2021-07-05: Mount Washington

Three years ago, on the last leg of a family trip to Maritime Canada, I had the opportunity to take a van ride to the summit of Mount Washington, the highest point in New Hampshire and the northeast United States. Already an avid (albeit beginner) hiker, I resolved to one day climb the mountain on my own. For the next three years I stepped up to bigger and more challenging mountains, from the rounded hills of the Catskills to the treeless peaks of the Adirondacks, with Mount Washington as my perpetual goal.

I had originally planned to hike Mount Washington in August of this year, but a day off work and a phenomenal weather forecast led me to accelerate my plans and hike on the fifth of July. With clear weather and no winds, the hike was rigorous yet enjoyable, with incredible views and a hiking environment unlike anywhere I've yet been. The sense of accomplishment upon returning from the summit was well worth the money and minor injuries that the peak cost, the culmination of three years of anticipation.

I took nearly five hundred pictures on this hike; condensing them down is one of the reasons why it's taken so long to get posts up these past few weeks. I've included only my favorites here.

A view of Tuckerman Ravine over Hermit Lake. The most popular trail, an eight-mile round-trip, heads right up the ravine.

Sharp rocks near Boott Spur seen from Hermit Lake, the approximate halfway point of the ascent.

A closer view of the wall of Tuckerman Ravine. The Tuckerman Ravine Trail climbs right up the right side of the cliffs, which were unusually snow-free.

The base of a waterfall can be seen through this bluish portal, a hole through the last patch of snow in Tuckerman Ravine.

Mountain avens (Geum peckii), a rare flower found nowhere in America aside from the White Mountains, in bloom near the top of the ravine.

A spring gushes out of the low foliage at the top of Tuckerman Ravine. This water flows down the cliffs, forming impressive waterfalls.

Doublehead Mountain is at the right in this view over a limb of Boott Spur. The farthest lakes seen here are in southern Maine.

Looking down Tuckerman Ravine from its top. Lion Head forms the ravine's north (left) border, while Boott Spur encloses the south (right).

A group of hikers traverses the alpine terrain along Lion Head while clouds float by in the background.

Yellow-green grasses adorn the otherwise barren rock beyond the shrubs in this view of Boott Spur's 'summit'.

As I climbed out of Tuckerman, clouds began to move in from the south, obscuring some of the views.

The hikers from before rest atop Lion Head to enjoy its view and prepare for a difficult descent.

Cairns stand out in the fog-dampened barren ridge between Washington and Boott Spur.

Clouds blocked out Boott Spur through much of my ascent. Tuckerman's upper end can be seen in the foreground.

A good view of the gradual transition in foliage up the mountain, from thick grasses and evergreen shrubs to yellowish grass to barren rocky tundra at the highest elevations.

Clouds envelope Wildcat Mountain, making for a spectacular view and a slight worry about weather conditions. Lion Head, as if chosen by God, sits in a solitary sunbeam.

By far the most incredible views of the hike were those of Mount Monroe, a prominent rocky mountain to the southwest of Mount Washington. I had considered climbing Monroe with Washington, but decided against it; I'll leave this one for another day.

Bare, jagged rocks jut out along the grind towards Washington's summit. While these rocks look unstable, they're mostly very heavy and very difficult to move, making them relatively easy to climb on.

A view of Mount Eisenhower, seen in light beyond the nearer shaded peaks of Franklin and Little Monroe.

With the mountain itself hidden in clouds, the trail up Monroe stands out, along with the Lakes of the Clouds Hut at bottom right.

Monroe (L), Franklin (R foreground), and Eisenhower (R background), three majestic peaks in afternoon sunlight.

A hiker pauses to admire a cairn-marked trail extending out into the wispy clouds. Looking back at the incredible views was very much preferable to looking up at the mountain ahead.

The sharp point of Lion Head stayed in sunlight for some time, while the mountains behind it were in shadow, leading to some incredible contrast.

A closer shot of Lion Head reveals hikers stopped at the summit, and some others on their way up the winding rocky trail.

