4,000 footer #2: Mount Hale

Last weekend was a weekend I look forward to all year- the semi annual trip up to Naro's parents' cabin on Maidstone Lake, VT we like to call Lakerage. That post will be next though (I'm still waiting on some video and pictures). I decided that if I was going to drive super north through the White Mountains to get there, and would be going solo and whenever I wanted, what better way to make the trip more awesome than with another 4,000 footer knocked off the list? Turns out, just going to Lakerage probably would have been more awesome.

I chose Mount Hale- it was the closest to the junction between 302 and Route 3 (meaning it was right on the way), it was 4,054 feet (meaning it was on the short side of the list), and it looked like it had the right amount of mileage and elevation gain.

I left late (WEIRD!), had trouble finding the trailhead, and set off at 5, knowing full well that I'd be finishing in the dark. Did I learn my lesson from the last trip and bring my headlamp? NOPE! (it's in my car right now).

Right away, the trail started up with some climbing, and my lungs started off with some panting. I stuck with my plans- hike for 2 songs, rest with water for 1. I noticed an immediate problem though- I was using old bottles of poland spring water filled up with our sink water from home (which is usually good). I don't know if it was the water or the bottles, but good lord was this some of the worst water I've ever tasted. But I hiked on and figured I'd just have to deal with it.

Awhile in, you cross the very end  of Hale Brook for the first time.

A ways after that, there is a small trail branching off to the right, which takes you to a decent view.

After some more climbing, at about 35% of the way through the hike, you cross the Brook again, and this time it's much nicer. The whole climb leading up to the crossing was really pretty and reminded me (at the steep parts) of the waterfall mountain stream Alec Baldwin and Anthony Hopkins have to cross in The Edge (only with a bear chasing them). 

purdy

This was a nice section.

After more climbing and more awful water, I was punched right in the face by a horrible, horrible realization. I was very tired. I was much more tired than I felt on Tecumseh. And I looked to my left and saw this:

Surely that giant orange mass of mountain wasn't what I had to climb?! Yea, it was. Ughk. Why do people go hiking?

The trail finally got a little more interesting as it started to switchback some and have a lot more rocks. I crossed the Brook again, and this time it was much wetter and more dangerous. This was definitely a cool section, but I had misread some websites before coming, and thought that this second big crossing (3rd overall) meant I had about a half mile left. Nope! This was pretty much half way up. The switchbacks and climbing after this were torture. I almost feel like I would have been better not reading anything before I headed out.

tired

but next to this? not so bad.

The trail started flattening out a little bit, and there was a nice section where I could see some mountaintops (no idea which ones).

Then, more climbing and FINALLY, after 2 hours of pain, false horizons and crappy water, I saw this:

Not only was this the coolest and prettiest section of the trail (and something right out of Middle Earth), but I knew that what lay in that glowing orb of light could only be the summit. Suddenly, I had energy again. 

And I was there. 

There's not much to look at at Hale's summit. I definitely appreciate the endless work it must have taken to build up that pile of rocks- they helped me feel like I conquered something and gave me the ability to at least see some views. 

Rocks and wasteland

This is with my camera held up as high as I could get it.

I went down the other side for a bit because I had read that there's another summit that gave better views. But hiking down some very thin trails and going further into nowhere was a bad idea. I decided at this hour, the only thing I should be doing was going back the way I came. 

I did get some nice sunset-off-the-trees shots though

And that was it. It had taken me about 2:15 to get to the top, and with staying around and taking pictures, it was now 7:40, which, at this time of the year meant there would be no sun in about 30 minutes max, and my twilight night vision would probably only last another 30 past that. This was not a hike worth any views, but it was another 4,000 footer off my list. And this time I brought a sign. 

almost looks like I'm standing on the trees!

I left the dark, lonely summit knowing that I would never be here again. It was kind of a sad feeling to put so much work into something and then just leave 20 minutes later with no plan of ever returning. 

I headed down FAST. Like, 1 mile in probably half an hour fast. I was tripping over some stuff, but I had energy and felt good. I made it to just about the third river crossing when my leg started hurting to the point where I had a moment of panic, realizing it would be very long and very painful before I got off the mountain. 

I guess it's called an IT Band. It's the tendon-like muscle that goes around the outside of your knee. It's what hurt the most towards the end of the Tecumseh hike, and apparently, a week later, it's what decided to hurt 100 times worse on this hike, 1.3 miles up into a dark mountain. I tried to ignore it. I tried to stretch it. I tried to massage it. I hit it. I sat and rested. Nothing I did did anything. After a few moments where I felt like I was going to cry (more out of frustration than pain), I soldiered on, basically taking a small step with my right leg, and then swinging my left around. I basically couldn't bend my left leg without it killing, so I figured this was the only way I could get down. So, I hobbled. I hobbled down the mountain for another hour or so, swinging away, resting, swearing, hurting. I rolled both my ankles several times. One was on my left leg, and I swear I heard it crack as it sent me reeling to the ground in pain and curses. I sat in the dark, just miserable, not being able to do anything. I imagined what it must be like to have this happen on the Appalachian Trail. Ughk.

I poured out all of my water because it was just adding weight to me and I decided I'd rather never drink again than drink that water. I kept having to pause my music and turn it lower because I kept thinking I was hearing bears or demons stalking me. This was a long, long hike down the mountain. I don't think a parking lot has ever looked better in my life. I sat down, laughed a little bit, thanked my lucky stars I had made it, and set off to Lakerage, where I had already said I was going to swim across the lake the next day- which I would apparently now be doing without being able to bend my leg. 

Here's something you may not know about northern NH and VT- there's no cell signal. Anywhere. Doesn't matter what carrier you have, doesn't matter what type of phone. There is no signal. I don't know how an area this big has so many people living in it without cell phones, but I guess people up here just hate being able to call people while they're driving or follow a map on their phone. In case you haven't figured out where I'm going with this, it took me about an hour and a half to drive what should have been a half hour. My GPS on my phone worked, but it was placing me in a tan grid of boxes, since maps refused to load. I didn't see signs, I didn't see turns. It was awful. Having no ability to find anything or call anyone meant I literally just had to drive around until I found signal or found the turn. Lesson learned? Have paper maps in your car. You can't always rely on technology. 

But I finally made it (at 11:30). I missed the night boat ride, but got to have some laughs when Kevin read what we had written in the guest book 6 years ago (the first Lakerage) that we had all forgotten about. 

Pog played guitar very awkwardly

And I decided- fuck it. I had planned on swimming when I got there all along. I was sweaty and muddy from the hike and I wanted the relief of cool water. So what if it was 55 degrees out?

It was GLORIOUS.

My arms change length while night swimming:

super long

super short

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The short version: 

The reason you've probably never heard of Mount Hale is the same reason most people only hike it if they're local or if they're knocking another notch off their 4,000 footer belt. There is no view from the summit, and although short in miles, it's a lot of climbing for essentially nothing. The brook crossings were pretty, and the pathway to the summit (above) was unique and beautiful, but completely opposite from Tecumseh, the trail itself is just incredibly dull, uninteresting, and boring. It's a lot of work with little to look at. 

-Turn off 302 onto Zealand Road. A few miles in, there is a small parking lot before a bridge. Drive past this and continue on the dirt road to the next parking lot on your right. The trail (Hale Brook Trail) is marked and on the right side of the parking lot. 

-$3 for parking.

-2.2 miles up.

-2300-ish feet of elevation gain.

-4,054 feet above sea level.