Mt. Monadnock Revisited

First dance with Monadnock in March

The Monadnock's are like old friends to me. Pack Monadnock and North Pack Monadnock are quite literally the little siblings of Mt. Monadnock ("pack" is the Native American word for "little"). Pack Monadnock is the first mountain I hiked that renewed my love of the outdoors. North Pack Monadnock was  my first winter hike after my big "real hiker" purchase of micro-crampons. These two mountains were the last of my Wapack Trail traverse. They hold a special place in my heart. Their older sibling... well, we haven't had the best relationship.   Mt. Monadnock is the biggest of the three, and therefore inherently more challenging. I could always see Mt. Monadnock from the summits of the smaller two, and I had made it my goal to get up it. After getting a few good hikes under my belt and feeling my endurance increasing I decided I was ready. My homework turned up mixed reviews. Some people raved about hike, some bitched and moaned about how difficult it was. I realized I was in for a more serious climb when I read that a man had to be rescued from the mountain after breaking his leg about two weeks before I went. In short, it was miserable. It was a warm, clear day in late March. Most of the snow had melted in the surrounding area, but the trail still had a considerable amount of snow-oh wait-I mean slush. I was hiking through an Icee. Even worse, I realized when I got to there that I did not have my micro-crampons... or my hiking poles. Even worse, I didn't realize I was on day 1 of a respiratory infection... well, I did realize that I was getting sick but I refused to accept it. My descent was skiing without skis. Kurt the Hottie would have been horrified. Not only was I skiing without skis, but no boot is truly waterproof. I was walking on two slushie sponges.

Mt. Monadnock is one of the most hiked mountains in the world. I've seen some sites say most hiked, second most hiked, third most hiked.... so I'll just say it's in the top 5. To put it simply, it can be a zoo on a nice day. There's a mix of serious hikers, day-trippers, families, and idiots (more on that later). I have only been on the White Dot and White Cross trails (the two most popular and direct routes), but there are easily over 20 trails to the summit, as well as campsites and a park store. The trails I have been up are very rocky, which can make for a precarious trip. Any athletic person or hiker could get up no problem, but not without breaking a sweat. The mountain is the highest peak for 30 miles; "Monadnock" loosely translates to "mountain that stands alone". On a clear day you can see the Green Mountains in Vermont, Mount Washington, and the Boston skyline.

White Cross Trail

I felt great starting the trail. I could feel my workouts paying off, because my endurance was much better. The lack of a respiratory infection and 6 inches of slush helped, too. I was passing groups left and right. Go you! I thought.. then I realized many of these groups were families. Not that impressive. Then I passed a group of young men that didn't look like hikers but weren't necessarily out of shape. I was patting myself on the back for losing the group when one of the guys popped back into sight. He seemed to be trying to keep pace with me, but it wasn't long that I heard him huffing, puffing, and groaning. I don't think he was happy that he was being smoked by a girl.

My speed came to a slamming halt when I hit the rockier parts of the trail. The picture to the left is an example of what I mean. There is usually traffic on the steep, rocky areas, because people who didn't do their homework are tripped up by how strenuous it gets. I passed a lot of groups sitting down trying to catch their breath. Don't get me wrong, I was sweating. A couple that had been behind me up one particularly steep rock scramble kept saying "we must be getting close, it's not that far away." I didn't have the heart to tell them they weren't even halfway yet. This is where a lot of people turn around.

The trail levels out after several big, rocky, climbs and leads into a few false summits. The first half of this mountain is the most physically challenging, but the second half is more mentally challenging. The first time I hiked it I would round a corner thinking "okay, that has to be the summit" (it wasn't). It can be daunting to finally see the sizable summit, which is entirely above the tree line and all bare rock.

Summit of Mt. Monadnock

I had been leapfrogging a pack of pre-teen boys almost the entire way, and I got unreasonably frustrated when they disappeared from my sight. I passed them just as I was about to start the final push to the summit. They were all sitting there on their phones. It was immensely depressing. I wanted to shake them, and their dad, and say "LOOK AROUND YOU! IT IS AMAZING! PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY!" I made it my goal to reach the summit before them. They started off right after I passed by, so I was trying to tap into my "lightning pace" from earlier. All was going well until my body reminded me that I had barely stopped to rest and rehydrate on the way up, and it was about 75 degrees out. My need for water won out, and on my 30 second stop I realized it was a foolish goal. It wasn't a race. BUT - in my defense, they only beat me by about 30-60 seconds... and preteen boys have an inhuman amount of energy.

