is best hiked in autumn. For an added treat, finish your day by going for a cold swim in Chapel Pond and having dinner the Noonmark Diner, located just up Route 73.

L E NG T H: 10.6 miles DIF F ICULT Y: Strenuous PHOTO

Steve Larson

MT. GARFIELD WHITE MOUNTAIN NATIONAL FOREST, NH

FRANCONIA RIDGE LOOP WHITE MOUNTAIN NATIONAL FOREST, NH

Mt. Garfield is a great option for those who are up for a long hike but aren’t looking for the rigorous challenge of a steep and rocky climb. While the last .2 miles to the summit are a bit challenging, the majority of the hike winds through moderate terrain and makes for a gorgeous fall adventure. From the summit, enjoy fantastic views of neighboring White Mountain peaks in a setting that will make you feel truly isolated from cities and towns. The length of the hike makes Mt. Garfield a slightly less crowded peak than many other White Mountain favorites.

Perhaps one of the best hikes in New England, the Franconia Ridge Loop is an absolute must-do classic for any hiker. We recommend hiking up the Falling Waters trail to the summit of Little Haystack. From here you’ll traverse nearly two miles above tree line, eventually ending on the summit of Mt. Lafayette, before hiking back down the Old Bridal Path. Fun hiking in the alpine zone coupled with the stunning view makes this ridge one of the most popular hikes in all of New Hampshire.

L E NG T H: 8.9 miles DIF F ICULT Y: Advanced PHOTO

Alex Bogner

MT. MONADNOCK JAFFREY, NH

MT. HUNGER PUTNAM STATE FOREST, VT

Often claimed to be the second most-hiked mountain in the world next to Japan’s Mt. Fuji, it’s no surprise that Mt. Monadnock makes our list. Its location in southern New Hampshire makes it accessible for people all over the Northeast. At a round-trip distance of just over four miles, Mt. Monadnock is an adventure fit for the whole family, and makes a great fall outing. With no major surrounding mountains, Monadnock offers incredible views of the landscape below from its rocky summit. You can be sure that you won’t be alone here, as this is a favorite hike for many.

Another Vermont classic, Mt. Hunger is a fantastic half-day outing that offers fantastic views of Vermont’s Green Mountains. The 4.4 mile out and back trail can be somewhat steep in places, but overall offers a moderate approach to a stunning rocky summit with 360-degree views. Located just off interstate 89, Mt. Hunger is easy to access and has some of the best views in the state. For a special treat, sneak up early and watch the sunrise slowly illuminate the golden fall landscape below.

L E NG T H: 4.4 miles DIF F ICULT Y: Moderate PHOTO

Steve Grey

ADVENTURE MAGAZINE

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Take a Walk on the Wild Side Located in the heart of the Adirondacks, The Wild Center connects families with nature. by rebecca pickens

B

igger than Yosemite, Glacier, Grand Canyon, Yellowstone and Great Smokey National Parks combined, the Adirondacks offer hiking trails, pristine ponds, lakes and rivers and an unblemished mountain landscape— the perfect playground for a young family. A decade ago, my husband and I left the city to establish a small sustainable farm close to the Adirondacks. We couldn’t wait to experience every bit of it together with our three boys.

a large art space where guests have free access to quality painting materials.

On our most recent visit to the Center, we checked out its newest and most impressive feature, an elevated treetop trail called The Wild Walk, which opened to the public July 4, 2015.