The summit sign at the highest point. Climbing on a holiday weekend meant the car-accessible peak was very crowded; standing on the actual highest ground required waiting on a twenty-minute line.

The USGS survey marker at the top of Mount Washington. I take pictures of survey markers whenever I find them; if nothing else, they serve as inconvertible proof that I've reached the true summit.

The winding trail along Lion Head, with its backdrop now starting to see some sun.

Lion Head (bottom left) is dwarfed in this view by the still-cloudy slopes of Boott Spur to its south.

Looking down the summit ridge from a spot where I stopped for lunch. The man at bottom right rather impressively climbed the entire mountain barefoot.

As a slight wind started moving in, the clouds along Boott Spur cleared, revealing an extraordinary view of the trails, alpine tundra, and more distant hills and mountains.

Green grasses grow along the rocks below ~5500 ft, seen here during my descent towards Lion Head.

A shot of Monroe and its neighbors, seen in sunlight beneath a ceiling of opaque clouds.

While peaks such as Mount Marcy or Mount Mansfield have shrubs all the way to the top, Mount Washington was a first for me in the total barrenness of its summit region, nothing but grasses and rocks and cairns above a mile or so in elevaiton.

The foothills of the White Mountains extend through nearby Carroll County and into southern Maine.

A farewell view of Mount Monroe over rocks and grasses in the light, with the lesser peaks of the White Mountains in the background.

While the jagged mountain peaks are impressive, the line of man-sized cairns along the nearer ridgeline are what really captivate me about this view.

A view of the steep shrub-laden slopes of Tuckerman Ravine. Looking back it seemed absurd that I had climbed so steep a trail, although it wasn't too technically challenging.

The winding path towards Lion Head goes through the leeward side of the ridge, where shrub forests extend to a higher elevation.

With the low clouds fully retreated, Boott Spur shone clear once again in bright sunlight.

The rocks along the trail are home to hundreds of wolf spiders, including the aptly-named stone spider (Pardosa lapidicina).

I'm not sure whether the grasses were yellowish due to spring growth, abnormal heat, or some other effect, or if they're always that color.

Another view over Boott Spur's limb to the foothills to the southeast.

Although it was admittedly one of the only views available during descent, the southeastern vista was quite captivating. The idea of being on top of New England, yet within sight of such lower hills and flat plains, was probably part of it.

A nice view of the "Alpine Garden", an area of alpine tundra located below Nelson Crag (top left) and between Tuckerman and Huntington Ravines.

The largest of the many waterfalls that careen down Tuckerman Ravine from springs located in the bushes above.

While hiking along Lion Head I slipped and twisted my ankle, making the remaining three miles of the hike (and the next few days of work) quite difficult. While resting after the fall, I took this image of the Alpine Garden beyond a cairn.

A more northerly view from the top of Lion Head, where the seemingly endless peaks of the northern White Mountains extend into the stovepipe of New Hampshire.

A view of Hermit Lake from above. The black color of the lake is caused by dirt made of decayed spruce and fir needles, which turn into a fine black soil.

Another view of the more distant northern mountains beyond the cloud-darkened limb of Nelson Crag. Many of the farther mountains are located in the Rangeley Lakes region in northeastern Maine.

I spotted this spruce tree on ascent from Tuckerman Ravine, its then-distant tip looking like a head of hair atop a needle-less body. On the difficult descent from Lion Head, I found it again.

A farewell view of the Crystal Cascades, a waterfall located less than a mile from the trailhead on Route 16 along the way back.

A panorama from a bit below the summit of Mount Washington. The very top was enveloped in cloud and fog, so a 360-degree view was impossible.

So what now? Mount Washington has been my eventual goal for almost as long as I've been hiking. Accomplishing it has been a major achievement, and one that, to my surprise, didn't bring any most-mountain letdown. The world is full of mountains, many larger or more challenging than Mount Washington. Aside from smaller peaks in the northeast, I can now start training for more serious hikes in the Rockies, saving money and time for the opportunity to travel and reach ever more lofty heights.

Also now I can post more often since this monster of a hike is finally sorted.