Conquered. 

There were good views at the summit, but the last time I was there it was much clearer. The wind chill made it feel about 10-20 degrees cooler, so I started looking for a sheltered area to enjoy my snack. The top was a little bit of a zoo. I greatly appreciate families being active together, but sometimes crazy, screaming kids take away from the serenity of a mountaintop. I gravitated towards two men that looked like "real hikers", and they invited me into their little alcove. I can be socially awkward at times, so I sat there silently envying their talks about hiking out west in preparation for Mt. Kilimanjaro. The older man said "I feel like I need to do it within the next few years or else I will never do it". A little smile crept across my face, because it's exactly how I feel about the AT. I took out my knee brace to prepare for my descent, which immediately sparked the interest of the older man. It turns out he was my kindred-knee-spirit, though probably 30 years my senior. We swapped injury stories; he had a brace on his left knee as well because he injured it walking down an aisle in Home Depot. "It's not the sexiest story to tell, so I just started making up lies." I breathed a sigh of relief. I was not the only one in the world that had messed up their knee in some stupidly mundane way, made up random, untrue stories as to how it happened, and continued to hike after the injury! Hurrah! I desperately wanted to keep talking to them, but they were heading back down the mountain and I still had a Gatorade to finish.

Descending the White Cross Trail

After about a half hour at the summit I began my descent with horrible flashbacks of me sliding on my ass through slush a few months earlier. The White Cross Trail promises to be less steep than the White Dot, so it's been my go-to trail. It may have be less steep, but it was still steep, rocky, muddy, and wet in many places. Although my muscles were slightly fatigued, I was able to keep a great pace and passed several groups on the way down. I caught up to kindred-knee-spirit man and his buddy, and for some reason it was ridiculously rewarding. They were planning a Kilimanjaro traverse and I was able to catch up to them!.... going down the mountain, but whatever. Right after passing them I felt a huge weight bear down on me. I realized I had to go back to Boston, back to work, back to life, that night. I had always thought an office life would be fine, but I'm realizing how much I don't want that. The thought of sitting inside at the computer for a good portion of my day was just so depressing.

I promised an explanation of the "idiots" on the trail, and I met two groups of them on my way down the mountain. Maybe "idiot" is a strong word. They were overly ambitious and definitely uninformed. The first group was an older couple struggling up a seemingly easy portion of the trail. It seems they had severely underestimated the difficulty of the hike, because the woman looked at me like she hated the fact I was in my 20s. I'm all for getting outside and exercising, but not doing your homework and getting so fatigued at the halfway point (really only 25% of the way) makes for a very dangerous descent. The second gang of uninformed people were wearing jeans, cotton shirts and sweatshirts (have fun swimming in your sweat), and what may have been running shoes at one point. Through their wheezing they asked me how far they had to go. I had to inform them they were not yet halfway. "Oh....." the guy said "....... okay", and then sullenly looked at his feet. You could make it up in running shoes, I wouldn't want to, but coming down would be miserable. Someone I will classify as a true idiot was the girl I saw in Converse back in March. My hiking boots didn't help much, I don't even want to know how she faired getting down. 

High-tech "hiking" poles I found at the dump. 

I'm glad I revisited this mountain. It may not be as grandiose or difficult as the 4,000 footers in the Presidential Range of the White Mountains, and it's certainly no Mt. Washington, but it's been a great stepping stone for me. It was a reminder that I still have a ways to go if I want to have any hope of the bigger mountains up north this summer. My total time was around 3 hours, including a half hour at the summit. Several websites say that the average hiking time is 3-4 hours, so I thought, "look at me! An average, dare I say even ABOVE AVERAGE, hiker!" I finished on a good note, unlike last time when I was exhausted and miserable, waved goodbye to kindred-knee-spirit man, and drove home with a smile on my face.