Stephanie Ratcliffe, the Center’s Executive Director, showed us the trail. Intelligent, affable and invested in her organization’s mission, Stephanie led my boys through an afternoon of As the boys grow older, I see each of them con- adventure. nect with nature in unexpected ways. In our The Wild Walk leads visitors up to the treetops case, as with most families with young children, of the Adirondacks. From this vantage point the enjoying the outdoors together has required world looks different. We looked down on stracompromises and accommodations. Although I tegically placed feeders and watched birds miss the satisfaction one feels after a full day of swoop in for food. In this brief moment, we exertion outdoors, for now it is best to finish adcaught a glimpse of the world through the eyes ventures before the kids get tired. Better to leave of the birds. My boys were spellbound. them wanting to come back for more. I search for places that I expect will have special signifi- Around each bend a new discovery awaited us cance for the boys—large rocks for climbing, — a four-story twig house, a giant spider web to water views for sketching, a grassy knoll for climb on, swinging bridges and a giant bald eapicnicking. gle nest are among the many highlights. Along the way there was ample opportunity to gaze at Since its opening in 2006, The Wild Center in the landscape, absorb written information and Tupper Lake has been just the sort of special engage in creative play. place I seek out for my family. Home to more than 900 animals including lake fish, porcu- The designer of The Wild Walk, Charles P. Reay, pines, ravens and otters, the Center’s 81 acres of weaved the trail into the landscape with exquiforest and grounds feature hands-on, interac- site artistry and craftsmanship. Using high tech tive nature exhibits that tell the extraordinary methods, he and his team of visionaries created stories of Northern New York’s wild landscapes. structures that appear in perfect harmony with As the first LEED-certified museum in the state their natural surroundings. of NY, the Center is an impressive symbol of As we walked along, I asked Ratcliffe what most sustainable development that aims to demonexcites her about The Wild Walk. strate that people and the natural world can coexist peacefully.

“In the Adirondacks, people expect to find nothing but rough trails,” Ratcliffe said. “The Wild Hands-on exhibits like the cloud machine are Walk gives people a chance to view nature from an enormous hit with people of all ages. Beyond a perspective you can usually only get by climbthe numerous exhibits, there are well-cared for ing a rugged mountain. Not everyone can climb animals, engaging media presentations and

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a mountain. We built this walk with strollers, wheel chairs and bad knees in mind. We want to bring everyone closer to nature.”

Ratcliffe describes The Wild Walk’s impact on the Center as “phenomenal,” pointing out that visitor numbers have nearly doubled since its inception. She is equally pleased to note the Center’s positive impact on its hometown of Tupper Lake. “We like the notion that we are an anchor for bringing people into the area,” she said.

Ever mindful of The Wild Center’s unique role in the local economy, The Wild Center’s managers hired a consulting firm to study its economic impact on the surrounding area. The findings were impressive. The Wild Center’s visitors generated over $14 million in total regional revenue, which led to the creation of 277 jobs in one year. Six out of seven visitors interviewed reported coming to Tupper Lake to see The Wild Center, and on average stayed in the region for more than four days, spending close to $900.

When asked about the Center’s future, Stephanie is enthusiastic. As she spoke of continued outreach, education and special programming, I found myself profoundly moved by the impact of this special organization and its dedicated staff and volunteers.

The afternoon passed quickly. Heading back to our car the boys chattered breathlessly. Talking over one another’s voices, they shouted out observations about the birds and insects they had spotted that afternoon. They discussed becoming explorers one day.

I entered the car deeply satisfied as well. My family’s smiles, stories and the happiness of the day elicited the very essence of what I hope to share with my boys outdoors.

FOR CALENDAR & TICKET INFORMATION Phone: 518- 359-780o | Email: info@wildcenter.org | Web: www.wildcenter.org

MERCANTILE

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A Hike With a Forester Invasive pests in Northeastern forests by richard frisbie

with no rain in the forecast; a perfect day for a hike. Mink Hollow trail climbs up from Lake Hill, NY, through the saddle between Sugarloaf and Plateau Mountains and down to Tannersville in the next county over. The elevation change is nearly as much as you can get in the Catskills, allowing a clear examination of the forest makeup from the lowlands to the highlands.

IT WAS A CLOU DY DAY, NOT TOO HOT,

My hiking companion was Mike Seager, past President of The New York Forest Owners Association. A more observant and thoughtful guide would be impossible to find. Nature, forest management, and wildlife on the trail dominated the conversation.

The lower part of the trail follows a stream that, from the looks of the debris field and washouts along the bank, can be a raging force in wet weather. After a dry season the stream was almost nonexistent, but a few deeper holes between the rocks sported hand-sized trout that darted into hiding with the first odd movement along the banks. Before long we startled a Great Blue Heron who flew off, leaving little wonder why the trout were so skittish.

infestations look like white fibers on the undersides of Eastern Hemlock branches. Here in its northernmost range, it can kill a hemlock in 4-10 years. They are easy to spot but difficult to control in a forest.

As we discussed these observations, Mike pointed out the role of landowners in preserving healthy forests.

He explained the typical scenario for large wood lots: the valuable trees are harvested, leaving the rest, because that returns the most money. A few years later, again the best trees go. Eventually the forest has no value because no good trees were left as “seed” trees.

In a woodlot where all the maples were taken, beech trees often take over because deer browse on the maple seedlings, but not the beech. Eventually the landowner is left with a forest of beech trees worth one tenth the value of maples.

“If we can convince the landowners not to sell all the best trees each harvest, and convince the cutters to take some lesser value trees with the good, the balance in the woodlot will be maintained,” Mike said. “Thinning the crooked, injured and diseased trees along with the high value trees will ensure healthy forests for the next The lower forest was mostly healthy deciduous. Looking generation.” at a stand of ash trees, Mike said, “We’re unlikely to see The last part of the trail was steep, precluding conversasigns of ash borers here. The borer is primarily transtion as we scrambled from the saddle up to Sugarloaf ’s ported to new areas in firewood. No one would carry summit. Here were spruce, fit along the way but firewood into the forest where they are surrounded by somewhat stunted on the top. That was purely environburnable wood, so it’s more likely Ash Yellows will take mental. The surprise was the grove of peach trees these trees, unless this stand is isolated enough to avoid growing just below the overlook on the Southern slope. the spread.”

Obviously hikers didn’t carry out the pits; years of Ash Yellows is a disease that causes a slow decline of throwing organic debris over the edge resulted in a nice otherwise healthy looking trees. It is probably spread mix of fruit trees. Mike explained that one view about by insects. The white ash of the Eastern forests leaving behind organic waste is that it provides food is highly susceptible. Many of the ash trees around and will biodegrade quickly. On the other hand, if my house are suffering this slow death. a lot of people do that it just becomes trash, possibly changing the nature of the forest as introduced species The hemlocks we saw also looked healthy, with no sign (the fruit trees) thrive. We packed our banana peels out, of white on the ends of the branches. The hemlock just in case. woolly adelgid is a small aphid whose clustered 30

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ABOVE Fall in the Catskills. Photo by Josh Laskin.

As we hiked back down to the saddle, chick-a-dees called. Their song is getting rarer in the Catskills, another reminder of how important wild areas are.

Our final reminder, more startling in its proximity, happened during the hike down a gentle trail that was once a wagon road between Lakehill and Tannersville.

We saw a bear, trailside, up a dead Pine tree. Suddenly it was sliding down, noisily, its claws ripping the bark and sending it flying. It ran away, probably a yearling newly on its own, but it could have been a cub with an unhappy mother nearby. We were lucky.

There was a time much of our area forests were made up of chestnut trees. A blight left only an isolated few in old-growth forests, similar to what is beginning to happen with our ash and hemlock trees. In recent years, advances in developing resistant varieties of chestnut have shown promise. Mike told me he planted some of the newer chestnuts on his farm last year. It will be several years before he knows if they’ll survive.

It reminded me of the old saying: “A free man is one who can plant a tree knowing he will not live long enough to sit under it.” New York needs more people like Mike Seager; people who are willing to invest in the future of our forests.

Enthusiasm for the outdoors is practically a job requirement

The New York Forest Owners Association (NYFOA) has more information on managing back yard woodlots and forest land on their website, nyfoa.org. If you have a backyard, a few acres of trees or a forest, it’s worth knowing how to properly manage it.

Meanwhile, when hiking, remember to carry out what you carry in, and to always be on the lookout for bears!

Engineering for your future www.hebengineers.com North Conway, NH | (603) 356-6936 Bridgton, ME | (207) 803-8265

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